And Then You Die (23 page)

Epilogue

Focus.

Shoot.

“No more, Aunt Bess,” Julie said plaintively. “I have to go with Daddy to the grocery store. I promised.”

Julie hated shopping, Bess thought. The only thing she hated more was having her picture taken. Bess wouldn't have made her do it, but she wanted a picture to give to Tom for his birthday. “One more.”

Julie's curly red hair was shining in the sunlight as she swayed back and forth in the rope swing. The composition was almost perfect.

“And Josie's getting really tired.” Julie turned to the tiny girl in the sandbox. “Aren't you, Josie?”

Josie nodded. “Tired. Real tired.”

“See?” Julie said with satisfaction.

Josie adored Julie and would have said the moon was orange if Julie had so prompted her. Bess repeated, “One more.”

“Hello,” Julie said to someone behind Bess. “Are you looking for Daddy? He's at the house.”

“No, I'm not looking for your daddy.”

Bess froze. Then she turned around.

He was dressed in a dark blue suit and looked elegant and civilized. Hell, he looked wonderful. “Hello, Kaldak.”

“Can I go now?” Julie asked.

Bess nodded. “But first you have to be introduced to Mr. Kaldak. This is my niece, Julie.”

“How do you do?” Kaldak said. “I've heard a great deal about you.”

“Have you?” Julie smiled. “Are you a friend of Aunt Bess's?”

Kaldak looked at Bess. “Am I?”

Bess smiled. “Yes.”

“Nice to meet you,” Julie said.

Kaldak's gaze went to the sandbox. “Josie? Lord, she's looking wonderful.” He crossed to the sandbox and knelt beside the little girl. “Hi, Josie. I don't suppose you remember me?”

Josie smiled and handed him a red plastic bucket.

“Thank you.” He reached out and touched the tiny gold earring in her left ear. “I remember these earrings. Pretty.”

Josie nodded and then reached out and touched his cheek. “Pretty.”

He blinked, astonished.

She giggled in delight at the response and touched his other cheek. “Pretty.”

Kaldak chuckled. “I hate to insult you, Josie, but there's something seriously wrong with your judgment.”

“Maybe not. She's usually pretty perceptive,” Bess said. “You may go now, Julie. Be sure to get the sand off Josie before she gets in the car.”

“I know that.” Julie was already in the sandbox, pulling Josie to her feet. “Come on, Josie. We'll go turn on the sprinklers and get clean, okay?”

“Sprinklers,” Josie repeated, her face lighting up. “Hose. Umbrella.”

“No, not this time,” Julie said as she started across the lawn, slowing her steps to accommodate Josie's tottering gait. “Not the umbrella but maybe the hose.”

“Nice kids,” Kaldak said.

“You bet they are.”

“It's been over a year. I didn't expect to see you still here. Children's photos are hardly your cup of tea.”

“It didn't hurt me to put my career on hold for a while. Julie and Tom needed me. I guess I needed them too.”

“How's Josie really doing?”

“Terrific. She's still in rehab, but you saw how normal she's looking. The Mexican authorities found out her grandparents are dead, and there aren't any relatives willing to be responsible for her.” She smiled as her gaze followed Josie and Julie. “So she's mine, Kaldak. I'm adopting her.”

“That's great, Bess.”

“It's more than great, it's a new world for me. What are you doing now?”

“I've been very boring lately. I haven't killed anyone in nearly two days.”

“Kaldak.”

“Sorry. Actually, I'm heading a research project on a new virus discovered in the Amazon rain forest.”

“More germs.”

He shrugged. “What can I say? It's my specialty.” His gaze fixed intently on her face. “I thought we might go out to dinner.”

“Why don't you stay and eat with us? You can meet Tom.”

He shook his head. “I want to be alone with you. I want to talk.”

“You do? What about?”

“Shoes and ships and sealing wax.” He paused. “Dammit, what do you think I want to talk about? Why do you think I'm here?”

“Tell me.”

“Do you know how much I've missed you? God, you look great.”

