At the Brink (30 page)

Looking around, I could tell that Josh got his excellent taste, elegance, generosity and charm from his mother. The rest he got from his father. The General was stationed a couple of tables down from me, netting out measured ladles of spiced punch into delicate goblets while entertaining his guests with war stories.

Josh circled me and the cake at evenly spaced intervals, greeting people in between. I enjoyed watching him in action. His charm was irresistible to men and women alike. His smile dazzled others just as it dazzled me when he hurled it like a lifeline from across the room.

“Cake?” I offered when he came back to check on me.

“Be careful.” He wrapped his arms around my waist and planted a kiss on my neck. “I might want to eat your cake right here and now.”

My toes curled in my shoes. “Shoo,” I said. “You’ve already had enough of that for today. We’re going to have to put you on a diet.”

“Diets make me cranky as hell.”

“I can only imagine.” I laughed, directing his attention to Evelyn, who waved him over. “No more cake for you. Go.”

“Wow.” Jan materialized next to me. “He’s totally into you. I haven’t seen him fawning over anyone like this in...years.”

I champed at the bit. “How many years exactly?”

“Aren’t we on top of things today?” Jan nodded approvingly. “You look tame but you’re no pussy cat, are you?”

Perhaps I’d been a little too forceful, but the last few days had taught me a few things about hanging out with people who were sure they were better than the rest of us.

“If you must know,” Jan said, “I haven’t seen Josh like this since Gloria Renez. Josh met her when he was training to get his Special Warfare Operator Naval Rating in Virginia. They were quite the item there for a while. They were going to get married.”

Married?
I stabbed listlessly at the cake.

“Christ, girl, give that a break.” Jan took the silver server from me and set it aside. “I’m actually trying to help.”

“Why would you want to help me?”

“Not you,” Jan said. “My brother. He’s been through enough as it is.”

“Care to elaborate?”

“Ask Josh,” Jan said. “He wouldn’t appreciate me having this conversation with you. But I think it would be nice if something good happened to him. Josh can be odd. He has his quirks, don’t we all. But he has a right to be happy. He’s not just another hunky piece of meat with lots of money. Remember that and beware. Don’t mess with my little brother.”

Before I knew it, the party was over and the Lanes were cleaning and packing up crates of donated canned foods. I thought we’d stay another night, but Josh had other plans. After saying good-bye, we drove back to Boston, straight to the airport, where the plane was waiting for us.

“Where to?” I said, as we boarded.

“We’re going to the cove.” He squeezed my hand.

A shiver of excitement tickled my belly. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because we weren’t.”

“What changed you mind?”

“You did.” He planted a quick kiss on my lips. “The hell with work. We can both use some R&R and I want to see you in a bikini again.”

I was going to have Josh all to myself. I did a little dance inside. We didn’t even need to pack to go to the cove. Josh kept everything he might need at his island home and, even after packing a few things, I still had a closetful of stuff there. The day’s tension slipped off me. We’d been through a rough week, but the visit with his parents had gone remarkably well and this? This was a fantastic surprise. Nothing could go wrong at the cove.

Chapter Thirty-Four

Josh

The weekend at the cove proved to be outstanding. The weather was sunny, the sex was fantastic and best of all, Lily seemed happy. Perhaps it was because we’d gotten to know each other better. Maybe it was because Lily felt at ease and I managed to smooth out at least some of my jagged edges. Perhaps the time I’d set aside to just hang out with her paid dividends. Whatever the reason, things were definitively going my way.

I worked when she slept. Among other things, I spent some quality time with the schematics of Martin Poe’s wind turbines. I brought my computer to Lily’s bed and, instead of retreating to my rooms for hours at a time, I went back only when it was necessary. I also arranged to bring along Lily’s works in progress.

Sunday morning, she painted on the balcony when I opened an email from Riker and had to suppress a groan. Shah was at it again. The newspaper headline read Cleric Issues Edict Against Local Hero. It featured an interview with Shah, who had just issued a new fatwa on American officers who’d led troops in Afghanistan. He specifically identified me by name.

“Are you okay?” Lily said.

“Fine.”

“You’re not fine,” she said, coming over. “Can I look?”

I shrugged.

“Ugh.” She wrinkled her nose. “Is he for real? Does he have this kind of authority?”

“Not really,” I said. “But he does this every time he wants to hog the limelight.”

“Can he hurt you?”

“No, sweet, he can’t hurt me, so stop worrying about it and go back to your painting.”

“Are you sure?”

“Sure as shit.”

“What are these?” She took a closer look at my computer screen.

“Just some schematics on myoelectric energy processors.”

“What the heck is that?”

Why did she have to be so curious? “It’s a kind of robotic controller that can harness bio-electronic signals to produce motion.”

