“Noooooo!”
Celia screamed as she saw a flash and watched a trail of fire fly straight at Reese’s boat. A second later she took a deep gasp of relief as the rocket sailed over the boat and splashed harmlessly into the sea.
But then, as her uncomprehending gaze swung back to the dark boat, a second shot flared. It hung in the air, speeding straight for Reese’s yacht, and she screamed again, helplessly, as the Amalie blew apart in a roiling cloud of smoke and flame.
Ernesto Tiello cursed vividly, standing beside her at the wheel. Then he pointed at the sky. “Look,” he shouted.
A helicopter had appeared, winging low over the water, and from the same direction Celia could see the powerful searchlights of three launches speeding toward the black boat, which was attempting to turn and put on speed. Her heart was a leaden weight in her chest and she registered the drama distantly, but her attention was fixed on the dusky blotch of smoke that still marked the site of the explosion. She kept a steady course for the spot where Reese’s boat had gone down, although the chase was moving off in another direction.
Please, please, please. Please let him be there.
As they approached, bits of debris began to appear, shattered lengths of timber, rags, buckets and empty life preservers, a deck chair half-submerged. Despair swamped her.
Dear Lord, please. Not again.
But hope waned as they circled the area. There was no sign of a body. No sizable pieces of debris bigger than a four-foot length of wood. The second assault must have been a direct hit, she realized, sinking the yacht within moments. By the time the worst of the obscuring smoke had cleared, the Amalie was no more.
Panic fluttered behind her breastbone and she beat it back fiercely as she continued to scan the water. Reese was still alive. He had to be. He had to be.
A boat approached, a white Coast Guard launch, and she listened with half an ear as Ernesto talked with them. The other boat had been apprehended, the three people aboard taken into custody. She turned briefly when she heard that Mr. Brevery was the brains of the business, and that Angie Dunstan had been his eyes and ears locally.
She was stunned. “Angie…?” and the two men nodded.
Blindly she turned back around to the sea. Angie. Celia still thought of her as a girl even though she knew Angie was twenty-two now. Milo had hired the young woman fresh out of high school. She’d been pleasant, efficient—and probably responsible for his death, Celia realized suddenly.
Then a movement on the water caught her eye.
Hope surged.
“Reese!” It was a hoarse scream and both Tiello and the men aboard the Coast Guard cutter whipped around to stare at her. She barely noticed, already gunning the engine as she marked the feeble lift of a hand in the far-off swells.
“Hang on, Reese,” she called again and again as they neared him. Ernesto had climbed over the ladder and lowered his bulky body into the sea; she maneuvered the launch as close as she dared, while Tiello dragged Reese aboard the boat.
He had a deep gash across his forehead and one arm hung at an odd angle as they lay him down and covered him with blankets. Tiello got on the radio, requesting air transport to a medical facility, while Celia took the thermal blankets the Coast Guard had tossed aboard and tenderly tucked them around Reese. Hypothermia was a real danger in the cold autumn waters of the North Atlantic and the relief she’d felt dissipated quickly as she took in the pallor of his face and his blue lips.
“Shh,” she said when he moved restlessly. “Don’t try to talk. We’re going to get you to a hospital.”
He lifted his good hand and indicated the sea, and she realized he wanted to know what had happened. “They sank your boat,” she began, but he shook his head.
“I know,” he said. “Wh-wh…where…?”
“They’re in custody.” She smiled down at him. “Coming after you was their downfall. It gave the Coast Guard and the FBI time to get to them.”
“An-An-An—”
She nodded, her smile fading. “Angie. I know.” She shook her head, wondering at the amorality that had allowed the young woman to work side by side with the widow and mother of the innocent people she’d had a hand in killing.
Reese’s hand lifted, stroked down her cheekbone, and she focused on him again. “You’re freezing. We’ve got to get you to a hospital.”
“T-talk.” It was a demand, and she smiled, letting the love she felt for him shine in her eyes as she dropped her head and brushed a kiss over his chilly lips.
“We’ll talk later. Everything’s going to be fine.”
Everything’s going to be fine.
He clung to the words, and to the memory of her kiss, while he was airlifted to the nearest hospital and his injuries were treated.
His left arm was fractured, he needed stitches to close gashes on his forehead and his back, and he felt bruised all over, as if he’d been beaten with a giant pipe over every inch of his body. They told him he had a concussion, which might explain the fuzzy vision and the way his mind kept losing track of what he’d been thinking about.
Everything’s going to be fine.
What had she meant? Had it simply been reassurance for an injured man? Surely she wouldn’t have kissed him if that were the case. And what had she been doing out on the water anyway?
“Mr. Barone?” The emergency room doctor came in. “I’d like to admit you overnight for observation. Given your—”
“No,” said Reese.
