Her Own Best Enemy (The Remnants, Book 1) (15 page)

It was almost over.

Chapter Nine

The marina bustled with activity. Grace shielded her eyes with her hand and scanned the glistening water that extended endlessly before her. Over a hundred miles of clear water cut through Glen Canyon, stretching from Arizona to Utah. On any other day the beauty of the water and the multicolored canyon walls would have made her catch her breath. Now, her breath hitched for an entirely different reason. Mark and Ryker were out on that water.
Ryker.
She desperately wanted to hold her son in her arms again. She wanted this entire ordeal over and done.

Except, would it really be finished? What about the men chasing her and Keith? Would they leave her alone once she and Keith parted ways? Would Ryker ever truly be safe?

Her heart hammered. She didn’t have the answers. But she did know she’d do whatever it took to keep Ryker out of harm’s way. Call in the FBI, the CIA. Undergo witness protection. All of it was a small price to pay to ensure her son’s safety.

She tore her gaze away from the lake to look at Keith who stalked around the marina as if he owned the place. She considered him just one more coin in her small-price-to-pay bank. Yet, she couldn’t deny over the past few days she’d found herself grateful for his steady presence, even to the point of admitting she would’ve never made it this far without him.

She needed him. What she didn’t need was the spike in her heartbeat every time she looked at him. But it was there just the same. He was...something else. Strong and calm, too good looking for his own good—and hers. He made her want to forget the past. To forgive all she’d suffered at his hands. And that was unacceptable. For Becca’s sake. She deserved better than to have Grace absolve Keith so easily.

Grace watched Keith flag down an older man in a brightly colored fishing hat. When the man stopped, tipping his head to the sun, Grace mentally shook herself and hurried to catch up with them.

“Are you sure it’s the Enigma you’re wanting to find?” The man stuck a toothpick in his mouth then divided a frown between her and Keith.

“Yes, the Enigma.” Keith confirmed with a nod of his head. “Bob Moffitt’s boat.”

The man scratched his head, pushing his gaudy fishing hat askew. “Doug Moffitt,” he said. “Doug Moffitt owns the Enigma.”

Grace fisted her hands at her side. The aliases were making her head hurt. She no longer felt compelled to sort them out. Doug. Bob. Mark. What did it matter? She just wanted to get to the damn boat.

“Doug.” She repeated, forcing a smile. “Yes, that’s who we meant.”

The man shuffled his feet. “Okay...but I’ve gotta tell you, that boat is a piece of crap.” He shot Grace a contrite look. “Pardon me, ma’am. I highly doubt she’s even seaworthy.” He shrugged. “Which is probably why Doug took the Saving Grace instead.” He whistled between the gap in his teeth. “Now, there’s a beaut, if I ever saw one. Why Doug’s even hanging on to the Enigma is anyone’s guess.”

“How do we find the Saving Grace, then?” Keith asked, his jaw tight.

“Oh, she’s out on the lake somewhere.” The man waved dismissively toward the water. “But the Enigma...” He lifted the hat from his head and swiped his arm across his brow. “That hunk of junk is in the west parking lot on a trailer behind Doug’s truck. Seems to me he oughta just get rid—”

Keith pivoted on his heel and struck out in the direction of the parking lot. The man stopped talking, his jaw falling slack.

Grace sent the man her most sincere smile. “Thank you. We appreciate the help.” Then hurried after Keith.

The parking lot was filled with trucks toting boats, all looking fairly similar.

“I’ll take this aisle. You get the next,” Keith said, his tone brusque and commanding.

She moved to the next aisle, checking the name on each boat before moving on. Halfway in, she came to an older model Toyota truck with an attached trailer that housed a faded and peeling blue speedboat. The washed out identification read ENIGMA in dull black letters.

Her pulse sped, a burst of adrenaline raced through her veins. “I found it!”

Keith whirled and headed in her direction. “Keys?”

