A sharp pain slammed into his gut, like an invisible force had punched him. It was his fault. Ali being with Peterson was his fault. And he’d accused her of sleeping with the prick for money. There was no way of taking that back. No way to undo the damage he’d done.
“You fucking idiot.” He pulled his glasses from his face and dragged his hands over his eyes.
What did he do now?
Find Ali. Find her. Apologize and beg her to forgive him.
And if she doesn’t?
His gut rolled.
He didn’t have an answer. And he had no one to blame but himself.
Chapter Nine
“Hi, Mom, how are you?”
The phone line was scratchy but Ali didn’t care at all. She desperately needed to hear her mother’s voice, regardless of the poor quality of the connection. She gripped the telephone’s handset like it was a lifeline, her knuckles a glaring white in the afternoon sun.
“Hello, sweetheart.” Her mom’s voice came back to her through the line, faint and hard to hear. “How are the Solomons?”
“Fine,” Ali replied, trying to control the sudden wave of tears threatening to ambush her. “Hot.”
“Make sure you wear plenty of sunblock, okay?” Jenny instructed, maternal concern in her voice. It was enough to set the tears falling, hot and shameful tears Ali scrubbed away with the back of her hand. Crying on a public telephone in the middle of the street in a foreign country was not what she needed to do right now. It was foolish. Childish. She had to get a grip. “Yes, Mom,” she answered, forcing her voice to sound normal. “I will. How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine. Dr. Welch says I’m doing very well. He’s started me on a new course of treatment that seems quite effective.” There was a pause. “It’s very expensive, Ali. Where will we find the money to continue it?”
Hope blossomed in Ali’s heart at the thought of her mom regaining her health and her life. “I’ll find it, Mom. Don’t worry.” She could never,
would
never, deny her mother the chance to have a pain-free existence, no matter how much it cost. She squeezed her eyes shut. She’d get the money needed, regardless of what she had to do.
Regardless? Like becoming Peterson’s bed toy?
The warm fluttering of hope in her heart died. Was that truly her only option now? Was it?
God help her.
“When are you heading home?”
The question was casual, but Ali could hear the apprehensive tone in Jenny’s voice. Hate smashed over Ali. Hate and contempt and disgust. What the hell was she doing being so far away from her mom? She should be there beside her, to hold her hand and kiss her cheek and tell her not to worry. It seemed she was to let another parent down as well. First, her father, and now her mom. Some daughter she turned out to be. “Sooner than expected actually,” she replied, forcing the words to sound bright and cheery. “Mr. Peterson has been called back to Australia for an important meeting, so I hope to pull out today.”
“I’m so glad, honey. I don’t like that man. I don’t like the idea of you being alone with him.”
“It’s okay, Mom.” Ali closed her mind to the hideous memory trying to assault her. “He’s actually flying back to Sydney so I guess that makes the return trip that little bit easier.”
“You’ll be sailing alone?” Concern tainted Jenny’s voice. “I don’t like
that
idea either.”
An image of Jack flashed into Ali’s tormented mind, but she shoved it away. She didn’t want to think about him either. She couldn’t think about him. Not after what he’d said. “I’ll be fine, Mom. In fact I won’t be alone. There’s another yacht here from Sydney, a group from the CYC. A couple of the crew have said they’ll sail home with me aboard
Wind Seeker
.” The lie tasted bitter on her tongue and another wave of self-disgust rolled over her. She hated lying to her mom, but she hated worrying her even more.
“That’s good.” There was another pause. “Sweetheart, I’ve been thinking. When you get home I’d like you to bring Jack McKenzie up to the hospital. I haven’t seen him for such a long time and I’d love to say hello.”
“Oh. Okay.” The dull ache in Ali’s chest flared up again, making her swallow. Her mother had spent the last four years wanting no one at the marina to know about her condition, yet now, within an hour of Ali deciding she never wanted anything to do with Jack again, Jenny wanted Jack to know. There was something darkly ironic about that, but Ali couldn’t find the energy or the will to smile. “Mom, I have to go. I’ll call you just before I leave, okay?”
