Deception Island Page 32

  A familiar noise thumped through the air. She flinched. “A helicopter.”

  Rafe squinted out to sea. She followed his gaze to a black bug silhouetted against the cloud cover. “Friendly,” he declared, standing slowly, dusting a mist of sand from his clothes.

  She stood, too, followed by Theo. “Your ‘one guy’? You were expecting him?”

  “My guy and the Royal Cambodian Air Force, I’m guessing. They’re heading for the wreckage. They’ll fan out from there to check the nearest land.”

  “What happened to not wanting to bring in the authorities?”

  “I didn’t want to, until you and Theo were safe. It was my lieutenant’s idea. He figured the Cambodian government would come under intense international pressure after your friend’s message went viral. We have contacts in the air force there, and thanks to your intel on Gabriel’s location, this morning he delivered them the last pieces of the puzzle. For them, it was a simple, heroic solution.”

  He smiled, uninhibited, as if his demons had fled. “It’s over, Holly.”

  “Not if I can help it.”

  He laughed and spoke a few words to Theo, who jumped up, shouting and waving at the approaching chopper.

  In minutes, it hovered down onto the beach, spraying up a fog of sand. A figure jumped out—a big guy in a tight blue T-shirt, khaki shorts and mirrored aviators—followed by a woman in a blue jumpsuit. His buzz cut was like Rafe’s but light brown. Rafe’s “one guy”—tall and cut like an Olympic sprinter. Jesus, they bred them sexy in the Foreign Legion.

  As he neared, he touched two fingers to his temple in a casual salute. “Capitaine.”

  Rafe lifted his chin. “Lieutenant.”

  “Really?” said Holly, looking between them. “That’s all you’ve got for each other, after all this?”

  The new guy smiled, so reluctantly it looked like someone had stuck a hook in his mouth and was tugging it. “That’s about it.” His accent sounded French. “I’m Flynn.”

  “Holly.” She shook his outstretched hand, noting that Rafe slid an arm around her waist. If he was claiming her, she was all for it. She caught a quick movement of Flynn’s head, as if he was taking a reading of the situation. The way Rafe told it, this kind of thing didn’t happen often.

  “What took you so long?” said Rafe.

  “Capitaine, I had to fly halfway around the world and arrange a joint military operation between two navies and one air force. So, oui, it took a while.”

  Flynn bent and spoke to Theo in quiet French. She caught a word that sounded like “courageous.” The boy nodded, his face turning claret, and murmured something. Flynn pulled him in for a quick hug, ruffling his hair. Holly caught a smile on the kid’s face. Her eyes stung—that kindness thing getting to her again. Perhaps he would be okay, long-term, if he was surrounded by people like this and his Corsican family. And her. Wow. So much for being a hermit.

  “What’s the status of the captured women?” said Rafe.

  “These guys are all over it.” Flynn nodded at the chopper, raising his voice above the whine of the blades. The woman in the jumpsuit was standing back, arms crossed. “A few shots fired, but no casualties among the captives. They’re being evacced to a Malaysian frigate. I figured they had everything under control, so I commandeered a crew. We’d had a report of a chopper going down. Thought that might be your style.”

  Rafe shrugged.

  “We didn’t find the militia leader.”

  “He’s resting in peace.” Rafe nodded out to sea.

  The woman shouted, gesturing at the chopper. Her words were lost in the wind, but the inference was clear.

  Flynn looked over his shoulder. “You can give me the debrief on board. You all good to go?”

  “Oui,” Holly said.

  Rafe slipped his hand into Holly’s as they trudged down the sand to the chopper. Flynn walked ahead, his arm slung around Theo. She exhaled like a release valve, letting every muscle relax for what seemed like the first time in nearly a week. Well, not every muscle. Her stomach knotted but in a very good way. She leaned against Rafe and rested her cheek on his shoulder. It was as though she’d been let out of a cage, body and soul. Oh yes, she was ready to believe in him. She was ready to love him.

  Epilogue

  Rafe knocked softly on the bunk room door, leaning against the cramped frigate corridor. Holly’s quiet voice answered. Jesus, just the sound of that could tear him apart.

