She came up gasping and choking, water in her nose and her throat and her lungs. Lights splashed on the surface of the harbor—blue and red flashes of color against the darkness. For a moment, she thought they were Christmas lights and that she’d somehow found her way home.
Except that she was sinking in the black and brackish water of the harbor, her body weighted down by her coat, ski pants and boots. She tried to tread water, but her left arm didn’t seem to be functioning.
“FBI! Drop your weapons!” someone ordered.
Whoever it was couldn’t be talking to her. She didn’t have a weapon. She didn’t have a life vest, either.
Which shouldn’t have mattered. She was a good swimmer. She’d always loved the water. But the frigid temperature had stolen her energy, sapping her strength so effectively she slid under the water again.
Don’t inhale, her sluggish brain screamed, but her body had other plans.
She sucked in a mouthful of water, probably would have sunk to the bottom of the harbor if something hadn’t snagged the back of her coat. She was hauled up, and water spewed from her mouth as she gagged up half the ocean.
“It’s okay,” someone said. “You’re okay.”
Kane. Of course it was Kane.
He pulled her against his chest, one arm wrapped around her waist, the other paddling to keep them afloat.
“You’re my hero,” she tried to say. But she was coughing so hard, nothing came out except a horrible croak that sounded like the death knell of an ancient tuba.
“Throw me a life preserver,” he called to someone. His voice was hoarse with what sounded an awful lot like fear.
“Are you all right?” she managed to ask.
“You’re bleeding like a stuck pig.”
“I’ll be okay.”
“You’d better be,” he growled as a life preserver landed in the water beside them. He grabbed it with his free arm and tugged her even closer.
“Are they going to pull us up?” she asked, so cold that the words only barely formed through chattering teeth.
He must have heard. “No. The paramedics have a boat in the water.”
“That explains it.”
“What?”
“The Christmas lights,” she slurred.
“Christmas lights?”
“On the water. I thought that’s what they were.” She sounded as confused as she felt. Nothing felt real. Not the water or the cold. Not the throbbing pain in her shoulder and chest.
She took a deep breath, trying to ground herself, but she was floating somewhere between here and there. This world and another one.
“Hey!” Kane said, his voice sharp with concern. “No closing your eyes.”
“They’re open.” Only she couldn’t see anything. So maybe they weren’t.
“Arden!” he said again, and she did open her eyes. Realized they were still in the water, bright lights moving toward them.
“The boat’s almost here,” he said. “We’ll have you home in front of your Christmas tree in no time.”
A fiberglass water rescue boat pulled up alongside them. Kane cradled Arden tightly as they bobbed in the choppy wake of the boat. The pain in her shoulder was getting worse. Every bounce and jostle sent shooting pain through her chest and down her arm.
“Arden!” Kane barked, and she realized she’d closed her eyes again.
“They’re open, okay?” she snapped. Or tried. Nothing came out. Not a word or a sound, and she was floating again, the water tugging her out of Kane’s arms and into the blackness.
She tried to grab his hand, but she felt paralyzed, leaden.
“Don’t fight them, Arden. We’ve got to get you into the boat,” he whispered in her ear, and she realized that she was still in his arms, clutching his coat with her right hand.
Two other men were beside her, a backboard between them.
“Ma’am, try to relax,” one of them said, his face pale in the flashing light of the boat.
“Is she conscious?” a familiar voice called from the boat. She thought she must have closed her eyes and drifted off again. It sounded like Grayson.
“We’re going to float you on your back,” the man was saying. “And strap you onto the backboard so we can lift you onto the boat. It’ll be easier if you let go of your friend.”
She did what she was told mostly because she had no strength left to hold on.
“It’s okay,” Kane said again as if saying it could make it so.
Maybe it could, because she was suddenly on the backboard, floating above the water, cold air flowing across her nearly frozen skin.
She felt the backboard slide up on the boat’s access ramp. Hands grabbed the board and pulled it into the boat.
“Hey, kid,” Grayson said, his face suddenly in her space, his eyes filled with worry.
“Is this a dream?” she asked as he dropped a blanket over her.
