The Only Way Out Part 12

"It will."

"Did you listen to the weather on the radio?"

He shook his head. "I can smell it."

She took a deep breath. "What do you smell?"

"Moisture."

She laughed. "What on earth does moisture smell like? And if you say, 'Something wet,' I'll have to push you off the railing and into the bushes."

"You'll have to trust me on the rain, then."

"Okay. How long will the storm last?"

"It will be gone by morning. Tomorrow night should be clear."

"You can tell all that from a smell?"

He smiled in the darkness. "No, I listened to the radio, too."

She shifted on the seat. The chains clinked together. "I'll be glad to get going," she said. "This waiting is hard. Yet a part of me wants to just hide out here. I suppose I'm afraid of the unknown."

"You'll be fine."

"You don't know that."

He risked glancing at her. She was curled up in a corner of the swing. She'd pulled her knees to her chest. For once, her hair was loose around her shoulders. The long blond strands shimmered in the darkness; the waves from the braids she'd worn caught the living room light. She looked small and defenseless. He wanted to go to her and protect her. Instead, he stayed in place.

"You're smart," he said. "You've done as much as you can. With a little luck, you'll be able to stay hidden."

"We're due for some luck." She raised her head and stared at him. "I'm sorry about your men."

"What men?"

"The ones you're with. I'm sure they don't appreciate having their leader tied up with my problems. Once Bobby and I are gone, you can get on with your mission."

"Is that what you think?"

She nodded. "I know you're with the government somehow. I don't want to know anything more, you know, in case I get caught."

"You've watched too many movies."

"You're not here to arrest Kray?"

Not exactly. But he couldn't tell her that. Better if she did think he was part of some secret armed force invading St. Lucas to take her husband away in chains. It was slightly dramatic, but if it helped her sleep at night, she could think what she wanted. He slid off the railing and stood up. He rested one shoulder and hip on the support beam. She was directly in front of him. He couldn't avoid looking at her, and he didn't want to.

She tilted her head and the light caught the side of her face. He could see the first faint lines around her eyes and the perfect arc of her cheekbones. What would she think if she knew the truth? That he was a task force of one. His mission wasn't to arrest her husband, but to a.s.sa.s.sinate him. What would she say if she knew he was willing to die to see Kray dead? Would she be relieved, or would she fear him? He was surprised to find he could accept her fears but not her disdain. He'd gotten soft, no doubt about that.

"I'll get the job done," he said at last. "You've delayed what needs doing, but that's all. In the end it won't make any difference."

"I'm glad." She gave him a half smile. "Isn't that awful? I want my ex-husband in prison. Not just because he deserves it, but because then Bobby and I will have a chance at life. Have you been after him for a long time?"

"Years."

"So you'll feel good when the job is finished."

Their definitions of "finished" were different. She meant arrested and he meant dead. "Yeah, I'll be glad."

"This is very surreal to me," she said. "We're talking about spies and arresting criminals. A month ago my biggest worry was keeping my grades up in law school."

He told himself to keep his mouth shut. She didn't have to know. He opened his mouth to ask about her cla.s.ses, but instead blurted out, "I might not be here to arrest him."

She lowered her feet to the floor and folded her hands on her lap. "I've thought of that, too," she said quietly. "A part of me wants him dead. Now you know the worst there is about me. I wouldn't be happy if he was killed, but I wouldn't mourn him."

If this was the worst she had to tell him, he had misjudged her. If she was who and what she appeared to be, then she'd been caught up in Kray's world by mistake. The stories of wild parties, of alcohol and drugs, of using her money from modeling to attract the world's elite made no sense when he stared at the woman in front of him. Last night she'd implied that the Frenchman who'd betrayed her had been her first lover.

Jeff had gone through her things while she'd been in the pool with Bobby. She had nothing with her no prescription drugs, no mysterious bottles. She was too healthy to be living on the edge. His gut told him the truth. He didn't want tolisten, he didn't want to believe she was other than what he'd been told. Yet he knew. Andie Cochran had been an innocent in a den of wolves.

"I saw him kill a man," she said.

Jeff stared at her. "What?"

