Текст книги "If Looks Could Kill"

Автор книги: Heather Graham

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Текущая страница: 14 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

“Of course, Madison.”

“Honest?”

“Yeah. Sure.”

Kyle was there then, along with Dan. Carrie Anne was already in the back seat, sound asleep. Madison and Kyle said good-night, Madison taking the driver’s seat, since she wasn’t sure just how many Guinnesses Kyle had consumed.

But when they waved goodbye and started backing out, she caught a glimpse of Kyle’s eyes, and she realized he was stone-cold sober.

“What’s the matter?” she asked him, smiling. “You were looking like a good old boy there for a while.”

“Nothing’s the matter.”

“Something is.”

He shrugged. “Your brother-in-law asked me to look into something for him.”

“What?”

He glanced at her. “You don’t know?”

She shook her head.

“She didn’t say anything to you about…seeing someone?”

Madison felt as if a cold sweat were breaking out on her forehead. “Kaila’s not having an affair.”

“You’re certain?”

“I—Yes,” she lied. “Why?”

He glanced into the back seat to make sure that Carrie Anne was still sleeping, then turned back to Madison. “Because someone sent her edible panties.”

“What?” Madison asked incredulously.

He nodded.

“But how did—how did Dan know?”

He shrugged. “Apparently Kaila thought he sent them. And she wore them for him.”

“Well, then…” Madison trailed to a stop. “Obviously, if she wore them for Dan, then she isn’t having an affair. Some prankster must have sent them—”

“Well, we’ll find out,” Kyle said casually.

Madison frowned. “Kyle, why would you want to do anything that might jeopardize Kaila’s marriage?” she asked nervously.

Kyle shook his head. “You’re forgetting something.”

“What?”

“Your sister is a redhead. If some prankster is sending her things, I want to know just who the hell it is.”

“But, Kyle, it could be—”

“Damn it, Madison, she can work on her marriage after we finish worrying about her life!” he said firmly.

Madison fell silent for a minute. “Give me a chance to talk to her, okay?”

“All right.”

“All right.”

“Tomorrow,” Kyle said. “At my father’s gallery opening. You know she’ll be there.”

“Right.”

“Madison?”

“Yes?”

“If she doesn’t talk to you, I will use every investigative avenue available to me to find out how your sister managed to get such a gift.”

Madison pulled the car into her driveway. Kyle carefully lifted Carrie Anne from the back seat and carried her to the house while Madison opened the door and punched in the numbers on the alarm pad.

Kyle took Carrie Anne on into her room, where Madison thanked him. He left, as Madison got ready to change Carrie Anne into a nightgown.

Madison thought he might be waiting for her in the kitchen or the living room, but he wasn’t. She hesitated, then went to the guest room door and tapped lightly.

“Yes?”

She opened the door. He was at the computer. “Sorry. Just wanted to say good-night.”

“Good night, Madison.”

She nodded and closed the door.

Well, so much for him dying of desire for her.

She went to bed herself, certain she would lie awake or, worse, that she would fall asleep—and dream.

She did. In her dream, she was driving. It was her, and this time she knew it was her, not some other woman. She was driving hard and fast, almost recklessly.

She was driving down the Tamiami Trail, far west, out of the city of Miami. There were old dirt roads out here. Some were roads that cut into the swamp, across canals and marshes, ending nowhere. Some were roads that headed toward the old shacks that remained hidden deep in the pine hammocks.

She was driving in a panic, trying to get somewhere. Somewhere she knew. From a different life, she thought.

Or from a time when she had been very young.

She shouldn’t be going, but she couldn’t turn back.

She had to get…somewhere. It was like the time when she had come out of her bedroom. When she had known that she had to reach her mother. She had to move, move swiftly, because if she didn’t…

Oh, God, if she didn’t…

Someone else was going to die. Someone else she loved. Oh, God, she had to floor it, floor it, drive….

“Madison, shh, Madison, it’s all right….”

Kyle was there. He’d gotten into the bed beside her, taken her into his arms. Now he was soothing her, running his fingers through her hair. “I’m here. It’s all right.”

She shivered fiercely. He held her close.

“What was it this time?”