She climbed into the boat, running her hands over the control panel to an empty glove box like compartment and down to the floorboard where her fingers picked at the loose carpet lining.

“Nope. Nothing.” She leaned, placing her hands on the truck’s rear window and peered into the cab. Sun streamed through the windshield and glinted on the ignition. Relief speared through her. Keys. “In the truck.” She pushed on the latch that held the small window closed. “Maybe I can force the latch and get them.”

He shook his head, flattening his palm against the driver’s side window. “Forget it. I got ‘em.”

She hopped out of the boat and landed beside him. “What are you going to do?”

“Stand back.”

Grace complied as Keith wrapped his fist in the hem of his t-shirt. He punched through the window, glass shattered and rained down on the asphalt.

She stared at the gaping hole in the window and arched her brows. “You got it?”

He shrugged, popping the lock and sliding into the seat. “It worked.” A quick study of the key ring had relief sliding across his features. “One boat key.” He held the shiny silver key up for her inspection. “Get in. We’ll unload the Enigma at the ramp and be on our way.”

She hopped in, her nostrils flaring at the musty scent inside the vehicle. Whether the old truck smell or her nerves jumbled her stomach, she couldn’t be certain, but she suddenly felt ill. What if they couldn’t locate the Saving Grace out on the vast lake? What if they missed it and came back empty-handed? Or what if—

“Let’s hope this rust bucket proves more seaworthy than ‘ole Fisherman Joe thought,” Keith said, interrupting her litany of what ifs as he started the truck and headed to the dock, “or we may find ourselves swimming out to the Saving Grace.”

The Saving Grace bobbed in the water several yards in front of them. Keith had expected a speedboat similar to the Enigma—except newer. Instead, gentle waves lapped at a forty-foot houseboat with SAVING GRACE written in navy blue along the hull.

He cut the grinding motor on the Enigma and everything around them fell eerily silent. It was as if everything just ceased motion. The surrounding boats. The water. Even Grace.

It made him jumpy as hell.

She sat, statue-like, on a sun-weathered white cushion atop the boat’s bench, her hands fisted on her lap, knuckles pale with tension.

He wanted to reassure her. Somehow. Take her in his arms. Tell her everything would be all right. Something.

But the words stuck in his throat and his feet refused to move away from their stance at the controls.

“You should wait here.”

Oh, yeah, nice going. Way to reassure her.

Her face tightened, her eyes wide. “What? No.”

The water lapped at the gently rocking boat and shifted them closer to the Saving Grace. He braced himself, crossed his arms over his chest and watched Grace’s hungry gaze devour the Saving Grace.

His throat tightened. Hell. She couldn’t wait to get on that damn boat. Acid pooled in his gut. And once she set foot on it, she may realize she’d been better off not knowing.

His hand squeezed the steering. This entire thing had to be a setup. It reeked of it.

He scanned the deck of the houseboat then scrutinized the wrap around tinted windows below deck. No movement. It looked...

“Deserted?” Grace whispered as if reading his mind.

“Not sure. I—” A shadow passed the tinted windows. “Wait. There’s movement below.”

She nodded and stood, her back stiff. “Good.” Her hands shook, but she took a visible breath and steadied them. “Let’s go.”

“Uh-uh. You’re staying put this time. I’ll go.”

“No way.”

He’d be damned if he’d take her. What if they found her kid lying in a pool of blood? They’d been lured here. Of that he was certain. For what purpose? He didn’t know. Yet.

But he would not watch that bright light of hope go out of Grace’s eyes. He could spare her that much.

With a fierce step in her direction, he summoned his biggest bad ass self. The one that intimidated men even twice his size. “Not negotiable. You’re waiting here.”

She stepped toe to toe with him, not in the least bit intimidated by the scowl he’d forced on his face, and gripped his arms.

“Don’t you dare make me stay here, Keith!” The deep jade of her eyes spit desperate fire at him. “Just, don’t. I’ll go cra—” She sucked in a breath. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Shit. He thought he’d successfully masked the thoughts eating at him. To buy himself time, he did the only thing he could think of.

