Hooked (A Romance on the Edge Novel) (46 page)

“So when Sonya announced she was going to do the same thing as her father, it might have snapped something in Earl?” Judd speculated.

Nikolai solemnly regarded Aidan. “Kendrick didn’t sell my boy a compromised boat, did he?”

Aidan swallowed once again. Keeping the contents of his stomach down was getting harder and harder as the questions escalated. “No. It was Earl. He admitted to booby-trapping the electrical harness aboard the
Mystic
. I’m so sorry, Nikolai.”

“You mean
Earl
sank the
Mystic
?” Skip asked, bending forward. He’d been silent the whole time while he watched, studied, and judged. “
He killed
Mik, Kyra, and Sasha?”

“Yes, and he was just as determined to kill Sonya and Garrett too.”

C
HAPTER
T
HIRTY-
E
IGHT

Garrett sat on an over-turned bucket and leaned against the side of Wes and Peter’s skiff as they made their way to the Savonski’s camp. His head ached like a son of a bitch, and he was real unsteady. Wanda had sewn him up and complained like the good doctor she was when he insisted on leaving. He knew he had a concussion, but he wasn’t seeing double and he was aware of who he was, unlike the time in Iraq when he’d been blown a hundred yards by a bomb planted in the body of a twelve-year-old boy. It had taken him a month to figure out who the hell he was that time. This concussion produced a hell of a headache, and an upset stomach, but it didn’t hurt nearly as much as his heart did.

Sonya had actually chosen Harte over him.

He’d promised her he’d keep her safe, and then he’d thrown her overboard into her own version of hell. In his defense, he’d had every intention of helping her in the water, knowing she’d be panicked, but then something had hit him, a piece of shrapnel from the pipe bomb most likely. The last thing he remembered was Sonya saving
his
sorry ass.

He’d bullied his way onto her boat and his own actions had set off a psycho. He’d known this whole mess had been tied to a Harte. He’d just been looking at the wrong Harte.

Why was that?

The answer was a bitter pill. Because he’d wanted Aidan Harte to be guilty, then he wouldn’t be competition. He’d be imprisoned. Garrett had done exactly what Skip had feared he would do. Let his feelings for Sonya interfere with his ability to do his job and she’d almost died because of it. Hell, he’d be dead, too, if it wasn’t for Aidan.

Wasn’t that hard to swallow.

“How you doing, Garrett?” Peter asked from the bow where he stood, holding onto the painter’s rope, balancing on the balls of his feet, while Wes drove the skiff full out, flying over the waves.

Other than his breaking heart, pounding head, and nauseous stomach, he was dandy. “Fine,” he answered, just as the skiff hit the trough of a wave and banged him hard enough to see stars. Probably the ones laughing at him earlier.

“Sorry about that,” Wes said. “Hold on, we’re almost there.”

Garrett didn’t care how many bangs he had to take as long as Wes got them to the camp fast. He’d taken too long at Wanda’s. The woman had demanded he be checked over for hypothermia, since he’d shown up in her Infirmary wet, naked, and shivering. She’d rustled up some baby blue scrubs, with little black bears on them for him to wear, and he’d promised to get them back to her. He still held the sleeping bag around him and was forever grateful that the rain had ceased to fall. For once in his life, he had no wish to be wet again any time soon.

“Wow,” Peter commented, standing straighter in the bow as they came into shore. “Looks like we’re having a party.”

Sure enough the place was lit up like a carnival. Troopers canvassed the area, flood lights becoming less effective with the weak sunrise coming up over the bluff. Garrett gingerly stood, holding onto the rail, and took in the scene, fighting the wave of dizziness that threatened to swamp him.

The RHIB was beached next to Aidan’s skiff, and Corte and Foster where bagging the body. Farther up the beach, Garrett made out Aidan, Nikolai, Judd, and Skip.

No sign of Sonya.

Bet Sonya was cursing him loud and angry about now, with troopers invading her camp. The alternative didn’t bear thinking about. Luckily it was still considered middle of the night and there wasn’t a fishing period until later that day, leaving the beach empty of spectators. At least Cranky’s dead body didn’t have the audience that Kendrick’s had.

Wes brought the skiff to shore, and Garrett climbed out into the surf, leaving Peter to help Wes tie up to the running line. He trudged toward the group sitting around the fire pit. He had a job to do. Something he should have been concentrating on instead of letting his emotions for Sonya cloud the reason he’d come to Bristol Bay.

Funny that he’d signed up for this assignment to clear his head of one woman only to have it muddied up over another.

“Nice outfit,” Judd smirked as Garrett took a stump between him and Nikolai.

Garrett ignored him and addressed Nikolai, “How’s Sonya?”

A look of worry traveled over Nikolai’s craggy face. “No news is good news. She’s with the women and if I know my Maggie May, Sonya will be just fine. Maggie wouldn’t settle for anything less.”

Garrett breathed a sigh of relief. If anything had happened to her—

He closed his eyes as the pain in his chest flared. He opened them and regarded Judd and Skip. “Where’re we at?”

“Ready for your version of the evening’s events,” Skip said.

Garrett met his eyes, and tried not to flinch at the condemnation in his. He’d sure fucked up. “Where do you want me to start?”

“The beginning.” Cops always started at the beginning.

He began with being jerked awake by the first bomb, leaving out where he’d been sleeping at the time. Nikolai flinched when Garrett recounted tossing Sonya overboard, and he lost himself for a moment in the fear she must have felt being pitched into water black and cold as death. His heart burned with the knowledge of what he’d put her through.

