Perilous Waters, page 8
He twisted every which way. Water blurred his vision. He would not let her die the way he let— He swallowed the boulder-sized lump that caught in his throat and dug into the water.
“To your right,” Jake shouted from shore.
With a powerful kick, Sam surged toward her. For a fleeting second, he caught strands of hair. But they slipped through his fingers. The life ring was slowing him down. He started to pull out his arm.
“Don’t you dare let go,” Jake ordered.
Sam kicked harder. She’d been under too long. “Jen!”
Her face broke the surface with a giant gasp. Her wild-eyed gaze slammed into his, clinging for dear life.
He plowed toward her, scarcely feeling his arms and legs.
“Sam,” she breathed then dropped below the dark surface.
“No!” His leg scraped a rock. Kicking off it, he surged into her path and caught her around the waist. “I got you. Hang on.”
She went limp in his arms.
As Jake hauled on the rope, Sam prayed for the strength to hold on. “Stay with me, Jen. You’re going to be okay.”
Her head lifted, eyes fluttering. With one arm hooked through the ring and one hooked around her waist, he didn’t have a free hand to wipe the hair from her face. “Grab the ring, Jen. Hold on.”
Her shivers vibrated through his own numb limbs. His eyes closed, his adrenaline rapidly draining. So cold. His arm clamped tighter around her waist. “I won’t let you go.” He tried to kick, but his legs had stopped cooperating. People were shouting at them, but their voices sounded far away.
All of a sudden Jen disappeared from his arms.
“No!” The shout ripped from his chest.
The stench of smoke filled his nostrils. Someone held him back. No, not again. Not again, Lord. His aunt’s wails pounded his ears. He didn’t know Jimmy was hiding in there. He didn’t know. “Let me go, I’ve got to save—”
“It’s okay. We got her.”
Her? Not little Jimmy. Jen. Strong arms hooked under his and hauled him into the raft, free of the water’s icy grip. He scrambled to see Jen.
She plunged into his arms. “You saved me.” Her words slurred. She shivered violently—they both did. A scratchy blanket swallowed them, but just the sight of Jen alive, the sound of her voice, the feel of her arms slipping around his waist warmed him to the core.
He swept wet strands of hair from her face, his heart tumbling into her shimmering blue gaze. “I told you I’d keep you safe.”
Her lips, as blue as her eyes from the cold, quivered into a smile.
He brushed a gentle kiss over those beautiful lips. They tasted like crisp spring days, fresh, alive. He wrapped her in his arms and pulled her closer. Somewhere in the back of his ice-numbed mind, a voice hissed out a warning, but he couldn’t make sense of it.
Jake’s voice penetrated Sam’s hazy thoughts as someone hauled Jen from his arms. “Keep them horizontal.” The men from the raft laid them on a blanket and covered them with jackets and hats. Someone started rubbing Jen’s limbs. “Don’t do that.” Jake motioned the person back. “It’ll only cause cold blood to flow back to her body core and cool it further.” Jake placed two fingers at the pulse point on her throat and studied his watch.
Lying on his side next to her, still shivering despite the blankets and coats piled on him, Sam reached for her hand. Her eyes were closed, her breathing slow and shallow. “Is she ooo-kkkay?” he asked, his teeth chattering uncontrollably.
Jake dropped his hand from her pulse and lifted one eyelid. “She’s moderately hypothermic. Her pulse is slow, pupils dilated.”
“What?” she mumbled as Jake lifted the other eyelid.
“Shouldn’t we get herrr out of thozzz wet clothes?”
Jake pressed Sam’s pulse point.
“Don’t worry ’bout meee.” Why did he sound like a drunk?
“You’re hypothermic, too, you idiot. Who did you think you were, Superman? And invincible to the cold?” He dropped Sam’s wrist. “Your pulse is normal. You’re lucky.”
Sam reached for Jen’s hand, but she was gone. His eyes shot open. “Where’s Jen?”
“Paramedics are loading her...out of the wet clothes before...body heat.”