He kissed her.

His hands cupped the back of her head and drew her close. He covered her lips with his own, funneling all his frustration into one frantic kiss. She tasted of fear and anger. His heart squeezed guiltily. Grace pushed her hands against his chest and broke the kiss. Her chest heaved.

“You don’t think Ryker’s here do you?” Her eyes narrowed. She shook her head. “You think he’s dead. In there.” Fat tears welled in her eyes, squeezed past her eyelids as she blinked them back. “Don’t you?”

His mouth went dry. He’d never risked throwing something as stupid as feelings into any equation, but now Grace’s pain washed over him as if it were his own.

“Grace...” Her name crossed his lips in little more than a croak.

“Oh. God. You do.” She covered her mouth with her hand. Then she hauled off and struck him squarely in the chest. “Say it. I want to hear it from your lips. Tell me what you think we’ll find in there.”

He couldn’t do it. Not with her pretty face crumbling right before his eyes. He captured her wrist. Her pulse beat furiously beneath the pad of his thumb. “Look—”

She spun from him, her wrist slipping through his grip. The boat rocked and forced him to step back to regain his balance.

“I don’t want to hear whatever half truth you have to tell me.” Her voice shook. “If Ryker is dead, I can’t change that. But dead or alive, I’ll be damned if you’ll get my baby without me.”

He needed to stand his ground. Tie her to the frickin’ boat if she refused to cooperate. She had no idea what she was saying. What she might see.

He was in charge just as if this was any other mission under his command. And it would go down exactly as he planned.

Grace faced him, fear and sadness gone from her face. Anger gone. Left in their place was resolve. And love. So much love for her son that Keith found it difficult to look her in the eye.

“Shit.” He shoved a hand through his hair. “Fine. But you do exactly as I say. Got it.”

She nodded.

He forced his lips into a scowl. “I mean it, Grace. You don’t breathe without first getting my permission.”

“Yeah, okay. I got it.”

She held out her hand and he took it. Her slender fingers twined with his and she squeezed, almost as if she...trusted him. But that couldn’t be right. Experience with women had taught him that they only gave their trust when it was to their advantage. Nothing he and Grace found here today would end in her benefit.

Tight lines etched themselves around her mouth. Wind tossed her hair into disarray. He captured a strand and smoothed it behind her ear. “Ready?”

“Yeah.” Her voice cracked in a rough whisper that sliced right through him.

Reluctantly, he released her to return to the controls, nudging the boat until it gently bumped the stern of the Saving Grace. He couldn’t believe he was letting Grace do this.

Steely control rushed through his veins, giving him the distance he needed to keep a cool head, and his reflexes sharp to shield Grace from whatever they found in there.

He snatched the rope coiled near his feet and looped it around the metal ring on the Saving Grace’s deck to secure their boat. Once the knot held, he yanked his Heckler & Koch from his waistband.

Grace stood next to him like a pillar. She rubbed her arms, a mixture of dread and hope tightening her mouth and dulling the bright color of her eyes. He crooked two fingers in her direction and she followed him onto the varnished deck.

Pistol raised and ready, he descended two stairs to the interior of the boat. The tinted windows screened any movement. For all he knew, someone was waiting to put a bullet through his heart. He shook off that worry. No, they’d have already done it. Why wait until he and Grace were inside and could fight back?

His fingers closed over the metal latch and he slowly slid the arcadia door across the track. A shaft of sunlight speared through the windows, illuminating the galley’s dim interior.

Empty.

Grace pressed against his back, her fingers twisted in his t-shirt. Her breath hitched then released on a rush, prickling his ear. He held a finger to his lips and stepped across the threshold.

Heat blasted him, the interior stuffy from the sealed windows. The scent of sweat and tension crawled up his nostrils, making him hesitate. Apprehension slithered along his spine.