Greg’s heart flatlined when the girls screamed. He recognized the cable’s high-pitched metallic zip through the davit, and released Blackney when one end of the RHIB drop from sight.
Blackney scrambled backwards, leaped to his feet and shot down the stairs.
He had to disengage, he’d chase the Ripper down later. Greg hit the lever to stop the RHIB’s descent, then prayed as he launched himself to look over the railing. Kayla and Mattie clung to the ledge of the deck, their arms outstretched and their bodies draped down the side of the ship’s hull.
Diving onto the metal decking, the puddled rain soaked through his cotton jacket and the non-skid surface scratched his stomach as he thrust both arms under the bottom rail and gripped one wrist of each woman.
“Hang on!”
“I can’t. Oh, God, I’m slipping,” Mattie screamed.
Through the iron mesh of the grate in the protection railing both women stared up at him, their eyes huge.
Kayla shook her head. “Let me go, Greg.”
“Not likely.”
He couldn’t take the chance of releasing either woman. None of the vessels that rallied to stop the ferry were on this side of the ship.
“Let go, Greg.” Kayla squirmed and her wrist slipped through his hand. He clenched her fingers, praying he didn’t break them.
He gritted his teeth and squeezed tighter. “Stop—fucking—wiggling, Kayla. You can’t swim.”
Jesus, he needed help. He couldn’t pull them onboard. All he could do is hang onto both women until someone came. He wasn’t going to choose which might die if he let go. Kayla consumed his heart for most of his life. Mattie had somehow assumed ownership and taken residence of his every waking thought.
“Please, goddammit.” He hollered at the no-win situation.
Both girls winced, caught in his relentless grip.
The bitter wind and salt spray numbed his fingers, but he refused to let go. Mattie slipped a little more. If he lost one, he’d dive into the sea after saving the other.
He was out of options, barely hanging onto each hand. The inevitable was about to happen.
Someone lunged over the railing. With a powerful arm, Austen gripped Kayla by the back of her jacket collar and strong-armed his wife, tossing her body across the safety rail like she was a puppet. She clung to the ship’s top rung, then groaned and threw her legs over top and fell safely to the deck.
Austen reached down and did the same to Mattie, but it was Greg’s arms she fell into, and he pulled her trembling body over the barrier, squeezing the fuck out of her slender frame with relief.
“Looked like you needed a hand,” Austen said to him, helping his wife to her feet and wrapping her in a protective hold.
“Thanks. Where the hell did you come from?”
“Hitched a ride with Montgomery on a Coast Guard RHIB from Victoria. City police are crawling all over this ship. Where’s Blackney?”
Mattie buried her forehead against his chest, and his arms instinctively embraced her. “You’re shivering.” He motioned to Austen. “Let’s get the girls inside. Then I’ll find Blackney.”
“No.” Mattie stepped back. Her face pinched tight. “Don’t chase him.”
He leaned over her and both brows shot past her bangs, fear mingled with surprise. “Stand down, woman. You’re going inside.”
He and Austen escorted their ladies into the warmth of the ship with no further complaints from Mattie. The cops and US Coast Guard crews had herded the passengers into a lounge situated near the bow, below the bridge deck.
“Stay here,” Austen ordered.
“You stay here,” Kayla snapped back. “Let the authorities find Blackney.”
Austen darted a glance at him. “Maybe this time it’s not our show.”
“Admiral Austen.” A voice boomed from behind them and the captain from the US Coast Guard threw out his hand. “It’s an honor to meet you, sir. I’m Captain Selkirk, United States station Port Angeles.”
Austen nodded and shook the man’s hand. “Any sign of Blackney?”
“We’re searching the ship by quadrant. We’ll find him. The Canadian police are onboard as well.”
Greg surveyed the passengers’ faces as they watched with interest. Only police and Coast Guard crew members walked the outside decks. From working so many years in the Special Forces, the little voice that saved his ass many times had a way of getting louder when he should pay attention.
