Uncharted Waters (21 page)

“How long am I going to have to put our lives on hold?” she asked sharply.

“Until we're certain you're not a target.”

Frustrated, she walked to the front door, checked the bolt lock, then engaged the security chain. When she turned, Drew was right behind her and she came within a hair of running smack dab into his chest.

“I'm not trying to frighten you,” he said.

“You've done a pretty good job of it,” she said angrily. “My son could be in danger. That scares the hell out of me.”

He flinched, but didn't look away. “I'm not going to let anything happen to either of you.”

Alison had wanted him to deny the possibility that Kevin could be in danger. When he didn't, the encroaching fear turned her blood to ice. Shoving away
from him, she headed toward Kevin's room. She wasn't sure why she was so angry or why she was directing that anger at Drew. Maybe because she'd worked so long and hard to give Kevin a stable life after Rick's death. Maybe because the safe life she'd known before was gone.

Or maybe she was angry because Drew himself represented a different kind of danger, and she didn't have the slightest idea how to keep herself safe from him.

In Kevin's room, she pulled the blanket up to his chin, then crossed to the window where she double-checked the lock. Pulling the curtains closed, she walked quietly through the room, checking every dark corner, leaving his door wide open.

“I thought you deserved the truth,” Drew said when she reached the living room. “So I gave it to you straight.”

“I appreciate your filling me in on the dynamics of the situation,” she snapped. “What I'd really appreciate is for you to tell me how the hell I'm supposed to keep my son safe.”

“Seth has a security staff. Ex-law enforcement. A couple of ex-military guys. They're good.”

“Where were they this afternoon, damn it?”

“Alison—”

“This wouldn't be quite so terrible if it were just me. But we're talking about my son!” Furious, she glared at him, aware that her heart was pounding, that her breaths were coming short and fast. She knew she was overreacting. That this wasn't his fault. But he was close, and she needed someone to lash out at. “That little boy is my world, Drew. He means everything to me. For a lot of months he was the only reason I got
out of bed in the morning. I
won't
let anything happen to him.”

“I'm not going to let anything happen to him,” he growled. “I'm not going to let anything happen to you.”

She stared at him, unwilling to admit even to herself that in a small, ridiculous corner of her mind she was glad it was Drew who was there. But at the same time the more logical side of her brain knew how dangerous it would be for her to get any closer to him, to let her son get any closer. When the time came for her to walk away—and Alison knew it would—sweet, innocent Kevin would be hurt. She would not let that happen.

“Damn it.” She turned and walked into the kitchen where she stood for several long minutes, listening to the patter of rain and the distant rumble of thunder, trying to put things into perspective.

When she walked back into the living room, she was calmer. Drew was standing just outside of Kevin's room, watching over him like a sentry. The image of him standing there so protectively softened the hard edges of her anger, and she regretted taking her fear and anger out on him.

“I'm sorry,” she said. “I know this isn't your fault.”

He joined her in the living room. “I'm a big boy. I can handle it.”

“I'm glad because I seem to be having a difficult time of it.”

“You're handling things just fine.”

She crossed to him on shaking legs and stopped less than a foot away. “I don't know how to keep Kevin safe,” she whispered. “That terrifies me more than anything else in the world.”

“I'm not going to let anyone hurt him, Alison. You've got my word.”

She looked into his eyes just as he realized what he'd said. A kaleidoscope of emotions scrolled across his features. Among them she saw courage and honor and steely resolve. And she knew no matter how this turned out that Drew Evans would lay his life down for her and her son.

The reality of that moved her so profoundly that for a moment she couldn't speak. All she could do was stand there and look into his eyes and wonder why she couldn't seem to bridge the chasm between them.

“Exactly how real is this threat?” she managed to ask after a moment.

“It's hard to tell. Our information is pretty sketchy. We don't know anything about DeBruzkya's intel sources.” He shrugged. “My guess is that you're probably not in imminent danger. The thug didn't take your purse, which contained your wallet, so he probably doesn't know where you live.”

“There are a lot of
probably
's in there.”

He rubbed his hand over his jaw. “I'm going to stay with you and Kevin tonight. If you don't want me inside the house, then I'll park on the street and keep an eye on things from my truck. The bottom line is I'm not going away.”

“It's okay. I mean, for Kevin's safety,” she added quickly. But she could tell from the quick race of her pulse that her son's safety wasn't the only reason she'd agreed to let him stay. “You can sleep on the sofa.”

He looked relieved. “When I can't be here, Seth has a security team he can put on you around the clock. It's just a precaution, Alison, and probably only for a few days.”

She didn't like any of what was happening, but she was far too smart not to take the threat seriously. “All right.”

His gaze burned into hers with an intensity that hadn't been there before. “I know this isn't easy. But I can tell you this. Of all the lessons I've learned in my life, the one I won't ever forget is that you don't tempt fate.”

It took her a moment for her to realize he was referring to Rick. That he would bring up the subject now surprised her. For days, she'd wanted to ask him about that final night. Her compassion for what he'd gone through wouldn't allow her to press him. But now that he'd cracked open a door, she thought maybe she could help him open it all the way, help him exorcise the demons that had been trapped inside him for four unbearable years.

“You've never talked to me about what happened that night,” she said.

His gaze met hers, darkened. His mouth formed a thin line. Alison could see him shutting down, shutting her out the way he always did when he didn't want to reach too deep.

“You already know what happened,” he said. “I don't see any reason to rehash something so hellish.”

“I read the report put out by the Navy. The people who wrote the report weren't there. You were.”

He turned and walked over to the living room window and stared out at the rainy night beyond. Alison followed, stopping a few feet behind him, willing him to face her. His back was straight, his shoulders incredibly broad. But she knew those shoulders were carrying a heavy load. She knew they were bowed with a
weight he didn't have to bear alone. If only she could get him to open up.