“Yes.” The voice was feminine, familiar, and his heart began to beat faster. When he turned his head to look, Celia stood in the doorway. Actually, to his concussed eyes, there appeared to be two of her standing there. “He’ll stay,” she told the doctor.
“Only if you stay with me,” he told her.
She smiled and he felt something tight and fearful inside his chest ease for the first time since she’d rushed off his boat. “You’ve got a deal,” she said.
They took him to a private room on an upper floor. Celia walked beside the gurney on which he lay and held his hand, and he allowed himself the smallest glimmer of hope.
“I called Nick.”
“Why?” He was a little startled. It never would have occurred to him to contact his brother.
“It’s going to make the papers, Reese,” she said patiently. “You wouldn’t want your family to find out from a newspaper article that you were almost killed.”
He was silent for a minute. “You’re right. Thank you.” Then a thought struck him. “If I give you the number, would you…would you call down to Florida for me?”
“Yes.” Her voice sounded noncommittal, and renewed fear dampened his budding hope.
Once he was settled and all the hospital personnel had come and gone, there was silence in the small room. Celia sat in a reclining chair beside the bed. She’d pulled it around so she could face him, and her hand was clasped in his atop the sheet.
“Reese,” she said.
“Hmm?” His head hurt. Everything hurt. Even his eyes hurt when he moved them to look at her. And he was afraid, frankly. Afraid to talk, in case he was wrong and she didn’t still—
“I love you.”
Suddenly the aches and pains of a moment before seemed far less debilitating. “I love you, too. Wanna come up here and show me?”
She laughed. “Not a chance, buddy.”
There was another silence and he was sorry he’d been flippant. This was too important for stupid jokes. He couldn’t stand it. “Celia—”
“Shh. We’ll talk later.” She lifted his hand and brushed a kiss across the knuckles, then looked him dead in the eye. “I’m not going anywhere ever again.”
He’d slept at last, waking only when the nurses checked his pupils periodically, and coming to when the breakfast tray arrived in the morning.
Celia had stayed through the night, leaving only to run to her home and bring him a set of clean clothes. It was a good thing he’d left a few at her house, she thought, remembering his beautiful boat sadly. Then she shook herself. The boat could be replaced. Reese couldn’t, and she was so very thankful he was safe.
When she returned, he’d already eaten and bathed and was scanning the morning paper, awkwardly turning the outsize pages with his good hand. The other was in a temporary cast, which would be replaced when the swelling subsided, and he wore it in a sling across his chest.
“Hi,” he said softly as she entered the room.
“Hi.” She knew it was ridiculous to be nervous, but she had to stop herself from twisting her fingers together.
“Come sit down.” Reese patted the edge of the bed.
Carefully she went to him and seated herself at his side. “How do you feel this morning?”
He smiled. “Like one of those cartoon animals that gets mashed flat by a boulder or a truck.”
She had to laugh, but the memory of the Amalie disintegrating into a shocking ball of flame superceded the amusement, and, to her dismay, she suddenly found herself fighting tears.
“Hey.” Reese put his arm around her and gently pulled her against his shoulder, stroking her back. “It’s okay.”
“I thought you were dead.” She kept her face pressed into his neck and curled against his side, careful not to jostle the damaged arm between them.
“Shh.” She felt him kiss her temple. “I thought I was dead, too, when I saw that rocket launcher aimed my way. It seemed to take forever before the thing actually blew up my boat.”
“He fired two,” she recalled. “The first one missed.”
“That explains it. I dove over the side and swam away from the boat as fast as I could. The missed shot probably saved my life.” He shook his head slightly. “Even so, the blast rolled me through the water like a damned doll. I don’t remember what happened after that.”
“You must have been hit by debris. You’ve got a couple of nasty cuts in addition to that arm.”
“I know.” She felt him smile and his voice was rueful. “I remembered when I started moving around this morning. Man, did they ever sting.” He pulled her slightly away from him and looked down into her eyes. “Can we talk now?”
She nodded. “I’m sorry, Reese. I’ve spent the past couple of years trying to protect myself from getting hurt ever again. After I left last night, I realized that life makes no guarantees. I’d already let you back into my heart, and if anything happens to you—” Her voice wavered.
“Celia—”
She held up her hand. “Let me get this out.” She took a deep breath. “I would be honored to marry you and be a mother to Amalie. If you still want me,” she added in a small voice.
“If I still want you?” His voice was hushed. “Woman, I’ve wanted you forever. I love you, Celia.” He touched his lips to hers. “I was wrong not to tell you I had a kid right up front. But I knew how much it would hurt you, and I—I was afraid. Afraid you might not give me a second chance if you knew I came with a sidekick.”
She laid her head on his shoulder and sighed. “Your instincts probably were right. I might not have.”