“I feel well.” What an understatement. At that moment she felt as if she could soar like a balloon. “How are you?”

“Good.” Then he said harshly, “No, I'm not. I'm surly and mean and impatient as hell.”

“So what's new? You always were.”

“You told Julie a lie. I'm not your friend.”

“Oh, you will be.” She smiled luminously. “There's no way I'll have a lover who's not my friend, Kaldak.”

He stiffened.

She said unsteadily, “I've been impatient as hell too.”

“Bess.” He was coming toward her and the expression on his face . . .

Oh, God, she needed to remember it forever.

Focus.

Shoot.

About the Author

IRIS JOHANSEN
has more than twenty million copies of her books in print and is the bestselling author of
Fatal Tide, No One to Trust, Dead Aim, Final Target, Body of Lies, The Search, The Killing Game, The Face of Deception, And Then You Die, Long After Midnight,
and
The Ugly Duckling
. She lives near Atlanta, Georgia.

Bantam Books by Iris Johansen

Fatal Tide

Dead Aim

No One to Trust

Body of Lies

Final Target

The Search

The Killing Game

The Face of Deception

And Then You Die

Long After Midnight

The Ugly Duckling

Lion's Bride

Dark Rider

Midnight Warrior

The Beloved Scoundrel

The Magnificent Rogue

The Tiger Prince

Last Bridge Home

The Golden Barbarian

Reap the Wind

Storm Winds

The Wind Dancer

Praise for the bestselling novels of

Iris Johansen

DEAD AIM

“Smoothly written, tightly plotted, turbocharged thriller . . . Megaselling Johansen doesn't miss.”

––Kirkus Reviews

“Readers will stay up all night reading this cat-and-mouse chase.”

––Booklist

“The nonstop action and slick plotting won't disappoint.”

––Publishers Weekly

NO ONE TO TRUST

“With its taut plot and complex characters, [
No One to Trust
] is vintage, fan-pleasing Johansen.”

––Booklist

“Fast-moving plot . . . another zippy read from megaselling Johansen.”

––Kirkus Reviews

“Gritty, powerful and fast-paced,
No One to Trust
starts off with a bang and never lets up. . . . This is one thriller that will keep you on the edge of your seat.”

––Romantic Times

BODY OF LIES

“Filled with explosions, trained killers, intrigues within intrigues . . . It all adds up to one exciting thriller.”

––Booklist

“A romantic thriller whose humanity keeps the reader rooting for its heroine every step of the way.”

––Publishers Weekly

“[Johansen] doesn't let her readers down.”

––The Star-Ledger,
Newark

FINAL TARGET

“A winning page-turner that will please old and new fans alike.”

––Booklist

“A compelling tale.”

––The Atlanta Journal-Constitution

“Thrilling . . . will have fans of the author ecstatic and bring Ms. Johansen new readers.”

––BookBrowser

THE SEARCH

“Thoroughly gripping and with a number of shocking plot twists . . . [Johansen] has packed all the right elements into this latest work: intriguing characters; a creepy, crazy villain; a variety of exotic locations.”

––New York Post

“Johansen's thrillers ooze enough testosterone to suggest she also descends from the house of Robert Ludlum. Johansen pushes the gender boundary in popular fiction, offering up that rarity: a woman's novel for men.”

––Publishers Weekly

“Fans of Iris Johansen will pounce on
The Search.
And they'll be rewarded.”

––USA Today

THE KILLING GAME

“Johansen is at the top of her game. . . . An enthralling
cat-and-mouse game . . . perfect pacing . . . The suspense holds until the very end.”

––Publishers Weekly

“Most satisfying.”

––Daily News,
New York

“An intense whodunit that will have you gasping for breath.”

––The Tennessean

THE FACE OF DECEPTION

“One of her best . . . a fast-paced, nonstop, clever plot in which Johansen mixes political intrigue, murder, and suspense.”

––USA Today

“The book's twists and turns manage to hold the reader hostage until the denouement, a sure crowd pleaser.”