“I was driving again. I was driving down the Tamiami Trail. I had to get somewhere really fast, and I was desperate, because if I didn’t get where I was going, something awful was going to happen. I was trying to reach…one of the shacks. Remember the shacks, Kyle? When were young, Roger and my dad used to have them, until the government cracked down on the Everglades. Men used to go out there hunting, but they usually just got drunk and shot up beer cans. Your dad must have taken you out there.”

“Yes, he did. They used to get so tanked up, it’s probably a miracle that the only things that ever got killed out there were beer cans.”

She smiled, then groaned, burying her face in her hands. “Am I ever going to stop dreaming?”

“Madison,” he said, gently lifting her face to meet her eyes. “Those shacks were all torn down years ago. It’s a new world. The environmentalists hate guys who shoot beer cans.”

She half smiled, and he grazed her cheek with his knuckles. He was so close, but his arms drew her closer. She had been shivering; his strength warmed away the cold of fear. He was wearing only a robe. Temptation ruled. She slipped her fingers into the opening of the robe, running them along his chest. Lower. Her fingers brushed, then covered, the length of his erection, sending a fierce shudder throughout her. She stroked him beneath the robe, her lips coming closer to his. But he drew away suddenly, whispering softly, “The door.”

Carrie Anne was in the doorway, rubbing sleep from her eyes.

“Mommy, you were screaming again.”

Madison instinctively jerked away from Kyle. Loosely belting his robe, he rose, walking toward the doorway. He tousled Carrie Anne’s hair. “Well, you’re here now. You go snuggle Mommy, huh?”

“You can stay,” Carrie Anne said politely.

He glanced over at Madison.

“I think I’ll take a shower,” he said pleasantly. “You girls get some sleep. Tomorrow’s a big day. My dad’s gallery opening.”

Plagued with guilt, Madison welcomed Carrie Anne into her arms.

And tried to sleep.

15

“This just isn’t working,” she told Kyle over coffee in the morning.

“Oh?”

She flushed. “You haven’t done anything. It’s just…not working.”

“This isn’t about the delicacy of anybody’s feelings—yours, mine, or even Carrie Anne’s. You’re in danger.”

“We don’t know that!”

“It’s a damned good theory.”

“But, Kyle—”

“You can’t be alone.”

“I’ll go to Jassy’s. She can shoot like a pro.”

“She’s never home.”

“I can go to my father’s.”

“Maybe that’s not such a good idea,” he said, looking at his coffee.

Madison gasped. “You’re accusing my father—”

“I know that your father and mother had a huge fight not long before she was killed. You didn’t see it, because you were at school. I happened to be home, for some reason. She’d summoned Jordan to the house, crying over something my father had supposedly done, and trying to use Jordan to get my father riled. To his credit, Jordan wouldn’t be used.”

“Right! So he came back later to murder her! You’re full of it! What about your father? He and my mother fought all the time, and I know that for a fact, because I had to listen to it just about every damned night!”

“Fine, my father is a suspect, too.”

She threw up her hands. “Well, we can’t keep doing this! It isn’t working. What about Kaila’s?”

“Do you really think Kaila needs someone else living in her house right now?”

“Darryl, then. I’m the mother of his child, for God’s sake.”

“Great. Then Darryl can soothe you from your dreams in the middle of the night.”

“It would probably sit better with Carrie Anne,” Madison murmured.

He rose, angrily walking to the sink. “Can we solve this later? I can sleep in the damned car or something, but right now I’ve got to get to the gallery. This event is important to my father. And you’re coming with me.”

She arched a brow, feeling her temper stirring. “I am coming with you, but not because you say so. I’m coming with you because Roger has always been good to me, and what’s important to him is important to me!”

She spun around, leaving him in the kitchen and going off to get dressed. The opening was scheduled to run from two o’clock until ten; they arrived by twelve. Madison’s job was to keep the local artists—the stars of the event—calm. For some of them that meant two tons of caffeine. For others, it meant breaking into the champagne early.

Roger was delighted that she had arrived early with Kyle. After escaping the crowd around him, he took her hands, then stepped back, surveying her. “Gorgeous! They compare you to your mother. Rubbish. You’re ten times more beautiful!” He kissed her cheek. “Thanks for coming and helping. Your dad’s right over there.” He looked at her assessingly again. “You are dynamite.”

She hoped so. She’d dressed dramatically, in a short black silk cocktail dress that dipped in front and back, and contrasted with the vivid color of her hair. “Thanks,” she told him.

