Carly burst out crying.
Ben put James on his side, and Carly cradled the boy’s head lovingly while he vomited sea water all over her lap.
“I think he’ll be all right,” he said with a grimace, glancing toward Destiny.
“No,” she said, grabbing Ben’s wrist. “Don’t go over there.”
Ben would do anything in the world for Carly. Anything but this.
Taking her face in his hands, he planted a kiss in the middle of her forehead. “I love you, baby, but I have to,” he said, and rose to his feet.
When he heard the gunshot, he knew he was too late.
JT dragged her to the cabin floor to cut away the rest of her clothes, so intent on terrorizing her he didn’t hear the commotion outside.
“Please don’t hurt me,” she cried out suddenly, trying to cover the sound. “I’ll do anything you want. Please don’t kill me.”
He smiled, delighted to hear her beg. “You’ll do anything I want anyway.”
“Yes,” she agreed, sobbing. “Anything you like. Whatever you say. Please.”
He pursed his mouth, deliberating.
Stephen Matthews exploded through the cabin door before JT could make up his mind. “Get off her,” he said, pointing Sonny’s SIG Sauer 9mm at JT.
She hoped to God he knew how to use it.
JT straightened slowly. “I don’t think you have the balls to shoot me, junkie.”
Stephen clenched his jaw, but his aim didn’t waver. “Try me.”
JT switched the knife to his left hand. The blade glinted in the dim light. Sonny knew JT would go for his gun. With his body turned toward Stephen, she could see the.38 in the waistband of his jeans.
Just inches from her reach.
He went for it at the same time she did. And Stephen pulled the trigger, hitting JT dead-on, straight through the chest.
Sonny screamed as the bullet tore into him. She couldn’t help it. Like JT, she hadn’t been sure Stephen would go through with it, and the noise was incredibly loud. Feeling the full force of the impact, she recoiled as if the bullet had struck her.
The pistol’s report echoed across the sea, drowning out all other sound.
JT fell back against the wooden siding, arms akimbo, eyes glazed. Stephen must have hit him in the heart, because the wound hardly even bled. A perfect kill shot.
Making sure, she raised her fingers to JT’s neck, feeling for a pulse. There was nothing. “He’s dead,” she said, lifting her gaze to Stephen’s.
Her half-brother lowered the weapon. “I killed him?”
She nodded.
His face went green. “I guess I didn’t want to shake his hand after all,” he said, swallowing. With a final glance at the neat hole in JT’s chest, he set the pistol on the dash, staggered out toward the railing, and was violently ill.
Shaken to the core, Sonny crawled out from underneath JT’s dead body. Sitting with her back to the wall, she drew her knees up protectively and brought the tatters of her clothes together with trembling hands. She didn’t feel sick, but she’d never been particularly squeamish. She didn’t feel anything, other than aches and pains. She was just…numb.
Stephen was leaning over the rail, still retching, when Ben appeared in the doorway of the cabin, soaking wet. Puddles formed beneath his feet and steam rose from his clothes. He glanced at JT, making sure he was dead before he kneeled before her. He must be cold, like she was, but the concern in his eyes warmed her more than any blanket could have.
“Carly and James?” she whispered.
“They’re safe.”
He looked down at her cuffed wrists. Very gently, he reached out and cupped her chin, turning her head to one side to study her face. “Did he hurt you?”
“Not much,” she said, giving him a wobbly smile. It wouldn’t stay in place. “He didn’t get the chance.”
Ben squinted at JT, as if he wanted him to die a few more times. Along with anger, she saw relief on his face, and a trace of regret. “I should have known you wouldn’t need me to play your knight in shining armor.”
Tears filled her eyes. He was wrong. She needed him desperately. With an inarticulate cry, she leaned forward, putting her head against his chest as he wrapped his arms around her.
No longer numb, she pressed her face to his neck and wept. She cried for Rigo and for her mother, for lost chances and broken dreams. And then she cried for herself. “I love you,” she said, unable to hold her feelings back.
His body tensed. “I love you, too.”
She lifted her head, staring up at him in teary-eyed wonder. “Are you saying that because you thought I was going to die?”
He smiled. “No. What about you? Do you mean it this time?”
“Yes,” she said, sniffling. “But I meant it last time.”
Blinking away his own emotions, he cupped his hand behind her neck and brought her head back to his chest. “I know,” he said, holding her there, cherished and safe, sheltered in the strength of his arms.
Sonny opened her eyes, aware of a man’s presence in the small room. Grant’s face wavered into focus, concern etched on his features.
“I didn’t mean to wake you.”
Sonny glanced at the clock beside the hospital bed. Several hours had gone by since they’d returned to the mainland. In the minutes following JT’s death, local and federal investigation units had converged on the scene. The Coast Guard’s rescue helicopter had been deemed unnecessary, but James was rushed to Scripps Hospital in a snazzy-looking Harbor Police powerboat. Carly insisting on accompanying him, so Ben had gone with her, casting Sonny an apologetic glance over his shoulder.
Stephen had wanted to go, too, but because he’d been the one to pull the trigger, he hadn’t been allowed to leave the scene of the crime.
Sonny had debriefed Staff Sergeant Paula DeGrassi, explaining that Stephen had been acting in self-defense and giving her sworn statement. After speaking with Grant via satellite phone, Sonny had excused herself politely, taken a few steps away from the crowd of officers aboard Destiny, and collapsed in an untidy heap on the deck.
Apparently, she’d needed more than air. Ac cording to the nice doctors at Scripps, she had two fractured ribs and suffered some internal bruising. She’d been poked and prodded, her midsection wrapped up tight as a drum. One of those pokes must have included a dose of pain medication, because sometime between then and now, she’d closed her eyes, and Grant had arrived from Virginia.
“Sorry,” she murmured, wincing at the pull in her sore ribs as she straightened.
“For what? Getting hurt?”
She nodded, although she’d been apologizing for falling asleep, as ridiculous as that seemed. “It’s nothing,” she said, minimizing her injury. “You didn’t have to come back.”
Hurt registered on his face. “What kind of boss would I be if I didn’t care about the welfare of my agents?”
Tears filled her eyes, because the relationship between them went deeper than employer-employee. He was the closest thing to a father she’d ever had, and they both knew it. “Sorry,” she said again, this time for getting sentimental.
He cleared his throat, not unaffected by the exchange. “Homicide found a pile of evidence in JT’s locker on Shelter Island. Photos of the victims, personal items, electrical cord…”
Sonny nodded. She hadn’t doubted JT’s guilt for an instant.
“It’s better than a signed confession,” he said gruffly. “Good work.”
Coming from a tight-lipped taskmaster like Grant, it was fine praise indeed. She fairly glowed with pride.
“About your review…”
The warm fuzzies left as quickly as they’d come.
“I’m thinking we’ll postpone it for now,” he continued, surprising her. “You haven’t taken any leave time in a while, and with your injuries, I recommend you do so. Six months down the road, or a year, when this whole thing blows over…”