Hooked (A Romance on the Edge Novel) (47 page)

“Been better.” He tried for a reassuring smile, which failed miserably and reached up to clasp her hand in his, giving it a squeeze before letting go. He stood and addressed the troopers. “If you don’t need me anymore, I’m going to check on Lana.”

“You’re fine to leave, for now,” Skip said. “We’ll contact you when the body is ready to be released.”

Aidan paled, swallowed, and then nodded.

“Harte, you see or hear anything regarding Roland, you let us know,” Skip followed up as Aidan turned toward his camp.

“I will.” Then he was gone. Sonya ached for what he was going through. Hopefully Lana would look after him. She was a sweet girl, contrary to her genetics.

“Wait,” she asked Skip. “What’s the deal with Roland?”

“He’s missing,” Skip answered. “We’d like to question him.”

Sonya looked to the troopers, settling on Garrett. She knew he hadn’t taken his eyes off her since she’d showed at the fire pit. She’d felt a weird mix of heat and cold coming from his direction. “You think Roland had a part in this also?”

“He and Earl seemed integrated,” Garrett said. “He had to know what Earl was up to, even if he didn’t have a hand in it himself.”

“You think he did, don’t you.” She continued not waiting for an answer, “What about the
Mystic
? Do you think he had a part in that too?”

“We don’t know. It’s one of the many reasons we’d like to talk to him.”

Sonya realized how hard this had to be on Gramps. Grams didn’t even know yet, unless she’d been filled in when Sonya had slept, but she didn’t think so. Otherwise Grams would have mentioned something to her. Gramps would have to be the one to tell her. She reached for his hand.

He took it, holding it in both of his. “You up to looking over the
Double Dippin’
?” When she nodded, he asked, “Do you need me there?”

“No, I can handle it. Grams made cranberry nut muffins. I’m sure she’s pulling them out of the oven right now. Better beat Peter to them.”

Gramps stood and placed his hands on her shoulders, looking deep into Sonya’s eyes. “Are you sure you’ll be all right?”

Tears clogged her throat as she saw the worry and fear he clearly felt. She nodded and reached out to hug him. His arms enclosed her in a bear hug, and he squeezed the very breath out of her. If he kept this up, she’d be bawling like a newborn. He released her, his own eyes suspiciously wet.

He cleared his throat and turned to Garrett. “Keep her safe.”

“With my life,” Garrett returned.

“Safe from what?” She frowned. The threat was over now that Earl was dead.

“Until we find Roland and assess his role in all of this, everyone needs to remain on their guard,” Garrett said.

Well, fucking fiddlesticks.

C
HAPTER
T
HIRTY-
N
INE

Sonya boarded the
Double Dippin
’ with Garrett and Judd. Wes had delivered all of them, including Skip, to the
Calypso
. In turn, the
Calypso
took them to the
Double Dippin’
and then tied up alongside.

“Look at this mess,” Judd said, snapping pictures of the destruction with the camera slung around his neck.

Sonya treaded carefully across the deck, taking in the damage. Garrett seemed distant as he stood off to the side. She didn’t know if it was from the pain of his head injury or something else. He should be lying down, doing what Wanda had no doubt prescribed.

Her booted feet crunched on glass from the broken windows of the pilot house. The deck and side rails of her boat resembled a pin cushion. She didn’t even know what she was looking at. It was like her boat had literally been nailed. A hole had been blown through the aluminum cover in one of the holds, scorch marks flared out in blackened shadows where the bomb had detonated. Most mystifying of all were the nails sticking out of everything.

“The son of a bitch packed the pipe bomb with framing nails,” Garrett said, yanking one out of the aluminum side rail. His jaw tightened, a vein in the side of his face pumping in tune to his pulse. It was sexy as hell, and Sonya found herself wanting to concentrate on that rather than the destruction the pipe bomb had caused.

“Bet that’s what hit you,” Judd said, snapping Garrett’s picture. “You’re one lucky SOB. A nail to the forehead would have killed a lesser man. It probably ricocheted off that hard head of yours.”

Sonya sucked in a breath. She could have lost him. Tears she’d been keeping wrangled sprang free.

Garrett came over to her. “It might look like a lot of damage, but once we get the mess cleaned up, it shouldn’t interfere with the running of your boat. Though you’ll want a welder to fill in these holes after the season.”

She slapped his arm. “That isn’t it, you idiot. I don’t care about the boat, well I do, but Judd’s right.” She reached up and gently touched the side of his head where a white bandage covered his stitches. “You could have died.”

“As could you.” The breath from his words caressed her face.

She’d been strong for her family, but now she wanted his strong arms around her, his broad shoulders carrying the heavy burden of worry, while his body made her forget all that had happened here tonight.

He stepped back from her, putting distance between them.

She turned and pretended to assess the condition of the net while she corralled her scattered feelings. What was wrong with her? She wasn’t the weepy kind of woman who needed a man to help shoulder the load. Her emotions must be out of whack.

Was she pregnant? That would account for the weepiness. She’d heard that pregnant women cried all the damn time. She did some calculations, trying to remember when her last period had started. Hell, she wasn’t even sure what day it was. With everything that had gone on this summer, how was she to keep track of it all?

One thing at a time.

