Then I hear a deep voice. “Drop the gun, sweetheart.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
I spin round to see the ponytail guy from the warehouse at the docks. Where was he hiding on the boat? I didn’t see him at all. I should have guessed there would be more than one of them on board.
“We both know you don’t know how to use that gun properly, darling, plus you haven’t got the nerve anyway,” he drawls.
I gulp. Now what? I notice he’s closed the cabin door behind him to block the view of Lindy and Charlie. “Let them go,” I say, still keeping a firm hold on the gun.
“Who?” he says, not looking in the least bit perturbed at finding a gun-toting female on the deck of the boat.
“In the cabin, let them go.” I lift my arm and point the gun at him.
He laughs. “Yeah, right, sweetheart. Sure, I’ll let them go.”
“Do it now,” I yell.
“Ain’t never gonna happen,” he says. “And now, it looks like you’re gonna be joining them at the bottom of the ocean. Shame, you’re kinda cute.” He starts to move towards me.
“Stay there!” I shout, trying to back away from him but realising I have no deck space behind me. Just water. He ignores me and lunges forward. Without thinking, I fire the gun at his thigh. Charlie once told me that’s the place to aim for when you want to stop somebody but not kill them. A howl of pain rips through the night air and the man falls to the deck. Then all hell breaks loose. Police appear out of the darkness, on the water and from the marina dock. How did they know I was here? Then I remember Charlie and Lindy. Ignoring the chaos erupting all around me as Denver and the ponytail guy are escorted off the boat by several officers from the local police department, I dive into the cabin. “Charlie!” I take his hand. It’s freezing. “Charlie!” Still no response. I lean in close to check for a pulse on his neck. There is one. It’s very faint, but it’s still there.
“Hmmm! OIIM!” comes Lindy’s muffled scream from behind me. Lindy! In my haste to get to Charlie I forgot about her. I untie the scarf and then reach for her hands, gabbling anxiously. “What happened to Charlie?” I’m so terrified my fingers and thumbs are refusing to work properly, but I finally manage to get her free. Before she can reply, I hear footsteps and Dan and a team of medics appear in the cabin. Dan grabs my hand and tries to pull me out of the way, but I refuse to move.
“Give them room to do their job,” Dan says, still trying to get me to budge.
“No! I’m staying with him.”
A woman in her forties with a schoolteacher sternness about her says, “The best thing you can do for him right now is get out of our way.”
Dan escorts Lindy and me out onto the deck of the boat. I spot his anxious glance at the now-closed door of the cabin. “It’s OK, Dan. He’s alive. He’s a fighter, he’ll come through this. He’s too stubborn not to,” I reassure him.
Dan nods and there’s unmistakable relief in his eyes. “Yeah,” he says, helping us both off the boat and on to the dock. “He’ll be right as rain and bossing us all around again before we know it.”
As he leads us to a collection of police cars, I ask, “How did you find us?”
“I think we must have made the decision to track Denver down at about the same time as you did. Plus, thankfully you grabbed Martha’s phone on your way out. And, as you know, all phones belonging to special agents have the tracking device activated when they’re working cases. A combination of those two things brought us to here,” he explains as a medic envelops Lindy in a huge warm blanket and assists her into a waiting ambulance.
“You should never have gone off on your own like that,” he adds, his voice going all stern. “Anything could have happened.”
“Dan, you sound just like Charlie,” I say with a little shake of my head.
I see the medics bringing Charlie onto land on a stretcher. As they pass us, I step closer, but Dan pulls me back. I shrug him off and head in their direction. The schoolteacher-type spots me and shoots a warning look at me, but I ignore her. “Is he going to be all right?” I demand.
She must take pity on me, because she waves the others to take Charlie to an ambulance and then takes me to one side out of the way. “I’m not a doctor so this is my opinion only, all right? Don’t go suing me or anything if…”
I cut off her words. “Is he going to be all right?” I repeat, eager eyes boring into hers.