“You’re kind of pretty, too, son!” Roger teased Kyle. He wasn’t pretty in the least. He was striking, in a black shirt with a casual pinstripe jacket and beige pants.

“Ah, Dad!” he murmured.

“Enough. To work!” Roger told them all.

By five o’clock, Madison was beat. She’d been taking care of the kids for the past hour. The gallery boasted a kids’ corner, little tables with little chairs and buckets full of building blocks, crayons, stencils and so on. Kids could express their artistic vision while their parents, in Roger’s words, spent “big bucks” on local talent.

She sank into one of the kiddie chairs, tired and bemused. By her side, Carrie Anne and Kaila’s brood were busy doodling with a pair of five-year-old twins. Jimmy Gates was nearby, listening patiently as one of the artists explained the “surrealism” of her work. Dan and Kaila were inspecting a beautiful seascape. Madison frowned slightly. She was worried about Kaila again. Her sister seemed nervous. She kept looking over her shoulder as if she expected…what?

“Watch it! Watch it!” she heard suddenly.

She turned to see that Rafe, Trent and Kyle were carefully lifting a metal fountain sculpture of goddesses in a garden. The artist and purchaser were worriedly giving directions, along with Roger. The scene, Madison thought, was priceless.

“Hey, Jassy!”

“What?”

“Take over the kids, huh?”

“Sure.”

Madison rose and wandered to the front of the gallery to observe the goings-on with the sculpture.

“Hey! Watch Athena’s book there!” she warned.

“Thanks!” Trent told her, making a face.

“Got it!” Rafe assured her, grimacing.

Kyle arched a brow at her.

She smiled, following them to the doorway, then leaning against it as they struggled to get the sculpture onto the bed of its new owner’s truck.

She closed her eyes for a minute. It was late spring, but the past few days had been hot as hell, and the breeze picking up this evening was beautiful. She opened her eyes and looked around. The gallery was situated just down the street from Cocowalk and Mayfair, two very unique malls. The area was also littered with charming specialty shops. The Coconut Grove area of Miami was popular with both the locals and tourists. Roger’s gallery should do well.

“You!”

She didn’t pay any attention to the voice at first; she was busy enjoying the breeze. And Coconut Grove had its share of crazies, after all, most of them harmless.

“You!”

She turned then—and stared, stunned and incredulous.

There was Harry Nore. Bug-eyed, wild gray hair completely unkempt, unshaven face covered with a scraggly beard. He looked as mad as he had all those years ago, when he preened excitedly for the television cameras after Lainie’s murder. Despite the heat, he was wearing a dirty old once-beige trenchcoat. And he was pointing at her—with the razor-sharp end of a switchblade.

“You! She-devil, she-bitch, spawn of Satan, seducer of innocents! You’ve come back. You’ve come back from the very bowels of hell! You’ve come back from the dead, like Satan’s own, but Satan will have to take you back to hell, and you’ll burn! You’ll burn!”

The last was a screech, and with it, he catapulted toward Madison. She jumped back, slamming against the doorframe. He lunged again, and she was forced back again. She heard a crack. She had slammed against the gallery’s big front window, and now she was losing her footing, sinking to the ground. She couldn’t fall, couldn’t let herself become vulnerable, but she couldn’t regain her balance, either. She had to fight, or at least get away.

But even as she looked up into Nore’s hideously contorted face and saw him so close that she could count every rotting tooth, she heard another hard slam.

Kyle had brought him down to the pavement.

Then pandemonium broke out. Trent landed on top of Nore, as well, as people came spilling from the gallery.

Suddenly Rafe was at Madison’s side. “Are you all right?”

She nodded, her mouth and throat dry. Jassy was there, ducking down beside her.

Madison grasped her sister’s hands. “Get Dan. Have him take Kaila and the kids out the back. Please, I don’t want Carrie Anne to see, to be afraid, please….”

“Stay with her,” Rafe told Jassy. “I’ll see to it that Dan and Kaila take Carrie Anne home with them for the night. The cops will be here soon. You’ll have to talk to them, Madison.”

“The cops are already here,” a voice said. Jimmy. He, too, was kneeling beside Madison. “You okay, kid?”

She nodded.

“You’ve done something to your wrist, breaking your fall. Your hand is swollen.”

“I’m all right.”

“You need some X rays.”

“The cops—”

“We can talk at the hospital,” Jimmy said.

