The Only Way Out Part 20

Jeff filled him in on the kidnapping and what had happened to the charter boat he'd arranged.

"So Kray's men have reported back to him by now,"Cort said.

"Probably. I need you to come and get her and her son. I figure we've got forty-eight hours until Kray finds the house."

"I'll have to go through official channels."

"I want that. Andie is going to need the government's help to get out of here. I want you to bring the boat and personally escort her to the States."

"What about you?You coming out with us?"

"No. I've got business to finish."

"If you do this, you can kiss your career goodbye."

"There's not a day that goes by that I don't relive that explosion. I can't let it go forever,Cort . As long as he's alive, he's won. I know the risks I'm taking. I think they're worth it."

"You're wrong,"Cort said. "Come out with us, buddy. Just get on the boat with the woman and the kid. No one has to be the wiser. You could-"

"No. I have to see it through. Will you be here?"

"You know what you're asking?"

Jeff knew. He was risking his career, his life, everything he'd ever worked for and believed in. He was also involvingCort . "I know. I'm sorry. I don't have another way of getting her off the island."

Cortwas silent for a long time. "I owe you, boss. I'll charter something out of theGrand CaymanIslandsand be there in thirty-six hours."

They agreed on a time and meeting place, then picked a radio frequency.

"I'll see you then," Jeff said. He heard the click asCort hung up the phone; then he replaced the receiver and closed the box.

Only then did he look at Andie standing in the doorway. He knew she'd been there for most of his phone conversation. He could have turned around and acknowledged her, but figured she might as well know what was going on.

"As simple as that?" she asked. "You pick up your secret spy phone and make arrangements? No one cares what you're going to do?"

"They care."

"But they won't stop you."

"I didn't call the agency, I called a friend."

She stared at him as if she'd never seen him before. "So you're going through with this."

"Yes."

The late-afternoon sun filtered through the palm fronds, shading Andie from the heat. She lay stretched out on the chaise lounge. Sungla.s.ses shielded her eyes. Her arms and legs were dry, but her bathing suit was still damp from her recent swim in the pool. She'd hoped the physical activity and warm temperature would lull her to sleep. But she'd been in the chair for almost forty minutes and she didn't feel the least bit like resting.

She opened her eyes and stared at Jeff and Bobby playing Frisbee on the beach. Jeff wore baggy swimming trunks and an open shirt. His muscled body moved easily and he bent low to pick up the brightly colored yellow disc and throw it back. Bobby raced forward and caught it. He kicked up sand as he spun and threw the Frisbee.

Andie watched her son. He'd tanned. Zinc oxide protected his nose, while a baseball cap shaded his eyes. His trunks hugged his skinny hips. Sometime in the last year or so he'd changed from a plump toddler into a st.u.r.dy little boy. He looked more like a miniature person now than a large baby. He moved gracefully and with purpose. He was active, growing, doing,changing right before her eyes.

The sound of his laughter carried to her and she smiled in return. He was having a good time with Jeff. At least he didn't understand the danger they were in. The explosion had frightened him, but he'd only heard the noise. She'd picked him up when Jeff had screamed at them to run so her son's face had been buried in her arms. He didn't know about the ship's captain dying, nor about the men who had been after Jeff. He was now curious but not afraid and she wanted to keep it that way.

She wished she didn't know the truth. It didn't make sense. As she watched Jeff play with her son, she tried to imagine him as a killer. She didn't want it to be true, and yet she remembered the rifle she'd seen him with when they'd first come to the house. She recalled the stark expression in his eyes when he talked about his wife and son. Kray killed them, now he would kill Kray. A life for a life.

She'd been so sure Jeff was the opposite of Kray. He worked for the government, she'd a.s.sumed. He was on St. Lucas to take her husband in, to see justice done. Her feelings had awakened, her heart had risked caring because this time, surely this time, she'd chosen wisely.

A shriek of laughter broke through her musings. She saw Bobby racing after the Frisbee. It had gone over his head and landed near the surf. Her son grabbed it and threw it back, as hard as he could. Jeff had to jump to catch it. His powerful legs thrust him high in the air. His shirt flapped open, revealing his chest. Her breathing increased. He reached up one hand and snagged the toy. Bobby crowed with delight. Jeff threw it back to him, this time aiming for the boy and making sure the Frisbee was level with the child.

He was patient with her son. He laughed and smiled. He was a good dad. He hugged easily and told stories about a magical bird named Echo. And he wanted to murder Bobby's father. She didn't dispute that Kray needed to die. But for Jeff to do it that way-She shook her head. It wasn't right. For any of them.

Bobby came running toward her. "I want a drink."

She pointed to the house. "There are small bottles of water on the bottom shelf of the refrigerator. Go ahead and take one."