“Dynamics in Motion,” she read the title on the diagrams. “Will you buy that company?”

“Maybe I already own it.” I clicked away the diagrams. “Why don’t you let me finish this so we can go out and play?”

“Aye, aye, Mr. Grumpy.” She strutted back to the balcony in blatant provocation.

It took all of my willpower to stick to my laptop. I clicked back on the schematics and waded back into the world of bio-robotics. I was so close to having a breakthrough with this design.

A whole hour went by before she called my name. “Josh?”

“Yeah,” I said distractedly.

“Are there seals at the cove?”

“Seals? Not in the Caribbean. Why do you ask?”

She frowned, staring out to the sea, leaning over the balcony, gifting me with a fantastic view of the tiny bikini bottom clinging to her ass. “I thought I saw something, a dark shape over by the dock.”

“Maybe it’s a dolphin.” I got up from the bed and came to stand by her. I grabbed the binoculars and scoured the water. “Maybe it’s a manatee.”

“A manatee?” She smiled. “Awesome! Let’s go find it.”

“Sure.” I cupped her very fine ass and kissed her. “A quickie before we go?”

“Josh Lane, wooing you took me all afternoon.” Her smile broadened. “We can look for manatees later.”

Chapter Thirty-Five

Lily

“All right,” Josh said on Monday afternoon. “I guess we need to get going. Thomas is about to have a heart attack. Get changed. I’m taking you out to dinner before we fly back.”

I went up to my room, showered, changed and packed. I looked at the girl smiling in the mirror and praised Josh, crediting his pampering and shopping skills for any improvements in my appearance. I was sorry to leave.

My only disappointment was that Josh hadn’t shed his clothes in front of me or invited me to his room. Sure, he hadn’t spent a lot of time hidden away, but still, I wanted all barriers gone between us. As I came down the stairs, Rosa was busy hosing down the outdoor shower. She waved at me. I waved back.

The door to Josh’s bungalow was open, held ajar by the vacuum cleaner. Rosa was still in the process of cleaning it. I could see Josh down on the beach, folding the catamaran’s sails. The open door taunted me. I put down my bags. I’d never been in Josh’s bungalow. He’d told me I was
it
. He’d given me the keys to his house. He’d introduced me to his parents as his girlfriend. If I was all those things to him, an insidious little voice said inside my head, why couldn’t I just take a peek?

Josh’s room was shockingly Spartan. It contained only a desk, a bench and a low platform bed with a mattress covered by a white sheet and a dark blanket folded at the foot of the bed. The furnishings were simple, sleek and modern, with clean lines and masterful craftsmanship. I trailed my fingertips over the desk’s polished surface and smiled. Josh had built each piece of furniture in this room with his own hands.

The room was spotless. There were no books on the nightstand, no pictures on the wall, nothing out of place. On second glance, a boot stood by the night table, next to a highly polished, artfully carved, driftwood staff, which hung next to the bed.

The sculptural beauty of the staff called to me but I was distracted by Josh’s messenger bag laying on the desk. His tablet was next to it, on and unlocked, idling in screen saver mode. An envelope addressed to Josh and labeled “Gala” lay next to the tablet. A handwritten note was scribbled beneath his name.

Thanks for the fun. You were amazing
.
And thanks for sharing your pictures too. I’ll see you after you’re done with your horrid project. I’m so jealous
.

Lisa Artiaga

The mere sight of her name made me bristle. I knew Josh wouldn’t like it if I looked through his things, but I couldn’t stop. I opened the envelope.

A bunch of glossy pictures slid out. I gasped. The photo on top showed a very bountiful, very naked Lisa Artiaga, wearing the tallest platform heels I’d ever seen and a strap-on dildo, banging the naked woman sprawled before her. The next few photos were sequels that spared no detail.

My stomach clenched. I had asked Josh not to fool with other women while he was with me. He knew how I felt about that. He knew about my past, fears and anxieties. Had he been corresponding with Lisa the whole time? Was I the “horrid project” she referred to on her note?

My fingers tripped over his tablet. The screen came alight and a picture filled it. At first I couldn’t make out the image that popped up. I had to look closely. The blindfolded woman in the picture was lewd, no doubt about it, but she was also stunning. The contrast between the red roped leather harness and her white smooth skin struck me as dramatic. Strength dominated the woman’s all-fours stance and defined her beauty.

The woman was me.

Had he shared my picture with Lisa Artiaga? My God, had he shown her the clip I made for him?

And then I noticed something else. I stared from my picture on the screen to the printed photo of the brunette groveling at Lisa’s feet. In the photo, her mouth was stuck in a suggestive pout, and her eyes looked up in perpetual submission.

Oh. My. God. That woman. She looked just like me.