––Publishers Weekly

“Johansen keeps her story moving at breakneck speed.”

––The Daily Sun,
Chicago

AND THEN YOU DIE

“Iris Johansen keeps the reader intrigued with complex characters and plenty of plot twists. The story moves so fast, you'll be reading the epilogue before you notice.”

––People

“From the first page, the reader is pulled into a realm of danger, intrigue, and suspense with a touch of romance and enough twists and turns to gladden the hearts of all of her readers.”

––Library Journal

LONG AFTER MIDNIGHT

“Flesh-and-blood characters, crackling dialogue and lean, suspenseful plotting.”

––Publishers Weekly

“A lively, engrossing ride by a strong new voice in the romantic suspense genre.”

––Kirkus Reviews

THE UGLY DUCKLING

“Outstanding. A real page-turner. Many will add [Iris Johansen's] name to their list of favorite authors.”

––Associated Press

FATAL TIDE

The next electrifying novel of suspense from

Iris Johansen

Coming from Bantam Books
in September 2003

FATAL TIDE

On sale September 2003

ONE

N
ORTHERN
I
RAQ
January 6, 1991

Cool water, smooth as glass as Kelby swam through it. Jesus, he was thirsty. He knew all he had to do was open his lips and the water would flow down his throat, but he wanted to see beyond the arched doorway first. It was huge and ornately carved, beckoning him forward. . . .

Then he was through the arch and the city was spread before him.

Giant white columns built to stand forever. Streets laid out in perfect order. Glory and symmetry everywhere . . .

“Kelby.”

He was being shaken. Nicholas. He came instantly alert. “Time?” he whispered.

Nicholas nodded. “They should be coming back for you again in five minutes. I just wanted to make sure we're on the same page. I've decided we scratch the plan and I take them out by myself.”

“Screw you.”

“You'll blow it for both of us. You haven't had anything to eat or drink in three days, and you looked like a truck ran over you when they brought you back to the cell.”

“Shut up. It hurts my throat to argue.” He leaned back against the stone wall and closed his eyes. “We go as we planned. I give the word. Just tell me when they start down the hall. I'll be ready.”

Go back to the sea. There's strength there. No thirst that couldn't be satisfied. He could move without pain through the buoyant water.

White columns shimmering . . .

“They're coming,” Nicholas murmured.

Kelby opened his eyes only a slit as the door was unlocked. The same two guards. Hassan had an Uzi cradled in his arm. Kelby was so hazy he couldn't remember the other guard's name. But he could remember the toe of his boot as he kicked in his rib. Yes, he could remember that.

Ali, that was the bastard's name.

“Get up, Kelby.” Hassan was standing over him. “Is the American dog ready for his beating?”

Kelby groaned.

“Get him, Ali. He's too weak to stand up and face us again.”

Ali was smiling as he came to stand beside Hassan. “He'll break this time. We'll be able to drag him into Baghdad and show the whole world what cowards the Americans are.”

He reached down to grab Kelby's shirt.

“Now.”
Kelby's foot lashed upward and connected with Ali's nuts. Then he rolled sideways, knocking the Arab's legs from beneath him.

He heard Hassan mutter a curse as Kelby leapt to his feet. He got in back of Ali before he could get off his knees, and his arm snaked around Ali's neck.

He broke it with one twist.

He whirled to see Nicholas smashing the Uzi into Hassan's head. Blood spurted. Nicholas hit him again.

“Out.” Kelby grabbed Ali's pistol and knife and ran to the door. “Don't waste time on him.”

“He wasted a lot of time on you. I wanted to make sure he'd gone to Allah.” But he was running after Kelby down the hall.

In the front office another guard jumped to his feet and reached for his gun. Kelby cut his throat before he could lift it.

Then they were outside the hut and running toward the hills.

Shots behind them.

Keep running.

Nicholas looked over his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“Fine. Go on, dammit.”

Sharp pain in his side.

Don't stop.

The adrenaline was draining away and weakness was dragging at every limb.