“Okay, sweetheart. I love you.”
“I love you too, Mom. Bye.”
She returned the handset to its cradle and stared at it for a moment before turning away. Looking at the busy street around her, at the throngs of people bustling past, weaving in and out of each other with smiles on their faces and laughter floating around their heads, Ali felt utterly alone. The Solomons were a mecca for tourists from all walks of life, the rich and the poor. It was beautiful and exotic.
A place to enjoy. To be happy.
Except for her, it seemed.
“Damn it, Ali, stop being so pathetic.” Her grumble was lost in the surrounding noise.
What should she do next?
She hadn’t had the courage to go to Peterson at his hotel. Half a block away from the building, her stomach had begun to knot, her palms had turned sweaty and her breath had caught in her throat. She’d stood looking at the luxurious hotel, willing herself to move forward and failing. Like so many other things in her life.
“Damn you, Jack,” she muttered. “Why didn’t you trust me?”
Why didn’t I tell him?
Ali shook her head. She didn’t know. Fear maybe? Fear that Jack would think she’d brought it on herself. She had, after all, known the way Peterson thought about her, and she’d heard the rumors floating around the marina about her supposed relationship with the man. Perhaps, on a subconscious level, she’d been afraid if she told Jack what Peterson had done it would have shattered the burgeoning—but fragile—trust between her and Jack.
But she’d also been thinking of the disturbing relationship between Jack and Peterson. Ali remembered all too clearly the chilling look in Jack’s eyes when he’d found Peterson holding her hand at the marina. Rage. Cold and murderous. There’d been more than jealously fuelling that burning ice. There’d been hatred as well. And something so much more frightening.
Telling Jack about Peterson’s assault could have resulted in something far more deadly than just his anger.
“Well, it’s too late to worry now, isn’t it?” She let out a wobbly sigh. She’d done more than tell Jack what Peterson had done. She’d practically accused him of being just as bad.
“Serves him right.” She tilted her chin stubbornly, knowing she was being childish. Petulant. But she drew small comfort from the emotion. “How dare he leap to conclusions? How
dare
he? Without asking me.” Another surge of bitter anger rolled over her, leaving a burning taste in her mouth. She was being stupid. If Jack were here he’d tell her to grow up. Shaking her head, she let out another long sigh and stepped into the wave of tourists and locals walking past her.
She wasn’t ready to go back to
Wind Seeker
. Not yet. She knew Jack would wait for her. He may be an untrusting, despicable pain in the ass, but he wouldn’t leave her behind. Still, she sure as hell wasn’t ready to face him again. She had too much to decide. She needed money and she knew exactly where she could get it, but she couldn’t pay
that
price. The only other person she knew with enough money was Jack, and she couldn’t ask him for help.
Ali’s stomach lurched. There had to be another way. God help her, there had to be.
Spying a street stall, she threaded her way through the crowd. Three minutes later, she’d swapped her watch for a bottle of water and a large straw hat. She could have used Peterson’s necklace but knew it would be worth so much more. When she got back to Australia, she would sell it to a pawn shop and use the money to help pay for her mom’s treatment. Some good had to come from this whole horrific nightmare.
Ramming her new hat on her head, she began walking in the direction of the nearest beach. She had some serious thinking to do, and only when she was good and ready would she head back to Point Cruz Yacht Club. Until then, Jack could damn well wait.
When Jack returned from his futile search for Ali, the yacht club was draped in darkness, the only signs of activity coming from the attached nightclub. The sound of a heavy bass thumping out a frenzied beat from the party within the club did nothing for the drilling ache that had made itself at home in his head.
Scowling, he squinted at his watch for what seemed like the thousandth time since she’d stormed off. 10:30pm. “C’mon, Ali,” he murmured. “Where are you?”