"Okay." He tossed her a grin before running off. When he reached the porch, he turned toward the beach. "I'll be right back, Jeff."

"I'll be waiting."

The screen door slammed shut.

Andie glanced at Jeff. He was standing in the surf, staring out to sea. The waves surged around his ankles before retreating,then raced forward again. She wondered if he would speak to her. He didn't. He just stood there, looking out at who knows what.

Was he ashamed? Did he think she was still angry? Or was there nothing left to say? They'd each chosen sides and picked a position. What point of compromise could there be?

For a brief moment in time she'd thought he was the one. That she could safely care about him. He knew her worst and still seemed to like her. Yet she now knew that was a lie. He'd used her in his bed,then abandoned her. She should hate him. She should do a lot of things. Instead, she stood up and walked over to him.

The sun was hot against her body as she moved next to him. The salt.w.a.ter felt more like a tepid bath. When he glanced at her she wished she'd thought to pull on her T-shirt. Then she reminded herself it didn't really matter. He'd seen all of her already.

"What will happen to you when you get back home?" she asked.

"Don't you mean 'if' I get home? Kray's men will be gunning for me on the island. It's unlikely I'll get away."

"I figured you had some sort of plan to escape them."

He didn't respond.

She stared at him. "You don't have a plan?"

"There didn't seem to be much point. I don't know when or where I'll get my chance with Kray. Thinking about escaping only makes it more complicated."

He expected to die. She didn't know why she hadn't figured that out before. He was going to sacrifice himself. Maybe that was how he justified the killing. It wasn't just one life he would be taking, it was two.

"You don't expect to make it back," she said slowly.

Jeff ignored her. "If Kray's men don't get me, the local police probably will. Then Kray's men will find me in jail and take their justice. But if I do make it back to the States, I don't think I'll be getting a promotion anytime soon." He folded his arms over his chest. "It won't come to that. Kray has the money to employ the best people. They won't let me get away."

"That certainly makes it nice and tidy," she said, her voice taut with anger. "You get your revenge,then someone else tidies up the mess. You won't even have to worry about the consequences because you won't be here."

"I don't think about that part of it."

Just like a man, she thought grimly. He was doing what he had to do, and d.a.m.n the rest of the world. d.a.m.n what it meant to anyone, especially her.

She wanted to scream at him, to yell until he realized what he was doing was wrong. But it wouldn't do any good. She only knew one way to get his attention.

"What am I supposed to tell Bobby?" she asked. "How do I explain to him that you murdered his father?"

Jeff glanced down at her. His blue eyes were expressionless, his mouth a straight, forbidding line. "He'll understand in time."

"You really think so? Who's going to explain it to him? You're expecting to be dead and frankly, I don't think I'll be in the mood to give him both sides of the argument." She stared up at him. "He adores you, Jeff. He listens to everything you say, he tries to walk like you, talk like you. You're everything he wants in a father. How can you do this to him?"

She saw the first flicker of pain behind his cool facade. "I don't want to hurt him."

"Then don't. Let it go. Trust the system to handle Kray."

"The system isn't getting the job done," he said, the hurt fading. "I don't have a choice."

"We all have choices. You want to do this. You want to be the one."

"You should be pleased. If I succeed, your problems are over with Kray. Have you thought about that?"

She turned away from him. The sand was warm as she shifted her feet. The tide retreated, rushing only to her toes. "It's not worth it. I don't want your life to be the price of my freedom. Are you really willing to sacrifice so much for one man?"

"I'm not doing it for me, or even for you."

She spun back toward him. Her braid flew out and hit her shoulder before brushing against her back. She stiffened her spine. "Kray's death won't bring back Jeanne and your son. Nothing will. They're gone. You have to let them find their peace."

He bent at the waist, bringing his face close to hers. "You don't know what the h.e.l.l you're talking about."

If he intended to frighten her, he was doing a good job of it. She wanted to back away from his cold eyes, from the warrior so willing to give his life in the name of the cause. She swallowed hard. "Would Jeanne want you to do this?"

He thought for a moment,then straightened. "No."

"Then why?"

"You don't understand."

"You're right. I don't. I don't always agree with what our government does in situations like this, but there are rules in place. We can't all do everything we want, all the time. Society doesn't work that way. If you kill Kray, it won't change anything. There will be another crime lord to take his place. Then another. Are you going to hunt them all?"

"They don't matter to me. This is personal."

"It can't be. The moment you do that, the moment you cross the line and turn your back on everything you've ever believed in and fought for, the second you ignore what you know is right and honorable and good, you become just like him. You'll be Kray. No better, no worse. Exactly equal."

He was silent. She waited, praying he would see the logic of her argument. There had to be a way to reach him. There had to be another way out of the situation.