"He shot him, in our apartment inParis. It was the middle of the afternoon. A Wednesday." She shook her head. "I remember what I was wearing. Isn't that the oddest thing? It was a blue suit. Silk, with my pearls. And there wasn't very much blood. I thought there would be more. I remember thinking the rug would be ruined. But when I finally made myself go in the room later, it was fine. There was only a damp spot, where the stain had been scrubbed away."

She spoke the words without feeling, as if she were describing a picture in a book. Her expression was calm. Only her hands gave her away. Her fingers twisted together so tightly, he could see her knuckles getting white.

Jeff could fill in the details she left out. She must have been horrified. People who lived normal lives couldn't imagine what went on in the shadows. Violence, fear, cold-blooded reprisals for disobedience. That was Kray's world.

"Did he know?" he asked.

"Yes. We never talked of it, but he knew. I was afraid to leave right away. I thought he would kill me, too. So I stayed for a month. I pretended everything was fine." She shuddered. "I hated it. Being with him, having him touch me. At night-" She stopped and looked away. "It was difficult."

"But he let you go."

"I never understood why. I finally gathered my courage and told him I really missed living in the States. It was obvious I wasn't the right kind of wife for him. I wasn't ornamental enough. I said it would be best if I went home. He agreed."

"Just like that?"

She nodded slowly. Her long blond hair slipped over her shoulders and concealed her expression. "I spent the first month waiting for a bullet in my back. I figured he had people watching me. I wanted to go to the police and tell them about the man I'd seen shot. But I was afraid."

"That's understandable."

"It's because of Bobby." She brushed her hair away from her face and looked at him. Her eyes were wide and dark, her mouth trembling. "I knew I was pregnant. My child mattered more than justice. So I kept quiet and Kray let us live."

She was asking if she'd done the right thing. Not in so many words, but in the way she stared at him. He didn't want to get suckered into this. He was having enough trouble maintaining his distance. Still, it wouldn't hurt to give her a pat on the back. She'd been through a h.e.l.l of a lot.

"Bobby's a great kid," he said.

"You think so?"

"Yeah."

She smiled. His gut clenched tight. Before he could recover, she rose to her feet and approached him. He'd thought he would be safe by the railing, but he was wrong. She moved close to him. Her scent surrounded him. Sweet, tempting. When he'd gone through her things, he hadn't seen any perfume, so the fragrance was uniquely hers.

"You're a good man, Jeff."

He folded his arms over his chest. "Not everyone would agree with you."

"They don't matter."

She touched his forearm. Fire singed his skin. Why was she doing this? Why was she tempting him?

"I know what you're going through," she said.

He doubted that. Andie didn't have a clue as to his real mission. He was going to kill her ex-husband, no matter what it cost him. She wouldn't understand that. She would understand it even less if she knew the circ.u.mstances that had brought him here.

"I saw it today," she said. "When we were playing ball. I lost my parents when I was eighteen. I was devastated. I can't imagine what it must be like to lose a child."

Compa.s.sion softened her features. He stiffened. He didn't need her feeling sorry for him, or offering her brand of sympathy. His temper flared. He forced the anger down. It wouldn't accomplish anything.

"In time..." she started.

"What do you know about time?" heasked, his voice low and harsh. "Leave it alone."

She was standing too close. He tried to conjure up Jeanne to protect him, but he still couldn't recall what she looked like. All he could see was Andie.

"You'reright, I don't know exactly what you're going through. But I understand part of it. I was in the car when my parents were killed. I saw them die. I know it's hard." Her fingers pressed against his skin. She stared up at him. "I just wanted to thank you for taking the time with Bobby. I know he reminds you of your son. I know-"

"Lady, you don't know anything." Jeff wrenched his arm free of her. His hands curled into fists. The anger burned hotter and became rage. She wanted to care and he wanted her to leave him the h.e.l.l alone. She was too much. Too feminine, too alive. He couldn't resist her. He hated them both for that. Guilt swelled inside of him. Not just because it had been his fault his family had been killed but because she was helping him forget. He didn't want to forget. He wanted to remember forever. If he forgot, they would be truly gone.

"Jeff."

