Like a Knife (24 page)

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When Danny called, Rachel was rereading her father's correspondence and trying to ignore the resurgence of grief created by giving up her search for information about Nick. But the minute she heard Danny mention the cabin, a lump of ice settled in her stomach. The last thing she wanted was to face those memories.

"It's hours away. I'll never get back in time to pick up Isaac."

"See if your aunt can pick him up."

"But why-"

"You said you wanted answers. I'll bring them to the cabin."

Her heart began to race, "What do you mean? Do you know why Nick was driving fee limousine?"

"I'll tell you when you arrive."

"But-"

"At the cabin." He hung up.

She growled in frustration, but called Julia and made arrangements for her to pick up Isaac at school. Then she packed up the car and headed for the Jersey shore.

It was raining, a gray, drenching winter day. She drove carefully through the downpour, trying not to think about what waited at the end of the journey. In spite of the months that had elapsed since she'd traveled this road, the trip brought back every memory with gut-wrenching vividness. Every glance, every smile, every line in Nick's dark face was suddenly in the forefront of her mind.

God, she didn't want to remember.

But she did.

She remembered the open, hungry way he used to look at her. And later, the way his dark eyes lit when he kissed her. She remembered the feel of his body next to her. Inside her.

And the slow, hesitant approach to his son, how much he wanted Isaac to trust him, love him.

The road blurred ahead, and she pulled the car over, jabbing at her watery eyes. It was cruel of Danny to suggest this. Agony to face what she could never have again.

Just then the baby kicked. Rachel took in a sharp little breath, surprised by the wondrous, fluttery sensation.

Oh, Nick.
She smiled, stroking the place where the baby poked her. Loving him may have brought pain, but it also brought joy, the greatest of which was right here beneath her fingers. Nick would have been proud of this baby. Proud of both his children. They were his family now, she and Isaac and the new baby. His story was their story, and she owed them all the truth, no matter how many painful memories she had to endure to get it. She turned the wheel and got back on the road.

When she arrived at the cabin, no car sat in front, and she assumed she'd arrived before Danny. She hoped the cabin had heat; it was even colder by the sea than at home. She got out of the car and, wrapping her coat around her, ran through the chilly rain to the door.

It wasn't locked, so she pushed it open and tumbled inside, shivering as she inhaled the familiar smell of ocean and mildew. At least it was warm; one of Danny's mysterious men must have already turned up the thermostat. Taking off her coat, she shook water from her hair, looking down while she dusted the drops from her braid.

Finished, she straightened and jumped when she saw the man in the bedroom doorway. "My God, you scared-"

And froze in her tracks.

Nick watched Rachel come into the cabin. Every nerve ending was on fire; his shoulder, his leg, even his head throbbed, and that hadn't bothered him for weeks. He'd been here a day and a half and didn't know how much time he had before the Feds found him, but right now none of that mattered. Nothing mattered, not his hands, which were a sweaty mess, nor his heart, which drummed so hard he wouldn't have been surprised to see it erupt out of his chest.

Nothing mattered but the fact that she was here.

He couldn't speak. All he could do was drink in the sight of her. Her honey-brown hair, wrapped in the sweet, familiar braid, her penny-bright eyes. And God, mat swell beneath the dress.
The baby.
His heart twisted. He had barely believed Danny about the baby. Now, he wanted to touch it, feel his child growing under her heart. But he tightened his hold on the cane, letting her absorb the sight of him. Just seeing him would be shock enough, let alone the changes.

"My God, oh my God." She breathed the words on a whisper.

Slowly, she floated across the room, her face a kaleidoscope of emotion. Terror, amazement, hope.

She raised her arm. Touched him.

A ripple of heat shuddered through him even though her hand shook and the feel of it on his face was a mixture of caution and fear, as if she wasn't sure he was real, but desperately wanted him to be.

"Is it you? Is it really you?"

His throat tightened. Softly he said, "It's me, Rachel."
What's left of me.

Then with a cry, she was in his arms, laughing and crying and clinging to him. He wrapped himself around her, not caring that he had to give up the cane to do it, causing a hot stab of torment to shoot up his leg. He held her as if he'd never let her go, felt her tremble, felt the baby between them, laughed and half cried himself.

He found her mouth, sank into her kiss as though it were the breath of life itself. He held her face in his hands, felt the warmth of her lips, her tongue, ran his hands down her back and over the soft curve of her rear, pressing her in, feeling that body, so different now, yet so the same, against his.

And for an instant he felt as though he'd come home, as if he'd been adrift in a hurricane and found safe harbor at last. And he was so full, so grateful for this one sweet moment of happiness that he could hardly believe he had once wanted to die.