Just when she thought he wasn't going to talk to her, he turned to face her. She looked into eyes the color of an angry sea and saw an ocean of pain, vast and turbulent and very deep. It was the kind of pain that tore at a person like claws. The kind of pain that would eventually bleed him dry if he let it. And she knew that if he didn't let it go, it would eventually destroy him.

“Rick died a hero,” he said. “He gave up his place inside the cage to save someone else. He was a good man. He loved you. He loved Kevin—” He broke off, his jaw flexing like steel under tremendous pressure.

“Tell me what happened,” she whispered.

His eyes left hers to stare blindly out the window, and she knew his memory had taken him back to that night. She hated to send him back; she knew it was a place he didn't like to go, a place he revisited only in his nightmares. But she was wise enough to know that sometimes in order to move forward, one had to look back.

“He was burned in the explosion,” he whispered. “Burned badly. I could smell it. I knew he was in pain. But not once did he complain. He simply held on to the cage while I pulled the passengers into the chopper.”

Alison knew the mechanics of what had happened that night. But to hear Drew relive the moments leading up to her husband's death shook her with unexpected force. Tears burned in her eyes, but for the life of her she didn't know which man she was crying for. The husband she'd loved with all of her heart. Or the strong, hurting man before her now.

“He was covered with crude oil.” Closing his eyes
briefly, he took a breath and continued. “The fire had burned through his wet suit. It took me several minutes to realize how badly he was hurt. By the time I did...” He shook his head. “Rick wasn't strong enough to hang on.”

“Oh, Drew.”

“The cage had snagged some debris. I couldn't get it into the chopper. I abandoned the passengers and tried to hang on to him.” Another breath shuddered out of him, then he turned a tortured expression on Alison. “I knew he was going to fall. I knew there wasn't a damn thing I could do. I felt so damn helpless.”

Alison let the tears run unchecked down her face as the sadness and loss overwhelmed her.

“He didn't cry out for help. He didn't panic. Hell, he didn't even cuss me out.” Putting the heels of his hands against his eyes, he pressed hard, as if to hold back tears. When he finally raised his head and looked at her, his eyes were dry and so filled with torture she wanted to go to him and hold him and tell him none of it had been his fault.

“All he asked for,” he continued, “was for me to take care of you and Kevin. I promised him I would do that. And then he fell.”

D
rew couldn't believe he was dredging it up all over again, reliving a night he'd spent the last four years trying to forget. A night that would haunt him for the rest of his life. A moment that had fundamentally changed him, left an indelible mark on his soul.

He could still smell the stench of burning crude oil. He could hear the slow-motion
whop-whop-whop
of the rotor blades. The cold rain on his face. He could still feel the horror of the moment when Rick's arm had slipped through his hands. The look in his friend's eyes when he'd plummeted to his death.

Shaken by the power of the memories, he turned away from Alison and stalked to the other side of the room. Not sure if his legs would continue to support him, he set his hand against the mantel of the hearth and leaned heavily. Vaguely he was aware of her moving behind him. Of his pounding heart. Of the grief and guilt hammering at him like battering rams.

“Drew.”

He jolted when she set her hand gently on his shoulder. Because he didn't trust his voice, he didn't respond. But when she said his name again, he turned to face her.

“It wasn't your fault.”

“I dropped him,” he said. “He relied on me and I
let him down. He died because of me. It's as simple and horrible as that.”

“No. Rick made the decision to pick up the extra passenger. Drew, that's what kind of man he was, remember? That's what made him such a good para jumper. That's why we loved him so much. He gambled that he would be able to make it back into the chopper safely. No one could have foreseen that the tanker would explode and catch fire. No one could have known the cage would snag a piece of debris.”

“I looked into his eyes, and I let him go. You need to know that.” He started to turn away, but she reached out and grasped his arm, stopping him.

“I've
never
blamed you for his death,” she said fiercely. “Not when it first happened. Not now. Drew, it never even crossed my mind.”

“He should be the one here with you tonight,” he ground out. “Not me.”

She stared at him, her heart pounding. His eyes burned into hers with such intensity that she had a difficult time meeting his stare. She didn't know what to say. She didn't know what to feel. The only thing she knew for certain was that this man was blaming himself for something that was not his fault. And her own emotions were so tangled she would never be able to sort through them.

“Both of us loved Rick,” she whispered. “Part of me will always love him. But, Drew, he's been gone for four years. I know he would be the first to tell us that we should get on with our lives. That our place is not with the dead, but with the living.”

“I promised him I'd take care of you,” he said. “But I didn't. I cut out on you.”

“You were grieving, for God's sake. If you had been
able to stay with me, I know you would have. Drew, you knew I had his parents.”

“I broke my word.”

“You dealt with his death the only way you could.”

“I'm not that innocent, and my grief over losing Rick wasn't the only reason I took off for Emerald Cove. I ran because of you, Alison. I ran because you were free and he was gone and I wanted a hell of a lot more than I should have.”

The bluntness of the statement jolted her all the way down to her toes. She scrambled for something to say, but her brain refused to rally. She stared at him, hating that he'd tortured himself with this for so many years.

“What kind of man does that make me?” he asked. “What kind of man steps in where his best friend left off?”

“An honest one. A man who trusts his heart. God, Drew, I don't think either of us has been very honest about what's been happening between us so far.”

“Or maybe that just makes me a son of a bitch.”

“It doesn't. Your best friend is gone, Drew. My husband is gone. We loved him. We will always love him. But if his death has taught me anything, it is that life goes on.”

“Does it, Alison? Does it really?”