Sirens were screaming everywhere. The next thing Madison knew, her father was with her. She’d never seen him look so white, so tense.

So old.

“The ambulance is here.”

“Dad, my wrist is swollen! I can walk, I don’t need an ambulance.”

“Right. But it’s here, so get in it anyway.”

Within the hour, her wrist and hand had been x-rayed. She was fine; she’d just sprained it, and an elastic bandage for a few days would make her right as rain.

As if everything that had already happened weren’t enough, she wasn’t even going to get to meet Darryl’s new girlfriend. And she’d ruined Roger’s opening. Talk about your basic day from hell…

When the nurse finished with her bandage, she returned to the waiting room. Her father, Roger, Jimmy, Jassy and Kyle were there, along with a young police officer. She gave him a brief statement, assuring him that she hadn’t seen or heard from Harry Nore since her mother’s death. He didn’t need much from her; there had been witnesses to the attack.

“There are a bunch of reporters outside,” Jassy warned her unhappily.

“I’ll take the Cherokee around back and pick Madison up at a different door,” Kyle said determinedly.

“That sounds good,” Jordan Adair agreed. He kissed Madison on the cheek. “And stay with her,” he cautioned, turning back to Kyle.

“I intend to,” Kyle said, leaving.

Madison could see through the glass hospital doors that a group of reporters were milling outside. Did this mean that it was over? Had Harry Nore been killing women now, and had he really killed her mother all those years ago?

“Let’s get you out of here,” Jassy said.

She almost shoved Madison out the back. Kyle had the car running and the passenger door open. She slipped quickly inside.

He started driving in silence. He looked ashen, she realized, and his jacket was torn and dirtied from his tussle with Harry Nore.

“I really am all right,” she told him. “And Carrie Anne—”

“Carrie Anne doesn’t have the slightest idea that anything happened. She’s with her aunt and uncle and cousins, and she’s happy, because Dan is going to set up a tent in the living room so the kids can pretend they’re camping out tonight.”

Madison fell silent, looking down at her hands. “So, what’s your plan?”

“We’re getting out of here for twenty-four hours.”

“How? Where?”

“You’ll see. Trust me.”

“I don’t trust anybody anymore.”

“Then consider this an abduction and do your best to enjoy it anyway.”

“Where are we going right now?”

“The airport.”

“The airport! I can’t just—”

“Yes, you can.”

“This is an abduction,” she said angrily.

He shrugged.

“I could start screaming and pitch a real fit at the airport, and then you’d have some tough explaining to do.”

“Would you please quit it! I’m taking you to do something you said you’ve always wanted to do.”

“What?”

“Swim with dolphins.”

“What?”

“You did say you wanted to swim with dolphins.”

“Yes, but, we could just drive down to the Keys—”

“That’s not far enough for this evening,” he said determinedly. “We need to get away. I have a friend who runs a private facility on one of the islands off Martinique. We’ll be there in two hours.”

He was crazy. They both looked like refugees from The Poseidon Adventure, and he couldn’t really be planning to just take off for an island with everything that was going on.

But he was.

She followed him through the airport terminal to a shop where they were able to buy T-shirts, baggy shorts, bathing suits and cheap sandals.

“You were the one who insisted I couldn’t just take off without telling people!” she reminded him as they stood in line to pay.

“I’ve told your father and Jimmy what we’re doing.”

“You what? You told my dad that we were going off overnight to a Caribbean island?”

“Yes.”

“How could you?”

“How could I not?”

“But—he didn’t know anything about the two of us!”

“I think he did. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. He wants you alive, Madison. There’s the ladies’ room. Change. Quickly. Our flight is already boarding.”

He was in his new clothes when she came out. She almost smiled, seeing Kyle in a tourist shirt with brightly colored flowers all over it.

“Shut up,” he warned her.

She didn’t say a word.

“Let’s go.”

She raced after him to a gate that was so far out she began to think they would be walking all the way to the island, then found herself on a tiny plane, facing the back of the pilot’s head.

Kyle read a magazine.

“I can’t believe you’re doing this to me!” she protested.

“We’re doing this. I didn’t do anything to you.”

“But this isn’t my idea—”

“You forgot to scream in the airport.”

“Damn you, Kyle.”

“Hey!” he snapped. “Let’s try to have one night without fear, without nightmares, huh? Harry Nore is locked up again.”

