Tangled Lies (20 page)

“Someone obviously doesn’t want us looking into this, so yes, I think someone took it.”

Even huffed out a breath. “Now what?”

Chapter 13

Jesse went back to his shed, Sasha’s story on his mind. He knew all about regret, about trying to undo the past. Maybe he should have told her about Ethan’s death, but it wasn’t the right time.

He wiped his hands on a rag and shook his head as his thoughts slipped back in time. He hadn’t realized what Ethan was doing. Not until the moment they were arrested. If he had, he would have done . . . something. Even tried to borrow money from his father. He’d been so wrapped up in their business, in proving to his father he didn’t need him or his money, he’d let his friend down. It wasn’t a mistake he would make again.

But right now, he had to stay focused. He couldn’t get so tangled up in his feelings for Sasha that he missed some clue that would keep her safe.

Tied up in his thoughts, he didn’t hear the whisper of movement behind him until it was too late.

He turned his head toward the sound and saw a wrench headed for his head. He reached out to block the blow, but it wasn’t enough.

Pain exploded in his head, and he slumped to the floor. He heard men arguing, but he couldn’t place their voices, couldn’t distinguish anything but the throbbing in his skull.

Someone flipped him over, and he thumped his head on the concrete floor. Nausea threatened, but he tried to hold it back as he struggled to open his eyes. He wanted to fight back. Or, at least, see who was doing this. But he couldn’t get his eyes to open.

He took shallow breaths, trying to gather his strength to fight, when something pounded him in the middle of his chest. Once. Twice. Three times.

A low moan escaped. Through the haze of pain, he heard more whispered arguing. So at least two men, based on the voices.

He put his palms down beside him, prepared to stand up.

Another sharp pain in his ribs. He turned his head and threw up.

The beating stopped.

The voices stopped.

Blackness descended. This time, he didn’t fight it.

Jesse woke to someone moaning beside him. He tried to move, to see what was wrong. But then the sound came again, and he realized he was the one moaning. Everything hurt. He opened his eyes and slammed them shut again as sunlight poured through the dusty window and hit his face. His head throbbed, and when he opened his eyes and tried to focus, he realized there were three of everything.
Dang. Concussion.

He tried to sit up and clenched his teeth against the pain. Since it had happened before, he knew he had some bruised ribs at the very least, if they weren’t fractured. What worried him was how hard it was to draw breath. He had to get up.

He rolled to his knees and waited for the room to stop spinning before he crawled over to the shelves along the wall and used them to pull himself to his feet. One agonizing inch at a time.

By the time he got all the way up, sweat ran down his back and his breath came in pants.

He turned, slowly, and shuffled his way toward the door, using the wall for support. The room wouldn’t stop spinning, but he couldn’t stop. He had to get these ribs looked at. Make sure he didn’t have a punctured lung. He couldn’t race with a punctured lung.

He wasn’t sure he could race with broken ribs, either, but he wouldn’t think about that right now. For the moment, he just needed air.
Please, just enough air.

He stumbled out into the daylight and turned to look for Sasha. She would help him. He just had to find her. But the dizziness grabbed him again and spun him around, and somehow he was on the wooden dock. He felt something lick his face, and then everything went black.

Sasha handed the man his change. “There you go. Enjoy the charter. Captain Doug will make sure you have a good time.”

“Thanks. The family is looking forward to it.”

They both turned as Bella barked and bounded into the store, still barking. She raced over to Sasha and barked and nudged her knee. “What’s up, girl?”

Bella barked and raced back out, Sasha hot on her heels. She’d learned to pay attention when her dog acted like that. As she ran up the dock she wondered if the problem was with Mama, or Pop, or—

She skidded to a stop. Jesse lay facedown on the dock, halfway out the door of his shed. The back of his head was matted with dried blood. She immediately reached down and checked for a pulse. Thready, but there. She pulled out her cell phone and dialed 911, giving the particulars in short order.

Several people gathered around, and Pop pushed his way through. “Back up, folks. Give him some room.”

Sasha crouched beside him. “Jesse! Jesse, can you hear me?” He didn’t respond. She ran her hands over his body, looking for other obvious signs of trauma, but found nothing but the wound on his head. She didn’t want to turn him over and put that wound on the dock, maybe causing further damage.

Pop crouched down beside her. “Any other injuries?”

“Not that I can tell. He’s panting, so I know he’s breathing. I don’t want to cause more harm.”

Pop nodded, and they looked up as the county EMS vehicle pulled into the marina parking lot. Two muscled men in their twenties hurried down the dock, rolling a stretcher.

They cleared the crowd and crouched beside Jesse. Sasha gave them Jesse’s name and age and told them what she knew of his injuries. They conducted their own tests and quickly rolled him to his side, then loaded him onto the stretcher. The blond EMT looked at her. “Looks like a couple broken ribs, too. Do you know if he fell? Or if someone beat him up?”

Sasha stilled. “I really don’t know.”

