A Kiss of Revenge (Entangled Ignite) (14 page)

After draining the water and leaving the glass on the end table, she grabbed a throw off the back of the couch and wrapped it around her shoulders, stepped onto the porch, and sank onto the top step. The air was perfectly still, the whole world waiting. The edge where land met sky blazed gold-red, a long line of shimmering light. A breeze blew through the yard, and it was like a signal to the world. Birds began to chirp and cry and sing. Down the street a car started, the engine fading a moment later as it drove in the opposite direction.

And in the burst of dawn that landed on her peaceful moment, Reese spotted Andrew’s squad car parked at the curb across the street.

Her heart slammed to a halt when she saw it, then resumed with a mariachi beat. Andrew had obviously been watching her, because as soon as she spotted him his door creaked open, he slowly climbed out, and the
thunk
of it closing echoed in the quiet morning. He strode across the street and up her walk.

“Morning, Chief,” she said when he didn’t speak. He just stood at the bottom of the steps, one hand resting on his gun, the other thumb tucked into his belt. The khaki uniform hat shadowed his face, so she couldn’t see his expression at all.

“You’re up early,” he finally observed. “But not at the bakery.”

“No.” She didn’t elaborate.

“You weren’t there yesterday, either.”

She had no idea why he cared, but held her tongue. This clearly wasn’t a social call. His tone was too flat, too controlled, and his emotions too strong underneath it.

“There was a raid last night.”

Shit
. “A raid?” she asked, because he seemed to expect her to.

“In The Charms.”

She pretended she had no idea what he was talking about so she could
sound
like she had no idea what he was talking about. “What kind of raid?”

“FBI.” That wasn’t what she meant, but didn’t say so. He continued, “Prostitution ring. Apparently some girls are missing. Kidnapping and murder charges are part of it.”

She didn’t need to pretend her dismay. It was even worse than she’d thought. “Why are you telling me this?”

“You run up in The Charms a lot.”

“But I never saw anything like that!” She sounded normal. She thought. “If they raided, didn’t they get them? They don’t need witnesses or something, do they?”

Andrew didn’t answer the questions. “Where were you last night?”

She swallowed hard. “Why? You think I’m a
prostitute
?” She tried to inject a note of affronted incredulity, and it worked.

His shoulders dropped a fraction, and his hand left his gun. He set one foot up two steps and leaned forward onto his knee, bracing his forearms across it. The move brought him closer to her, and the entire mood of the conversation shifted.

“I think you have secrets,” he admitted, but not in a way that demanded she reveal them. She’d never felt less like confiding.

“Everyone has secrets. But it doesn’t matter anymore, does it?”

He tilted his face up so light from inside the house made his features more clear. The sun was up, now, but peering mostly through trees, so he wasn’t in complete silhouette.

“It always matters, Reese. To a cop.”

She swallowed, afraid fighting not to fidget was making her too still. She’d meant secrets of the type people shared slowly as a relationship grew, but his words told her he didn’t think hers were that kind of secret.

“That man you were with at the hospital. Electric burns, right?”

She didn’t ask how he knew that. Privacy laws meant the hospital staff couldn’t tell him anything about their patients, but maybe he’d overheard the nurse’s questions. Or someone had mentioned the odd case to him and he’d put it together logically.

She didn’t answer him.

“If you’re in trouble, tell me. I can help.”

Her laugh came out bitter. “I’m not in trouble. I
have
troubles. But they’re not the legal kind. You can’t help me.” That would probably spark his curiosity, so she added, “Brian’s having experimental brain surgery in the morning”

“I see.” Andrew’s posture relaxed. “I hope it goes well.”

“Thank you.” The blanket slipped off her shoulders, and she opened her arms to pull it back up. Andrew’s gaze fell to her chest, and he leaned forward again, reaching out with two fingers to lift the necklace from her chest.

“I know this piece. What it means.” For an instant, disappointment and jealousy flashed in his eyes. He morphed back into the chief of police so quickly she might have imagined the moment he was just a man.