The net. It would have to be laid out to assess the full damage, but it seemed to have fared pretty well considering. Singed in a few areas that they would have to mend, but it would fish the next opening. The worst of the damage—besides the embedded nails—were the broken windows. Out of the six in the pilot house, she was down to three. The front two windows remained, but one had a perfect spider web crack, which would make seeing out of it difficult if not impossible. The windows over the bunk, and to the side of the captain’s chair, were history. Cleaning up the boat would take the rest of the day. Somehow she’d need to find a way to cover up the windows without losing visibility.

Sonya left Garrett and Judd on deck to take a look at the pilot house herself. She entered to find glass shards sprinkled like the devil’s confetti over everything. An ocean breeze teased through the broken windows as if finding amusement with her situation. There was lot of work to do before fishing this afternoon. First order of business was to locate a broom.

Did she even own one? A punch of sadness caught and seized her breath.

How did she deal with it all? Everything she’d thought she knew was wrong. Twisted.

All these years, she’d blamed the wrong man. Had her family’s actions soured Chuck Kendrick into the ornery man he’d become? Had she been responsible, in part, for his death? The fight she’d started at the Pitt had been unfounded. She’d provoked a man who was innocent. Though innocent did seem the wrong word to describe Kendrick, but he surely wasn’t guilty of what
she’d
charged him with.

Her family had fished next door to a killer all these years. Broke bread with him. Celebrated good seasons and bad, right alongside him.

She’d made love to his son, and would probably have married him if Aidan hadn’t shown her a side of himself that she couldn’t live with. Earl would have been her father-in-law, grandfather to her children. She shuddered.

“Don’t think about it,” Garrett said. She hadn’t heard him come up behind her. Hadn’t realized how long she’d stood there staring at the destruction. “Just focus on the job at hand, and we’ll get through this.”

“Can I start cleaning up now?”

“Let Judd get some snapshots, and then we’ll clean up.”

Her gaze flicked to his. “Aren’t you leaving with Judd?”

“No. You’re stuck with me until Roland’s found.”

“You’re staying?”

His jaw tightened as though he was gearing for an argument. “Yes.”

“Good.”

His eyes narrowed. “You aren’t going to fight me on this?”

“No. I’m too tired and right now, you aren’t much of a competitor. Besides, with everything—” she shrugged “—I’d rather not be alone.”

Judd showed and shooed them out of the pilot house so he could snap a photo spread. Then he was gone, along with the
Calypso
, leaving Garrett and Sonya alone.

“I need to find a broom,” she said.

Garrett assessed her pale skin. She was dead on her feet. “Why don’t you have a seat?”

She shook her head. “Need to sweep up this glass.” She looked around as though she had no idea where to start. She gazed under the bunk, pulling out the bench. It grated as she dragged it over the broken glass. She peered under the captain’s chair, then to cabinet next to the small fridge. A hiccupping sob escaped her. She bit her lip as if to keep it in and yanked open the door to the fridge.

“Sonya.” Garrett grabbed her shoulders.

“Where the hell is a broom?” She lost the battle of tears. He pulled her into his arms, and she sobbed into the cartoon scrubs he wore. A hysterical laugh joined her tears. “I don’t think I own one. Why don’t I have a damn broom?”

“Probably because this is a boat, and you didn’t see the need.” Garrett held her and rubbed his hands up and down her back in soothing motions. This wasn’t about a broom. Until she could deal with all that happened, if she needed to lose it over a broom then she could.

“How am I going to clean up this mess?”

“We’ll radio your camp. I’m sure your grandmother has a broom.” He was more concerned with pulling the nails out of the aluminum sides and decking of the boat before her family visualized what could have happened to her. The anger that caused his head to pound each time he imagined her flesh pierced with nails made his concussion seem like a paper cut in comparison.

Her sobs subsided, followed by the occasional sniffle and hiccup. He continued to stroke her back, murmuring soothing words into her ear. She snuggled farther into him, and his heart swelled.

Damn, he loved this woman.

He’d known it but had tried to discount his feelings of love for lust. Lust was easier to deal with. Love…

Well, hell, love was so much more.

When he’d thought they were going to die, he’d come face to face with what he felt for her. It was real. It was scary. It was forever.

What did she feel for him? He didn’t like this one bit. He liked knowing what he wanted and how to get it. He couldn’t make Sonya love him. She either did or didn’t. With how she’d chosen Aidan over him, all the evidence pointed to her still in love with Harte. But Garrett knew she cared something for him too.

Where did her heart lie?

Now wasn’t the time to hash it out. Not when her world had been blown apart, and the pieces didn’t fit neatly back together yet. The best thing he could do was to be there for her. No pressure.

Sonya took a deep breath and blew it out. She straightened in his arms, and he tightened them. “Not yet. Let me hold you a bit longer.” She needed some more moments before she faced the clean up ahead, and he needed to feel the comfort of her in his arms. He feared that soon she’d leave them for good, and his arms would be empty.

“Got any ideas how we’re going to de-spine my boat?” she asked.

He laughed. She’d had her crying jag, and instead of it sending her to bed, she’d regrouped and was ready to face the practical business at hand. Another thing he loved about her. “Do you have any vice grips in that tool box of yours?”

“Now,
that
I have. In fact, I believe I have two.” She choked out a laugh. “No broom, but vice grips, I’ve got.”