Sam’s ears buzzed as he struggled to get to his feet, only catching half of what Jake said.
“Whoa, there.” Jake pressed him to the ground. “Don’t worry. They won’t leave without you.”
Next thing Sam knew he was levitated onto a gurney. It bumped and rattled over the rough ground, making his head pound.
They let Jake ride in the ambulance with them. Confident his brother would watch out for Jen, Sam gave in to the exhaustion tugging at his eyes.
The barn rafters creaked as he raced for the last horse stall. He yanked his shirt over his mouth and nose against the smoke choking his lungs. Flames licked up the walls, seconds from torching the hayloft.
“It’s too late. Get out of there,” his father shouted from the barn door.
Sam threw open the stall and jumped out of the way as the horse charged for the door.
“Jimmy! Where’s Jimmy?” his aunt screamed.
Jimmy’s head popped up above the hay in the loft. “I’m up—” His eyes went round as Frisbees as he caught sight of the fire.
“Jimmy!” Sam sprinted toward the ladder.
His uncle grabbed him off the bottom rung and scrambled up after his son himself.
“No!” Sam screamed a second before the fire flashed over.
“Sam.” Someone shook his shoulders. “Sam, wake up. It’s just a dream.”
Oh, how he wished that were true. He curled his arms against his chest and squeezed his eyes tighter.
The bed dipped beside him. Soft hands cupped his face. “Sam, you saved me. We’re okay.”
Recognizing Jen’s voice, he clambered out of the memory, remembered instead catching hold of Jen. Sam closed his hands over hers and opened his eyes. “You’re—” He cleared the hoarseness from his throat. “You’re okay?”
“Thanks to you.” Her lips curved into the sweetest smile.
His heart shifted. He had a vague memory of tasting those lips and wondered if it had been a dream or real.
“Hey.” Jake appeared in his line of vision, standing over his bed. “How do you feel?”
Jen pulled away and Sam pushed onto his elbows. “Out of shape.”
“Yeah, Jen’s a faster recoverer than you, apparently.”
Sam glanced around what appeared to be an emergency room with multiple curtained-off beds. “What time is it?”
Jake glanced at his watch. “Five o’clock. Our tour guide offered to give us a lift in his van back to the ship. Mom sent dry clothes with him.” Jake plopped a shirt and pair of jeans on Sam’s chest. “I’ll go ask the doctor if you both have the green light to leave.”
Jen already wore a cozy pink sweater and dark slacks. Her hair had dried into soft curls around her rosy cheeks. Not a tint of blue anywhere. Thank you, Lord.
He snatched up his clothes and ducked into the bathroom.
“I really appreciate what you did for me,” Jen said as he returned.
He found himself swimming in her beautiful blue eyes and brought her hand to his lips. Tomorrow he’d worry about getting too close to a suspect. Tonight he was just relieved she was okay. He sat on the edge of the bed to put on his shoes.
Jen pulled up a chair beside him. “Who’s Jimmy?”
His heart clenched. “Jimmy?” The name came out choked.
Empathy brimmed in her eyes. “You were calling for him. I thought at first you were saying Jenny, but Jake said no. He wouldn’t tell me who Jimmy was, said I should ask you.”
Yeah, he would. Sam shot a glare at his brother, who’d just stepped inside the door. “He was our cousin. He died in a barn fire when he was about Tommy’s age. It was after my first year at college.”
“Oh, Sam.” Jen squeezed his hand. “How horrible. I’m so sorry.”
He expelled a breath and pushed to his feet. “It was a long time ago.”
“Yes, it was,” Jake pointedly agreed.
Sam pressed his lips against a retort. Staying away was easier than facing the empty seats at family reunions.
“I guess Lucy was his mother?”
A cold shiver slinked over his body at the real name of the woman who’d almost cost him his job with the FBI. He shot Jake a worried look. What else had he muttered in his sleep?
* * *
Panic gripped Jen as their van pulled up alongside the ship. It was massive. Sixteen decks high. Three and a half football fields long. And chances were good her attacker was on it, waiting for another chance to strike.