“You do?” She wrapped her hand around the chain, which tugged the charms off his fingers.

“The artist is a friend of my mother’s.”

“I love it,” she whispered, more to herself than to him. “It reminds me of who I want to be.”

They stared at each other for several heartbeats before Andrew finally pulled his foot down from the step and stood straight and relaxed, but not easy, on the walkway. He didn’t speak again, but he left her with one echoing thought.

Who she wanted to be was a far cry from who anyone thought she was.

…

Reese stayed outside for a while after Andrew left. Fatigue was now bearing down on her, and she let it come, sinking into her bones, until she thought maybe she could sleep for an hour or two before she had to be at the hospital. But going into the house traded one kind of tension for another. Griff was stretched out on the couch, waiting for her. His duffel sat on the cushion next to him.

“Intimate chat you were having,” he observed. “I thought you cut him loose.”

She folded the blanket, avoiding his eyes. She couldn’t detect his feelings in his tone, and wasn’t sure she wanted to see them instead. “He wasn’t here for that. I think he knows I was there last night. At the house.”

Griff stood so fast she looked down at his knee, expecting it to appear completely normal, but his jeans hid it from her view. “He came to arrest you?”

“No!” She rolled her eyes. “He just asked some questions. He doesn’t have any evidence, just suspicions.” She hoped.

“Good.” He tapped his hand against his thigh. “You get any sleep?”

“Not yet.” She could tell he was distracted by whatever he really wanted to say, because instead of scolding her, he just nodded. “You?” she asked.

“Enough.” He glanced down at his duffel. “I was hoping court would be delayed so I can go with you this morning, but for once, they’re on schedule.”

“No problem. Good luck with it. And thank you for everything.” She moved as if to walk him to the door, but he remained planted in the middle of the living room.

“Don’t go to Chelsea.” He held up a hand when she automatically began to protest. “I’m asking, not telling. I’d rather you wait until I can be here to back you up.”

She shook her head. “You know I can’t wait. Aside from the fact that the raid might make him hide so deep I’ll never find him, I can’t let you do that. You’ve been involved too much already, risked too much. I can take it from here.”

Worry lines deepened around his mouth. “You’re not equipped for that. You have no idea what these people are capable of.”

She stared at him. “Are you serious?”

“I talked to my contact at the Bureau again, and the things they suspect they’ve done—”

“I know. I heard it from their own mouths.” And Andrew had essentially confirmed the offhand comments about rape and corpses. “It didn’t stop us from going into that house. This is no different.”

“You didn’t go into the house alone. You had me watching your back.”

“Griff, I appreciate that you’re worried about me, but I’ve been on my own—”

“Bullshit.”

She stopped, shocked. “What?”

“You’ve never been on your own. Not like this.” He struggled to keep his voice down. “You’ve been a waitress in a diner and a professional in a high-rise. You’ve never been on the run, messing with lowlifes, going up against ruthless people with no consciences.”

Anger burned away all her fatigue, replacing it with empty space filling quickly with household current. Thanks to their efforts last night, she was able to seal it off without any popping and smoking.

“You think I’ve never been on my own? I sat by myself at my first husband’s funeral because his family didn’t like me. I moved across the country by myself, several times. And when that plane went down, my entire life became the epitome of ‘on my own.’ ” She blinked back furious tears and forced herself to be honest. “I couldn’t have gotten through most of this without your help, and I’m insanely grateful for it. But no one did my physical therapy for me. No one took on the burden of harnessing this condition, this thing that I have inside me.” She flicked her fingers, sending sparks flashing into the air. “No one created the bakery for me, or set me on the path to finding Big K. I appreciate you like hell, Griffin, but I don’t need you.”

The words echoed, winging back to her with all the hurt that burned in his eyes. She sucked in air, appalled at herself. “I’m sorry, Griff. I’m—”

“Tired. Yeah, I know.” To her amazement, he eased closer to her, tugged her into his arms. “And I know you’re scared, and whatever Laine said made it worse. You hate feeling helpless, and I know you’re going to respond by racing headlong into danger, damn the consequences.”