“If it were, it would be a nightmare,” he said grimly.
“So...you’re really here.”
“Yes.”
“Where’s Laney?”
“Still on bed rest. Aunt Rose is taking care of her until I get back.”
“You should be with your wife. Go home to Laney,” she tried to demand. The words came out so slurred even she wasn’t sure what she’d been trying to say.
“She’s losing a lot of blood,” Grayson called, and someone shoved in next to him, kneeling beside Arden.
“Ma’am, I’m going to apply pressure to your shoulder. It may hurt a little.”
“Logically speaking—” she began, but a finger pressed against her lips, sealing in whatever she was going to say.
“How about we save your logical assumptions for a time when you aren’t attempting to bleed to death?” Kane asked grimly. She turned her head. He was right beside her, water dripping down his face, a blanket around his shoulders.
“You saved me,” she said.
“Not yet,” he responded. He looked...scared. Terrified, really, his gaze sharp, his expression hard.
“You did. Emory was trying to shoot me. I saw him on the bridge.”
“Emory is dead,” Grayson said bluntly. “And the Feds and local law enforcement agencies are going to want to know why. You’re both going to have a lot of questions to answer once we get back to the dock.”
“Once she’s stabilized, you mean,” Kane corrected. His fingers trembled as he brushed damp hair from Arden’s cheek.
“It’s going to be okay,” she tried to reassure him.
“That’s my line,” he responded with a tender smile.
She wanted to return the smile. She wanted to tell him how thankful she was for what he’d done. She wanted to say a dozen things, but they were all lost as someone pressed against her shoulder.
Pain exploded through her chest, and she was gone again, floating in the black water of the harbor, reaching desperately for something to hold onto.
* * *
She was out cold.
No response at all as the EMT put pressure on her bloody shoulder. Kane had felt fear before, but never anything like this. Arden was still, lips blue from cold, her right arm hanging limply from the backboard. He lifted it, holding her hand and praying in a way he never had before, with a desperation he’d never felt before.
Please, God. Save her.
Her fingers twitched, and then she was squeezing his hand. Her eyes were open and she stared straight into his face.
“Don’t let me go,” she said. “If you do, I’ll float away with the Christmas lights.”
The words were the first clear, crisp ones she’d spoken.
“I won’t let you go,” he promised. The boat bumped against the pier as it docked.
Her eyes were already closed again, and he wasn’t sure she’d heard.
He’d keep his promise anyway. Just like he kept his promise to Evan.
He could still remember every detail of that night. A lone figure silhouetted on the windy bluff. Evan. A half-empty bottle of vodka next to him. A gun in his lap. Waves crashed loudly on the rocks below. Evan lifted his head. Saw Kane. Pointed the gun at his own chest. There’d barely been time for Kane to scream his cousin’s name.
Kane had spent years trying to forgive himself for not being able to save Lexi. And in the end, for failing to save Evan. He’d spent years reliving those moments, hearing Evan’s harsh rasping breath, the last words of his dying cousin. “Tell Mom I’m sorry. Make sure she’s okay. Promise me.”
Kane had joined the military and kept that promise, anonymously sending money to Evan’s mom. It was all he could do. It would never be enough.
He shoved the thoughts away, pushed the memories back where they belonged. The crew lifted Arden’s backboard and carried her off the boat.
He didn’t release her hand.
He wouldn’t. Not until he was pried away from her, and even then, he planned to put up a fight.
The dock was a flurry of activity. Silas was talking to agents, Dutch at his feet. Randy stood a few feet away, handcuffed and haggard, talking rapidly.
Kane couldn’t hear what he was saying, but he was certain it was a list of excuses that would take weeks for the FBI to sort through.
Grayson fell in step beside him, his voice clipped and tight.
“Agent Keller from the Boston Office is here.”
“And?”
“He wants to speak to you.”
“I told Arden I wasn’t letting go of her. I’m not.”
Grayson frowned, his gaze dropping to his sister. “I’ll do damage control, then meet you at the hospital. She’s going to need surgery. You let her out of your sight except for when they’re working on her, and I will personally make sure you spend the next few days answering useless questions at headquarters.”