She nods. “I think he should be. Looks like he’s got a stab wound in the stomach and a broken shoulder but if we get him to hospital in time…”
“Which hospital?”
She reels off a name I don’t recognise.
“I’ll drive you,” Dan says, pulling me towards his car. “But we’d better get out of here right now before the guy in charge demands you go in for questioning.”
We arrive at the hospital, and Dan fields various calls from the local police contact, assuring him he will make sure I get taken to the designated police station as soon as I know if Charlie is out of the woods. Martha races in, her face panic-stricken and Dan updates her on what’s happened as I pace the floor. Back and forth. Back and forth. Dan fetches coffees for us, but I can’t face mine. The two of them sit huddled together talking about goodness knows what. The case. Denver. Charlie. Still there’s no news from the operating theatre. I pace some more.
“You should eat something before you faint clear away,” Martha says, trying to persuade me towards the corridor sign posted for the coffee shop.
“No.”
Dan gets me to take a seat, but every time the door opens I leap to my feet again. The time ticks on and we sit in silence. At last a nurse walks towards us. “You’re with Charlie Huxton?”
“Yes.” I get to my feet. Dan grips my hand and Martha links an arm through mine.
“He’s in recovery,” she says with a smile. “That man is a fighter. Stubborn as they come but it helped save his life. Sometimes, well, people give up, but not him.”
I nod, tears flowing down my cheeks. “Can I see him?”
“Not yet. We’ll let you know as soon as you can. He needs to rest. We have him sedated.”
“When? How soon can I see him?” I ask her, a huge wave of relief washing over me.
“I’m not sure. Let’s give him a few hours and take things from there. Why don’t you go home and get some rest yourself?” she suggests.
“No. I’m staying right here.”
“Your choice,” she says. “But there’s nothing you can do other than sit here and wait for now.”
When she disappears back through the doors, Dan, Martha and I share a group hug.
“Talking of stubborn,” Dan says, looking at something over my shoulder. “You got away with it earlier, but I think it’s time to go and give your statement at the station.”
I turn to see two police officers walking towards us. I nod my agreement. “Now I know Charlie is OK, I’ll go and do that, but then I’m straight back here.”
A few hours later, I walk back into the same room, expecting to see a waiting Martha, but she’s nowhere to be seen. The doors open and the same nurse from earlier bustles through, checking something on a clipboard.
“Excuse me,” I say.
She looks up. “Oh, you’re back. Thought you’d show up soon. You can go in to see him in a minute. Only one visitor at a time, so you’ll have to wait until his girlfriend comes out.”
His what?
I’m about to protest and say she’s got it wrong and I’m his girlfriend when I realise that would be a lie. Technically, I’m not his girlfriend at the moment. I could tell a little white fib and say that I am but … Hang on, somebody has been telling lies around here and I bet I know who it is. Just then, the doors open again and Martha walks out. She stops in her tracks when she spots me then pastes on a smile and rushes towards me. “You’re back! I was just keeping Charlie company until you arrived.”
“You told the nurse you’re his girlfriend,” I hiss, glaring at her.
>
She shrugs. “So what? It was a fib to get her to let me go see him, that’s all.” She tucks a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “You can go through now,” she adds.
I push through the door and spot Charlie in the first private room I come to. His head is resting against the pillow and his eyes closed. Various medical things I have no idea about are connected up to him. I stop and look at him, and my heart thuds so loudly I think he’ll hear me. But his eyes remain closed. Is he asleep? I creep into the room, but, too busy watching him, I stumble noisily against a chair. Charlie opens his eyes. Shoving the chair out of the way, I rush to the side of the bed, take his hand and lean down to kiss him on the cheek. “How are you?”
He grimaces. “I’ve had better days.”
“You’ll be fine in no time at all. When we get home we can both take a break. Go somewhere nice and quiet,” I warble on, partly because I’m suddenly nervous and partly because I think I might cry if I don’t distract myself with words.