She listened to his voice rumbling through his chest into her ear, and wanted to soothe the rawness in his voice. How could one person know her so well? How could he know her, and not leave her?

Like flipping a switch, the thought shut down her emotional center. She went cold and empty, and even his body heat couldn’t penetrate it.

He seemed to sense her withdrawal and backed up. “If I could stop you, I would,” he continued, tilting her head up with his hand under her chin. “But I know I don’t have a chance in hell. So please, just wait for me.”

She wanted to lie, to make things easier for him while he was gone, but she couldn’t. “You know I can’t. They’ll be gone. I’m sorry.”

His grip tightened, not enough to hurt her, just enough to reveal his frustration. She watched his eyes darken and braced herself for his next ploy, which had to be playing on their growing feelings. He’d beg her to do it for him, say that if she cared about him at all, she’d wait.

But he didn’t. He released her, his anger apparent in the abruptness of his movements when he bent to grab his duffel and, a moment later, strode out the door.

Throat aching and eyes burning, she took a shower and got dressed in comfortable clothing, equally suitable for hanging around a surgical waiting room and casing a marina. They’d transported Brian from the care facility to a private hospital outside of Boston, so she headed there first. On the drive, she played music loud enough to prevent thinking, and when she arrived at the hospital, a buttload of paperwork took over that task.

She cursed under her breath when half the papers they’d given her slid out of the broken clipboard onto the floor. She gathered them up and tried to put them back in order, glaring at the last blank one. She could swear she’d already filled this one out, but maybe they just all asked the same freakin’ questions. She scribbled the same answers and finally carried the mess back to reception.

A few minutes later, Dr. Langstrom came out to the waiting room. “Brian is doing very well today,” she assured Reese, as if he could be “doing” any differently than any other day. “He should have no problems with the procedure itself. The outcome, of course, could be anything, but the relative risks are as low as they can be.”

“Can I see him?” she asked.

“Of course. The nurse will take you down now. I’ll talk to you when we’re done.” She patted Reese’s shoulder, her smile polite but her eyes alight with excitement, no doubt imagining the accolades she’d receive if this went well. Reese didn’t care about her motivation, since the goal was the same.

The nurse who led her through the corridors told her how well he’d traveled. “He’s really a model patient,” she said, and Reese stifled an hysterical giggle. “
He’s a vegetable!”
she wanted to yell. How could he give them any trouble?

Brian looked the same as always when they reached his bedside. The nurse pulled the privacy curtain, closing out the efficient bustle in the pre-op area outside it and leaving them alone. Reese sat in a chair next to the gurney, took one of his hands in hers, where it lay cold and limp, and looked into his blank, staring eyes.

“This may be the last time I see you.” Her voice rasped, her eyes as dry as her throat. “I made a lot of progress last night, but I don’t know if I can come near you after this without interfering with your stimulator. If the surgery works.” She stifled the conflicting emotions roiling through her. The vital signs monitor above her head didn’t react—no buzzing, crackling, or popping. “I loved you, Brian. I did.” When the words came out in past tense, something settled inside her. Truth, uncomplicated by guilt and indecision. “No matter what my failings, my dependencies, I did love you. And I will avenge you, somehow. Someday. Maybe not the way I originally intended, but it will happen.” She kissed his forehead, wishing she could get something back. A squeeze of her hand. An eye blink.
Foolish
. Of course, he didn’t move.

She made a few silent promises, to him and to herself. The surgery was the right choice, no matter what the outcome. But fulfilling her obligations to him afterward didn’t have to mean taking up where they’d left off. That realization, that she had more options than she’d allowed herself to consider, removed a significant amount of guilt from the weight on her shoulders.

She set his hand back on the bed and rose with a deep breath. At least she’d kept the electricity at bay. That was something. She nodded to the nurse when she left the cubicle and followed her to the lounge, where she was left alone to endure the long, tortuous wait.