She clutched the armrests. She could fly home. But was home any safer? For all she knew the knife in her car had been courtesy of the same guy. If only she knew what he wanted.
She squeezed her eyes shut. Wasn’t it obvious?
He wanted her dead.
“You okay?” The concern in Sam’s voice drew her from her black thoughts.
Her eyes sprang open. “Yes, I’m good.” He’d promised to keep her safe, and he had. The last thing she wanted was to cause him more worry, or worse, cause him to blame himself for what happened as he obviously did in his cousin’s death. She followed him out of the van and slipped her hand into his. He’d said little on the drive over, and she felt bad for rousing memories he’d clearly just as soon have left buried.
Or maybe he was worried she’d read more into his rescue than he wanted.
She revisited the moment his arm closed around her waist in the water, of his declaration, “I won’t let you go.”
Inhaling the crisp sea air, she lingered in the memory. She knew better than to think he’d meant forever, but his promise had given her hope when all seemed lost.
She touched her lips, remembering his tender kiss. It had lasted mere seconds, but she still felt its warmth.
He squeezed her hand as they started up the gangplank. “Your sister is going to kill me for letting you fall into the water.”
Jen stopped. “I didn’t fall.” She’d forgotten that the doctor hadn’t wanted to rouse him when the detective came to the emergency room to question her. “Sam, I was pushed.”
Fear flared in his eyes, renewing her own panic. He spun toward Jake. “We need to notify the authorities. We’ve already lost—”
“They know.” Jake urged them forward. “The detective has interviewed everyone on our tour, has other officers verifying the whereabouts of passengers who were off the ship at the time of the incident and should have the picture of every passenger who can’t be accounted for, along with those on our tour, queued up for Jen to look through.”
Sam blinked, clearly struggling to absorb all that he’d missed. “That’s good.” Sam’s gaze skimmed the faces of those watching the pier from the decks above and he tugged her closer. “So you saw who pushed you?”
The trembling that had taken her hours to quell returned full force. “He was big. Had dark hair and a beard.”
“Could it have been the same guy you saw in your cabin? The beard could’ve been fake.”
“I don’t know. It all happened so fast, and he was wearing sunglasses.”
“Did you recognize him from the tour?”
She made a face. “I was too panicked about riding the rapids to pay attention to anyone else on the tour.”
“It’s okay.” He curled his arm around her shoulders. “We’ll find him.”
As soon as they boarded the ship, a uniformed crew member escorted them to the security office. “The detective is waiting in here.” The middle-aged woman with close-cropped brunette hair, and a ready smile, stood and stretched out a hand to Sam. “I’m Detective Reed. I’m handling the investigation.” She motioned Jen to take the seat she’d vacated in front of the computer.
As Jen looked through the pictures that the detective had ready for her, Sam and Jake quizzed her on what she’d learned so far. Which amounted to nothing. None of the other passengers on their tour remembered the hulking, bearded guy in mirror sunglasses.
Jen fought the despair closing in on her. The faces on the screen all started to look the same and nothing like the guy who’d pushed her. She shook her head. “It’s no use. The beard and glasses practically hid his entire face. Put him in a bulky parka and he could be any of these guys.”
Sam squeezed her shoulder. “Take your time.”
“Have you given any more thought to why someone would target you?” the detective asked.
Jennifer’s breath caught in her throat. “No, I’m sorry.”
“Miss Robbins,” the detective implored. “This man deliberately pushed you into a glacial river. He clearly didn’t expect you to live. We need to know why he targeted you.”
“But I don’t know why.” Between the detective’s questions and the video surveillance screens flickering around her, she felt as if she were drowning all over again.
“Do you have any enemies?” the detective pressed.
“No!” Jen dug her teeth into her bottom lip to keep it from quivering.
“Business rivals?”
“No. I assess grant applications for a charitable foundation. I told you this already.”
Sam gently squeezed her shoulder again, grounding her. If he weren’t here, they’d probably have to cart her off to a mental ward.