A gnawing in his gut warned that all wasn’t as it should be.
Greg dropped his gaze to meet Mattie’s. She didn’t pause and lifted onto her tip toes and kissed him. Not a kiss to lure him into the bedroom, but one smothered in grateful appreciation.
“You didn’t let go of me.”
His palm cupped the back of her neck. “Why would I let go of you?”
A blush reddened her cheeks. “You couldn’t hold onto both of us.”
Kayla overheard their conversation and smiled. Although their hearts had gone in different directions, the years he and Kayla spent together—from moments of gut-wrenching sadness to the heat of passion—had hand carved a deep, eternal bond. That interminable connection would only die when they did, but he wasn’t responsible for her life any longer. She had Austen, and Greg hoped he had what Mattie desired.
It wasn’t a matter of trying to fit her into his spur-of-the-minute lifestyle; always connected, awaiting the next call and debrief for an impending mission. Nor did he need to deal with the demons of his past. They were in the past. Mattie told him in no uncertain terms that the saying if you let someone free, and it’s meant to be, they’ll come back to you was complete bullshit.
He agreed. He agreed with his entire heart. They had a chance at happiness. A chance at forever. More than anything, he wanted to tie his French roots with her stubborn, fiery Irish roots and make a family.
Their family.
Greg brushed his thumb across Mattie’s delicate cheekbone. Soft. Exquisite. “I would have dived in after you if I couldn’t have held on.”
She shook her head. “Instead of JTF, think it should be STD.”
He chuckled. “Ah, that would be a venereal disease, honey.”
“No, it stands for Silver Tongued Devil. You’re a hero to the end, Greg.”
When she attempted to pull away, he held her in place and she looked up at him with surprise.
“I didn’t mention an end to anything.” He swallowed thickly. “Unless…” He shook his head and bowed closer. “No, there’s no end.”
She opened her mouth to say something, but paused, ready to change direction. Attempt to put his attention on something other than their tenuous relationship.
On cue, she said, “Why don’t you grab us a coffee? I’m going to find Sergeant Montgomery. The admiral said he’s onboard.”
“Better idea,” he offered, and held her hand. “We’ll find Montgomery together.”
He turned a look over his shoulder at Austen, who was engaged in conversation with the Coast Guard captain, but Kayla gave him a shooing wave.
“We’ll find you later,” she said.
Greg held Mattie’s hand and broke a path through the crowd. A couple uniformed police officers stood guard to keep passengers contained, and he approached them. “We’re looking for Sergeant Montgomery.”
The officers stopped their conversation. The taller of the two with “Yates” on his name badge focused on Mattie. “How’re you doing, Miss Bidault?” he asked.
“No worse for wear, Constable Yates. Have you seen Montgomery?”
“Mattie!”
Stuart Hellman cut through the crowd. When he reached them, he paused and looked like he wanted to take her in his arms, but Greg pulled her tighter to his side.
Possessive? Yup. That was his nature. He protected what was his, and that included the lithe, brave woman full of life and adventure standing beside him.
Mattie’s internal journalist rose to the forefront. “Stuart, did you find him?”
From Constable Hellman’s taut expression, the answer was clear before he said, “No.”
“It’s been over an hour,” Greg said. “He playing hide-and-seek?”
Stuart shook his head. “Don’t think so.”
Kayla and her husband caught up to them. “Captain from the Port Angeles base says they’ve searched the entire ship.” Austen glared at Stuart as if he were talking down to one of his subordinates. “Search again. We’ll help you.”
Passengers standing close enough could eavesdrop, and Stuart jerked his head for Greg and the others to follow. The constable held a hatchway door open on the starboard side of the ship, then turned for the bow. Police and US Coast Guard personnel wandered the decks, but paid them no heed.
Just as they reached the bow where the ship’s bell hung, a dark figure emerged from the cluster of police officers. Montgomery strode toward them, cloaked in a thick bomber jacket and a knit cap pulled over his ears.