The photos fell out of my hand. I steadied myself on the desk. Something inside me crumbled.
You’ll be one of many, nothing special
, my mother’s words came back to haunt me. I slammed the tablet on the desk. The screen shattered. How could I be so stupid to think that a guy like Josh Lane would keep his promises to someone like me? Had I not learned anything from my father, from Martin?

My lungs shut down. I couldn’t breathe.

“No.” I would
not
have a panic attack, not now, not ever again.

I marched out of that room hurt, humiliated and furious. I grabbed my purse but left my bag behind. I ditched the stupid smart phone too. I didn’t want anything of Josh Lane’s. I stomped down the stairs, brushing past Rosa, who was on her way up.

“Miss Lily, are you all right?” Her eyes shifted from me to the bungalow’s open door. “You didn’t go in there, did you? Miss Lily, where are you going?”

I didn’t bother with a reply. My mind ran on automatic. I stormed into the main house, snatched the keys to the
Vagabond
, and marched down the stairs. I was already on the dock by the time I spotted Josh stepping out of the storage cellar.

“Lily?” He called out. “Lily!” He shouted as I boarded the power boat. “What are you doing? What’s wrong?”

“I’m leaving,” I shouted.

“What? Why?” He sprinted toward me.

I cast off the moorings and switched on the ignition. I struggled to figure out the controls but managed to maneuver the boat away from the pier as Josh got there.

“What the hell are you doing?” he shouted, pacing back and forth on the dock, no doubt measuring the distance to the boat to see if he could manage the leap.

I wiped the tears from my face. “Good-bye, Josh.”

“Don’t do this,” he said in a warning tone. “You know what will happen if you leave.”

“And I’m leaving anyway.”

“Mr. Josh!” Rosa trotted down the stairs. “Miss Lily!”

I pushed on the throttle, leaving the dock behind me, leaving Josh. My heart broke under the strain of yet another loss. I didn’t know where I was going, only that I was going, away from this place, away from Josh. I was done being Josh Lane’s plaything. I was done being weak, pathetic and malleable.

As soon as I cleared the beach, I revved up the engines. The power boat roared beneath my feet and leaped over the waves. I’d be in Saint Thomas in no time. I didn’t want to think about what would happen after that.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Josh

My heart went cold watching the
Vagabond
lurch from the dock. I had a running start and yet it wasn’t enough to make the jump. The rage screeching in my ears drowned everything else, including Rosa’s urgent chatter. Lily had left me. She had done the one thing I told her not to do, without any consideration, explanations or mercy.

“Mr. Josh!” Rosa waved her hands in front of my face. “Are you listening to me?”

“What?”

“You’ve got to go after her,” Rosa said. “You’ve got to explain.”

“Explain what?” I said over the
Vagabond’
s engines. “If she wants to leave, let her leave. I can’t hold her against her will. Good riddance.”

“No, no, don’t say that,” Rosa said. “I’m telling you, Mr. Josh. You’ve got to explain. Any girl would be upset.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Miss Lily, she went into your room.”

“Son of a bitch.” I kicked a buoy off the dock.

“I’m sure she didn’t mean any harm,” Rosa said. “Miss Lily, she’s a good girl.”

“Then why the hell is she gone?”

“I think she saw the pictures,” Rosa said. “They were on the floor.”

For a full five seconds I had no idea what Rosa was talking about. “Pictures?”

“The pictures of that other woman you brought here once,” Rosa said. “And your tablet. It’s broken on the desk.”

Jesus Christ. So the little minx had entered my room without my permission, looked through my things, opened Lisa’s envelope and scrolled through my tablet? Why couldn’t she just follow directions? Why couldn’t she just trust me?

“Go after her.” Rosa tucked the keys to her boat in my hand. “Go.”

My eyes fixed on the
Vagabond
, hightailing out of the cove. Rosa’s Rinker was a 186 Captiva. It planed quickly and handled well, but it didn’t have the offshore racing hull of the
Vagabond
, or the triple Mercury Verado outboards that made the Fountain 38 LX one of the fastest crafts in its class. If Lily didn’t want me to catch up with her, I wouldn’t. Besides, I had warned her. I wouldn’t go after her. I just...couldn’t.

The blast that came from the mouth of the bay startled me out of my rage. An explosion shook the
Vagabond
. A flame and a black plume of smoke rose from the stern.

Before I could figure out what had just happened, a second explosion rocked the boat, a violent boom that echoed through the cove and sent debris flying in all directions.

Rosa made the sign of the cross. “Jesus, Mary and Joseph.”

My heart stopped beating. It sputtered in my chest then shriveled into a fist of pain. My mind went blank. Lily. Lily was on that boat. Was she gone?