The detective turned a page in her notepad. “What about the family business? Any crooked associate who might threaten your safety to get what he wants from those who run the gallery?”
Jen’s heart ricocheted off her ribs at how close to her fears the question hit. She forced herself to take deep breaths to slow her runaway pulse. She’d almost been killed. She needed to tell the detective about her suspicions of Uncle Reggie, but what about Cass? She was bound to get caught up in any investigation of Reg. Maybe be implicated in his crimes. Jen had to talk to her first.
* * *
Seeing Jen on the verge of falling apart under the detective’s relentless questions, Sam wished he could have a “do over.” He never should’ve talked her into going out today, let alone let her out of his sight. Never mind that he’d scanned every passenger’s face when they boarded the bus and had made a point of talking to each one, listening for an Eastern European accent like the waiter who’d brought Jen the tainted drink. He would have had just as much opportunity to earn her trust and ply her for information if they’d stayed aboard, maybe more.
His cell phone rang. Checking the screen, he apologized to Jen and the detective. “I need to take this.” Pressing his phone to his ear, he slipped out of the small security office. “What do you got?”
“You were right about the guy who bought the painting. His name is Sal Monticello and he’s suspected of having mob connections.”
The usual elation at learning his hunch had been right didn’t come. Considering how forcefully Cass had dissuaded him from bidding, she had to be in on the deal. And for Jen’s sake, he hadn’t wanted her to be. Not that he was all that sure of Jen’s innocence.
“Customs will have a welcoming committee waiting for him when he returns to Seattle,” the FBI agent went on. “If he’s smuggling stolen art, we’ll find it.”
The delight in his voice was unmistakable. Often art crime investigations resulted in recovering stolen pieces without ever making an arrest. The more valuable the piece, the more likely the thief would find it impossible to unload without getting caught and in the end would let it go for a fraction of its value just to get it off his or her hands.
Sam filled the agent in on what happened to Jen. “Find out everything you can on Monticello. Figure out what kind of hold he has on the Robbins Gallery. Could be he was threatening Jen to coerce her sister into cooperating. If that painting he bought at auction didn’t deliver what he’d expected, that’d explain the finality of today’s attack.”
Jake exited the security office, giving Sam a glimpse of Jen’s harrowed expression. His chest tightened. “I’ve got to go.” Clicking off his phone, he asked his brother, “What’s going on in there?”
“More of the same. I’m going up to check on Tommy and to let Mom and Dad know we’re safely aboard.”
Sam pulled him aside, away from the crew members staffing the concierge counter, and lowered his voice. “Back at the hospital, what did I say about Lucy?”
Jake chuckled. “Afraid you blew your cover?”
“I—”
Jake cut him off with a lift of his hand. “Save the denials. There is something you need to know. I didn’t get the chance to tell you before because I didn’t want to worry Jen.”
“What?”
“When Mom knocked on Cass’s door to get dry clothes for Jen, Cass didn’t answer.”
Sam tensed at the thought of what she could’ve been up to all day. He’d had a man on her—at least as close as he could get one. Obviously not close enough.
“Mom convinced the steward to check the room, afraid Cass had taken a turn for the worse. Cass wasn’t there. Mom checked the clinic and around the ship but never found her. She ended up buying the outfit for Jen at the boutique because the steward couldn’t allow her to take anything from the room.”
“See if you can locate her, will you?” Sam said. “Then call down and let me know right away.”
“Will do.”
Sam scrubbed a hand over his face. What a mess. Clearly Cass’s illness had been a ploy to get Jen to go on the excursion alone. Best-case scenario—she had an art deal scheduled that he’d missed scoping out. Worst-case scenario...
She’d hired that guy to attack Jen.
Sam’s stomach revolted at the thought. But Cass had more motive than anyone. The inheritance that came into their full control in mere days would be all hers. Or maybe Jen’s intimation yesterday that she wanted to sell the gallery roused Cass’s fears that Jen would screw up their lucrative sideline in art fraud.
