Galilee Rising (18 page)

As I'm pulling out the pants from the drawer something rustles underneath, it's a folded piece of pink paper. I open it. It's a crayon drawing of three people on a boat: man, woman, and little girl. Underneath Rebecca wrote, "Daddy Justin, Mommy, and Me."

Motherfucker.

I just stare at that damn picture, my mind churning as fiercely as the ocean below. They'd be married now. Sleeping in the bed I now inhabit. Daisy might be at one of her dance recitals as her parents watched proudly from the audience. Justin and Rebecca would be on such a high they'd go home, put the cherub to bed, and decide it was time to start on a sibling for Daisy. I'd be at a crime scene with my old partner Cam then home to my old apartment. Harry and I would have probably broken up by now, stemming from the night of Justin's engagement party when I went off on him for a misunderstanding. We would have found our way to being friends, though. Then, on the weekend, the Pendergasts and I would come together on this boat for a day of fishing, beer and laughs. Rebecca might have invited her friend Jem to the celebration. She'd been trying to get us together for months before we actually met, and that imaginary night he would have finally worked up the courage to kiss me. At least that's how I would have liked it to be. That's the way it
should
have been.

I crumple the picture, tossing it to the floor. This fucking room. This fucking boat. He's everywhere. Haunting me. I throw the sweats that reek of his aftershave as if they were coated with poison across the room. I can't breathe in here. I have to get out. When I reach the deck, nothing improves. I can practically see him at the wheel winking at me. I make my way to the bow and just stare down at the churning water. The abyss. I want off this boat. I shed all my soaked clothes, even the underwear, drop the ladder, and dive in.

The water is warmer than the air. It's almost nice in here like a warm bath. I surface and start treading water, resting my head against the water and letting the rain pelt my face. When my cheeks start going numb from the wind, I allow my body to fall completely under the water again. Much better. Let's see if I can break my holding my breath record of forty-five seconds. Some good should come from this day.

At twenty-three, a heavy splash above me draws me from my isolation. Before I can process this, something grabs me around the waist and hauls me to the surface. I'm so shocked I inhale water. Suddenly, I'm airborne and coughing up the ocean. As I glide through the air toward the boat, I glance up at my assailant. Of course.

Nightingale sets me gently on the deck before landing himself. I'm still hacking my lungs out when he asks, "Are you okay?" He smacks my bare back until I can breathe enough to talk.

"Jesus fucking Christ, were you trying to fucking kill me?" I ask through the coughs.

"I…" At that moment I think he realizes I'm naked, as do I. His eyes rove from top to bottom.

"Turn the fuck around!" I screech as I reach down for my clothes.

He doesn't need to be told twice. "I'm-I'm-I'm so sorry. I--"

"Well, you should be! You could have fucking drowned me!"

"I-I thought you were trying to…you know," Nightingale says.

My clothes are so wet I can barely get them on. "Kill myself?"

"Y-Yes. You seemed distressed earlier. I-I-I was worried."

"So you decided to
stalk
me?"

"Fo-Follow you," Nightingale corrects.

"Stalking me!" I start walking to the stern to get out of the rain. He trails behind. "Since when? The hospital?"

We go below deck where it's dry. "Be-Before that."

I need to change before I catch pneumonia. Nightingale takes a step into the stateroom, but I hold up a finger to stop him. "No." I shut the door, pick up the discarded sweats, and undress. "So you've been stalking me since the memorial?"

"Following," he says. I grab a towel and dry off before opening the door enough to toss another at him. "Thank you."

I shut the door again. "I know you're still in grade school when it comes to social learning, but you do realize it is batshit crazy and downright creepy to fly around all over town even into the middle of a storm, to watch me without my knowledge? You're a genius, you should know this." Now fully clothed, I throw the door open again with a scowl. He's still wiping his purple suit off. "And to top it all off, you try to drown me."

"I didn't try to--"

"You are not responsible for me. I am an adult, it's not your job to save me. I don't need saving."

"Okay," he says.

