Dark Waters (2013) (43 page)

He looked around at his beautiful wedge of the Pacific Rim and tried to feel contentment. But it wouldn’t come. Inside, misery swirled with a total lack of appetite for life, in a way he hadn’t felt since those early years in prison. He’d tried to paint. Tried to get drunk. Ended up just sitting here, watching the water, wanting Anna more than he’d ever wanted his freedom. The fact he suddenly needed more from his life was both terrifying and exhilarating.

“Hi.”

Her voice had him spinning. His heart gave a big kick before it started beating again. “Anna.” He felt like he was dreaming.

She was dressed in a pretty pink camisole and tight black jeans. The bruises had faded and she looked recovered from her ordeal, on the outside at least. “I’m sorry it took so long to get back here. I didn’t call ahead because I wanted to surprise you.” She held a small urn in front of her. “And I needed to fetch Dad…”

Davis
. His eyes smarted.

“I thought this would be a good place for his ashes.” Her moss-green eyes were huge as she raised them to his. “The best place.”

“It isn’t the best place when you’re not here,” he said quietly.

“No?”

He shook his head.

“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking—” Anna began.

Brent didn’t like the sound of that.

She looked around. “I know you love it here but”—Hope shrank inside him—“I don’t think I can live here full-time. I mean weekends, for sure.” She bit her lip. “I’m moving back to Victoria, to my grandmother’s home. To be closer to Mom. And closer to you.” Her gaze clouded, looking troubled at the enormity of the challenges they faced. “How are we going to do this?” she asked uncertainly.

“One day at a time,” he told her, never looking away.

One side of her lips twitched. “Sounds a bit like prison.”

He moved closer. “Better food. Better company.” He opened his arms.

She placed the urn carefully in the sand and leaned into him. He wrapped his arms tight around her, so tight she squeaked. She wasn’t a dream. She was here in his arms and he never intended to let her go.

“I want to be with you, to live with you, wherever you are.” He buried his nose in her hair and inhaled a sweet citrus scent.

“I love you, Brent Carver.” She smiled up at him, eyes shining, her chin rubbing his chest. Tiny, stubborn, and perfect. “But it’s not going to be easy.”

He laughed. “After what we’ve been through, it’ll be a piece of cake.”

“Yeah, but this is for the long haul. Living together, sharing space. I haven’t done that in forever.”

They were alike in so many ways it was startling. “We’ll figure it out. I can always retreat back here when either one of us needs solitude. I’ll give you space if you need it.” He hooked her hair behind her ear. “You set me free, Anna.”

Those eyes of hers saw all the way through to his soul. “You’re a good man, Brent. You deserve to be free.”

“What do you think your dad would have made of us being together?” It bothered him. Hell, being part of the human race
bothered him. It had been easier when he’d been alone. Easier, but not necessarily better.

She grinned and leaned back in his arms. “You’re the son he never had. He loved you. You
know
that.”

“Do you think he’d have loved grandkids?” A loaded question. He watched her very carefully.

Her eyes widened and she swallowed. “Not straightaway, but one day.” Her eyes searched his, looking for answers, but he was giving nothing away because he wanted to know how
she
felt. “One day, yes, he’d have loved grandkids.”

A feeling of relief and joy burst through him. He hadn’t known he held a deeply buried desire for a family until he’d asked that question. And if Anna didn’t want kids, he’d be content. He’d always be content with Anna. But suddenly the idea of making babies with her filled him with a weird sort of hope for the future, because if she trusted him enough to be a father, she must really trust him. But how in the hell would he tell his children about his dark past? He had no fucking clue, but he wanted kids. He really wanted them.

All his insecurities would worm their way to the surface eventually, Anna’s too, but they’d deal with them later. All he needed right now was in his arms. He went to kiss her but she stopped him.

She laughed. “I think you’re turning out to be a big softy, Brent Carver.”

“Wrong.” He slanted her a suggestive look and a wicked half grin.

“Wait.” Her expression turned serious and she pulled away. “There’s one more thing I need to tell you first.” She dug for something in the back pocket of her jeans. Held up a thick envelope. “I spoke to an attorney about pressing charges against Malcolm Plantain.” She chewed her thumbnail. “There is no statute of limitations for rape in British Columbia. You guessed it was him who attacked me?”

“I figured it out.” He’d put the clues together, and gave himself big marks for not having the sonofabitch taken down a back alley and beaten within an inch of his life. He massaged his hands over her shoulder. “You sure you want to do this?”

She shook her head. “No. I don’t. But I have to. People have to pay for their crimes.”

That made it sound easier than this was going to be. Taking someone to court for rape often hurt the victim just as much as the accused.

“I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I got hurt a long time ago. I’m over the hurt now, and it’s about time I was brave enough to stand up to my past,” she said.

