Black Satin Page 13

  “I think he was hurt back there. I found him passed out in the raft. I … I thought he was you.”

  That last part had faded to a choked whisper, and Cole turned back to face her. He didn’t speak right away. The idea that she’d been worried enough to go after him, to rescue him, created a warmth deep inside him. Instead of lecturing her on the reasons she should have stayed put in the first place, he asked, “Why didn’t you bring him back to the boat?”

  “I thought I was doing just that. He wasn’t very cooperative.”

  Cole thought he detected a slight sarcasm there, but didn’t call her on it.

  “Apparently you guys take it as a real affront to be rescued by a woman. My knowing his name didn’t go over too well, either.”

  Cole grinned at the image of Reese having to deal with Kira. “I can imagine it didn’t. Where is he?”

  “He came back about halfway, gave me directions, the message for you, then dove overboard. The last I saw him, he was headed back toward Martinez’s.” She didn’t mention Reese’s request that Cole not follow, certain it would only prove counter-productive.

  Cole swore softly and looked back in the general direction of the hacienda. He turned and found Kira staring at him with a strange, almost apprehensive look on her face. He wasn’t close enough to see the expression in her eyes, but he’d bet the bank they were full of questions. Questions that their kiss might make her think she deserved the answers to.

  In the end it was the realization that he couldn’t give her what she wanted—deserved—that decided him on his course of action. “Reese is a big boy,” he said tersely. “He knows what he’s doing.” Yet Cole made a lingering study of the shoreline before turning the boat out toward the open water.

  It was almost four in the morning when Cole turned the boat in to the canal leading to Dr. Dolphin’s cove. He rubbed the back of his neck, resisting the urge to look back at Kira. He could feel her watching him. Again. He didn’t turn to look at her. He wished he didn’t want to.

  He told himself to be thankful she’d remained quiet on the trip back, using the time to examine P.J. instead of peppering him with questions about his past. He could still taste her. He wanted to taste her again.

  Kissing her like that had been a damn stupid thing to do.

  In less than an hour his responsibility to her would be over. To hell with getting paid. He’d known from the start that he wasn’t in this for the money. He told himself he owed that quarter-ton fish a big one for his timely intervention. He flicked a glance at his watch as they passed through the electronically operated gate in the cove’s fence. Thirty minutes, one hour tops, and he’d be on Highway 1 heading for his houseboat. Or maybe Repo’s. He hadn’t had much of a chance to play any music lately. Relief was in sight. So why did he feel like breaking something?

  He’d have to worry about that later. As they cleared the gate P.J. started squirming and setting up a ruckus.

  “Cole, stop the boat.”

  He did as Kira asked, then swung around to see if she needed any help with the excited dolphin.

  “I was going to put him in isolation for a while, but I think he’s fit enough for a reunion. And I doubt we have a choice at this point. Turn the boat so it faces the dock.”

  Once he’d done it, Kira lowered the sling closer to water level. She lifted the bucket of water she’d been dipping the sponge in and dumped it over P.J., careful to avoid his blowhole, making him as slippery as possible. She then gave him the hand signal to back out of the sling, but P.J. was a step ahead of her. In seconds he was surging across the cove.

  P.J.’d been in the water only moments before Cole and Kira were drenched by a pair of dolphins arcing in a series of high leaps. The whistles and clicks were almost deafening.

  Cole looked at Kira to see her laughing and pumping her fists in the air. He grinned. She turned to him, her face lit up in a way that made his heart ache.

  “Thank you, Cole,” she said, her eyes shining with joy and unshed tears.

  No, he didn’t want her money. As far as he was concerned, her account with him was now paid in fall.

  The dolphins were speeding back and forth in a frenzy of motion around the cove, leaping in perfect unison over and over until the boat had over an inch of water in the bottom.

  “We’d better get the boat in,” he called to Kira. She didn’t answer right away, her attention totally on the dolphins. He allowed himself the luxury of absorbing the glow that fairly emanated from her. She might be stubborn, and rush into things without a care to her safety. But she was also warm, caring, honest. And, ultimately, giving.