“The ship is only so big, Montgomery,” Greg said as the lead investigator of the Task Force joined their circle.
Montgomery’s dark features tightened with displeasure. “It’s not good news.”
“Explain,” Austen barked.
“Blackney’s not onboard this ship. We searched every crack and closet.”
Mattie stepped in front of Greg and he gripped her upper arms, her body taut with apprehension. “What are you saying? How did he get away? He couldn’t.”
Montgomery’s eyes narrowed against the wind howling down the strait. “All the lifeboats are accounted for. We’re still six miles from Port Angeles.”
“He couldn’t swim that in this cold water,” she spouted.
He and Austen shared a look. They both swiveled on a heel, looking toward the lights of the Port Angeles waterfront.”
“For fuck’s sake,” Kayla spit out.
Mattie clenched his hand. “What’s wrong?”
Kayla grimaced. “He could have made it. Blackney is smart. This is his ship, he could have prepared for this.”
“What if he panicked and just jumped in the water?” Mattie said hopefully.
“Then he’s dead.” Austen confirmed Greg’s wishes out loud, but he knew Austen was lying for Mattie’s benefit.
Greg and Montgomery shared a look. He didn’t like what he read in the investigator’s eyes. The cop thought Blackney may still be alive as well.
“We’re contacting the Port Angeles Sheriff’s office. They’ll search his residence.” Montgomery exhaled a deep breath. “Whether he’s alive or fish bait, I owe Mrs. Austen and you, Mattie, a thank you. You identified the Victoria Ripper.”
Mattie’s brow creased. Her eyes filled with tears. “He got away with it. All those women he tortured and murdered. My friend Marlene. They’ll never have justice.”
Greg nudged her to turn and look at him. “They had you. You didn’t let their memory die. You kept hunting him. You found him with Kayla’s help. He’s gone and I don’t think he’ll ever return to Victoria if he did survive.”
“Sir!” A Victoria PD cop hurried across the deck.
Montgomery excused himself and met the man halfway. Greg watched Austen, who had trained his gaze on the men standing under a deck light. The cop handed the investigator an evidence bag. The Sergeant seemed to be reading something inside, then gave the evidence bag back to the cop.
When Montgomery returned to them, his body language was strung taut. “If you folks want a ride back to Canada, I’ll ask the Coast Guard to take you. They’re leaving now.”
Greg looked to Austen and knew he’d read the lips of the cops, and although the SEAL hid the discontent from his expression, Greg’s gut rolled with unease.
Montgomery called one of his other officers over. “Please, escort these folks back to Canada.”
Kayla and Mattie followed the cop, but Greg stopped Austen with a pull on his arm.
“Don’t ask,” Austen said under his breath.
“Tell me, or you’re going over the side next, SEAL. These waters are a fuck of a lot colder than San Diego.”
Austen sighed. He put distance between them and the girls. “Blackney left a note in his quarters.”
Greg’s blood ran cold. “He’s alive.”
“The note said, ‘It’s not over, Mattie. It’s in my blood and so are you.’” Austen shook his head. “Could be his way of fucking with her mind. Maybe he did drown.”
“Do you believe that?” he asked as they strode behind the women. “I’m not living the rest of my life looking over our shoulders.”
Austen stopped in his tracks and turned with understanding swimming in his eyes. “Then you have one option.”
“What’s that?”
“Disappear. And don’t leave any trail to follow. You know how to do that. If I hadn’t have killed the Blood Shark myself, I would have done anything to keep Kayla safe.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning, I would have moved to fucking Alaska to live in a cabin and eat fish for the next sixty years to keep her alive.”
“Pretty sure Mattie isn’t willing to live in an igloo.”
“Nope, probably not.” He grinned. “But she’d probably like the United States, and I can pull a lot of strings.”
Greg was shocked. “Immigrate to the US?”
“That journalist you’re in love with—”
“I didn’t say I loved her.”
Austen chuckled. “Am I wrong?”