Go away from it. Concentrate. You're swimming toward the archway. No pain there.

He was running faster, stronger. The hills were just ahead. He could make it.

He was through the archway. White columns gleamed in the distance.

Marinth . . .

L
ONTANA'S
I
SLAND
L
ESSER
A
NTILLES
Present Day

Lacy golden fretwork.

Velvet drapery.

Drums.

Someone coming toward her.

It was going to happen again.

Helpless. Helpless. Helpless.

The scream that tore from Melis's throat jarred her awake.

She jerked upright in bed. She was shaking, her T-shirt soaked with sweat.

Kafas.

Or Marinth?

Sometimes she wasn't sure. . . . It didn't matter.

Only a dream.

She wasn't helpless. She'd never be helpless again. She was strong now.

Except when she had the dreams. They robbed her of power and she was forced to remember. But she had the dreams less often now. It had been over a month since the last one. Still, she might feel better if she had someone to talk to. Maybe she should call Carolyn and—

No, deal with it. She knew what to do after the dreams to rid herself of these trembling fits and get back to blessed normalcy. She tore off her nightshirt as she left the bedroom and headed toward the lanai.

A moment later she was diving off the lanai into the sea.

It was the middle of the night, but the water was only cool, not cold, and felt like liquid silk on her body. Clean and caressing and soothing . . .

No threat. No submission. Nothing but the night and the sea. God, it was good to be alone.

But she wasn't alone.

Something sleek and cool brushed against her leg.

“Susie?” It had to be Susie. The female dolphin was much more physically affectionate than Pete. The male touched her only rarely, and it was something special when he did.

But Pete was beside her in the water. She saw him out of the corner of her eye as she stroked toward the nets that barricaded the inlet. “Hi, Pete. How are you doing?”

He gave a subdued series of clicks and then dove beneath the surface. A moment later Susie and Pete came to the surface together and swam ahead of her toward the nets. It was strange how they always knew when she was upset. Ordinarily their behavior was playful, almost giddily exuberant. It was only when they sensed she was disturbed that they became this docile. She was supposed to be the one teaching the dolphins, but she was learning from them every day she spent in their company. They enriched her life and she was grateful that—

Something was wrong.

Susie and Pete were both squeaking and clicking frantically as they approached the net. A shark on the other side?

She tensed.

The net was down.

What the hell . . . No one could unfasten the net unless they knew where it was connected. “I'll take care of it. Go back home, guys.”

The dolphins ignored her, swimming around her protectively while she examined the net. No cuts, no tears in the strong wire. It took her only a few minutes to fasten the net again. She set off back to the cottage, her strokes strong, purposeful—and wary.

It didn't have to be a problem. It could be Phil back from his latest journey. Her foster father had been gone for nearly seven months this time, with only an occasional phone call or postcard to tell her if he was alive or dead.

But it could be trouble. Phil had been forced to go on the run almost two years ago and the threat was only partially eliminated. There could still be people out there who wanted to get their hands on him. Phil wasn't the most discreet person in the world, and his judgment wasn't as keen as his intellect. He was a dreamer who took more chances than—

“Melis!”

She became still, paddling in place, her gaze on the lanai a short distance away. She could see a man's silhouette outlined against the lights of the living room. It wasn't Phil's small, wiry frame. This man was big, muscular, and vaguely familiar.

“Melis, I didn't mean to scare you. It's me, Cal.”

She relaxed. Cal Dugan, Phil's first mate. No threat here. She had known and liked Cal since she was sixteen. He must have moored his boat at the pier on the other side of the house, where she couldn't see it. She swam toward the lanai. “Why didn't you call me? And why the devil didn't you put the net back up? If a shark had gotten to Pete or Susie, I'd have strangled you.”

“I was going to go back and do it,” he said defensively. “Nah, I was going to persuade you to do it. I'd have to know Braille to be able to hook it up in the dark.”

“That's not good enough. It only takes a minute to pose a threat to the dolphins. You're just lucky it didn't happen.”

“How do you know a shark didn't get in?”

