Bermuda Nights - The Boxed Set (22 page)

I twined my fingers into his hair and pulled again. “I want you.”

He groaned, coming down onto one knee at my side. “Oh, Amanda, I know that you do. Jesus Christ, I should have forced you off the ship in Bermuda. I should have prevented you from coming into the theater that first night. I knew the dangers, I knew what it could all lead to, that –”

I shushed him. “Weren’t you the one who said we can’t unwind all the past decisions we made, or use a time machine to go back and redo them? We are where we are now, and we can only change what we do going forward.” My smile grew. “And I know what I want to do.”

He drew both of my hands into his own. “I’ll get you through this, Amanda.”

I laughed. “I don’t want to get through this, Evan! I want to relish it. Savor it. It’s like Christmas morning and my birthday and Valentine’s Day all bundled into a giant blanket and constricting me in its joy. It’s like … I can’t even describe what it’s like. It’s beyond words.”

 I lay back against the pillow, soaking in the sensation with every cell of my body. It was like those times in college, at Jeff’s frat parties, where he would hoist me over his head like a weight bar, showing off his strength. I’d be floating on air, above it all, the roar of the drunken mob echoing in my ears.

Nothing had mattered.

I turned my eyes to Evan. “Have you ever tried this stuff?”

His answer was short. “No.”

I giggled. “Of course you haven’t. You’re an undercover cop.”

A flinch shadowed his face, and he twined his fingers into mine. “Amanda, I know this is hard for you to understand right now, but that needs to be private. Between us.”

I stroked his fingers with my own. “You worry, Evan. But you don’t need to. The world is an amazing place. I can see the energy all around me. Everything will be all right. Nothing matters at all.”

Evan’s voice was a low growl. “I know you feel nothing matters. This is how lives are destroyed.” His gaze shadowed. “This is how people die.”

Evan glanced back at the door, then stood and grabbed the Mardi Gras beads hanging on the side of Kayla’s bed. He strode to the door, opened it, and hung them on the outside handle. Then he reclosed the door and locked it with a solid snap.

He looked over at the clock as he regained his position at my side. “It’s two in the morning. We’re going to ride this out, Amanda. I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

He took my hands in his again, and waves of love added to my euphoria, to my feeling that everything was perfectly right in the world. It didn’t matter that he didn’t want to make love. Nothing mattered at all. Only this feeling.

* * *

The clock showed ten a.m. and a gnarled feeling twisted in my stomach. I winced, and Evan brushed a hand along my face. His voice was low. “How are you doing, baby?”

The gnarl clawed its way higher, snaking along my intestines, and the blissful feeling of peace shimmered and faded, much like a morning fog slowly burns away as the sun rises. My voice was tight. “I’m not sure. I feel … odd. Is this withdrawal?”

He gave a short shake of the head, his eyes shadowed. “Your body needs to become addicted before it becomes racked by the true horrors of withdrawal, and, thank God, you aren’t there yet. That’s a curse I wouldn’t wish on any person. The pain is so intense that the only thing you can think of is to score more H, to make it stop. It’s not even about the high any more, as much as it is about avoiding the soul-searing agony of withdrawal.”

The twisting sensation within me grew, expanded, as if something very wrong was infecting every inch of my body. Panic infused me.

My voice shook. “So what is it?”

He twined his fingers into mine. “Sven thought you were an experienced heroin taker. He gave you a fairly strong dose, and his stuff is of high quality. It’s like someone new to alcohol drinking a whole bottle of Bacardi instead of trying one shot. They aren’t an alcoholic yet – but their body is still overwhelmed with the new chemicals and doesn’t handle it well.”

I wrapped my arms around myself as the shivers intensified. “So it’s like a massive, ruthless hangover?”

His voice was low. “Be thankful that’s all you’re going to have. It doesn’t take long to get addicted to this stuff – and when you do, it is a sheer living hell if you ever pause, even for a day. It’s not just bad. It’s not just the worst thing you can imagine. It’s far more agonizing than that. It’s as if your entire body is experiencing seizures, and boiling heat, but also freezing cold, and you know your heart is about to stop. You would do anything – absolutely anything – to get more heroin to make the pain go away.”

My stomach clenched hard and I twined my fingers into his. “I thought you never did heroin?”

He shook his head. “Thank God, I never took that first step. But you were right, up in the room with Sven and the others. I had a good friend of mine on the force. Vice squad. He went undercover with a gang out in Roxbury and he did what they warn you never to do. He did heroin to get them to accept him. And when he made it through that first time, he figured, hey, I can handle this. So a few weeks later he did it again.”

His gaze shadowed. “It happens quickly. You think you’re in control. And then, suddenly, it’s got you by the throat and nothing else matters. Your job, your family, your wife, your kids, all of it is garbage under your feet while you do anything it takes to get that next dose into you. You’re not even seeking the high. You’re just racing desperately in front of the withdrawal, trying to keep it from catching up with you.”

My arms had begun shivering, and I wrapped them tightly around my chest. “What happened to him?”

His lips pressed together. “His wife had left him and taken the kids. He’d been fired, and his body looked like he’d come down with the plague. He robbed a liquor store in Southie to get his next hit, and he bought from someone who didn’t have high quality standards. His blood stream was hit by three different toxins. He was in pain for two agonizing days before he finally died.”