"I came out here to be alone. I don't want you here. You-You complicate my life. I don't like it. I-I can't do this with you anymore. I can't. Not today, not ever. Just leave." I slam the door in his face again, staring at it. It takes me all of three seconds before I feel like total shit. He hasn't moved when I open the door again. For some reason I didn't think he would. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine."

"No, it's not. I'm sorry. I'm
so
sorry. I just, I'm fucked up." I sit on the bed and pull the comforter around my freezing body. "I am
so
fucked up. I'm not fit for human consumption, especially today."

Nightingale strolls over and sits beside me. "Today is a bad day. Tomorrow will be better."

"Promise?"

He shrugs. "Could it get worse?"

I actually chuckle at that. "Oh, let's see. I've turned an entire city against me, am probably suffering from hypothermia, you saw me naked, oh and I could have possibly ruined things with someone I really, really care about. So yeah, it's gonna be hard to top all that."

"See?"

I half smile. "How'd you get to be so smart?"

A pause then, "Made that way." I chuckle but he doesn't smile back. "No, really. I was
made
that way. In a lab." My face falls in confusion. "They spliced my genes," he adds, mouth twitching. "Engineered me before conception. I was made to be…perfect. In every way. I'm a science experiment. So you're not the only one not fit for human consumption. If that makes you feel better." I just stare at him for a few seconds. "Please don't look at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like I'm a freak."

"You're alive because of science, I'm alive because Pop forgot a condom. I don't think you're a freak. I could never think that."

He studies me for subterfuge, but of course finds none. His shoulders relax, but he looks away. "I've never even told the others that."

"But you told me?"

"I-I just wanted you to know you're not alone in feeling…like an oddity. Alone."

I half smile again, and hesitantly take his gloved hand. He doesn't pull it away. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

I just hold his freezing, gloved hand for a few seconds in silence as he gazes down at the floor and I at him. "Your hand is like ice," I say.

"Yeah. I was hovering for awhile."

"Here." Before he can protest, I yank his glove off. I rub his hand with my slightly warmer ones. "You must be freezing. Why didn't you say anything?"

"I'm fine."

I grab his other hand, de-glove him, and rub the two together. "You must be soaked through."

"Really, I'm fine."

I shake my head. "I think there might be another set of sweats here somewhere. You really should get out of that suit."

He pulls his hands away. "I-I don't think that's a good idea. No."

His vehemence not only shocks me but cuts me to the core. Anger festers into the wound. I can't take much more of this bullshit. "What? You don't trust me not to look? You can go in the other room. I'm not trying to see you naked or get you to reveal your stupid-ass secret identify. I know I'm not trusted enough to be part of your inner circle. I just want you to be comfortable."

"I told you, I--"

"I know, you
would
tell me if you could," I say with an eye roll. "Forgive me, it's just, given my experience with your type, if I find that damn hard to believe. I mean, hell, we barely know each other. I am aware of this. I shouldn't expect you to…" I rub my temples and groan. "Okay, we shouldn't have this conversation now. I'm too emotional. I'm bound to say things I don't mean to." I scoot away from him and lay down on the bed again. "You should go. I'll be fine. I promise no more skinny-dipping."

He turns around, face expressionless behind the mask. "I don't think I should go anywhere right now."

I glare. "I told you, I'm fine. I'm not a danger to myself, okay?"

"I don't…you shouldn't be alone." He pauses, his jaw setting. "Justin wouldn't want me to leave you alone in this state."

"And how the hell would you know what Justin would want?"

He's silent, then, "Because. He asked me to look after you, and I promised I would."

My eyes narrow. "When the hell did this happen?"

"During your…ordeal last year. He said should anything happen to him, I was to look in on you from time to time."

I scowl. "Is that why you've…" No. No way. The thought is too horrible. "Never mind. Look, I am not a charity case. I absolve you of your stupid promise, okay? You don't have to…just go, okay?"

"I'm not…" He moves up the bed closer to me. "I
want
to be here. With you. I do."

I don't have the energy to fight him, especially when I don't want to win. I don't want him to leave. "Thank you," I whisper. He smiles, which brings one to my face too. I look away again before I turn red. Time to change the subject. "What was he like? With you? Justin?"

"Professional. Intuitive. Stubborn. Take charge. He and Tempest butted heads, but we respected him."