Reese turned his head and sought her lips again, capturing her in a sweet, hot exchange that left her breathless. “As soon as that doctor checks me over, I’m getting out of here and we’re going to get married.”
She smiled. “I don’t think we can just go get married today.”
“We can if we fly to Vegas.” His voice sounded utterly serious, and her heart turned over.
“You’ve got me there. But—” She shook her head. “I’m not letting you go anywhere until the doctor gives you the go-ahead.”
He had already opened his mouth to respond when the door swished open. “All right, Doc,” he said. “It’s about time…” His voice trailed away.
Celia had turned and tried to put some space between them, but Reese held her in place as an older man and woman walked into the room. She was afraid to hurt him by pushing against his chest, so she let him keep her there at his side.
The man wasn’t as tall as Reese but she knew in a heartbeat who he was. Reese’s father still had thick dark hair, though silver shone at his temples, and she had a sudden vivid image of what Reese would look like in thirty years.
The woman with him was gorgeous, her figure stunning, her hair a vibrant red. There were a few threads of silver in it, as well, or Celia never would have believed that this woman could be old enough to be Reese’s mother.
Mrs. Barone had tears in her eyes. “Reese,” she said, coming to the side of the bed. “Nick called us. I know we might not be welcome but…we wanted to see for ourselves that you’re all right.” She put out a hand, then tugged it back and held it against her waist. To Celia, it appeared that she desperately wanted to hug Reese, but was unsure of her reception.
“Thank you for coming. As you can see, I’m a little banged up but essentially okay.” Reese’s voice was neutral. A part of her wanted to kick him, but she recognized the insecurity hiding beneath his calm surface. He was afraid to be rejected again.
“Reese.” His father cleared his throat, his eyes steady as they rested on his son’s. “I owe you an apology for leaping to the wrong conclusion all those years ago. I’m sorry I left it so long. When you didn’t come home… I thought that you no longer wanted to be in contact with us and I couldn’t blame you.”
Reese was silent for a moment. The tension in the room was so thick, Celia understood for the first time what people meant when they said they could cut it with a knife. She had a ridiculous urge to get the small pocketknife from her purse and try it.
Finally, Reese said, “Thank you. I apologize, too, for losing my temper and staying away so long.” He turned then and took her hand. “Mother, Dad, this is Celia Papaleo.” Although there wasn’t exactly a note of challenge in his voice, she recognized that he was using her as a test.
Mrs. Barone immediately offered an outstretched hand to Celia across the bed. “It’s so nice to meet you at last, Celia. Please call us Carlo and Moira.” She gave the younger woman a warm, genuine smile. “Reese spoke of you often when he was younger. I know you’re very special to him.”
“As are you.” Celia went with instinct and leaned forward, embracing Moira Barone in a warm hug. “Thank you.”
“It is truly a pleasure, Celia,” Carlo Barone said. He came around the end of the bed to where she sat and kissed her formally on each cheek in a courtly manner.
She nodded, smiling at him as he stepped back.
“Celia has just agreed to marry me.” The announcement fell into the momentary silence.
His mother made a small sound of delight. “Congratulations!”
“Welcome to the family,” Carlo said to Celia. “Everyone is anxious to see Reese again. They’ll all be thrilled to hear this news.”
“Have you set a date?” asked Moira.
“Um, no,” Celia said. “We’re very newly engaged.”
“She just said yes before you walked in the door,” Reese said, grinning.
“So that’s what we interrupted,” Carlo said to his wife. “See, I told you we should have knocked!”
“We’re not planning on a long engagement.” Reese dragged the conversation back to the earlier topic. “In fact, if I have my way, we’ll be husband and wife right away.” He paused, giving his parents a conspiratorial grin. “How would you like to fly to Vegas and witness our wedding?”
“We’d love to,” his mother answered.
“He means today,” Celia informed them. She turned to Reese. “You really need to rest—”
“I really need to marry you. Today.” He caught her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “We’ve waited too long as it is.”
Carlo Barone was laughing. “You might as well stop arguing, Celia. Nobody wins an argument with a Barone man.”
“Ha.” Moira winked at Celia. “You just let him keep on thinking that for the next fifty years and you’ll do just fine together.”
Reese tugged on her hand, pulling her down to the edge of the bed. When she acceded, he immediately drew her to him for a kiss, and as she thought of how close she’d come to losing him, she sank against him with a quiet sigh. He’d told her he was born to be wild, but she’d had enough wild to last her a lifetime already.
A lifetime. She kissed him back fervently, forgetting all about their audience. She knew better than most how fragile happiness could be. If he wanted to get married today, she’d do it.
And then she wanted to meet his daughter—their daughter—and start living the rest of their lives together.