Hard Landing (5 page)

That certainly put Rebecca in an awkward spot. Max had to be worried that she would tell someone what she'd seen. Imagine how he'd react if he knew she'd told Brant already.

Disturbing visions propelled him out of bed and into the shower. Maybe there was an innocent explanation for all this, but what if there wasn't? What if Max was involved in something like arms dealing, for instance? Who would protect Rebecca from being dragged down with him?

She'd told him that her father had died when she was a teen. Her widowed mother had recently married a Coast Guard officer who'd been promptly transferred to Hawaii. Rebecca had no siblings. She was bound to have friends at the hospital where she worked, but none of them knew the real Max well enough to empathize with her situation.

She needs me
. The realization had him standing taller as he soaped his chest. Maybe he couldn't provide the kind of life her affluent husband gave her, but he could lend her a listening ear when she needed one and offer her support and protection, if it came to that.

* * *

Rebecca prayed beneath her breath as the ER doctor gritted his teeth and applied the pads of the defibrillator one last time to the patient sprawled across the gurney.

"Come on!" Dr. Jack Edmonds bellowed. Sweat slid from his temple to his clenched jaw at the exertion he'd expended trying to revive the patient's heart.

She harbored little hope that one more shock would bring the patient back to life. Given his emaciated body and the needle marks tracking the insides of his arms, this particular male wasn't in any shape to recover from the overdose that had stopped his heart, notwithstanding the fact that he couldn't be a day over thirty.

How sad. Here, in the ER, she saw it all the time. Drugs ranging from acid to crack to heroin had ruined the lives of so many people.

"He's gone." The young doctor's shoulders slouched with defeat as he turned off the heart monitor. "Time of death—11:58 A.M."

Rebecca pulled up the sheet from the gurney and draped it gingerly over the man's half-naked body. His tanned, weathered skin and sun-bleached hair suggested he'd spent a great deal of time combing the waterfront for leftover food, perhaps stealing or begging for money to get his next fix.

"Do we have any ID on him?" Dr. Edmonds asked, frowning down at the wrist band with the name John Doe typed on it and no date of birth.

"The paramedics said they searched his pockets and couldn't find any," the nurse's aide stammered. This was only her second day in the ER, and she looked distinctly green around the gills.

Rebecca regretfully covered the man's face. He had to have family somewhere who would want to know what had happened to him.

"Damn waste," the doctor swore, turning to push the defibrillator back into the corner.

Tears filmed the aide's eyes as she turned away to sterilize the defibrillator's components.

"You did your best, Jack," Rebecca assured the young doctor. "Looks like he's been trying to escape this world for some time," she added, picking up the arm that hung off the gurney and tucking the sheet around it.

Jack Edmonds nodded his agreement. "Have him taken to the morgue, would you?" he requested in a gruff voice. "Maybe his fingerprints will tell us who he is."

"Yes, sir," she replied, wheeling the heavy gurney down the hall in search of the orderly. Discovering that the orderly had just gone on break, she opted to take the dead man to the morgue herself. Under normal circumstances, she would have stayed out of the morgue at any cost. It was one area of the hospital that she steadfastly avoided. However, her desire to reunite the dead man with his loved ones prompted her to overcome her squeamishness and push the gurney into the elevator.

Arriving in the basement seconds later, she delivered him into the hands of an affable young tech named TJ, who gave his word to let her know if someone should come to claim the body. Wondering how TJ managed to keep a smile on his face while working in such a morbid place, Rebecca fled upstairs in search of her composure.

The fate of the homeless man was still on her mind as she departed the hospital at the end of her workday. How did families become so estranged that fathers, sons, and brothers simply cut off all ties and disappeared?

The event brought back a day she would rather forget. On a spring morning during her senior year of high school, her mother had received a phone call that had sent them both into shock. Turning to Rebecca, she had clasped her hands and explained that a man going by the name Harold Rivers had died in a hospital in Minneapolis. Given his description, he was possibly Rebecca's father.

Braking at a busy intersection, Rebecca closed her eyes while waiting for the light to turn green. She could still feel the strength in her mother's fingers as they prayed together that the Harold Rivers in Minneapolis wasn't her father—that he was still out there somewhere searching for himself, working out his demons. They'd driven all the way to Minneapolis to see the body for themselves and, alas, they had found him.

The car behind her honked, startling Rebecca's eyes open. She sped forward, telling herself she only needed to get home. It wasn't always easy to shake off the trauma that took place in the ER. In this case, the homeless man's death had dredged up painful memories, making events that had happened a decade ago feel as achingly fresh as if they had taken place yesterday. She knew she would feel better after she made her way to the end of their pier and let the gentle lap of the inlet waves soothe her.

But when she turned into her driveway, a black BMW blocked her entrance to the garage. Who could this be? She pushed the remote control to open the garage and waited. Max's Tahoe was already parked inside. He'd beat her home today.

She immediately thought of his dwindling Viagra supply.
What if there's a woman inside?

But then she realized he wouldn't be so stupid as to invite a woman over, not when his wife was due home from work at any moment. With a sigh, she killed her car's engine, intending to find out for herself who their visitor was.