“Amber…” he starts and I notice how quiet and almost weak his voice sounds. Well, I suppose that’s understandable given what he’s been through, but he’ll be good as new in a few days. I know he will.
“The agency will have to give you sick leave after this,” I continue. “And I’ll put in an immediate request for leave so I can look after you.”
“Amber…”
“And then…”
His head falls back against the pillows. “Will you listen, please?” he whispers with obvious effort.
I shut up. I’m terrified about what he’s attempting to tell me. Is there lasting damage and he’ll never work for the agency again?
I grip his hand tightly. “What is it?”
“The police have been to see me,” he says and I have to lean closer to be able to hear him. “I know what you did, to rescue me.”
“It was nothing.” I squeeze his hand. “You should have known I wouldn’t give up until I found you.”
“That’s what worries me. You never listen when agents tell you to stay out of things. Martha told me you’d been instructed to stay at the apartment but you sneaked out and raced off to try and find me.” He stops and closes his eyes, and I wait for him to continue. “You keep doing crazy things like this. It’s like you did on the case in Scotland and you wound up with a murderer holding a knife to your throat. You keep trying to solve cases on your own and getting in over your head,” he says. “I can’t do this anymore, Amber.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“Do what?” I gulp. Is he quitting the agency? Is that what he means… or is he referring to our on-off relationship?
“Put you in danger,” he continues. “This is all my fault.” He stops and I think he’s finished speaking, but then I notice he’s swallowing and trying to say something else.
“Do you want some water?” I look around but there isn’t any in his room. “I’ll call the nurse.”
“No,” he replies. “No water. Amber, you work for the agency because of me and you could have got yourself killed today because you were searching for me. But not anymore.”
“You’re leaving the agency?” The CCIA is Charlie’s life. I can’t believe he’s quitting for me, for us.
He tries to shake his head but pulls a face and stops, letting out a hearty sigh. Already he’s frustrated by his injuries. He’s going to be a complete and utter nightmare until he’s fully recovered, but I don’t care about that, I’ll take care of him.
“No,” he says. “You’re quitting.”
What? I pull back, incredulous. “Did you just order me to leave the agency?”
“I can’t force you or order you, but I am begging you. For your own safety and my sanity. If you carry on doing your own thing, running off, disobeying orders, you’re going to end up getting yourself killed. I can’t go on like this. You distract me from my work, that’s how I ended up getting captured by those guys. I wasn’t thinking.” He stops talking and I can tell he’s struggling to get the words out again.
“Charlie, I …”
“I should never have got you into working for the agency in the first place. I didn’t think further down the line….the repercussions. It’s too dangerous. I can’t do this anymore.”
I squeeze his hand again. “I love you and you said you loved me too. Right before you walked away into that warehouse. We can work through this.”
“No. We’re over, for good this time, and you need to leave the agency otherwise I’m going to do everything I can to make them fire you. I want you to stay alive, Amber, and with your crazy behaviour, the best way to do that is get you out of the agency.”
“You’re high on whatever medication and painkiller they gave you,” I protest loudly. “You don’t know what you’re saying!”
My raised voice attracts the attention of a nurse, who walks in, eyeing me warily. “Mr. Huxton, is everything all right in here?”
“No. I want her to leave.”
“What? No! Charlie!”
The nurse glares at me. “Please leave right this minute, or I’ll call security and have you escorted out of here.”
“No! But, Charlie….”
“Go, Amber, before they throw you out,” he says and turns his head away from me.
The nurse ‘escorts’ me out of the doors. Dan is sitting waiting for me. He gets to his feet and walks towards us.
“She is not allowed back inside,” the nurse instructs him. Dan nods dutifully, looking a tad fearful of her.