Her beautiful face, her tempting curves all taunted him. She made him want things he'd done without for five years. Not her. Anyone but Kray's ex-wife.

"They didn't die in a car accident," he said slowly. "It was a car bomb."

She stared up at him. "How horrible. I'm so sorry."

"Are you?" He grabbed her upper arms and shook her. "Are you really sorry? I'm sure they'll be grateful to know that. Andie Cochran is sorry. Let's all give thanks."

"Stop it," she commanded.

He stopped shaking her, but didn't let her go. "There's more. Do you want more to be sorry about?"

She swallowed. "Let me go."

"Not yet." He moved his head down until their faces were inches apart. "I'd been working on a case. Chasing a criminal. I'd gotten too close. The car bomb was meant for me."

She paled under her tan. "No," she said, trying to pull free. He held on tighter. "No, don't say that. Don't tell me that."

"It's true," he growled.

She jerked free and covered her ears with her hands. "No" she said, louder. "Dammit, not that."

"Yes, that." He glared at her. She lowered her hands to her sides. "Kray set the car bomb. Kray killed my wife and child."

Chapter 8.

Andie stared at him. The words washed over her, but she didn't hear them. No, that wasn't true. She didn't want to hear them.

Kray set the car bomb. Kray killed my wife and child.

She moaned low in her throat. She refused to believe it was true. Not even Kray would be so cruel. Yet, even as she formed the thought, she knew he could and he had. Her ex-husband. The man she'd married. Bobby's father.

She turned quickly and stepped off the porch. She walked away from the house and circled around the pool. She moved faster until she was jogging, then running. The clouds were low, the air thick with humidity. There was nowhere to go. Bushes and trees crowded in on both sides. She tripped over something sticking out of the sand and fell to her knees. A sob tore at her.

"No," she cried. "Dear G.o.d, no."

Up ahead she could hear the sound of the waves as they crashed against the sh.o.r.e. The tide was in. She staggered to her feet and ran into the surf.

Water swirled around her ankles, then up to her calves. It was warm. The white foam clung to her skin. As she sank down, she felt the first drops of rain on her face. She reached up to brush them away and was surprised to feel tears on her cheek.

Crying would do no good, she told herself, even as the sobs came faster. She caught her breath, trying to stay calm. It was too late. The tears wouldn't erase the past, but she couldn't control them anymore. Her stomach heaved. She coughed,then dropped her chin to her chest. The waves slipped over her thighs and her hands.

The pain started in her chest. She squeezed her eyes tight, but that didn't stop her from imagining the moment. The flare of the bomb. The small pieces of the car littering the sidewalk. The dead body of a child. Jeff's son.

How old had he been when his life had been cut short? What about Jeff's wife? Had their last wordsbeen loving ? Had she smiled, knowing she would see her husband soon? Had she died instantly or had she had time to know she would die and her child with her?

Kray had done it. Andie clutched her hands to her stomach and rocked back and forth. She could see his face. The handsome lines. The brown hair and eyes. He dressed well, walked like an aristocrat, yet he had the soul of the devil.

Murderer!her mind screamed. Killer of children. Husband. Father. Dear G.o.d, she'd made love with a madman. She'd held him and promised to love him forever. She was as guilty as he. The sin was just as much hers. Innocence and foolishness weren't excuses. She should have known. She should have seen the truth.

The rain fell harder. She raised her head toward the murky night sky, letting the drops wash away her tears.

What did the explosion sound like? Did Jeff hear it night after night in his dreams? Did he feel the heat of the fire? Did he hear their screams?

More tears, more sobs. She cried until she was empty and shaking. She cried until her throat was raw. The guilt, the pain. She would never forget. Never forgive. No wonder he hated her. She was alive, and his wife was dead.

She rocked back and forth in the surf, holding in the pain. In time it would fade. Even if she held on to it, eventually the edges would be blunted. But she would never forget. Not even after Kray was gone.

No wonder Jeff had been sent in to capture Kray. He was the best man to lead the team. He wouldn't let anything get in the way. She stopped moving and stared into the darkness. Only, she'd gotten in the way. She'd interfered when he'd tried to take Kray. Oh, G.o.d, why?