Matt climbed on board first, then turned and
held out his hand for her. It was an easy step from the dock to the
boat, but he must have sensed something of her hesitation. She
stared at the small gap between the boat and the solid pier she
stood on before raising her gaze to Matt’s face. He smiled.
“I won’t let anything happen to you, Evie.
You’re safe with me.”
She put her hand in his and stepped lightly
onto the deck. Matt squeezed her to him for a quick second, and
then turned toward the narrow steps that led up to the command
bridge.
“You can go inside if you want. I’ll get us
out a ways before coming below.”
“No, I’m coming up.” No way was she letting
him out of her sight just yet. He seemed better, steadier on his
feet, and he was talking in more complete sentences than before.
She climbed up the steps behind him. He started the yacht while she
took the seat beside his.
The boat eased backward from the slip as she
gazed toward the shore. The marina was hopping tonight, as was
usual for a Friday. Folks partied on a houseboat a few slips away,
strains of rock music and laughter drifting onto the night air. In
spite of the drama of last night—my God, was it really only last
night?—a group of people were up at the pavilion, sitting at the
tables, hovering by the grills, and generally doing what folks
always did at Rochambeau Lake.
“We’re going to be noticed. You can’t take a
boat this big out, even in the dark, and not be,” she said, gazing
at Matt’s profile, the strong lines of his chin and nose. He was so
stubborn and so determined. Very much the Matt she’d always
known.
He glanced at her. “It’s a chance we have to
take. We’re still better off if we’re somewhere hard to track, and
unless these guys are local, they can’t know this water like I do.
We’ll be fine once we’re away from here.”
They rode in silence as the lights of the
marina receded into the background. A cool breeze ruffled her hair.
It wasn’t so bad out here after all. The yacht was big enough she
didn’t feel confined or like she was mere inches from being plunged
into the water. She refused to think about sinking. Boats didn’t
sink without good reason.
Senator Girard’s yacht was not going to sink,
dammit.
“Did you get into the house?” she asked,
tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She figured there hadn’t
been enough time, but anything was possible with him.
“No. It blew before I got there.”
“So you didn’t see anyone who could have been
using David’s phone.”
“No.”
“None of this makes any sense to me. Why
would they blow up the house?”
“To hide evidence.”
Evie turned sideways to stare at him. A
horrible thought began to take shape in her head. “To hide a body,
you mean.”
“It’s possible, but it’s not a terribly good
way to go about it. Hell, far better to take a body out in the
bayou and feed it to the gators.”
“What then?”
“I wish I knew. But it was a stupid thing to
do. It could also be competitors.”
“Someone else after the files?”
“It’s possible.”
She didn’t want to contemplate the
possibility of another person, or persons, after David’s files.
Brianna had Sarah and that’s what Evie cared most about. She had to
get Sarah back, but every minute that went by without a call
leached a little more hope away.
She’d brought death and destruction to
Rochambeau when she’d come back home. She might have her issues
with this town, but the plain fact was that she loved it anyway.
And she was pissed that someone was defiling it.
They glided through the water for about half
an hour before Matt cut the engine and dropped anchor. She couldn’t
tell where he’d taken them, but she followed him down the ladder
and into the interior of the yacht. She’d never been on this yacht
before.
She stopped in the doorway, her foot on the
first stair. “Wow. Impressive.”
Cherry surfaces gleamed everywhere she
looked—the cabinets, the table, the shelves, a built-in area with a
flat-panel television, and all the trim throughout. Granite
counters, a small wine refrigerator, stainless sink, microwave,
fridge, and a small electric cooktop filled the kitchen area. The
floors were cherry too, and the banquette running along one wall
was leather. So was the booth with table opposite. There was a
window above the banquette and puck lights inset into the ceiling.
At the end of the room, a door led into a bedroom containing what
looked like a queen-sized bed.
Evie took the steps down to join Matt. He
stood in the kitchen, opened a cabinet, and pulled out a First Aid
kit. “You’ve never been on board before?”