  He should know. He’d been doing a lot of taking.

  He wanted to stand near her all night, any night. But the time had come for him to leave. Judging by how his gut knotted at the thought, it was past time.

  He kept the boat at the slowest trolling speed he could and steered them to the dock they’d left hours earlier. It seemed a lifetime ago. He looked back to find her attention had shifted from the dolphins to him. She wasn’t smiling anymore.

  He suddenly wished they had met a lifetime ago. Before he’d given his life to the gunrunners and drug peddlers, before Cuba, before Felicia. Before the explosion and flames and shredded bodies had rained down on him, before the yawning hellhole of helplessness had swallowed him whole …

  He spun away from her and went about gathering his gear. He lifted it to the dock, then leaped up after. Kira was on the dock behind him before he could lend her a hand. Probably just as well they didn’t touch again anyway.

  He made it to the equipment shack, then thought better of going inside. He stowed the gear that belonged to the institute on the outside counter. He knew she was right behind him. He also knew that simply walking away was out of the question. No matter how appealing that cowardly solution seemed at the moment.

  He was no hero, but he was no coward, either. Besides, there was one bit of business left to discuss. With a tight hold on his rioting emotions, he carefully blanked his expression, hoping like hell he’d been successful, and turned to face her.

  She was leaning against the door, arms crossed, as if she’d known he’d turn back to her all along. Instead of making him angry, it made him want to smile. He did neither.

  “I don’t imagine you’ll have to worry about any revenge attempt from Martinez,” he said, his voice rough. “The dolphins should be safe.”

  “How can you be so certain?”

  “Let’s just say there was another agenda besides ours at work tonight, and I imagine a lost dolphin is the last thing on Juan Carlos’s mind right now.”

  Kira nodded, her expression distracted, as if the dolphin’s immediate welfare wasn’t uppermost on her mind. Before Cole could speak, she lifted her gaze to his and said, “I know I thanked you back on the boat. But I want to say it again. Thank you for bringing him back, Cole.” Even in the shadows her eyes shone bright with tears. She looked down and scuffed the toe of her ruined sneaker in the gravel. “We, uh … we never exactly got around to deciding what I owe—”

  “Don’t, Kira.” His voice was no more than a bare rasp.

  She looked at him then. “I have to. You’re leaving.” Her voice caught on that last word, but she refused to look down.

  Cole swore under his breath. Damn her for trying to make this easy on him. He wanted yelling and bitching.

  “Yeah, I am.” He let his gaze roam over her, noticing for the first time the streaks of mud and grit that clung to her bare legs. Cole started toward her, thinking only that she was probably more banged up than she’d let on and wanting to get a closer look. She took a step away from him.

  The fact that it had been instinctive rather than intentional stopped him cold. “You’re hurt, aren’t you?” He felt the anger rise in him, blessedly erasing the tension and frustration of moments ago. This emotion was much easier to handle. Heedless of his earlier decision not to touch her, he stepped closer, almost crowding her against the door. He
lifted her arm and looked at her elbows, then crouched down to look at her knees. It was then that he noticed that what he’d thought was dried muck on her thigh was in fact dried blood. Fear for her congealed into fury at her obstinacy. “Dammit, why didn’t you tell me about this?”

  “Stop shouting at me.” She yanked her arm from his grip.

  It was her quiet tone that took the wind out of his sails. “Those are coral burns, Kira,” he said steadily, proud of the restraint he was showing. “You need to get them cleaned out.”

  “I know that.” The words were spoken evenly, with no emotion. “It’s not the first time I’ve tangled with a coral reef and lost, and it won’t be the last.” She looked him in the eye, her expression now one of near defiance. “I’ll take care of them as soon as you’re gone.”

  “The hell you will!” he wanted to shout. But he couldn’t. Her tone made it clear that he had no right to order her around, much less care for her. And she was right. He’d given up any hope to that claim when he’d announced his intention to leave.