He turned and started toward the house. At the pool deck he glanced back at her. She couldn't read his expression. Did he understand what she'd said?

"You can't change my mind," he said.

"Then you're just like him."

He looked past her, out to sea. "I know," he said at last. "I know."

Chapter 13.

Bobby slept on his left side, with the sheet pulled up to his shoulders and the blanket bunched around his feet. His brown hair fell across his forehead and his eyelashes cast shadows on his rosy cheeks.

Jeff stared at the boy and wondered if the child dreamed. Would he think of the games they'd played that day? Of the Frisbee thrown in the sunshine? Of the taste of their dinner? Would he recall the silly jokes and the most recent installment of Echo's adventures in the land of pretend?

Or did Bobby dream of his father? He never mentioned Kray, yet he must have questions. Did he wonder about the man who had stolen him away from his life and all he'd known? Or did he simply trust his mother to make his world right again?

Jeff touched the boy's cheek. His warm, smooth skin reminded him of another child. Of J.J. and of how many times he, Jeff, had come home late and crept into his room to watch his son sleep. Jeanne had often chided him, telling him that the boy was even more interesting when he was awake and perhaps he should try to get home a little earlier. Soon, he'd promised to appease her. Soon.

But he'd waited too long. He'd chased the bad guys and won his citations and he'd thrown away the little time he was to be allowed. When he'd finally realized how much he was missing, it was too late and the boy was gone.

He closed his eyes against the pain, but it didn't help. There was nothing he could do to bring him back. Not even Kray's death would fill that emptiness. G.o.d, he missed his son.

The pain surrounded him, filling him until there was nothing left. Losing a child had to be the worst thing for a parent to experience. At least Jeanne had lived longer; she'd experienced more of what life had to offer. His eyes opened. She'd lived but not enough. Her parents no doubt missed her as much as he missed J.J.

He should have called them more often, he realized. In the past five years he'd cut himself off from his family and hers. He hadn't wanted to talk about the past with anyone. He hadn't wanted to relive those last horrible seconds when the car had blown up. He'd avoided holiday get-togethers. He hadn't even gone to the memorial service.

There had been no bodies to bury, nothing recognizable to be flown home. Both families had put off the memorial service, hoping he would finally be willing to begin the mourning. But he never had. Finally he'd told them to go ahead without him. He'd never gone to see the plaque, or brought flowers. He'd never tried to explain any of what he was feeling to Jeanne's parents or his own. He'd held it all inside, using the rage and pain to feed his hate. Those ugly dark emotions kept him alive. But was it a life? He lived only to kill another. To cross the line and become the enemy.

He stood up and left the bedroom. The hallway was dark. A single light burned in the living room. He paused there and looked around. Bobby's toys were scattered everywhere. A hardback novel had been left open on the coffee table. Andie had been reading earlier. He could hear the faint squeak of the swing on the porch.

If he got out of this alive, if he made it back to the States, he would go to his family and speak with Jeanne's parents. He would visit the plaque with them and talk about what had happened. He would share some happier memories, tell his parents he cared about them and Jeanne's family that she'd always loved them. It was really all they'd wanted to know. When he got home, he would unpack the pictures he kept in boxes and look at them. Maybe then he would be able to recall Jeanne's face.

He'd loved his wife. Their relationship hadn't been perfect, it wasn't what they both wanted it to be, but he had loved her. Almost as much as he'd loved J.J. It would be hard to let go of them, but maybe it was time.

He bent down and picked up a battered action figure. It was amazing what one five-year-old boy could do to a plastic toy in just a couple of days. Bobby was a good kid. Jeff saw a lot of Andie in the boy.

If he got out of this alive- He didn't complete the thought. He didn't have the right. He'd been a jerk from the first moment he'd seen Andie. He'd punished her for having been married to Kray, and for a few other things that weren't her fault. An apology wouldn't make up for what happened in his bed.

He set the toy down. He couldn't let go of the thought. If he got out of this alive, he wanted a second chance. He wanted to find her. Maybe if they both put the past behind them, they could find some common ground. He respected her courage and her strength. He admired the way she admitted her mistakes and refused to take the blame for what wasn't her fault. She wasn't a fool. She was smart, mouthy and gorgeous as h.e.l.l. For some reason that he would never understand, she cared about him.

If he got out of this alive... He shook his head. She would never forgive him, and even if she would, he could never be a part of her life. If Kray's men didn't kill him and the local authorities didn't arrest him, if his own government didn't lock him away, he still would have crossed the line. Once he went to the other side, there was no finding his way back.

He walked out of the living room and onto the porch. The squeak of the swing slowed,then began again. He turned toward the sound. Andie sat in one corner. The seat was wide enough for two, so he settled next to her.

"Is Bobby asleep?" she asked.