“Marry me,” I whispered against her ear. “Marry me before we go back to the ship. Marry me right here, right now.”
She took my face between both her hands, forcing me to look at her.
“Say it again,” she said.
I stared down at her, stilling all movement, even the breath coming from my chest.
“Marry me.”
“Yes,” she said, reaching up to kiss me. “Yes, yes, yes!”
I shook myself, forcing the memory from my thoughts. That was a very long time ago. Things had changed, things that couldn’t be made right again. We were different people that day.
I shut off the SUV and climbed out, hunching my shoulders against the rain. When I stepped through the door, Bailey was kneeling in front of the massive stone fireplace, arranging thick pieces of wood to build a fire. This room was different from how I remembered it. When I was last there, it was a cozy living room that led into the narrow kitchen at the back of the room. Now, however, the living room furniture had been shoved aside to make room for two desks, one covered in paperwork and files and all the accoutrements of a business. The other was clean and organized—clearly a desk that belonged to a formal Navy lieutenant.
I crossed the room to the gun rack hanging on a far wall. There were a dozen shotguns there, most of them older models that had seen a lot of use. However, there were a couple of new guns. I lifted one of the older guns off the rack and popped the barrel open, looking for anything that might cause the gun to misfire. There was nothing obvious.
“Daddy took very good care of the guns,” Bailey said.
“I’m sure he did.”
“He always insisted on cleaning them himself. If there was something wrong with that gun, he would have known.”
I set the gun back on the rack and wandered the room, touching things that were familiar to me, my eyes avoiding the opening to the hallway that led to the bedrooms. I didn’t like being here.
When I was in the brig, I sometimes dreamt of this place. I would dream that I was back here, with Bailey, and we were back before the court martial, before everything exploded around us. I dreamt of her in my arms, of the sweet things she would say to me. And she knew what to say to me. No one—absolutely no one—knew everything that happened to me when I was a child. I wasn’t about to open up about some of it. But Bailey knew enough to know what I needed to hear and what I needed to feel in order to trust. In my dreams, she always said those things, always did those things. She was always there for me, helping me, taking care of me in a way no one ever had before.
But then I’d wake up and remember that it was all just a lie. I would wake up and remember how she’d betrayed me, and the disappointment would sometimes be so overwhelming that I’d go looking for trouble just to take my frustrations out on something other than myself.
“Did you want to check the rest of them?”
“Are these the only guns he used with the clients?”
Bailey shook her head. “No. There’s more in the back there. But those are the ones he used the most.”
I went back to the gun rack, but I really didn’t think I was going to find anything there.
“Was there anyone else who handled the guns?”
“Everyone handled the guns. Daddy would give a gun to each of the clients the morning he would take them out on the hunt. Sometimes they’d bring them back, and sometimes they’d leave them in their cabins until the maids went to clean up. If they found one, they’d call Daddy to come get them.”
“What about here? Was there someone else here who touched them? Someone who helped him keep up the maintenance?”
“Just me.”
“How many employees do you have?”
Bailey shrugged as she slowly regained her feet. She stood in front of the fireplace, the glow of the fire making her hair look like spun gold.
“Four. Two guides and two maids.”
“What about the charter boats?”
“Daddy hires on a case by case basis for that. We don’t actually own the boats; he just rents them from locals.”
“Do you trust the guides?”
“Why wouldn’t I? They go out with Daddy every weekend. They camp out in the brush sometimes. You have to trust someone who would do that.”
I walked around the room again, feeling this tightness in my chest that I couldn’t really explain. I wanted to get out of there, to get out into the air. I felt almost like I had the first few weeks in the brig, like I couldn’t breathe no matter what I did. I knew, logically, that there was air moving in my chest, but I still felt this tightness that told my brain that I wasn’t getting enough. It was illogical. Weak. But it was there, just the same.
“It was a stupid accident.” Bailey ran her fingers through her hair, lifting it free of her neck. “Daddy cleaned the gun. He loaded it. The client…he must have done something that Daddy didn’t see.”
“Maybe.”
“What else could it be? Who would want to hurt my dad?”
I shook my head. “Have you looked through his things? Is there something on his desk that might explain it?”
“No. This is the first time I’ve been up here since…since it happened.”
There was a catch in her speech. I glanced at her, appreciating for the first time the grief that was clearly written on her face. I knew how close she was to her parents. I knew this couldn’t be easy for her. But there was a sadistic part of me that was glad to see her suffer.
Lord knows she made me suffer enough.
A shiver ran down the length of my spine. I was soaked clear through to my undershirt. I walked over to the fire, not to be near her, but to warm myself by the heat. She refused to move out of my way as I approached her, forcing me to push her to one side with my shoulder.
“I was going to go to Austin. I wanted to see you.”
I tried to pretend I didn’t hear her words as I grabbed the fireplace poker and moved the wood around a little, encouraging the fire to grow a little bigger. I held my hands to it, not fully aware of how cold I was until that moment. The heat felt good, like the taste of a hamburger had on my first day out of the brig.