The trembling worked up to my shoulders. “Evan, I’m so sorry.”

He brushed the hair from my face. “Amanda, just swear to me that you will never, ever, touch this stuff again. We have one more day. Less than twenty-four hours before we are safely in Boston and you are off this ship. I’ll contact my team on shore. They’ll keep an eye on you and make sure you don’t have any other effects.” His look firmed. “I swear, no matter what it takes, I’ll watch over you until then.”

My stomach did a somersault. “I think I –”

I vaulted from the bed, raced for the bathroom, and had barely gotten my head over the toilet before I retched. It felt as if my very stomach lining were being turned inside-out and dragged up my esophagus. Evan held my hair back from my face, wiping my face with a wet washcloth, and drawing me close when I was finally done.

I moaned against him. “I never want to feel like this again.”

He pulled me in. “This is nothing, babe. This is a walk in the park. And I’ll do whatever it takes so you never have to find out just how much worse it gets.”

Chapter 2

Knock Knock.

I groaned. My entire body ached, from the tiniest toenail to the edges of my ears. Parts of me hurt that I didn’t even know existed.

Evan pulled the blanket up over my shoulders and held me with his gaze. “You stay quiet and pretend you’re sleeping. I’ll take care of this.”

I wearily nodded in agreement. I didn’t care any more. If this wasn’t withdrawal, I didn’t want any part of how worse it would get. Every cell of me wanted simply to sleep.

Evan crossed the room to the door, glancing at me one final time before undoing the lock. He slid the door open a crack.

Kayla’s bright, cheery voice echoed through the small space, and it was like a college mosh-pit show blasting in my ears. “Good morning! How are the lovebirds doing?”

Evan’s voice was terse. “She’s asleep.”

Kayla laughed out loud. “Of course she is. You drove her to exhaustion! God, she’s lucky to have you.” She pushed her way past Evan. “I just need a swimsuit and I’m outta here. Gotta appreciate the sun while we have it!” She stuck her head into the bathroom and grabbed the bikini from where it was draped over the edge of the slider. “And Sven reminds you, twenty minutes. The lunch party is starting soon!”

“I’ll be there,” responded Evan.

Kayla waved her bikini top in the air, then strode out of the room again. Evan closed the door firmly behind her, then stood staring at the door.

I pulled the blanket tighter around my shoulders. “I’ll just stay here. You go on and have fun.”

Evan stood for a long moment as if he didn’t hear me. Then at last he turned, his gaze somber. “No.”

I blinked in exhaustion. Even that hurt. “What?”

He shook his head, coming over to sit on Kayla’s bed opposite me. “I can’t leave you here. Sven has friends all over the ship. It’d be child’s play for him to get his hands on a steward’s pass, or to have someone else do it. Every moment I was away from this room I’d worry that a minion of his was doing something to you.”

I groaned and pushed myself up to half sitting. I held my arm up, presenting the mark of my injection. “We’ve already proven we’re safe. Why would he take any further action?”

His gaze held mine. “All we’ve proven is you’re willing to go to dangerous lengths to protect our story,” he countered. “Sure, undercover agents are strongly advised against doing drugs, for obvious reasons. These chemicals are incredibly dangerous. There’s never a safe dose. Even one attempt could kill you. And that first try – it starts you down a path that it’s nearly impossible to resist. It lodges in your brain.” His eyes shadowed. “But still, some do it anyway. And the next time is easier. And they think they have everything under control. The next things they know …”

I put my hand into his. “Evan, I’ll be all right.”

His eyes came down to mine, and they burned with a new focus. “Yes, you will be.”

He drew me up to sitting. “Come on up to the gig. You can sleep in a deck chair. I’ll keep an eye on you, and when it’s over we’ll find somewhere safe to tuck away. We have less than twenty-four hours left. Then you’re off the ship and safe.”

I held his gaze. “Evan, come off with me. This is too dangerous. What if they aren’t swayed by what I did and become convinced you really are undercover?”

He shook his head. “I’ll handle it. This is too important to screw up now. Too many lives are at stake; too many people have risked everything to get me in place. We’re close, Amanda, really close. We just need a few more pieces to fall into place before we can toss them all into prison.”

I wanted to argue, but I could barely keep my eyes open. Instead I nodded and let him help me up. I was still in sweats and a T-shirt from … from when? Was it really from yesterday afternoon, when the Red Sox won game one of the World Series? Time wasn’t making any sense to me. I didn’t argue when Evan pulled my aqua windbreaker out of the closet and helped me wend my arms into the sleeves. As long as I could sleep. I didn’t care if it was on deck or in the middle of the restaurant. I just needed to close my eyes.

He helped me out the door, down some hallways, and I blinked in confusion as we stopped in front of another doorway. His muscles rippled in tension as he inserted a keycard into the doorway, then relaxed as the door pushed open on an empty room. He was only a minute fetching his guitar and gear bag. Then he slung those over one shoulder, drew me in with the other arm, and we were in motion again.

I cringed in pain as we came out onto the deck. Someone had set the sun’s brightness to eleven and it was searing holes through my eyelids. Evan patted me on the shoulder as he guided me over to the row of deck chairs midway between the stage and the side rail.

He helped me down into the chair, grabbing the towel from its back and draping that over me as a blanket. “The music shouldn’t be quite as loud here, but you’re still close,” he murmured. “Just stay put until I come back for you.”