Anger, frustration, guilt and fear twisted through him as he walked the dark jetty toward
Wind Seeker
, the tink and clang of the surrounding yachts now more audible than the nightclub. Normally that sound filled him with calm contentment, but now it only hammered home the cold fact that Ali wasn’t with him. That she was possibly wandering the night streets of a strange country, instead of where she’d thought she would be—curled up in his arms.
He bit back a frustrated sigh. When she came back he would sit her down and tell her everything about Trudi. Perhaps then she’d understand why he’d reacted the way he had, why he despised Peterson so much. Perhaps then she’d forgive him.
Only a few meters away from
Wind Seeker
, a loud rattling of rigging caught his attention. Someone was aboard.
“Thank God…” The words died on his lips as a large shape climbed hurriedly over the yacht’s side and onto the jetty’s arm, feet thumping the platform with a weight far heavier than Ali’s could ever be.
“Hey.” Jack shouted, sprinting towards the yacht. “Hey. What are you doing?”
The figure froze. “Sorry, sir. Wrong boat. Guess I’ve had too much to drink.”
The accent was indistinct, making the words floating to Jack from the dark hard to understand, but he still made out their meaning. “How long have you been on there?” he demanded, blocking the man’s path back down the jetty. Whoever he was, he wasn’t going anywhere. Not unless he took a running jump into the water.
The low lights of the jetty barely illuminated the passageway, let alone the man’s face, but Jack strained to make out his features. They were non-descript, dark eyebrows over dark eyes that shifted from side to side, and a clean-shaven jaw. Jack sniffed and the unmistakable bite of scotch filled his nostrils. Well, one thing was for certain, the guy hadn’t been lying about the drinking. “How long have you been on board?” he repeated, staring hard at the inebriated man.
“S’okay, sir. Sorry. Not long, okay.” The words slurred together and Jack couldn’t miss the distinct lean to his stance.
And yet, something didn’t feel right.
Jack narrowed his eyes. Perhaps, but nevertheless he had a nagging doubt, like an itch between his shoulder blades.
“S’okay, sir. I didn’t take nuthin’”
“What boat are you from?”
“The
Easy Fling
. Must be on the next jetty. I’m a bit pissed.”
The slur was still there, but Jack had the feeling it was more conscious now, more studied. He didn’t like it. Not one little bit. “What’s your name, mate?”
“Jack?”
The sound of Ali’s voice—soft but unmistakable—cut Jack short. He spun to face her, an overwhelming sense of relief flooding through him.
She’d come back.
“What’s going on?” She stood too far away from him to see her clearly, but the very fact she was here made him smile. The strange man he’d caught climbing from
Wind Seeker
was forgotten.
“Ali.” He closed the distance she’d left between them, slipped his arms around her and held her close, the heat of her soft body reassuring. She really was here. “Where have you been?” He tightened his arms around her, palms smoothing over her back, and breathed in deeply, filling his senses with her delicate scent. The pressure of her body against his was so intoxicating it took him a moment to realize she wasn’t holding him back, that her arms were hanging by her side rather than wrapped around him.
He straightened slightly, seeking her eyes in the oppressive shadows of the night as his arms slipped from her. “Ali?”
“I’d like to pull out at first light tomorrow if that’s okay.” Her voice completely lacked emotion.
Jack stepped back, wishing he could see her better. She stood before him, what looked like a large straw hat in her right hand. There was a tilt to her chin he’d seen before once before—on the night he’d accused her of causing her father’s death.
Guilt and pain stabbed at him. “Ali, I need to explain—”
“There’s nothing to explain. You’ve made your self perfectly clear. I must have been a fool to believe you could think anything positive about me. When I was a teenager, I was irresponsible and over-confident. Now that I’m an adult, I’m untrustworthy, deceptive and a slut.” The last word cracked slightly. “So that’s fine. You know what, Jack? I don’t care anymore. I don’t need you.”
“Ali, please—” He took a step towards her, grief falling like a weight in his stomach when she took an equal step away from him, keeping the distance between them.