“Was it terrible there?”
I wanted to laugh. “It was prison. What do you think?”
“I never meant for you—”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
I brushed past her again, moving around the room. Moving away from her.
“Ingram…”
“It was a mistake to come here. There’s nothing here that the cops probably haven’t already taken.”
“It was an accident.”
I nodded even though my instincts told me something differently. I knew Laurence. I’d come hunting up here with him once. He was very conscientious of his guns. I was military trained and he still taught me a thing or two. He would never have allowed a client to touch a gun that wasn’t properly cleaned. And he never would have allowed that client to do something that would compromise the gun or their safety.
But what really bothered me was what Laurence had said to me when he came to Austin.
You’d be surprised who might want to rent a fishing boat or disappear in a remote cabin for a few days. Sometimes you see things you wish you hadn’t.
Had Laurence seen something he shouldn’t have?
Bailey was watching me. I could feel the weight of her eyes on my shoulders.
“Did he say something to you? Do you know something?”
“Why was he in Austin?”
She was quiet for a moment. I glanced back at her.
“I didn’t know he was.”
“Did he have business there?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Then why was he there?”
I looked over at Bailey. She was leaning against the back of a couch, staring into the flames in the fireplace. She dragged her fingers through her hair again, lifting it from the back of her neck. It reminded me of all the times we would find a moment alone
on ship, when her hair was properly fastened back in a bun. I’d run my fingers over her bare neck, followed by my lips. She would sigh, or moan. When she moaned, I knew she’d be open to more, to a hand sliding over the flat of her belly, to a squeeze on her upper thigh. And she almost always moaned.
I turned away again, trying to remind myself of the last five years, of the beatings I took in the brig, of the disrespect by the guards who were often of a lower rank than I’d been when I entered those four walls. I tried to remind myself of all the benefits I’d lost with my dishonorable discharge, the black mark that would follow me around for the rest of my life.
“I need to get back into the city. If we go now—”
“Yeah. I need to get back to my place.”
“Good. Put out the fire. I’m going to start the SUV.”
I walked out the door before she could say anything, taking big gulps of the cool, wet air. The rain was falling heavier, if that was possible. And the clouds were heavy and laying low, darkening the sky as if it were the middle of the night. I turned on the radio as soon as I got into the car and was greeted with the worst news possible.
“Tropical storm Alice has been upgraded to a category four hurricane. Citizens of Galveston and Houston areas are advised to go home and stay home for the duration. The hurricane is expected to make land fall sometime during the night.”
Just my luck I find myself in the middle of this shit storm while a hurricane is making its way to land. What were the fucking chances?
Apparently, pretty good.
I pulled out of the rock driveway beside the cabin and made my way slowly onto the dirt road. But I only had to go a dozen yards before it became obvious that it wasn’t passable. We weren’t going anywhere tonight.
I turned around and parked back up at the lodge. I sat there for a long few minutes, telling myself this was going to be okay. One night. We were fairly safe from the weather. The lodge was well built and someone had already put plywood sheets over the windows. We could ride it out and get a ride out in the morning.
But the idea of going back in there and spending an entire night in Bailey’s company was not my idea of an ideal situation. I wanted nothing to do with her. I’d wanted nothing to do with her for years. Every letter she sent me, every phone call she placed, I wanted nothing to do with it. I wanted her gone from my life, gone from my memories. But being this close to her…I didn’t want to do it. I wanted nothing to do with her.
I lay my head down on the steering wheel, my thoughts going back to that day in court. I could still see her in her dress blues, sitting there on the witness stand. She took the oath and she looked right at me, and then she lied.
She fucking lied. All she had to do was tell the truth and she lied and I paid for it with five years of my life.
Fuck her! I didn’t want this; I didn’t want her. I wanted to start over. This was more like sliding backward.
We were in a bar. We were on leave—the whole ship was on leave after a very long few months at sea. She wasn’t supposed to be there. She was supposed to be upstairs in the room I’d gotten. I was there with some of our shipmates, enjoying a traditional drink celebrating the end of the tour. I had an hour until I was due to meet her. But then she walked in, dressed in civilian clothes—a blue skirt and white blouse—laughing at something one of her companions had said. I recognized three of the men she was with. They were naval officers like her, a couple of lieutenants and a commander.
I was mildly curious what she was doing there, but I didn’t say anything to anyone. I kept my nose down and tried to enjoy my drink. But then I saw that asshole’s hand move over her ass and saw the panic in her eyes. I knew his reputation. I marched over there and laid him flat. The man had a glass jaw. It was broken in two places from that one punch. Someone called the police, someone else called the MPs. An ambulance came, rushing him off like it was a life or death emergency. Just one punch.
And she…someone walked her out of there the moment it was over. She told me later that they were trying to protect her from what seemed obvious at the time. Our relationship was against regs. If anyone learned the truth, it wouldn’t just be my ass on the line. It would be hers, too.
