Alan pointed at her. “Not another fucking step. Just get the hell out of here and have a good life. You’ve hurt him enough. I hope you know you’re taking our hearts with you. I hope it was worth it to you.” He wrapped his arms around Jerald as the man sobbed even harder.
The marshal, who’d quietly watched from the corner, stepped over to her. “Come on, Ms. Peres,” he softly said. “Let’s go.”
She didn’t want to go. She wanted to stay, to cry in their arms. They still wanted her? They
loved
her?
“No, can’t I just talk to them—”
“Goddammit, would you get her the fuck out of here!” Alan shouted.
The marshal hustled her out the door and down a hallway. A group of marshals surrounded her, escorting her quickly down a series of corridors. Before she knew it, she was in another SUV, one of a series of black, armored vehicles they drove her around in. She couldn’t see through her tears.
She couldn’t feel anything past the memory of watching Jerald sink to his knees, crying, and Alan’s angry voice as he ordered her out.
The female marshal, Agent Smith today, touched her arm. “I brought your purse, Ms. Hemingway.”
“Thank you.”
She held it in her lap. Inside, her wallet with her new ID, her paperwork. As of this day, she was no longer Daphne Peres, but Jenny Hemingway.
It also held the stack of unopened letters she couldn’t bear to read or throw away. There had been no more after the last.
Then again, she had asked Jerald to stop writing, hadn’t she?
A few minutes later, they pulled up to the general aviation gate at Tampa International where the agents hustled her onto a small private jet.
Smith was explaining they’d emptied her storage unit. Her things had already been moved to her new home. It would take nearly a full day to get her to Wyoming, because they would route her throughout the country in a series of almost random moves designed to throw anyone off the trail. They’d packed all her things from the motel and loaded them on the plane.
Daphne nodded, but she didn’t really hear the agent’s words. All she could hear in her mind was Alan’s angry voice and Jerald’s tortured sobs.
Her men.
They’d thought she was coming home. Instead, she was walking away from them.
* * * *
They were in the air for an hour before Daphne opened her purse with trembling hands and removed the letters. She stared at the stack of envelopes for a long time before she opened the first one. She realized she’d have to open them all and put them in order. Jerald had handwritten each letter, several pages each, not typed on the computer. He’d dated each one.
After opening all thirteen of them, she started at the first one.
Hey, Sweetie…
She held her hand over her mouth to muffle her sobs.
I’m sorry. I am so sorry. When you quit being angry at me, you’ll understand this is for your own good. And we’re going to sit here and wait for you and miss you. When we get you home, I promise you we’re going to take off a couple of weeks and go anywhere you want to celebrate. We’ll take you anywhere in the world. We can go to Yellowstone, if you want.
I can’t stand the thought of them hurting you. I love you too much to risk that…
The words blurred as she cried.
…and almost losing him nearly killed me. The thought of them hurting you too, I can’t handle it. If I thought they’d take Alan, I’d send him into protective custody with you to keep him safe, too…
She sobbed as she read and re-read the first letter several times. Agent Smith walked over to check on her, brought her a box of tissues, and left her alone again.
She carefully folded the first letter after she finished it, dug a pen out of her purse, and wrote the letter’s date on the envelope. Then she tucked the letter back inside and read the second.
It took her thirty minutes of crying and re-reading to get through it.
…and the doctors say he’s going to be fine, babe. I’ll take good care of him until you come home to kick our asses, I promise I will. I hope you’re okay. I hope you’re not still mad at me. Williams said they can pass messages to us from you, it just can’t go directly through the mail. So I’ll keep sending these to you. Hell, I’ll write you every day and drive them to Tampa if you tell me to, just say the word…
She finished it and put it back in its envelope after she wrote the date on the outside.
He asked about you again. I brought him home yesterday. I don’t know what to tell him. Please, Daph, don’t be angry at him. He didn’t know I was doing this until after the fact. If you want to ignore me, okay, I understand, but please write to him, okay? It’d really make him feel better to hear from you. We love you so much, and it’s so damned lonely around here without you…
Had she really thought Jerald Carter was an insensitive rock wall? A statue? Incapable of emotion?
His letters, had she read them before, would have moved her to tears then.
Would have made her forgive him.
I’m a fucking idiot. I don’t deserve to live.
She rested her head against the seat in front of her. It was just her and five agents riding as passengers on the small jet. And now…it was too late to turn back. Daphne Peres no longer existed. Months after jumping from Paulie’s boat, Daphne Peres had finally drowned in an ocean of paperwork, resurrected with a fake name and a fake history and a fake life.
All that remained of Daphne were the memories of the love she’d left behind and the pain she’d carry with her for the rest of her life.
Chapter
Fifteen
Alan worked his ass off all week to coax a single smile out of Jerald. He didn’t think he would manage it, but finally, he did.
Not all the changes in Jerald since the shooting had been bad. Where before he would be leery of public displays of affection, now the large man wasn’t ashamed to grab Alan’s hand or even slip his arm around his waist or shoulders while they walked somewhere. Wanting contact with him, as if afraid to let him go.
Afraid to lose him.
Alan wouldn’t talk about her. Didn’t want Jerald thinking about her if he could help it. Easier said than done. But as the weeks wore on, until a month after that final showdown in the courthouse, he saw signs of life returning to Jerald Carter’s heart.