"You obviously knew who he was. His real identity."

"And he knew ours. A situation arose, and we all needed to know."

"Did he ever talk about me?"

"Oh, yes," he says with a proud grin. "He compared you to a lioness. Strong, capable, intelligent, fierce. He told me you would walk through the fires of hell if it meant saving someone, even a total stranger. He loved you very much, Joanna. So much."

Fresh tears spill from my eyes, but when I try to blink them away they fall. "Do you think," I choke out, "he was proud of me?"

Nightingale scoots even closer to me, visibly disturbed by my tears. He cups my head in his hands, and I place mine over his. "Of course. How could he not be?"

"I…" I chuckle wryly and shrug. "Panic attacks, moodiness, alcoholism, cheating, take your pick. Not quite the lioness he pitched, huh? How disappointed you must have been."

"God no," he says almost breathless. "I think you are…the most infuriating, challenging, frightening…breathtaking, insightful, astonishing woman I have ever met." He moves in even closer. "You awe me. You're a marvel." His thumb wipes a tear away. "An absolute marvel. And I'm blessed every second we share together."

I can't do this anymore. I surrender.

Not taking my eyes from his, I press my cheek against his hand, enjoying the softness and gentility of it against my skin as a fire alights inside me. I kiss his wrist where the veins cross and his pulse thumps double time. He doesn't move but his breath grows ragged as I trail my lips up the palm to his little finger before nuzzling his hand again. With my other hand, I reach up to his face, lightly brushing his exposed chin before tracing his lips with my thumb. They quiver. "I've dreamed about these lips," I whisper as I smile, "almost every night since we've met."

Lust flips to confusion in his eyes. "You have?"

"Yeah."

"I…this is wrong," he says, pulling away from my touch. "This cannot happen. Not-not like this. Not now. I'm sorry. I should--" He leaps from the bed and backs out of the room as if I was about to suck out his soul.

I lay still with shock for a second, trying to figure out what happened. Instinctively I know what I have to do. What I should have done weeks ago but was too afraid to. I jump out of bed and run to the galley. He is at the top of the stairs being pelted by rain when I shout, "You're not crazy!"

He spins around. "I'm sorry?"

"I said you're not crazy," I say, taking a step toward him. "And you're not imagining this." Another step. "I feel it too."

We stand staring at one another for a second, his body trembling a little as those words and their meaning penetrate that genius brain of his. His eyes search me to see if this is real, that this is really happening. I take another step. A mistake. He rockets up the hatch into the storm. "Jem, wait!" I rush over to the hole but am greeted by nothing but a face full of freezing rain and darkness. Shit.

He's gone.

CHAPTER TEN

Bad Seed

He gets one day. I give him a day before chasing after him in earnest. Enough time for him to process, assimilate, and figure out what he wishes to do next. At least that's what I assume he was doing because he sure as hell wasn't returning my calls, e-mails, or texts. I even drove by his building, leaving a note with the doorman, and his secretary Miranda assured me she gave him my messages. I've never been one to be ignored, especially with something this important. It's the lioness in me. So he's got thirty-six hours before I throw on my best dress, get my hair blown out and stylized, and strut into the hospital ready for battle.

Since the direct route has failed, I have to get creative. Once more being on the hospital board proves useful. I order one of the nurses in the ER to page Jem. Three agonizing minutes later he hustles in, as always hair as unkempt as the rest of him. The nurse gestures in my direction. One glimpse at me, and his face falls. Not the reaction I was hoping for. As I walk over to him, he glances around the room for an escape route. He is no fool. I say the words every man dreads: "We need to talk."

"Not here."

"We can use the small conference room. It's isolated. No one will hear us."

"I--"

"Please."

He's silent, then, "Fine."

I breathe a literal sigh of relief. That was easier than I thought. Didn't even have to pull out the big guns: begging or eye fluttering. He follows me out of the ER, through the main entrance foyer, and down another hall off to the side. This conference room overlooks the Falls and river walk through big bay windows on this bright, blue day. Hopefully the majesty of Mother Nature will promote a calm productive conversation. He closes the door.