Chapter Nine

Hours went by. Reese dozed, drank coffee, went outside to check for messages, and answered questions Sarah had texted her. Finally, she spotted Dr. Langstrom coming down the hall, beaming.

Reese rose from the hard padded bench she’d been sitting on. “How is he?” she asked as soon as the doctor was close enough.

“I’ve never had such a complex surgery go so well. It was like clockwork. He’s resting nicely. We’re moving him to recovery, and then to a regular room in a few hours, once we’re sure he’s shaking off the anesthesia.”

“And the procedure?”

“Was a success!” The doctor grinned, but when Reese’s eyes widened, she hastened to say, “I mean the implant was successful, and it’s connecting to the proper channels. But we won’t know the preliminary results for quite a while. He might not fully wake for days, and every patient responds differently, as we discussed.”

So the limbo went on
. “Thank you, Doctor. Can I see him?”

“Certainly.” She turned and motioned to a nurse at the nearby station.

The woman had apparently been waiting for the summons, because she bustled over and nodded at Reese. “Follow me.”

The doctor walked with them halfway down the corridor, then peeled off to go through doors marked “Authorized personnel only.” The nurse led Reese to a small room, obviously meant to be transitional. “Go in when you’re ready. You have five minutes.” She returned to the nurse’s station.

Reese hesitated, watching her husband through the glass. He looked like any other patient coming out of surgery, covered to the chin in a white sheet and blue blankets, his upper body slightly elevated and his head bandaged. But something was different. She didn’t know if it was her imagination, but he looked more animated. He didn’t move, not even a flicker of facial muscle, but he looked…less slack. And his eyes were closed, she realized. She hadn’t seen him with his eyes closed in all these months.

Hope blossomed, the most positive emotion she’d had about Brian since the crash. What she’d realized hours ago held true—what had happened between them as husband and wife didn’t matter anymore. What mattered was his recovery, for himself and his own future.

She closed her eyes and concentrated on closing off her body to all electricity, then gently opened the door and walked in. Brian didn’t move, not even when she took his hand in hers.

“Brian, it’s me. It’s Reese. Can you hear me?” He didn’t move, but she hadn’t expected him to, since Dr. Langstrom had stressed that changes would take time. He was still affected by the anesthesia, too. “I think I’m only allowed in here for five minutes at a time. You look great.” She swallowed. “I’ll be back tomorrow, and you should be in a regular room by then. Maybe you’ll open your eyes and see me.”

She stood for a few minutes, watching him, wondering what would happen tomorrow. In their first meeting about the surgery, Dr. Langstrom had described a gradual awakening, more pronounced each day as they “tuned” the stimulator. Right now, closed off as she was, she couldn’t even sense it. Maybe it was deep enough and small enough that she never would. More reason to hope.

A nurse peered in and softly told her she had to leave. Reese kissed Brian’s forehead and left. By the time she reached her car, she’d transitioned her focus to the next step.

Casing the marina in Chelsea.

Despite her arguments against getting Griff so deeply involved, she hadn’t defied his wish for her to wait because she wanted to do this alone. She didn’t. She really wished he were with her. It had only been half a day, and she missed him desperately. He hadn’t called or texted, and she hoped the trial was going well.

The marina was on an offshoot of Mystic River, which flowed into Boston’s Inner Harbor. It was a small facility, just a handful of docks, with a large apartment building across the street. She arrived at dusk, blending with the people arriving home from work and parking in the apartment building’s lot without anyone paying attention to her. She walked purposefully out to the street and across to the marina. Because of the satellite imagery Griff had printed for her, she was able to slide into a stand of trees overlooking the boats where she could watch, if she was lucky, mostly unobserved.

There was only one entrance to the docks, with one long, main pier leading to three perpendicular docks with several slips on each. According to Griff,
Alpine Nirvana
was tied at the end of the farthest dock. Naturally. So how was she going to get out there?