“Pete would have told me.”

“Oh, yeah. Pete.” He dropped a bath towel on the lanai and turned his back. “Tell me when I can turn around. I guess you haven't taken to wearing a swimsuit?”

“Why should I? There's no one to see me but Pete and Susie.” She hoisted herself onto the tiles and wrapped the large towel around her. “And uninvited guests.”

“Don't be rude. Phil invited me.”

“Turn around. When's he coming? Tomorrow?”

He turned around. “Not likely.”

“He's not in Tobago?”

“He was setting sail for Athens when he sent me here.”

“What?”

“He told me to hop on a plane out of Genoa and come and give you this.” He handed her a large manila envelope. “And to wait here for him.”

“Wait for him? He'll need you there. He can't do without you, Cal.”

“That's what I told him.” He shrugged. “He told me to come to you.”

She glanced down at the envelope. “I can't see out here. Let's go inside where there's light.” She tightened the towel around her. “Make yourself some coffee while I take a look at this.”

He flinched. “Will you tell those dolphins I'm not going to hurt you and to stop screeching?”

She'd barely been aware they were still beside the lanai. “Go away, guys. It's okay.”

Pete and Susie disappeared beneath the water.

“I'll be damned,” Cal said. “They do understand you.”

“Yes.” Her tone was abstracted as she went into the cottage. “Genoa? What's Phil been up to?”

“Search me. A few months ago he dropped me and the rest of the crew off in Las Palmas and told us we were on vacation for three months. He hired some temporary help to sail the
Last Home
and took off.”

“Where?”

He shrugged. “He wouldn't say. Big secret. It wasn't like Phil at all. It was like that time he went off with you. But this was different. He was on edge and he wouldn't say anything when he came back and picked us up.” He grimaced. “It's not as if we haven't been with him for the last fifteen years. We have shared a hell of a lot together. I was there when he brought up the Spanish galleon, and Terry and Gary signed on a year later. It kind
of . . . hurt.”

“You know when he becomes focused on something he can't see anything else.” But she had seldom known him to close out his crew. They were as close to family as Phil would permit near him. Closer than he would let her come.

But that was probably her fault. She found it difficult to be openly affectionate with Phil. She had always been the protector in a relationship that had sometimes been both volatile and stormy. She was often impatient and frustrated with his almost childlike single-mindedness. But they were a team, they fulfilled each other's needs, and she did like him.

“Melis.”

She glanced at Cal to find him gazing awkwardly at her. “Would you mind putting on some clothes? You're one gorgeous woman, and even though I may be old enough to be your father, it doesn't mean I don't have the usual responses.”

Of course he did. It didn't matter that he'd known her from the time she was a teenager. Men were men. Even the best of them were dominated by sex. It had taken her a long time to accept that truth without anger. “I'll be right back.” She headed for the bedroom. “Make that coffee.”

She didn't bother to shower before she put on her usual shorts and T-shirt. Then she sat down on the bed and reached for the envelope. It might be nothing, totally impersonal, but she didn't want to open it in front of Cal.

The envelope contained two documents. She took out the first one and opened it.

She stiffened. “What the hell . . .”

H
YATT
H
OTEL
A
THENS,
G
REECE

“Stop arguing. I'm coming to get you.” Melis's hand tightened on the phone. “Where are you, Phil?”

“At a tavern on the waterfront. The Delphi Hotel,” Philip Lontana said. “But I'm not going to involve you in this, Melis. Go home.”

“I will. We're both going to go home. And I'm already involved. Did you think I was just going to sit around doing nothing after I got that notification that you'd deeded the island and the
Last Home
over to me? That's the closest to a last will and testament I've ever seen. What the hell's happening?”

“I had to turn responsible sometime.”

Not Phil. He was as close to Peter Pan as a man in his sixties could be. “What are you afraid of?”

“I'm not afraid. I just wanted to take care of you. I know we've had our ups and downs, but you've always stood by me when I needed you. You've pulled me out of scrapes and kept those bloodsuckers from—”