He acted even quieter now than ever before. Spent a lot of time reading or just staring out at Alan’s backyard.
The new house was ready for move-in. Alan didn’t tell Jerald he’d used the cabinets and flooring and paint she’d picked. Despite his heartache, they were the perfect accents for the house. He’d envisioned them all during construction and why should he let the fact that she picked them stop him? What, to spite a woman they’d never see again?
Then again, part of him had hoped she’d come home, that they could surprise her with the house.
They made the move over the course of a week, leaving them enough time to paint the old house the weekend before the new tenants moved in. The rent would more than cover the expenses for that house, and over half of their monthly mortgage on the new one.
Their first night in the new house, Alan cooked Jerald a nice dinner. He lit candles in their bedroom and gave him a long, sensual massage. Then Alan stretched out next to him, propped on one arm. “Home sweet home,” he said with a smile.
That coaxed a smile out of Jerald. “Home sweet home.”
“Our home. Our first house together.” He rolled on top of Jerald and kissed him. “Yours and mine.”
Jerald’s hands settled on his ass. “Ours.” Jerald’s eyes seemed to study his face. “Thank you for being patient with me all these years.”
“Hasn’t been that long. You make it sound like we’ve been together decades.”
“You know what I mean. For taking so long to…”
“Come out?”
He smiled. “Yeah.”
“I know a good thing when I see it, buddy. No way in hell I was letting you get away once I knew you were interested.”
“Maybe we can take a vacation fairly soon,” Jerald suggested. “I think we need it.”
Jerald wanting to take a vacation?
“Why don’t we go to Yellowstone?” Jerald continued. “I know you’ve been wanting to go.”
“Maybe we can do that next spring. It’s going to be damn cold there now. Let’s go take a cruise or something for Christmas. Go party. See the Caribbean.”
“Okay, I like that idea.” They’d mixed their finances, getting a joint account and credit cards. They’d even done paperwork giving each other medical power of attorney and other authority. They’d made their wills.
Jerald touched Alan’s hair. “Go ahead and call tomorrow and book us a cruise. If you don’t book now, they might all be full.”
“Okay.” Alan relaxed, happy Jerald wanted to go. It meant a distraction, fun, relaxation.
It meant not sitting at home thinking about the last Christmas, when Daph was with them, or her absence during what should have been a joyous holiday celebration in their new home.
He damn sure didn’t feel like putting up a Christmas tree this year.
* * * *
Daphne read and re-read the letters countless times. She photocopied them and read the copies because she cried so much she worried she’d ruin the originals. Every night, her ritual was to start with the first and read through them all.
She cried every time.
She bought a prepaid cell phone and had it activated with a Tampa area code, but hadn’t worked up the nerve to call. It was against the rules the U.S. Marshals had given her to contact Alan and Jerald without going through the marshals to do it.
After being in her new home for two months, she finally tried Alan’s home number.
Her heart sank when the automated tone sounded, followed by the recorded message, “The number you are trying to reach is no longer in service…”
They must have finally ditched the land line.
She couldn’t remember their cell numbers.
She looked up Alan’s charter reservation number online, which would ring to his cell. When she called, one of the Aripeka marina shop clerks answered.
“Is Alan Walker there?” Daphne asked.
“We’re taking his bookings for him.”
“Do you have his cell number? I need to reach him.”
“We’re not allowed to give that out. We can pass along a message for you.”
“Oh. Thanks. Never mind.”
She’d fucked up. They’d never stopped loving her, and she’d been too damn angry and immature to see the truth at the time.
It felt like she’d spent the last year crying or in a freaking daze. Time to take action.
She awoke the next morning to a snowstorm. She stared, in awe at the strange sight. She’d never seen real snow before, and it was her first in her new hometown of Cody, Wyoming. Small town, yes, but a nice place. Friendly people.
Fortunately she didn’t have to drive very far to the travel agency where she worked. “I know I haven’t been here long, but can I put in for some unpaid time off at Christmas?”
Her boss, Barbara Thomas, laughed. “Honey, we close down from Christmas to New Year’s every year. Knock yourself out, but I usually pay everyone for that time.”
“Even though I haven’t been here that long?”
The woman’s nephew was a U.S. Marshal who had helped Daphne find the job. “It’s okay, Jenny. You work hard, you’re good with the customers. I don’t mind.”
She sometimes had trouble answering to her new name even though she’d picked it. “Thank you.”
That’s how the day after Christmas she found herself eagerly flying into Tampa International Airport. She knew it was against the rules, but she’d worried if she told her agent handler about it he’d forbid the trip. It’d been four long, achy months since that showdown in the courthouse. All she knew was she’d been miserable and would come out of the program if it meant she could be with her men.
If they would take her back.
She didn’t care about her life anymore. What good was it without her men? She just hoped they still wanted her.
She rented a car and drove north, her stomach bound in knots. She pulled into the driveway a little before sunset and hesitated when she saw all the cars in the yard but didn’t recognize any of them. Someone was apparently having a party.
Nervously, she walked up to the front door and knocked. The woman who answered didn’t look familiar either.
“Can I help you?”
Her heart sank. “I’m sorry. I’m looking for someone who used to live here. I’m sorry I interrupted your evening.”
Fighting her tears, she turned to go.
“Are you looking for Mr. Walker or Mr. Carter?” the woman called out.