He intended to stand with her. “Did you tell your mother?”

She nodded. “She took it hard at first, but she’s dealt with everything so much better than I anticipated. She’s been a rock and we’ve grown a lot closer. She said she’d support any decision I made.” She gripped the envelope tighter. “She got you released.”

He snorted, then realized she wasn’t kidding. “How the hell did she do that?”

“By threatening the city and the cops with massive litigation over Dad’s wrongful arrest and conviction.”

“She
should
sue them.”

Anna shook her head. “She told them she’d drop the lawsuits and even stop talking to the media
if
they did the right thing by you. You didn’t do anything wrong. You saved my life. Believe me, she’s more than satisfied with the results.” Anna reached up and touched his lips. A ripple of desire shot through his body at the contact, but he controlled himself.

Her fingers gripped his. “I’m going to need your support to take Malcolm to court. I don’t think I can do it alone.”

“Always.” There was no hesitation. Hell, there was nothing he wouldn’t do for this woman.

“I want to be with you. I want a chance of happiness with you while we figure out the shape of our future,” she said.

“It can be any shape you want.” He couldn’t believe he was lucky enough to have this shot at a real life, but he was taking it and he didn’t intend to fuck it up. “I don’t think you understand exactly how much I love you.”

Her throat worked and her eyes shimmered. “I do, Brent. I was there, remember?”

And now she’d made his eyes water so he blinked hard to get rid of the tears. Men like him did not cry.

She handed him the envelope, bent down, and picked up the urn. Stood in the surf as she let her father go. He waited for the sadness to come as he watched the breeze disperse the ashes of his best friend, but there was a feeling of intense peace instead. Davis’s name had been cleared and Brent knew this would have made the man happy. He hoped the fact he and Anna were together would have made his friend smile.

When she was finished and they’d both said their good-byes, he scooped her into his arms and strode toward the house.

She tensed.

His hold tightened and he stopped moving. “We don’t have to stay here. I can sell the place—”

She touched his mouth again but this time with hers. “Take me to bed or lose me forever,” she said against his lips.

“I’m not losing you. Not ever.”

“Just keep telling me you love me.”

“Every day. Every single moment of every single day.” He lifted his head. “And I want a dog.”

She smiled. “Let’s get two in case they get lonely.”

He nodded and then forgot what they were talking about when she kissed him again.

He came up for air. “I need a date to my brother’s wedding in September. I’m the best man.” The thought brought with it a bolt of terror. All those cops in one room.
Shit
.

A smile curved those pretty pink lips. “We’re going on a date?”

He huffed out a laugh as he started up the steps. “We’re going on many, many dates. I’m done hiding out from the world. Just as long as there aren’t too many other people involved.” He shuddered.

Those green eyes of hers sparkled. “I’m done hiding too. But right now all I want to do is make love to you in a real bed without people trying to shoot us. Think you can concentrate on that?”

He grinned. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Hmm, I like the sound of that.”

“Yes,
ma’am
.” Goddamn good girls. Got him every single time. Or maybe it was just one particular good girl, he amended a few moments later as he laid her down on his bed and stripped her down to bad-girl underwear. Maybe it was just Anna. Good or bad, she was the only woman for him.

Writing can be a lonely business, and I rely heavily on my writer loops, Facebook, and Twitter friends, to connect me to the universe and help keep me sane. “Thank you” to all my online friends. My critique partner, Kathy Altman, is a paragon of patience and common sense as she helps me polish each manuscript; I couldn’t do it without her.

Also, thanks to my family, who put up with odd working hours and weird mutterings as I worked through various drafts of this manuscript. My husband and kids really
are
the best. Thanks to my wonderful in-laws for their constant sales pitches back home in the UK. The retirees of Killearn don’t know what’s hit them!

Big thanks to Holly, my furry companion, for our daily walks and the constant updates on the local rabbit and squirrel populations.

And, finally, special thanks to my agent, Jill Marsal of Marsal Lyon Literary Agency, LLC, and my editor, Kelli Martin, and the whole team at Montlake Romance who are so wonderful to work with.

JAMES HARE, © 2012

A former marine biologist who completed her PhD at the Gatty Marine Laboratory in St. Andrews, Scotland, Toni Anderson has traveled the world with her work. She was born and raised in rural Shropshire, England, and, after living in five different countries, she finally settled down in the Canadian prairies with her husband and two children. Combining her love of travel with her love of romantic suspense, Anderson writes stories based in some of the places she has been fortunate to visit. When not writing, she’s busy walking her dog, gardening, and ferrying the kids to school, piano, and soccer games. She is also the author of
Storm Warning, Edge of Survival
, and
Dangerous Waters
.