She had just put one foot on the driveway when the front door opened and a dark-haired, swarthy skinned man stumbled out at an accelerated rate. Catching himself before knocking one of her geranium pots off the porch, he drew himself to his full height, directed a smirk over his shoulder, and smoothed his rumpled suit jacket. The door slammed shut behind him.

Max had tossed someone out of their home!

Startled and uncertain what to do, Rebecca froze with her car door open. The stranger started off the stoop, his stride faltering when he observed her staring at him. One corner of his mouth kicked up, growing into an oily smile as he visibly pulled himself together and sauntered in her direction.

"Good evening, madam." He tipped her a nod as he drew up next to her partially open door.

"Hello. I'll move over so you can pull out," she offered, pulling her foot back into the car.

"There's no hurry." His dialect came straight off the streets of northern New York City. Dark eyes fastened on her face and glittered with private thoughts. He jutted out a hand comprised of sausage-like fingers. "You must be Max's wife."

Rebecca ignored the hand. "Yes, I am. And you are?" Curiosity alone prompted her to ask since every instinct warned her to distance herself immediately.

"You can call me Tony." He dropped his hand with a slight sneer. "We'll meet again," he predicted, sending her a wink.

She rather hoped not. Shutting the car door between them, she prevented him from saying anymore as she started her engine.

In the same instant, Max emerged from the house like an enraged bull. He'd finally realized his visitor was still trespassing. Tony sprinted to his car, jumped into the driver's seat, and locked his door before Max could wrench it open.

Terrified that her husband would smash out the driver's side window and beat the man to a pulp, Rebecca swung out of the way, clearing the path for the BMW to reverse out of their driveway. It exited at top speed before screeching to a halt. Its tires spun as it gained purchase on the smooth asphalt and zipped away. As leery as Tony had been of her husband, he sent him a saucy salute as he drove away.

Sitting stunned in her Jetta, Rebecca flinched as Max transferred his incredulous gaze from the retreating BMW to her watchful expression. He raised an arm and gestured for her to park her car in the garage,
now
. She complied, nosing into the quiet garage and cutting off the motor. Max immediately yanked her car door open and demanded, "What did he say to you?"

"Nothing much." Her heart beat fast and thready. Intuition whispered that the odd visitor had something to do with Max's secret money. "He said his name was Tony and that we'd meet again."

"The hell you will." A thundercloud settled over Max's scowling face. "Forget about him," he ordered, reaching into the car and pulling her out of it.

At this point, he usually asked her about work that day. She had learned that, while he asked, he didn't really listen to her reply. He only wanted to get to the part where he talked about himself. But not today.

Today, he armed the security system located in the garage, tugged her into the house, and shut the door. Then he stood over her, scowling heavily, clearly deciding what to say. "I don't know who that man was," he finally declared.

It was so obviously a lie.

"If you see him again, I want you to call me, ASAP."

Not the police, though. Of course not.

"Is he dangerous?" she asked.

"He might be. He says he knows I'm a SEAL and that he resents the military actions taken in the Middle East."

"So, he's a terrorist." Off the top of her head, she couldn't think of any terrorists with Italian names.

"Perhaps. Just swear that you'll tell me if you see him again."

"Okay," she agreed, if only to dissipate his ire.

"I mean it." He caught her upper arms in a crushing grip and gave her a shake. "You see anything suspicious, you let me know. Got it?"

She was looking at something suspicious right now.

"Got it." She sent him a forced smile that resulted in her release. As he spun away and stalked across the living areas to the office, she rubbed her abused arms and knew without a doubt that her happily-ever-after was over—if it had ever existed at all.

But then, deep within the darkness of her heart, one bright hope flared to life. If Max was convicted of criminal behavior—and it was starting to look that way—then she would have grounds for divorce.

Chapter 3

Brant browsed the wine selection in the back of the Exchange on Oceana Naval Air Station. There didn't seem to be any rhyme or reason to the display. Nor had he thought to look up what the bottle looked like before heading off to the Exchange. Kicking himself for his lack of foresight, he turned and raked the store for a sales associate.

The familiar sight of his commander's square head incited a prick of resentment. Here it was twenty hundred hours on a Friday night and he was still subjected to Max's presence. It didn't matter that the man was standing clear on the other side of the open shopping space, in the electronics section. Brant could feel him sucking the energy out of the room, like a tornado sweeping up everything in its path.

He was about to walk out of the Exchange and come back the next day when he spied the top of Rebecca's head. Her lustrous hair reflected the sheen of the halogen lights as she coursed the next aisle over from Max, a disinterested look on her sweet face.

Brant's pulse immediately accelerated. His desire to leave the store evaporated as he watched her distance herself from her husband. Maybe it was wishful thinking on Brant's part, but from all the previous conversations they had ever had, she didn't seem to enjoy her husband's company.

He thought of what he'd learned about Emile Victor DuPonte. Should he tell Rebecca what he'd discovered so she could protect herself? Definitely not here. But the desire to speak with her overruled his common sense, which was warning him to keep his distance. He found himself moving stealthily in her direction, trying to catch her eye without Max seeing him.

Max waved a hand in the air, summoning over a sales person, and Brant seized the opportunity to step into her line of sight. The pleasure that lit up her face when she noticed him made his stomach cartwheel. She was so pretty with those dimples in her cheeks.