“What happened?” he asks. “What on earth did you do?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” I storm off, fighting back tears and a rising tide of nausea. Charlie did not just break up with me and insist I leave the agency. It’s the pain meds talking, that’s all. Tomorrow, we’ll laugh about the whole thing. Outside, Dan’s phone buzzes into life. Shooting me an apologetic glance he takes the call, saying, “It’s Agency Allocation.”
Agency Allocation. That means they’re sending Dan on another case already. I have no idea where he’s parked, so I can either stand here on the pavement and wait for him to finish his call, or I can summon a cab. As I dither, my mind still whirring with Charlie’s words, Dan chats away into the phone. I hear music festival mentioned. I also register the words, Lake District, back in the UK.
“Yes. Do that. Thanks.” Dan ends the call and gives me a worried look. “Amber, you’re about to get a call.”
I spin round. “What? Me? They can’t…”
“They can. You know they can. If they call and assign you to a case then you smile politely and you do as they say.”
My phone starts ringing. I check caller ID. Agency Allocation. I stare at Dan.
“Take the call, Amber. If you don’t, they’ll have you back in the UK on disciplinary before you can say no.”
Disciplinary. Possibly even being suspended or fired from the agency, which is exactly what Charlie claims he wants. I have to do this. I have to take the call. It’s the only chance for Charlie and me to work things out. I click answer, my heart breaking. “Amber speaking.”
“I’ll be ten minutes,” I say as I dash for the bedroom when we arrive back at the apartment. Martha trails after me, a mug of what I assume is coffee in her hands.
“Did Dan bring you up to date with the investigation?” she checks.
I shake my head as I grab my suitcase and start packing.
“Denver was running a smuggling ring and it was connected with the three murders. He was doing it for more money to fund his flash lifestyle and to keep on top of paying his ex-wives and maintenance for his kids. He was working with Frank, who he specifically brought in to set the whole thing up, knowing him via Cate’s mum, back in Florida. They’d kept in touch over the years, Denver and Lily, Cate’s mum, because Denver suspected Cate was his daughter. So, like I said, that’s how he knew Frank. He also knew Cate had a secret she wanted to keep from her new fans on the show and the world’s gossip-hungry media – the baby she gave up for adoptio
n when she was seventeen. He got Frank to bribe her to be a part of the smuggling set up and promised her heaps of money to send to her baby son, to ease her conscience about giving him up. Frank was getting the designer fake stuff out of Canada on his boat and into America via a jailbird contact of his in Alaska.”
“And what about Ed and Maurice, where do they figure in all of this? Why were they murdered?” I ask, heading for the bathroom to collect up my toiletries.
“Cate bragged to Ed about the money she was getting via the arrangement one night when she was drunk and trying to impress him. He decided he wanted in on the deal and was shooting his mouth off. Denver ordered for him to be silenced. Lindy was supposed to fix the brakes on his car. You remember she used to be a trainee mechanic ages back, right?”
I nod and fling more things into my case.
“But it all went wrong because Cate’s car had problems and she borrowed Ed’s and ended up in the accident destined for Ed. As for Maurice, he threatened Denver about using Cate for his criminal activities and told him to stop or he’d go to the police about it. Maurice knew because Cate asked Maurice to help her move the money from the smuggling through his accounts so it would reach her baby’s adopted parents without it coming direct from her.”
“So Denver killed him off to shut up him,” I finish. “I knew there was something shifty about Denver from the first time I met him. I thought he was just some director’s-couch slime ball, seducing wannabe actresses and drinking alcohol at work, disguised as water. It went far deeper than that, obviously. And what about the appallingly spelt notes warning us off the case, who was behind those?”
“Frank Meades. Denver knew we were here to work the case, along with all the info on where we were staying and the hire car plates because his PA organised it all, under instructions from Denver’s boss. Denver told Frank to get down here and try to freak us out before we’d even had chance to get our teeth into the case.”
Past Perfect: A Fun and Flirty Romantic Mystery (Amber Reed Mystery Book 4) Page 17