"I knew it! God, I knew you were alive!" She kissed his eyes, his cheeks, his jaw, giggling through tears while she did it.

And then, as if she'd only just heard her own words, she stiffened in his arms. Slowly, she pulled back. The joy in her face seeped away, dissolving into something else. Something he'd been steeling himself for ever since Danny had told him the truth two days ago.

She slapped him.

"You goddamn bastard."

Then she burst into tears again.

He absorbed the slap, ignoring the fear that flashed up his spine and ended in his aching shoulder.
Get a grip. Concentrate.
No matter what she thought or said, no matter what she did, he wasn't going to let anything come between them again. But he didn't have much time.

He reached for her. "Rachel-"

"No, don't touch me. Oh, God. I mean, it's just-" She gulped, her voice quivery with tears. "All this time, all this time when I felt like my heart had been ripped out of me, all this goddamn time ..."

After months of lying down, the strain of standing was suddenly taking its toll. Sweat slithered down his back, and he picked up the cane, bracing himself against the doorjamb to take some of the weight off his damaged leg.

"I'm sorry. If I'd known, believe me I would have spared you that. But I only found out the day before yesterday that you didn't know I'd survived."

She stared at him as if his words were so outrageous she couldn't comprehend them. "You didn't know..." Slowly, she retreated until the backs of her knees hit the couch and she collapsed into the sofa. "I don't understand. I don't understand any of this. You're here, alive..." She shook her head, tears welling again. "How? Why?"

A sharp wave of dizziness hit him, but he clutched the cane, his fingers biting into the rubber-coated handle to steady himself. "I promised, didn't I?"

He met her copper gaze, now as shiny with tears as it had been that night so many months ago. And he knew she was remembering the last time they'd seen each other, the last words they'd spoken.

He hadn't intended to keep that promise. He'd intended to die, but somehow he'd screwed that up. He leaned into the wall, trying to shore up his trembling body. Someone up there had a wicked sense of humor. Someone he'd be grateful to for the rest of his life.

"I wanted you to know ..." Across the room, her face shimmered, and he blinked the sweat out of his eyes. What was it he wanted her to know? "I wanted..." He felt himself waver and gripped the cane so hard his knuckles turned white. "Didn't break..."

"Nick?" Her voice echoed, coming from a great distance.

Minute. Give me a minute.

He saw her stand, or thought he did. Heard another sound. His name? No, Nick wasn't his name anymore.
Don't fold.
He took a breath. He didn't seem to have any air in his lungs, but he tried to get the words out anyway. "Didn't break.. ." No good. He felt himself slipping, heard the words he'd been looking for in his head.
My promise.

"Nick!"

Rachel rushed to the doorway and got there in time to prevent him from smashing his head on the way down.
Oh, God.

Kneeling beside him, she saw him plainly for the first time, and not through a fog of shock or joy or anger. She traced the gash that cut through one black brow and eyed the mangled mess of his left ear. And his leg. She ran a hand down his thigh, remembering the beauty of it.

Oh, God, what had they done to him?

She eased his head onto her lap and glanced around the cabin, feeling helpless. He was big, and moving him would be hard, but she could do it if only she knew it wouldn't hurt him more.

Just as she was debating it, he groaned.

"Hush, Nick, hush." She brushed his forehead and the dark stubble of his hair. A ridge on the right side, just above his ear, indicated another scar. Her chest tightened as she realized why his hair had been buzzed off.

Another groan, and this time his eyes fluttered open. They seemed to focus and glaze and refocus on her. Then his hand moved, and she felt it on her face, wiping up the tears she hadn't even known were there.

"No more crying," he said softly.

She breathed out an ocean of air and nodded.

"Help me up."

She did the best she could, but he was so big and heavy. Twice he had to put weight on the injured leg. His jaw tightened but he said nothing, and she cringed, knowing the agony was there whether he admitted to it or not.

By the time she got him to the bed, dark circles stained his shirt under the arms and on his back. She propped him up against the pillows, then sat on the edge of the bed beside him, still trembling from the ordeal.

A bottle of pills lay on the nightstand. Painkillers. She picked them up. "When did you take the last one?"

Breathing heavily, he closed his eyes briefly, clearly exhausted. "I don't know. Day before yesterday, day before that."

Stupid man. "Let me get you some water."

She stood, and he grabbed her wrist, faster and stronger than she would have expected of a man in his condition. "No. I can't take them. Not yet." He tried to sit up higher in the bed, and the blood drained from his face as he swallowed another jolt of pain. "Not until we finish."

Worry sharpened her voice, and she snapped at him. "Why aren't you in a hospital?"

He sighed, shifted, and grimaced with the effort. "I was, up until a couple of days ago."

Astonishment mixed with the anger. "Your doctor released you like this?"