Until that moment, she hadn’t thought about how Jesse got hurt. She stood and hurried back into the shed, but saw no signs that he’d fallen somewhere and hit his head. And how would he break ribs if he fell backward?

She shivered despite the heat and went back outside as the EMTs started rolling the stretcher toward the ambulance. Jesse hadn’t stirred.

“You taking him to County General?” she asked. When they nodded, she said, “I’ll be right behind you.”

She told Pop where she was going, instructed Bella to stay with Pop, and followed the ambulance to the hospital. She slammed a hand on the steering wheel, hard. This whole thing had gotten completely out of hand. Could this really boil down to locals who didn’t want Jesse in their little town? In sleepy little Safe Harbor, this kind of violence seemed completely over the top.

It seemed far more likely someone didn’t want Jesse in the race. Why should anyone care? She shook her head, searching for answers and coming up empty.

Part of her knew keeping her mind busy also kept her feelings at bay. If she let herself think about how close she’d come to losing Jesse . . . she rubbed a hand over the ache in her heart. No, she couldn’t, wouldn’t think about that. He would be fine. They would figure this out.

She would accept nothing less.

The pain came first, poking through the fog in his brain like a burning stick. His head pounded, and every breath made his ribs feel like someone kept jabbing that same stick into his midsection.

He couldn’t draw a full breath, and panic edged in alongside the pain. He gasped, then made himself stop. He had to clear his thoughts, focus, figure out where he was and what was going on.

“Dear God, let him rest. Let him breathe. Don’t take him. Please don’t take him.”

It took a minute to recognize Sasha’s murmured voice. He’d never heard her sound so worried. He cracked open his eyes and couldn’t hold back a moan at the harsh sunlight. He slammed his lids closed and within moments, felt the room dimming.

“I closed the blinds. See if that helps.” Sasha’s low voice came from somewhere near his ear.

He slowly opened his eyes again and found her crouched over him, fear in her eyes. “Sorry to make you worry.” His voice came out scratchy, not like his at all.

She straightened and pasted a grin on her face, her phony smile trying to hide her discomfort. “You must have hit your head harder than we thought, Money-boy.”

“You care about me,” he insisted.

She nodded. “Like I do a lost puppy.” Her expression eased into a real smile. Then she turned serious again. “Do you remember anything about what happened?”

He took a moment and looked around the hospital room. He raised an arm, surprised to see an IV running from it to a stand by the bed. He felt the back of his head and touched a heavy bandage. But even that small contact made him wince. He lowered his hand and stifled another moan as his ribs screamed.

“I was in the shed. Working.”

He stopped, tried to think, to remember what happened after that. Nothing came to mind. Just darkness. And pain.

“Did anyone come by to talk to you?” Sasha prodded.

He tried to see past the darkness, but nothing penetrated.

The door to his room swung open, and Chief Monroe strolled in, his Stetson in one hand. “How you feeling, Claybourne? You up to a few questions?”

“Can’t remember.”

The chief pulled up a chair and leaned over the bed so he filled Jesse’s line of sight. “The doctor says severe concussion and some broken ribs. And you did some damage to the knife wound that hadn’t healed completely yet.”

He’d figured that much out already, given the pain levels.

“I wandered around in that shed of Sal’s you’ve been using. No sign that you fell. Doesn’t make sense anyway, given the ribs. You remember what happened? You tick anybody off lately?”

“Big race. Lots of money for winner.”

The chief stroked his chin. “I’ve thought about that.” He looked over at Sasha. “You or Sal seen any strangers around lately? Anyone seem a little too interested in Claybourne’s boat?”

Sasha shook her head. “Couple of charters in the past couple of days.
The Painted Lady
is eye-catching, but nobody seemed to take more than a passing interest.”

The chief stood and picked up his Stetson. “You take care, son. If either of you think of anything, you holler, ya hear?”

Sasha waited until he left to lean closer. “Did you see more than what you told the chief?”

He started to shake his head, then stopped. “No. There’s a gap between when I went into the shed and when I woke up here.”

“Do you have any idea who would do this? And why?”

“The race. Who? No idea.”

“What will you do now, Jesse? You can’t race with those broken ribs.”

He sighed. “I know.” He paused, wondered what she’d say. “Will you do it, Sasha? Drive
The Painted Lady
for me?”

He saw the excitement that flashed in her eyes. Then it disappeared behind the caution he’d come to hate.

“I’ll, ah, have to think about it.”

“Why? You love flying over the water.”

“You know why. I’m here to help my family. It would take lots of practice, and I can’t be running off to do that when they need me.”

“You can do both. Being here to help doesn’t mean you can’t do anything else.”

“I can’t be irresponsible.” Before he could protest, she stood and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead. “I need to go. I’ll be back later.”

Before he could formulate more arguments, the darkness claimed him again. When he woke, a white-coated man stood at the foot of his bed, scribbling on a clipboard.

“I’m Dr. Gamble. How are you feeling, Mr. Claybourne?”