Greg cleared his throat and shot a look into the darkness across the heaving sea.
Austen slapped him on the back. “Every man falls eventually.”
“What if she can’t love me,” he said quietly. “There’s a lot of reasons she shouldn’t.”
The SEAL admiral nodded. “I’ll tell ya one thing for sure. She’s going to hound you or Montgomery until she finds out what was on that paper. When she hears what he wrote, the shadow of fear will always be with her. Question is whether you’ll be there to protect her. I’m offering you both a new start.”
“I’ll think about it.” He paused, and then said, “Thank you. For coming. For the offer.” He sucked in a deep breath. “And for not ever giving up on Kayla.”
Austen threw an arm over his shoulder, and they closed the gap they’d opened between them and the girls. “You’re family, remember. Besides, I always wanted you on the teams.”
“Appreciate it, but my contract is up with the Forces. I’m not signing up again.”
“Don’t expect you to deploy, but the United States SEALs could use your experience. Whether you can convince Miss Bidault that you’re worth the risk and your days of being a skirt chasing prick is over, is up to you.”
He glared at Austen and then they both broke into hearty laughter.
Montgomery escorted them to the bow of the ship with Mattie badgering him the entire way. She’d seen the slip of paper in the evidence bag, but he refused to tell her anything.
When they reached the bow, three Coast Guard members waited in a zodiak, bobbing on the rough chop of the sea.
Greg intervened when one of them held out a hand to Mattie. He jumped into the fast craft and helped her and Kayla onto the RHIB, then led them to the bow and sat on the deck. Wedging himself next to a seating platform, he pulled Mattie between the ‘V’ of his legs. Austen did the same and tucked Kayla in front of him, acting as a wind break.
The Coasties gave them thick blankets to ward off the freezing cold, but even with the wool wraps the girls were popsicles by the time they arrived at Victoria’s waterfront.
Within minutes, they were at Austen’s rental car and piled inside. As Austen drove down the road, he passed Mattie’s condo.
She leaned forward and grabbed the front passenger seat. “Stop. You missed my place. Just pull over, I can walk from here.”
Austen’s massive form behind the driver’s seat didn’t flick a muscle when he said, “You’re coming back to LaPierre’s place.”
“No.” She shook her head. “I have to pick-up my car. Wherever it is.”
Greg brushed his palm across her tense shoulder. “It’s at the police impound lot. I’ll take you to retrieve it tomorrow.” She settled back in the seat, but wouldn’t look at him.
“I need a shower. I need to write my final article. And I really need a huge glass of wine,” she murmured.
He chuckled and covered her hand with his. “All available at my place.” For some reason, he couldn’t stop touching her, whether it was to brush her skin or finger a curl of hair from her cheek. Mattie was alive. Safe. He had nothing to worry about, but the tattoo in his heart was like notes in a chorus of unrest. Blackney would go into hiding to lick his wounds of failure. At least for a while. If he swam for safety, he would have stroked toward the closet safe haven, and that was Port Angeles.
When Austen parked the rental car in Greg’s driveway, Kayla and her husband evacuated quickly. Mattie opened her door. “Un moment s’il vous plait, mademoiselle.” An internal warning shouted they were at an end as far as Mattie was concerned. The case solved, she’d go on with her life as if he’d never been part of it.
She swiveled on her ass to stare at him. “I hate goodbyes. I’m not good at them.” Her throat flexed as if swallowing thickly.
They’d shared more drama then most people experience in a lifetime. His conduct on the sailboat angered her, and so it should. Austen had pegged him with the truth calling him a skirt chaser. Mattie thought so too. He could see it in her eyes. Above all else, his spicy Irish girl didn’t want to be placed on a list with his meaningless bedsheet escapades.
He lingered too long in thought and Mattie offered him a sad smile and left him sitting in a cloud of confusion. He watched the woman who’d shaken his foundation run up the bush-lined walkway and disappear through the front entrance.