Using a small pair of binoculars, she watched the marina from the stand of trees. The whole reconnoitering process was difficult. She didn’t want to be caught studying the boats or the people, so she could only get the close-ups in short scans. She did discover that the gate to the dock required a key, and even without the binoculars, could see well enough to be confident no one was around
Alpine Nirvana
. There’d been no movement onboard in over an hour, no people on the boat’s deck, nor swaying or rocking of the boat itself, except what was generated by the wakes of other slow-moving boats heading out into the open water.

It would be best to wait until full dark. She might be able to get over the gate, as it didn’t seem very high, and security overall was lax. There was no guard on duty now, though there might be one after hours. She’d go get something to eat and come back when it was late and hopefully no one would be around.

But then she got to the parking lot of the marina and caught her first break.

Skav was pulling in.

That changed everything. If he was here now, alone, someone else had to be coming soon. And since he’d said he was meeting Big K, it must be him.

Anticipation sang in her blood, but she kept her wits and walked at right angles to where Skav parked, hands stuffed in pockets, head down so the brim of her baseball cap hid her face. He headed straight for the dock, so she changed direction and followed, far enough behind that she thought he wouldn’t spot her. With the sun nearly down and shadows lengthened over everything, she wasn’t easy to see, anyway.

She couldn’t believe her eyes when he pushed open the gate without stopping. It banged back into place, bouncing once.

It wasn’t locked after all. That made things easier.

Skav reached the main dock and disappeared around a yacht. She dashed out from between parked cars down to the gate, eased through, and walked as quickly as she dared across the wooden slats. Her footsteps echoed, amplified off the water and the smooth boat hulls. She stopped and peered around the corner, trying not to act fishy. She could hear the faint echoes of Skav’s footsteps as he passed the second set of slips and headed for the third. Following him ended up being no problem, angles and hulls serving her need for cover. Even if he spotted her, Skav would never recognize her with no makeup, dressed in a windbreaker, relaxed jeans, and the ball cap.

She had to balance the fear that she would miss something with her determination not to be caught. Twice she almost ran into people coming off the shorter docks onto the main one. One young woman glowered at her from behind her golden tan and her perfectly wind-tossed hair.
Dammit
. Reese decided not to do anything stupid, now that someone had seen her well enough to potentially describe her to a sketch artist.

By the time she got to the right slip, Skav was out of sight. But there was the boat she’d seen in the yard back at The Charms, looking smaller now that it floated in the water instead of resting on a trailer high off the ground. Every other window to the salon was open and voices wafted her way, but she couldn’t make them out.

She hesitated, then risked climbing onto the boat, moving slowly and trying not to make her weight shift the vessel. Her heart pounded as she glanced around again to make sure no one was watching.

“…Outside, it’s so damn hot in here.”

Shit
. They were coming on deck! She jerked open a cabinet under a bench seat and almost wept with relief that it was nearly empty. She crammed herself inside and slid the door closed just in time. She peered through a sliver-sized gap onto the unlit deck, but neither man was in her line of sight.

“I drove out here for nothing?” Skav whined. “I thought he was meeting me here, and we’d take the boat to the Vineyard.”

“I don’t know where you got that idea. This was an errand, nothing more. You brought the money, for which Mr. K will be grateful.” There was a
clink
like ice in a glass. Reese recognized the voice as belonging to the suit who’d bought the photograph. That balanced the disappointment of learning that Big K—or Mr. K—wasn’t here. This guy was clearly someone higher up the food chain than Skav and the other scumbags.

“When will he be back? I have stuff to talk to him about.”

Me too.
She held her breath in anticipation of the answer, and hoped it would help her avoid sneezing, too. Her nose began to tingle from the fishy-smelling dust in the cabinet, and she had no room to rub it.

“Mr. K will be significantly delayed,” the cultured voice said.

“Well, shit.”

Reese echoed the sentiment.

“I’ll wait.”

Ugh
. She was so bent in half, her extremities had already fallen asleep. How long could she stay in here without killing tissue? On the other hand, she was so close! She’d gladly lie stuffed in here for two days to be able to face Mr. K.

“There is no point in waiting, I’m afraid.” A pause. “Mr. K will no longer be using this boat. It has been sold.”