Evie crossed her arms. “No. I think you were
dating Belle Landry when your dad bought this, and we both know how
she felt about me.”
He flashed her a pained smile. “Yeah, sorry
about that.”
He opened a bottle he’d found in the kit and
shook four tablets into his hand. After he popped them into his
mouth, he opened the gleaming fridge and grabbed a bottle of water.
He chased the pills with a swig, then came over and flopped onto
the banquette. He leaned back, his eyes closing briefly.
She sat at the table, sighing as she sank
into the cushion. It’d been a long couple of days. And they weren’t
done yet.
“So you were never on board
Candyland
.” He rolled his head from side to side, taking in
the glossy interior. “She’s a beauty, just like her namesake.”
“Stepmama number two, right?”
He’d spoken with an edge of bitterness, but
she knew better than to expect she’d get to the root of it. One
thing about Matt Girard—he was about as open as a padlocked chest
when he wanted to keep his secrets close.
He snorted and took another swig of water.
“Yeah. Lucky number two.”
Evie’s brow furrowed as she contemplated him.
She’d known his mother’s death had been hard on him, and she’d
known he resented the first woman his father had married afterward.
But they hadn’t really talked about it. The senator had remarried
within the year, and Matt had been bitter about it. She hadn’t
blamed him at all.
By the time Senator Girard had married his
second Playboy Bunny wannabe wife, Matt didn’t like to talk about
it and she hadn’t known how he felt anymore. Now, looking at him,
she realized it was no wonder he’d played the womanizing jock so
well in school—he’d had a fine example in his own father.
“So why didn’t your father rename the boat
when they divorced? It must be kind of difficult bringing new wives
here and having to explain the name.”
Matt laughed softly. “First of all, it’s bad
luck to rename a boat. And second, the old man doesn’t much care
about sparing feelings,
chère
. Neither did Candy, for that
matter.”
“You didn’t like her much, huh?”
The look he gave her was unguarded, full of
emotion. It shocked her, considering how good he usually was at
shuttering the things he felt. It made her curious and strangely
uncomfortable at the same time.
“What the hell.” He said it more to himself
than to her. He speared her with a look that pinned her in place.
His eyes gleamed bright in his soot-darkened face. Bright and hard
as diamonds. “I thought I loved her.”
Evie’s heart thudded painfully. “You
mean—?”
“Yeah.” He swallowed the rest of the water.
“I’d just turned sixteen. Candy was twenty-two. She thought it’d be
a nice revenge on the old man, I think. Either that or she got off
on the idea of screwing us both. Didn’t matter though because I
thought it was true love. Planned to run away together.”
Evie swallowed. She had no idea. “What
happened?”
Matt shrugged. “He gave her a divorce
settlement that made her happy, so she left. Told me to grow up and
get over it.”
“My God, what a rotten thing to do to a kid.
You were only sixteen.”
He was looking at her intently. “No worse
than what I did to you.”
Evie went over and sat beside him, threading
her fingers through his. “No, Matt, it’s much worse. She was an
adult. She took advantage of your feelings for her and your
inexperience.”
She’d been so jealous of Belle and all the
other girls he’d paid attention to back then. Little had she
known.
His thumb traced a circle on the underside of
her wrist. “I know. Though believe me, sleeping with a stripper was
pretty much a fantasy come true at that age.”
Heat flared beneath her skin. She cleared her
throat, trying to focus. “Did your father know?”
“I’m not sure, but I doubt it. I don’t think
the old man could have kept it to himself had he known. I can’t
imagine why she didn’t tell him. It would have been just like her
to set us against each other. I guess she figured we didn’t need
any help in that department.”
“I’m sorry you don’t get along with him,
Matt. I wish there was something I could say or do to make it
right.”
He smiled. “You can’t, but I appreciate the
sentiment.”
She sucked in a breath, willing her roiling
feelings to subside. “But that’s pretty normal, really. Not to get
along with a parent, I mean.”
“Probably. Except I don’t think we’ve spoken
more than two paragraphs in ten years. To say he was disappointed
in my career choice is putting it mildly.”