I understood that. But when she told me she’d tell the truth on the stand, I believed her. When she said that it didn’t matter—that she was prepared for the fallout—I believed that, too.
But that’s not what she did.
I never wanted to see her again. I’d almost rather sit out here in the SUV than go back inside and spend the night in her company. But then the wind gusted, the vehicle rocked, and I knew I was being stupid.
I took a deep breath and headed back for the door.
Chapter 6
Bailey
I could hear the wind howling outside. I searched for and found the emergency radio Daddy kept in a closet in the hallway and turned it on. They were advising that the hurricane was going to hit land in just a few hours.
Shit, shit, shit!!!!
I had to get back to town. I had to get back to my place. I couldn’t spend the night here. What if it was bad? What if the roads were so bad that we were stuck out here for days?
I paced, fear settling deep in my chest. I needed to get home.
I searched through the same box where I’d found the emergency radio and found the satellite phone. The battery was dead, but there was a charger. I hooked it up in the kitchen and dialed, my fingers shaking.
“Karen?”
A voice, strong and full of vitality, picked up on the other end of the line. “Hello?”
“Karen? It’s Bailey.”
“Oh, thank goodness. We were worried about you!”
“Did they get the shutters up? Do you have enough food and water?”
“We’re fine. Where are you?”
“Galveston. I came to check on things and the storm hit sooner than I expected.”
“Are you going to be able to get out of there?”
“I don’t know. Maybe not.” I closed my eyes, pain flashing through my chest as I said the words. “Are you okay staying? Can you weather the storm alone?”
“We’re fine. I’m more worried about you.”
“I’m okay. I just…I wish I was there.”
“He’s fine. He thinks it’s all a game.”
I nodded, picturing dark curls and blue eyes. “Give him a kiss for me. Tell him I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“Of course.”
I disconnected the call, a single tear slipping down my cheek. I brushed it away, telling myself not to be so weak. I would be with him soon enough. In the meantime, he was in good hands.
I crossed the room, leaning on the back of a couch in front of the fire, watching the flames dance. A second later, Ingram burst into the cabin, shaking the rain from his jacket.
“We’re not getting out tonight. The roads are all flooded.”
My heart sank. “But I need to get back home.”
“Not tonight.”
I stared at him as though just the desperation on my face would be enough to make him do something about our situation. But he didn’t even look at me. He moved around me and went to the fire, shaking out his jacket in front of it. Like a dry jacket was the most important thing here.
“Ingram, I really need to get back home. And I’m sure you’re needed back in Austin.”
He shook his head. “Not really.”
“What about your job? Daddy was always bragging about you working for the security firm out of California, like it was a big deal.”
He glanced at me. “He knew about that? Before, I mean.”
“He’s known for a while. Daddy always liked you, probably more than he ever liked me.”
He sort of grunted as he turned his attention back to the fire. A fire in the middle of June. How many hurricanes had we survived down here? How many had brought this much rain and this much cold? Why was I panicking, acting like one of those tourists who’d come here to pay my dad too m
uch money to take them on a trip they could very easily have done on their own? Why was I acting like a fucking child?
It was Ingram. I knew that just as well as I knew my own name. Being alone with him like this…there were too many memories. Too much water under the bridge.
And the things left unsaid between us, the things I needed for him to know, the things he’d refused to know because of damn stubbornness!
“I’m gonna go see if the four wheeler will start.”
Ingram grabbed my arm before I could get the door open.
“You’re not going anywhere in this weather.”
“Why? What do you care?”
His eyes moved harshly over my face. If they were razors, he would have just shaved half the flesh from my body. His hand came up to grip my throat, pushing me harder against the door.
“I don’t care about you,” he said quite bluntly. “But I promised your father.”
“He’s dead.”
“Yeah, well, some of us know what loyalty means. Some of us know what it means when someone trusts you at your word.”
“Ingram…”
He pushed me again, shoving my hip hard against the side of the doorknob. I thought he might hurt me, that he might actually take that swing I’d offered him in the dozens of letters I wrote in just the first few days after the court martial. But he didn’t. I deserved it. Even wanted it. But, instead, he kissed me.
He kissed me and I—oh, my God!—I melted against him like no time had passed. Like he was the only man who could make me feel this way.
Because he was the only man who could make me feel this way.
His mouth moved over mine, devouring me with a hunger I’d almost forgotten. He woke me to passions that I didn’t think I could rise to anymore. I buried my fingers in his shirt, tugged him tighter against me, one hand sliding underneath, touching those impressive muscles he’d worked so hard to achieve. He’d been hard before, but he was harder now, like the shell he’d built around himself during his messed up childhood had somehow become a physical thing on the outside, too. I almost missed the softer angles of his body, but I had to admit that this hardness, this intense masculinity, was exciting in a way I never would have imagined.
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