“It’s not nice to threaten people, Grayson,” Arden said without opening her eyes.
“It’s not nice to let people get shot, either,” her brother replied.
“It wasn’t his fault. He told me not to go in alone, but I had to.” She finally opened her eyes. “Where’s my laptop?”
“Still in Silas’s SUV,” Kane responded.
“I need it.” She tried to sit up, but the harnesses held her in place.
“Stop,” Kane cautioned. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”
“I’m already hurt.”
“You’ll make it worse. I’ll have Silas grab the laptop. You rest. We’ve got things under control.”
“Not if the FBI plugs the USB into their computers. It’ll take down their system. Don’t let them do that, Grayson. Just get the laptop to the hospital. I’ll take care of everything from there. I need to get the files—”
“Kane is right,” Grayson cut her off. “We’ll handle things. You just get better.”
“But—”
“Oxygen levels are dropping,” a paramedic said, dropping an oxygen mask over her face. “You need to relax and stop talking, ma’am.”
“Story of my life,” Arden murmured. Her eyes closed again, and her hand tightened around Kane’s as if she thought he could keep her from drifting away.
He climbed onto the ambulance after they lifted her in, borrowed the paramedic’s phone and texted Silas to bring the laptop to the hospital once the FBI cleared him to leave. There was more that needed to be done to assure national security. The entity that had paid to receive the files still needed to be revealed.
Kane wanted to care. He did care, but he was more concerned about Arden. Her vital signs were dropping, her breathing becoming shallower. By the time they reached the hospital, the EMTs were working silently and quickly, keeping pressure on the wound to slow the blood loss, increasing oxygen flow. He could feel their tension and his own.
The ambulance doors opened, and a team of doctors and nurses appeared. They were moving, shifting Arden to a gurney, wheeling her through the hall, and he still managed to hold onto her hand. It was limp now, no desperate grasping.
“She’s lost too much blood,” someone said. “We’re going straight to surgery.”
“Sir?” A man touched his shoulder. “You’re going to have to let her go.”
Probably, but he couldn’t quite make himself release her hand.
They reached the double doors that led into the surgical suite, and the same guy stepped in front of Kane, blocking his path.
“There’s a waiting room to the left,” he said quietly. “I’m Lucas Riggs. Head surgical nurse. I’ll keep you updated on things, Mr.—?”
“Walker. Kane.”
“We’ll take good care of her, Kane,” the nurse said, and then the gurney was moving again. Arden’s hand slipped from Kane’s as she was wheeled away.
* * *
Nearly two hours later, and she still wasn’t out of surgery.
Kane eyed the waiting room clock and wondered how much longer it would be.
He’d already given his statement, had his firearm confiscated for evidence, given his statement again. He’d used the phone at the nurse’s station to call both Jace and Silas, who’d been taken downtown for his statement.
Kane stopped by the large windows that looked out over the courtyard. A dusting of new snow covered the walkways. Icicle lights hung from the windows and doorframes. Arden would love that.
She’d love the snow. The lights. The Christmas carols playing over the intercom.
The doors opened and Grayson DeMarco walked in. His black hair was nearly the same color as Arden’s, his blue eyes not nearly as soft and inviting.
“How is she?”
“Still in surgery.”
“I’m going to see if I can find someone who knows what’s going on.” He turned back to the door.
“I’ve been to the front desk every fifteen minutes. No one’s talking,” Kane warned him, and Grayson swung back around.
“I don’t like being helpless,” he growled.
“Join the crowd.”
“Since there’s only two of us, there’s not much of one. The hospital staff’s extremely fortunate the snow has grounded my parents at the airport in Baltimore or my mom would take up permanent residence at the desk until someone gave her some answers.”
“Maybe I should try that,” Kane responded wryly.
Grayson walked to a coffeepot that sat on a nicked Formica counter and poured thick black coffee into a cup. “This stuff taste as bad as it looks?”
“Worse.”
“A perfect end to a perfect day,” he responded, taking a quick sip and grimacing. “You didn’t lie.”