“You don’t believe Harry Nore committed any of the murders.”

“This attack on you does make it appear more likely, doesn’t it? He’s back under lock and key, one step taken on the road. And you’re safe—he could have killed you.”

She fell silent, all too aware that she might have been killed. She couldn’t forget Harry’s eyes as he’d screamed at her, couldn’t forget the flash of his switchblade as he’d pointed it at her.

“We can’t stay away too long. Carrie Anne…” she murmured.

“We can’t stay away too long or I’ll get fired. Then again,” he mused, “maybe I’d like to get fired.”

“What do you mean? You love what you do.”

“For a long time, I did. I’m tired now, burned-out. I’d like to open a dive shop. Maybe do some private investigating on the side.”

“You want to follow roaming husbands, after the years you’ve spent on incredibly important cases?”

“Well, not exactly. I don’t know, be a private consultant or something. ‘Diving and Delving’—who knows. I don’t feel definite about anything. Except a rum swizzler. Ever had one?”

“No.”

“You will.”

And she did.

The small plane brought them to Martinique, and from there they took another small plane to a private resort. She met Kyle’s friend Gene Grant, proprietor of the place, a grizzled old fellow who looked like Hemingway. “Old CIA guy,” Kyle whispered to Madison.

She didn’t know whether to believe him or not, but Gene walked them around the reception area, showing them sweeping murals of dolphins at play and warning them about their excursions into the tank the next day. “Remember how strong they are. I don’t let the guests swim with the males, because they can be very aggressive, and as gentle and wonderful as Flipper always looks, a knock from a dolphin’s head can smash a person’s ribs. They’re wonderful creatures, though, intelligent, playful. They like to be stroked, but no poking. The trainer will tell you more in the morning. For now…I understand this rush trip had something to do with an eventful day. Have you eaten?”

“Not a bite in hours,” Kyle told him.

“There’s still a buffet out on the lanai. There’s music, dancing. And your room is ready anytime after you’ve eaten.”

Kyle thanked him and escorted Madison out to the lanai. The resort was beautiful, a huge white wooden structure with vast porches, wicker tables and chairs, and lanterns burning everywhere. A band played soft, laid-back island tunes, and waitresses in sarongs moved lazily among the scattered guests. Food was set up on a buffet table to one side.

Kyle caught the attention of their waitress and ordered two rum swizzlers. He spoke in French, which made Madison realize that French was the official language of the island. Then he led Madison to the buffet table. She suddenly realized she was starving. The atmosphere was so different, so far from home. She piled on ribs, pineapple casserole, something labeled Garden Delight and corn bread. When they returned to the table, their drinks were there, tall, icy strawberry-colored concoctions with oranges and cherries on top.

“Looks like a slushie,” Madison said.

“Tastes like one, too,” he assured her.

It did. It was sweet without being too sweet. She couldn’t even taste the rum in it.

It went down like a slushie, too. Kyle ordered them both another.

“So is Gene really an ex-CIA man?”

“He is. He worked for the government for twenty-five years, then decided he’d had enough. He loved the water, so he opened this place. Now he bathes in tropical breezes and tries to enjoy the rest of his life.”

“Tries?”

“In my business, you can never forget some of the things you’ve seen.”

She nodded.

He reached out his hand, covering hers. “But you live with it. You learn that life is precious, worth fighting for as long as you’re breathing.”

“I know.”

He sat back, sipping his drink. “I didn’t. Not for a long time after Fallon died.”

“It’s hard,” Madison said softly.

“And you never forget. You just go on.”

She nodded, sipping the last of her second drink. A third magically appeared.

“You know I have no tolerance for alcohol,” she reminded him.

“I know.”

“I could pass out on you.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

“You’re not going to have to get me drunk to sleep with you, you know.”

He smiled. “Yeah, I know that, too.”

She tapped her cheek. The drinks were really deceptive. She couldn’t feel her face anymore.

“Finish your drink, then we’ll take a walk. There’s a really pretty little church built by pirates about three hundred years ago down that path.”

“I’m not sure I can walk.”

“I’ll help you.”

The world was spinning. But it was spinning beautifully. Lanterns seemed to be ablaze everywhere. The island colors were vibrant. The breeze was like a balm. It seemed impossible that she had nearly been killed that afternoon. It seemed so far away.