“Have you even tried? Talking, I mean.”
His thumb stopped its lazy circuit on her
skin. The pain she saw on his face wasn’t just from the headache.
He finally succeeded in shuttering the emotion roiling behind his
gray eyes and she could have kicked herself for pushing him. “My
head’s about to split open,
chère
. Why don’t we worry about
our more immediate problems, yeah?”
Evie nodded. She couldn’t imagine what kind
of hell it must have been for him to think he loved a woman who was
his stepmama, a woman who was older and more sophisticated than any
Rochambeau High girl could have been. Maybe it was guilt that kept
him from talking to his father. Or maybe they just didn’t like each
other, like Matt said. It could happen, though she couldn’t imagine
not talking to Mama or Sarah for ten years.
True, she’d practically run away from this
town the minute she was old enough, and she didn’t come back very
often, but she did call. But she couldn’t deny that everything that
had happened in the last twenty-four hours was her fault. If she
hadn’t taken up with David and been oblivious to his sticky
fingers, her mama’s house would be intact and she’d be back in
Tampa. Maybe Evangeline’s would have failed anyway, but at least it
would have been her own failure.
She’d never know. But if she were still in
Tampa, she would not be sitting across from this man, aching for
him so much it hurt and knowing this thing between them was never
going anywhere.
Oh God, she was right back in it, wasn’t she?
Wanting him just as much as she ever did when she’d been sixteen
and star struck. Matt Girard was a good man, a decent man. He’d
risked his life and career, risked jail time, to help her.
Because Sarah, a girl he didn’t even know,
was in danger. He didn’t have to do this. He could have washed his
hands of the whole thing the minute she’d gotten the news that
Sarah was missing. Instead, he’d offered to help—and he hadn’t
stopped helping since. Anyone else would have walked away by
now.
Not Matt. She admired him so much in that
moment. And she really, really wanted to press her mouth to his and
show him how grateful she was for what he’d become.
She wasn’t going to do it, of course. Evie
bit the inside of her lip. She was so sunk. She liked Matt, really
liked him, and she wanted to spend time with him. Time making love,
talking, and doing all the things couples did.
She wanted a relationship with him, and she
didn’t quite know what that said about her right now.
But when this was all over, when Sarah was
safe and Christina’s wedding was done, Matt was leaving Rochambeau.
He was going back to his shadowy military world of secret
operations. A world he loved. A world that put him at risk every
time he went to work.
The truth was that she might not ever see him
again. And that thought pierced her like a dagger to the chest.
His fingers grasped hers across the table.
“This stuff that’s happened isn’t your fault.” The little pain in
her heart intensified. “We can’t ever know what people will do,
what lengths they’ll go to. Don’t blame yourself for coming home
again, Evie.”
She sniffed. “How did you know that’s what I
was thinking?”
His grin slid into her heart and made her
warm. “Call it a hunch.”
“I know you’re right. We can’t ever know what
makes someone tick. But I still wish I’d made better choices.”
He squeezed her hand. “We make the best
choices we can with the information we have. Did West tell you he
was a criminal? Did he present you with a plan that mentioned Ryan
Rivera or tell you he was going to steal all your money?”
“Of course not. But it’s not that simple. I
should have been more cautious.”
Matt leaned forward. “Evie, you aren’t
omniscient. West was a pro at what he did. Accept that things
happen and move on.”
“Is that what you usually do?”
His eyes clouded, but then he nodded firmly.
“Absolutely.” He let go of her hand and pulled himself upright as
he reached for the phone he’d clipped to his belt. “Better call Kev
and see if they got anything yet.”
* * *
“Nothing on the recording, huh?” Matt’s head
was throbbing less, and he’d managed to shove the aches and pains
of slamming into the ground from his mind as much as possible. Man,
a nice long soak in a hot tub with the jets on high—and Evie naked
beside him—would be so heavenly right about now.
“Just typical night sounds in the analysis.
Frogs, crickets, birds—that kind of thing. Something that sounds
like a splash, but that’s it.”