“I usually don’t.”
“We’ve got men in GeoArray, a team of specialists that may or may not be able to undo what Arden did. I’m really hoping that the two of you have evidence that proves it was necessary to totally degrade a system used by the Department of Defense.”
“We do.”
“Good. I’m staking my reputation on that.”
The door opened again. The nurse stepped inside the waiting room.
“Kane? She’s out of surgery. I’ll take you back now.” His gaze cut to Grayson, sizing him up. “If you’re FBI, you’re going to have to wait. She’s not up to answering questions.”
“I’m her brother.”
“Then you can come back. But no more than two people at a time in the recovery room.”
Kane and Grayson followed him through the double doors down a pristine hallway to a small recovery room where Arden lay. She looked tiny, her body shrouded in blankets. A monitor measured her heart rate and blood pressure. Clear fluid dripped steadily into the IV line attached to her arm.
The doctor, still dressed in surgery scrubs, was making notes on a clipboard. He looked up as they entered the room.
“Are you Ms. DeMarco’s relatives?” he asked, pushing his glasses up on his nose and slipping his pen in his pocket.
“Yes,” they answered simultaneously.
“The surgery went well. We were able to use a plate and screws to rebuild the clavicle.”
“Rebuild?” Kane asked. He pulled a chair over to the bed and sat.
“The bullet went through her humerus and traveled up into the shoulder, shattering her clavicle. She’s very fortunate it missed the major arteries in the chest wall. She’ll need eight to twelve weeks to recover fully.” The doctor attached the chart to the clipboard at the end of Arden’s bed. “We’ll be monitoring her closely, but the prognosis is good.”
“Thanks, doctor,” Grayson said, shaking the man’s hand.
Kane would have done the same, but the surgeon was already hurrying away.
“Arden?” Grayson said. He touched his sister’s forehead. She shifted but didn’t respond. “She looks terrible,” he said.
“Thanks,” she muttered without opening her eyes.
“Sorry, sis. I thought you were still out.”
“I wish I were. I really, really do.”
“Are you in a lot of pain?” Kane asked, and she finally opened her eyes.
“Is the opossum the only North American marsupial? Are the echidna and the platypus the only mammals that lay eggs?”
“I’ll take that as a yes,” he said, lifting her right hand and giving it a gentle squeeze.
“You know what would make me feel better?” she asked.
“Christmas?”
“No. Well, yes, but...my laptop. Where is it?”
“We can worry about the laptop later,” Grayson said. He pulled a chair over to the other side of his sister’s bed.
“We have a twenty-four-hour window of opportunity to catch the buyers. That’s when the file transfer was scheduled. If we miss the opportunity, we may never catch the buyer.” She was pallid but reached for the button on the bed railing, obviously trying to lever the bed up.
“Stop,” Kane said, and she shook her head.
“I can’t. There’s too much riding on this.”
“We’ve got a team working on it, Arden. All you need to do is work on healing,” Grayson cut in.
“It is going to take your team too long. I designed the worm to stay out of the system storage and preserve forensic evidence that could be used in trial. They’ll never be able to recover the server in time. I’m the only one that can do it.”
She met Kane’s eyes. “You know it’s true, and you know I can’t rest until I do this last thing.”
He did.
He also knew that he cared as much about her health as he did anything else. She wouldn’t rest. He knew that. She’d lie in bed, her mind working through the computer system even if the laptop wasn’t in her hands.
He reached for the bedside phone, ignoring Grayson’s scowl. “I’ll call Silas for his ETA. Last time we spoke, he planned to return to the SUV from the FBI’s Boston office.”
“Thanks,” she said. She smiled like she had on the yacht, and he knew. Suddenly and clearly. No questions. No angst. No second-guessing.
She was where he’d been heading all his life.
She was the home he’d been searching for.
Her smile? It was the thing that had been missing from his life, and if her brother hadn’t been sitting right beside her, he’d have told her that.
Instead, he dialed Silas’s number and waited impatiently for his friend to pick up. He knew Arden would never rest until she had her computer in hand. And she needed rest to heal.