  Emotions he wasn’t prepared to deal with roiled violently inside him until he wanted to beg for mercy. And she just kept staring at him.

  He clamped his jaw, near to gnashing his teeth as the hopelessness of the situation pervaded him. He needed her. Badly. More than anything he’d ever needed in his life. But he had nothing to give. Not to anyone.

  And most especially not to her. She deserved a man with no holes in his heart, no decay in his soul.

  “Cole, please—”

  The rattle of the front gate stopped Kira’s words. Cole spun around, instinctively shielding her from any threat. The sky was still more black than gray, so it took a moment for the intruder’s shadow to separate from the general darkness.

  “Paul?” Kira tried to push past Cole, but she might as well have moved a mountain. On tiptoe she peered over his shoulder. Paul stood, stock-still as if in shock, less than a dozen yards away. A split second passed, then he stumbled back a step, then another, before finally turning and running toward the gate.

  “Don’t, Taylor,” Cole ordered. “It’s over.”

  Paul skidded to a stop but took a long moment before turning around. When he did, Kira sucked in a breath at the look of guilt and grief carved in his young, handsome face.

  “Don’t you think she at least deserves an explanation?”

  Paul kept his gaze on Kira. “Yeah,” he said softly. After a long, tense pause he said, “I’m sorry, Kira.” His voice was choked with emotion. “I didn’t know what else to do. I swear I didn’t mean you or P.J. any harm. You’ve got to know that.”

  Kira did know that. Had suspected it all along. Which was why she was more disappointed than surprised. “For once, I really wanted to be wrong.” She didn’t realize she’d spoken aloud, until Cole reached back to pull her next to him, his expression changing from disgust to concern when he looked at her. “Why, Paul?” she asked, when she managed to drag her gaze from Cole’s.

  “You two have a lot to discuss.” Cole moved away from her. Kira stiffened and turned to him. He’d already scooped up his gear and was walking toward Paul. But she fought hard against the urge to call him back. It would sound too much like begging. And she’d be damned if she’d do that.

  He was a step past Paul when he stopped. In a voice just loud enough for her to hear, he said to Paul, “If she doesn’t shoot you when you’re done telling your story, see to it that she cleans out those abrasions.”

  Paul simply nodded.

  Her eyes burned as anger swelled to mix with the shock and the hurt. She almost yelled at him that if this was his idea of a good-bye, then he could keep it. But the night had already thrown her one too many curves, and fatigue swiftly took priority over anger or anything else.

  Ignoring Paul completely, she watched Cole stride out of the compound and out of her life as if he shattered hearts every day of the week. And damn her if she didn’t feel sorry for him.

  You don’t know what you just threw away, Cole Sinclair, she said silently. You big, bullheaded idiot.

  She heard him start his motorcycle and waited until she couldn’t hear it anymore. When she was certain she could keep the tears from falling, she looked back at Paul.

  “This had better be good,” she muttered as she walked past him. When he didn’t immediately follow, she motioned with her arm. “Well, don’t just stand there. Let’s go inside. My leg hurts like hell. You can spill your guts and clean out mine at the same time.”

  TEN

  Kira turned past the sign to Sandy’s pier, not bothering with her blinker. No one would be out this late at night. Or early in the morning, depending on how you looked at it.

  A week had passed since Cole had strolled out of her life. And considering the punishing schedule she’d had, what with getting everything ready in time to pull off the investors’ meeting and Paul gone, she’d barely been able to distinguish night from day. After a while she hadn’t much cared. When she had managed to grab a few hours of sleep, she’d dreamed of Cole and awakened restless and edgy.

  She stifled a yawn. The week would have been much smoother with Paul there to help. But that couldn’t be. Sighing resignedly, she thought of Paul and how he’d helped Martinez in order to rescue his rebellious younger brother, Mickey, from the life that Juan Carlos had set him up in as a drug dealer. Paul had been so desperate that he’d swapped P.J. for Mickey. Kira understood, but she couldn’t forgive Paul.