No!
Her heart sank. This couldn’t be another fruitless path. But Skav kept whining, and it became apparent he didn’t know about the raid. But the suit did, and neither he nor his boss was happy with the fuck-ups.

Don’t be a moron, Skav. Don’t you watch TV?

But the idiot got more belligerent and the suit got colder and calmer, and she knew what was about to happen.
Ah, hell
.

A breeze kicked up across the water and came through the crack, stirring up the dust. She stifled a cough, aching to rub her nose. Tingling grew into burn, built toward the mother of all sneezes. She flared her nostrils, but the sensation got worse. Dammit, she was going to sneeze.

She didn’t.

But her cell phone rang.

…

The footsteps on the deck stopped dead. Reese tried to get her hand on the phone but the cramped quarters didn’t let her. How stupid was she? No one hid with their freaking cell phone turned on! But she’d not only been stupid, she’d been sentimental. The phone was on because she was hoping Griff had left a message while she was studying the boats from the trees. She’d thought she was out of stealth mode, heading to her car, and had totally forgotten to turn it back off when she spotted Skav.

“It wasn’t mine,” Skav said, sounding less sullen and now slightly scared.

Her phone rang again.
Drain it
. The command cut through the panic, but it was too late. Before she sucked the battery dry, the phone rang a third time, giving the men on deck plenty of opportunity to pinpoint her location.

“I am aware that it was not yours. It was not mine, either, which means someone is hiding under there. Get them out.”

She was so screwed. A hundred excuses ran through her head, all ridiculous. They’d never buy that she was searching for something, or lost her pet, or was a kid who’d been denied a trip with her parents and was stowing away. Plus, Skav would recognize her. She had only a split second to come up with a plan before the door slid sideways, banging her knee and then practically slicing her toes off when he shoved it all the way open.

It took him some effort to get her out of the tight space. She wasn’t sure how the hell she’d gotten in there. They both struggled, Skav with his meaty fist buried around her windbreaker and trying to yank her out, Reese trying to get him to let go while her legs were still tangled and wedged. Eventually, he won out and hauled her to her feet.

“Don’t!” she cried out as soon as she was upright. She used her disorientation to stumble a few feet either way. Skav mirrored her movements. The other man didn’t move, simply stood implacably while he watched the two of them play out a Keystone Kops routine. His stare bored holes in her back, but she didn’t look at him. She concentrated on Skav, the man she knew, the man her character would be loyal to and afraid of.

“I came to warn you.” She dusted her sleeves off and tried to look at him with concern instead of panic, flicking a deliberately mistrustful glance at Suit Guy. “The FBI raided the house right after you left. Dob and Bark got arrested, but the other actor and I got away. I don’t know how the feds knew. Maybe they had someone on the inside.” She darted another scowl. “Anyway, you can’t go back there.”

There were so many holes in that story the boat should be sinking. But it had the desired effect.

Skav’s eyes widened and he let go of her arm. “
What?
”

Suit Guy apparently wasn’t concerned, at least for now, about why she’d been in the cabinet. “Why did you not tell me this when you first arrived?” he demanded smoothly of Skav, who frowned, looked around, and hauled Reese down into the salon. She inhaled and coughed. It
was
hot down there, and it stank of stale cigarettes. It surprised her this refined-appearing man would allow smoking.

He followed them down and closed the door. He wore an ivory silk suit this time, with ruby cufflinks and a matching ivory hat with a black band, much fancier than the first time she’d seen him. He looked a little like Prince before he changed his name to a symbol. As he circled them, his eyes were dark and gave her an impression of hollowness, but she didn’t think he missed a thing.

Then she realized she’d been foolish to concentrate so hard on Skav. Suit Guy had a gun. With a silencer.

She was
so
fucked.

“I didn’t know about it!” Skav rushed to explain. “No one called me. You heard her, she said it happened after I left.”

“And who is
she
, that she knew where to find you?” He managed to put so much disdain into the inflection of “she” that Reese half expected her skin to fall off, flayed in strips.