A slight breeze drifted by and an eagle screeched above, while waves lapped carelessly at the shore. The sky flushed pink with promises of a stunning day to come. It all seemed so surreal that the short black hours of the night had been filled with death and confessions.

“I just remember fragments after that.” Fighting to stay conscious, struggling to stay afloat, fearing he wouldn’t be able to save Sonya, and then the bitter reality that he hadn’t saved her. She’d saved herself. Along with Aidan. She hadn’t needed him. All Garrett had been was dead weight.

“We need to hear anything you remember,” Judd said, settling into the role of good cop while Skip was deep in the role of bad cop. Garrett bet Skip couldn’t wait to cut him down, but he was professional enough to wait until they didn’t have an audience.

“I remember Earl admitting that he’d caused the sinking of the
Mystic
.”

Nikolai glanced away at his words and Garrett knew this night had to be incredibly hard on the man. He’d fished all these years next to the Hartes and hadn’t known the part Earl had played in his family’s tragedy.

“Did you witness Aidan shooting Earl?” Skip asked.

“Yes. It was self-defense. Sonya and I would be dead if Aidan hadn’t reacted as quickly as he had.” He met Aidan’s eye, knowing he owed the man not only his life but Sonya’s. He’d be forever in his debt.

Didn’t that suck?

Sonya threw back the mountain of covers and sat up. She’d awakened feeling like she’d been baked too long in an oven. Crispy around the edges and hard as a rock in the middle. The feeling sure as hell beat frozen in a freezer, but she’d had enough. She needed to know if Garrett was okay, and Aidan. The troopers had whisked him away just like she’d feared they would. How was he holding up with their relentless questioning, while he battled the guilt of killing his father? How bad was Garrett’s head wound? Had he lost too much blood? She knew the man could take care of himself, but what if tonight had been more than he could handle?

What if—

“What are you doing out of bed?” Thankfully, Grams interrupted her thoughts.

“I’m much better.” Sonya reached for a brush to pull her hair back into a ponytail. She really needed a shower. The dried salt from her horrific swim made her feel like a piece of dried meat. Skin tight and gritty. The cabin was quiet. Sonya didn’t see any sign of Lana, but Grams had been baking muffins. The tempting smell of cranberries and nuts made Sonya’s stomach rumble. She’d exerted so much energy trying to keep her and Garrett afloat she felt like she could eat nonstop for a week.

“Sonya,” Grams said, worry wrinkling her brow. “You scared years off my life. I’d feel better if you rested some more.”

Sonya wrapped her arms around her grandmother. “I know, and I’m sorry.”

Grams hugged her back. “Don’t do it again. I don’t have that many years left to lose.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Sonya let her go with a smile. “Where are the men?”

“Still outside pow-wowing around the fire pit.”

“Any news on Garrett?” She was afraid of the answer.

“Wes and Peter returned with him about thirty minutes ago.”

“He’s here?” Wanda had released him? “Have you seen him? Talked to him? How’s he doing?”

“One question at a time. From what Wes said, he has a concussion, and Wanda hadn’t been too keen on letting him leave. He didn’t give her much choice. It took fifteen stitches to close his head wound.”

“He should be under observation.”

Grams nodded in agreement. “I’m sure you’ll tell him that when you see him. You might want to ask yourself why he demanded on returning. His head’s got to be paining him something awful.”

“You think he came back for me?”

She nodded, her gaze wise. “Don’t you?”

Sonya didn’t know what to think. Garrett was passionate about his job, but then last night in her bed he’d been pretty passionate regarding her too. A blush heated her cheeks at the memory. Question was, which of the two did he care about more?

The door burst open and Peter rushed in. “Good, you’re up,” he said when he noticed Sonya. “You feel like going over the
Double Dippin’
? If not, the fish cops said they could handle it without you.”

“No one’s getting on my boat without me.”

His knowing grin lit his face. “Thought you’d see it that way.” His nose sniffed the air. “Muffins?”

“They still have five more minutes of baking,” Grams said, hands on her hips. “Then they need to sit for a few.”

“Ah, man.” Peter stomped his way back out like a little kid at the end of his patience.

Sonya reached for one of the many hoodies hanging on nails around the cabin. She chose the one which had the words, “Shut up and Fish,” blazing across the front.

All she’d wanted to do was fish this season and to date, she hadn’t caught enough. This summer had presented more challenges and revelations than she’d bargained for.

She shut the door on those thoughts, not ready to deal with what had been revealed tonight. She didn’t know when she would be. Until then, she had a boat to protect from a bunch of nosy fish cops.

She found the men where Grams had said they’d be. Peter and Wes were down the beach, each with a shovel digging out the doomed outboard engine. Gramps must have put them on the chore to keep them busy and out of the way.

Garrett was the first to notice her. “Sonya,” he said, rising to unsteady feet, the action causing him to momentarily shut his eyes in pain.

“What are you doing here?” she asked. The man needed to be lying down in a hospital bed.

“My job.” Garrett tightened his lips into a thin line. “How are you feeling?”

“Better. How’s your head?”

“Fine,” he bit out.

“Liar,” she returned softly.

“Sonya,” Gramps said, his tone chastising her. “It’s been a hard night for everyone. Let’s not add name calling to it.”

“Right.” She turned to Aidan. He looked as though he’d aged a decade. She walked over to him and laid her hand on his shoulder. “How are you doing?”