She was totally tipsy, she realized. And tipsy was good. She didn’t have a worry in the world. Tonight she was going to sleep without nightmares.

She wasn’t tipsy, she realized. She was absolutely inebriated.

Sloshed.

She tried hard not to act it. “This is gorgeous,” she told Kyle.

“Glad you like it. There’s the church.”

There were other people in the church. A priest, a couple of the waitresses in their sarongs. Candles were lit, and there were flowers on the altar. The floor was lined with memorials; stained-glass windows arched high over ancient tombs.

“It’s great. This place is great.”

“Glad you like it. We’re going to get married here.”

“No we’re not!”

“It’s the right thing to do.”

“The right thing to do? I’m a little out of it, but people don’t get married just because it’s the right thing to do.”

“Okay, I’ll get down on one knee,” he said, then did. “Marry me, Madison.”

“Because I’m great in bed and you’re trying to keep me alive? No!”

“There are worse reasons.”

“Kyle, is this for real?”

“Yes.”

“It can’t be.”

“It is.”

“When did you arrange this?”

“When you were in X ray.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Look, I’m down on one knee, Madison. Just say yes.”

“Yes to what?”

“To me.”

“No.”

“Think of Carrie Anne.”

“I do think of her. Always.”

“You want to marry me.”

“I don’t.”

“You do. Say yes.”

“I can say whatever the hell you want, Kyle. That doesn’t—”

“Come here. Come with me.”

He led her down the aisle. Everyone was staring at her, the priest smiling as he opened a book and started to speak.

She started to laugh. “Oh, God, Kyle! What kind of a setup is this?”

“Just answer the man.”

She tapped her cheek again. She still couldn’t feel her face. She was going to collapse any minute, she realized. Damn those rum swizzlers. Damn Kyle.

The priest was droning away in French. She had no idea what he was saying.

Kyle prodded her. “Say yes.”

She stared at him. He put his arm around her, and he nodded her head for her.

“Say yes.”

“Yes.”

The priest smiled benignly. He had two faces. No, three. He started talking again, and Kyle murmured something in return. Kyle had her hand. She felt something cold.

“I’m going to pass out,” she told him.

“Sure. Just another few minutes.”

“I’m going to throw up all over you,” she warned.

“Don’t you dare!” he whispered.

She heard cheering all around her. The world was spinning, spinning insanely.

She started to fall.

Kyle swept her up, carrying her from the church and out into the night. The fresh air helped.

“You know better than to let me drink so much!” she told him.

“You’ll survive.”

They reached their room, a little bungalow on the grounds. It was air-conditioned, the temperature deliciously cool. He laid her down on the bed, where she stayed, watching the ceiling fan swirling above her. Suddenly she leaped up, racing to the bathroom.

Kyle was right behind her. “Breathe through your nose. I’ve made some coffee for you, but try the shower for a few minutes.” He helped her shed her ridiculous tourist clothing, then helped her into the shower, heedless of the fact that his flowered shirt was getting soaked. The water felt good. She began to feel like living. She managed to get out of the shower and into one of the terry robes. Back in the bedroom area, she sank down to sit on the bed. He put a cup of coffee into her hands.

“What a wedding night,” he said smiling.

“We aren’t really married,” she told him.

“We are.”

“It’s impossible. How could you have set up such a thing? You never asked me. This—Everything just happened today.”

“I have friends in high places.”

“I didn’t marry you. Fear and good sex are not good reasons for marriage.” She shoved the coffee cup back at him and threw herself down on the pillows. Her eyes closed. “Why do this? Why marry me? Just to keep me safe? You called me a witch. You thought I was somehow responsible for Fallon’s death.”

“I didn’t.”

“You did.”

“Madison, I’ve seen you suffer. I know that you hurt for Fallon, nothing more. I’m sorry for what I said.”

“You’re sorry? Oh, Kyle, you can’t marry someone just because…” Her voice trailed away.

Kyle sat down by her side, lifting her damp hair from her face, smiling.

She was out cold.

“I married you, you little fool, because I’ve loved you half my life, and I was too stupid to realize it most of the time. And I am going to keep you alive,” he said.

She hadn’t heard a word he’d said, of course, but that didn’t matter. He lay down beside her and drew her close.

She sighed in her sleep.

Maybe it was him.

Most likely it was the rum.

But for once she slept soundly, without nightmares.