I leaped into Rosa’s Rinker, undid the ropes, jammed the keys into the ignition and, aiming the bow straight for the billowing smoke, punched the throttle.

The smoke, the stink of burning gasoline, the charred chunks splashing in the ocean. This couldn’t be happening. Maybe in Afghanistan. But here?

Lily. She had to be alive. She had to.

My mind knew without a doubt what I’d witnessed. A limpet mine—no, two limpets, a small, disabling one and a large one, blowing the
Vagabond
to pieces. I’d seen mines like those many times as a SEAL. Hell, I had placed them myself to disable enemy watercraft.

The flashback almost knocked me off my feet.

Helmand Province, Afghanistan. I stood by the door of the walled baked brick compound. Our mission was to infiltrate hostile-controlled territory through the Helmand River and eliminate one of the world’s most accomplished terrorists, who doubled as the boss of the largest opium-producing network in Afghanistan.

By all accounts, it had been a successful mission—based on solid intelligence and executed flawlessly. We had netted numbers one, two and three in the network as they met in the innocuous little villa on the banks of the river. I was on my way out when I noticed that some of the guys lingered at the house next door, including Petty Officer Santos, Lieutenant Junior Grade Roberts and Corpsman First Class Elton Chavez.

I motioned for Riker, Mac and Amman to move out, then strode back into the mud house.

“What’s the holdup?” I stepped over the bodies piled in the main room.

“CYA,” Santos said, taking a picture of one of the dead terrorists.

“Cover your ass, sir.” Chavez took a DNA swipe of the blood of another one of the dead men. “We wouldn’t want the Afghans or the Navy Jags accusing us of war crimes.”

“Next we know, they’ll say these fuckers were at a prayer meeting.” Lieutenant Roberts aimed his camera at the crates of weapons we’d found in the house, already wired for detonation.

Amman stuck his head in the door. “Three mikes to pick up. Got to go.”

Chavez’s head snapped up. “Did you hear that?”

“What?” Santos said.

“A sound, coming from the pile.”

I whirled on my heels. “Quiet!”

There was a noise among the dead. Someone praised Allah. And then a grenade wobbled out of the pile and bounced off the wired crate of weapons...

A third explosion rattled the cove, forcing me back to the present. Tears burned down my cheeks. Santos and Roberts were dead. Lily. Was she dead too?

I maneuvered to the explosion’s epicenter and dropped the anchor. My mind turned into a precision tool, noting the tides, the debris radius, the oily smear, flaring with flames in places. Three minutes. That’s how long it had taken me to race out here. A person could drown in less than that. I shed everything that weighed me down and, pushing off the gunwales, dove into the water.

The water was probably not very cold but it felt like ice to my body. Fear burned inside me like a high-grade fever. I drew on my training as a combat swimmer to shake off the shock. My arms and legs pumped in trained sequence, propelling my body through the water, challenging my endurance. Years of additional training sharpened my strokes, streamlined my course and maximized my swimming efficiency. My heart drummed a desperate beat and my lungs burned, but I motored through the water at top speed.

In my mind, I divided the scene into a grid and calculated the probabilities for debris distribution, taking into account the wind, currents and explosion patterns. Only one scenario offered any probability of survival. It entailed the first explosion hurling Lily out of the boat prior to the other two explosions. Even then, the odds of survival were low, less than two percent. The hell with the odds.

I swam along the grid’s main axis, moving forward from the original point of impact, dodging the fires by swimming beneath or around them. The gas fumes burned my lungs. The saltwater stung my eyes. But visibility was optimum. The sun’s rays pierced the ocean’s clear waters and illuminated shallow sea beds ranging from fifteen to twenty feet in depth. A school of fish darted around me in disarray. A blackened and mangled motor lay on the seabed.

My muscles ached with the effort. My lungs struggled to compensate for the punishing speed. I didn’t care if it exploded like the
Vagabond
. Despair gnawed at me like a remora attached to my guts. I couldn’t give up. I was going to find Lily.

Swimming wasn’t just part of my training. It was part of my genetic makeup. I’d grown up with it, mastered it and used it to achieve success at the pinnacle of my career. Then came that time when the mere thought of swimming across the cove—never mind the bay—had been a farfetched dream in the middle of a nightmare. I hadn’t given up then and I wasn’t going to give up now. I swam for my life, which was directly linked to Lily’s.

And then I saw her. Thirty feet or so at my three o’clock, sinking down through layers of refracting sunlight, framed by crimson tentacles of blood. Panic propelled me through those last few strokes. I closed the distance in seconds that felt like years and took a deep breath before I dove, five feet, ten feet. My ears popped. Fifteen feet. I caught her arm. Her hand was listless in mine. The sun illuminated her face as I pulled her up to the surface. Her eyes were open but empty of light.