  The rescue of P.J. had also led to the arrest of Juan Carlos, now being held without bail for an amazing list of crimes. Kira had made several attempts but could get no information on his son. At least Mickey was now having second thoughts about his lifestyle. Paul planned to take Mickey back to their parents’ home in Tallahassee. She honestly wished them well. She dreaded having to find a new assistant, but she’d deal with that later.

  Right now, her main concern was how to get on and off Cole’s boat without him knowing she’d been there.

  She shut off her headlights and killed the engine, drifting around the last turn. She let the car coast off the road onto the soft grass and quietly got out.

  His motorcycle was parked in the lot at the end of the pier. That meant he was on the boat. Damn! She’d been hoping he’d be playing at Repo’s or something.

  She felt in her pocket for the envelope. The investors had come through with enthusiasm and open checkbooks. Dr. Dolphin was in the black for at least another year. And she knew that wouldn’t have happened without P.J. or Cole. He not only deserved this, she reminded herself, he’d risked his life for it. She only wished it were more.

  She walked as softly as she could, trying not to break the eerie stillness of the remote pier. The muggy night air didn’t prevent the shiver from skating over her skin. It only heightened her sense of apprehension. Even the bugs were silent.

  She was so intent on watching his boat for signs of movement, she tripped on the first plank of the pier. She froze in an awkward crouch, half expecting Cole to leap onto the dock and demand to know why she was here—and not entirely sure she wouldn’t welcome his solid presence. It was too still. Her calf began to cramp. Nothing.

  Perversely, that irritated her, and she felt like stomping down the pier to make sure he heard her coming. She’d lain awake nights and drifted off numerous times during the day when she had a million other things she should be doing, working up her nerve for this. Only now she had to admit her fear hadn’t been the idea of confronting him. It had been the probability that she might not.

  She gripped the railing, one leg lifted to climb on board, when she heard it. She froze.

  It sounded like muffled yelling or arguing. It was coming from inside the boat. She leaped immediately onto the deck, going directly to the sliding doors. They weren’t locked and slid open easily. Once inside, she had to pause a moment to focus. The moon provided the only light, and she barely avoided colliding with the couch.

  The noise had stopped when she’d entered
the living room, but she’d been almost certain it had come from the back. Cole’s bedroom. Heart pounding, she stood very still. Waiting. Her hands balled into fists, reminding her of the now crumpled envelope and her real reason for being here.

  A horrible thought hit her. What if the sounds she heard had been Cole and another woman?

  Dear Lord, she’d never thought of that. She felt incredibly stupid and not a little angry. Both at herself for thinking she could come here and not want to start things up again, and at Cole for letting another woman touch him. A woman who couldn’t possibly love him the way she did.

  There. She’d done it. She’d finally admitted it to herself. She loved Cole. Scarred heart and all. Damn him. Damn her.

  She threw the envelope onto the bar and stormed toward the door, not really caring if they heard her or not. In fact, she wasn’t too certain she wouldn’t relish the confrontation. She yanked the sliding door closed.

  “No! Oh, Lord, no.”

  The last word was drawn out into a tortured moan that made Kira’s skin crawl even as she rushed back inside. All thoughts of who he might be with fled. Cole! She heard something crash behind the door across the room. She stumbled across a barstool and whacked her elbow on the doorframe in her haste to get to him.

  She finally yanked open the door. Cole lay on the bed, twisting violently, the sheets, some white, some dark, tangled around his torso and legs. The moon came directly through his window, casting him and his surroundings in surrealistic shades of gray and white. A lamp lay broken on the floor. She hurried to the foot of the bed.

  “Felicia!”

  That stopped her, but only for a second. It was clear from his twisted expression and frantic thrashing that he was reliving something horrifying. His jaw was clenched, his face a mask of agony. She knew she’d be no match for him in this state, but she had to try. She couldn’t let him do this to himself.

  He moaned again. It was an inhuman sound. Dear Lord, what was he seeing? She leaned over the bed, as close as she could without getting clobbered by one of his arms, which he flung out in irregular intervals.