"Not exactly."

It was like pulling teeth. "Well, what did happen?"

"I left."

"Left?"

"Escaped."

She gave him a short disbelieving laugh. "Escaped? Where were you, in prison?"

"Sort of. I was being held in some kind of military facility near Washington. I don't even know which one."

His answer wiped the laugh off her face, and she stared at him. "What's going on, Nick? What happened to you?"

"Look, I don't have a lot of time. There's probably a bunch of guys in uniform trying to find me, and even if they don't, I don't know how much longer I'll be able to hold up. I can go through all this later. Right now I want to-"

"No. Tell me now."

For a moment, he looked at her, clearly eager to talk about something else. But she held his gaze, determined not to be put off. She had to know. Everything.

Then he sighed. "Danny made a deal with the Feds, and I broke it by coming here."

Danny.
She'd forgotten about Danny. She was supposed to meet him...

She stiffened as the puzzle fell into place.

"He knew. My God, Danny knew you were alive." The enormity of the betrayal was so unbelievable, it forced her to her feet. "Why didn't he tell me? Why the hell-"

"He was trying to keep you safe, Rachel. You and Isaac. And me. The more noise you made about seeing me, the more dangerous things got. He figured if you thought I was dead, so would everyone else."

"I'll wring his neck."

"I hope not. He saved my life." And slowly, he told her how Danny Walsh had talked the government of the United States into letting Nicky Raine die.

"I was half dead already." He looked down at his leg. "My leg was crushed, my skull fractured. I was in a coma for longer than I want to think about, and then mostly flat on my back until two days ago. But somehow he talked them into keeping me under wraps in exchange for everything I knew about Rennie's operation and the black-market arms trade."

My God.
"Okay, so maybe I won't wring his neck. Maybe I'll just break his legs."

His mouth twisted in a wry smile. "Maybe I'll help."

She smiled back at him, and for a minute it felt as though none of this had happened, not the bomb, the separation, the grief. Though the lines of his rugged face had deepened, his black eyes were sharp and hungry, and their expression sent a shaft of heat tearing through her. Tears pricked her eyes. He was alive. My God. Alive. She could hardly believe it.

"But how did you ..." She shook her head, unable to find the words. "I saw the car ... the bomb... how did you..."

"Survive?" He gave her a small, tight smile. "The Liberation Council wanted revenge for the loss of their arms shipment, and that meant hurting someone high up in Rennie's organization. So they designed the bomb to blow up the back of the car, where the important people usually sit. I was in front, driving, so the full force of it missed me."

She shuddered. He'd come so close. "I saw two people in the front."

"The other one was Frank. I'm told he survived the bomb, but never made it out of surgery."

"But... why were you driving? Why were you even in the car?"

Briefly he told her of his plan to lure Rennie out of his compound with a phony story about a copy of his printout.

"But you didn't know about the disk then."

"No." He shot her a rueful smile. "But it made sense that Martin would have a backup somewhere. Rennie would have had one. And he hadn't found Isaac's things. I told him it was hidden in his knapsack."

"And he believed you?"

"Not at first. But I stuck to my story. I knew he would check it out. He wouldn't take the risk."

"But once you got him in the car, where were you planning to take him if the disk didn't exist? And what were you going to do when you got mere?"

He looked away, his expression remote. Something in his face told her this was the heart of the story, the hardest part to tell.

Squeezing his hand, she said gently, "It's all right, Nick, you know you can tell me anything."

His gaze swung to hers, his dark eyes bleak. "Not anything. Not this."

"Anything," she reassured him. "Where were you taking Rennie?"

"Nowhere." His jaw tightened, as if he were steeling himself for battle. "I was planning to drive the limo into the ocean."

"You were..." A shiver ran through her. "You were going to kill yourself?"

He threw her an acrid smile. "Well, I didn't think about it like that. I only knew I had to keep you and Isaac safe. The only way to do that was to see Rennie dead. I thought I'd better go along to make sure he stayed dead."

She stood abruptly, suddenly desperate to get away.

He snatched her arm again. "Where you going?"

Looking around blindly, she grasped at the first excuse she could think of. "Into the kitchen to get you some water."

"I don't need water. Wait-dammit!"

Behind her, she heard him cursing and groaning, but she paid no attention. All she could think about was the fact that he'd been right. That was the one thing she didn't want to know.

Because he'd lied. He hadn't kept his promise at all. He had never intended to come back.

She found herself at the sink and turned on the faucet. The sound of the water drowned out the sound of whatever he was doing. She stared at the heavy stream splashing into the sink and relived that moment six months ago when he'd promised to return. A sick feeling clawed at her stomach, and she grabbed herself to keep from doubling over.