  Theo was asleep on one of the four lower bunks, entwined in a gray military-issue blanket. When he slept, he always looked like his baby self again—innocence restored. That sight was worth any reprimand from the commandant. Holly lay on a bunk across the narrow aisle, wearing desert-camo trousers and a snug khaki T-shirt, and smiling up at him, as calm as a lake on a summer day and just as inviting. That sight was something else altogether.

  “Did I wake you?”

  She shook her head and shuffled over on the narrow bed. He eased into the space, propped himself up on his elbow and kissed her thoroughly. She responded, sighing with contentment and desire. Ah, paradis. He nudged up her top and drifted his palm across her stomach. She shuddered. His hand hit a dressing and she flinched.

  “The medicos got to you, then?”

  “Yeah, though they pretty much gave up in the end. It was that or make me into a mummy. No great harm done, but I’m stiffening up by the minute.”

  “Ha. So am I.” He planted a kiss on the sweet skin of her belly, careful to avoid a large, darkening bruise. She smelled of plain soap and fresh laundry. He’d take that over the most expensive Parisian perfume, any day. “I am truly sorry for putting you through all this. Though I’m not sorry I kidnapped you from that yacht. Somehow it turned from the worst thing I’ve done in decades, to the best.”

  “I’m not sorry, either. I was just thinking that, actually, it was a rescue mission. I was destined for an empty, lonely life—I was even looking forward to it. I didn’t realize it was such a cop-out.”

  “I was, too.” His mind and body were exploding with new sensations. He’d had a smile plastered to his face ever since the helicopter had lifted, with everyone he cared about safely onboard. Flynn had been looking sideways at him all day. “When we beached on that atoll, and I realized you believed I had tried to kill you, I felt like I was dying inside. Like I’d lost you just after I’d found you, just when I thought maybe my life could be different. And I feared that this feeling that was growing inside me—this good feeling—would shrivel up and leave me as empty as before.”

  “I’m sorry I put you through that. I guess I was overwhelmed—I wasn’t thinking straight.” She cricked her neck. “What time is it?”

  “Nearly midnight. I’ve had a lot of logistics to take care of. How is Theo?”

  “He’s okay. He’s been muttering in his sleep, but it doesn’t sound like nightmares.”

  “Thank you for looking after him.” He’d never have left his son’s side if Holly hadn’t been there, logistics be damned. It felt right to leave Theo with her. A lot of things felt right, for the first time in his life. And Theo seemed taken with her—even protective, perhaps picking up on Rafe’s instinct. Rafe looked at his son, bumping his head on the bunk above. “The only thing I’ve ever wanted is to protect him from the dark side of human nature. How will he ever comprehend what he’s seen? How will this not mess him up?”

  Holly laid her palm on his cheek and urged him to meet her azure gaze. “Because he’s loved. Because he has a wonderful, strong father who knows what it’s like to experience the worst of human nature and come out a good man. He’s already started to heal—you’ve given him that, by restoring his faith in the world. Give him time and love, and I guess the rest will come. You’ll figure it out.”

  “You see? This is why I need you with us.”

&nbs
p; Us. She liked that word, almost as much as family. “How did the phone call go with your commandant?”

  “Good and bad. He’s understandably furious I went into such a volatile, personal situation alone, but he said he couldn’t be unhappy with the result—twenty-two women saved today, and more rescues to come as they dismember Gabriel’s network and track down the remaining Lost Boys.”

  He settled on the bed next to her, nuzzling her neck. After he’d washed off the salt and grime, and shaved, the sensation of brushing against her soft, smooth skin was electric.

  “It appears Gabriel has been hiding behind a large network of tourism operations,” he continued, “which explains his mobility and his ability to disappear. His company owns Suaka and Penipuan, for starters. The French military are happy to take some of the credit for busting it all up, especially with the Americans suddenly so interested in the slavery problem, thanks to the media coverage. They’re claiming this was an official top-secret Legion mission, from the start.”

  “What about what Gabriel did—telling them about your past?”

  “My commandant says he has no choice but to overlook the allegations. I was a minor, and they cannot verify the evidence. The lieutenant-colonel wants my head, but the commandant will try to talk him down to perhaps just a hand, or a few fingers.”

  She laughed, and slid her hand along his jaw. “It’s nice to see you joking. Sexy, even.”

  “I never joke.” He caught her fingers and sucked the tips into his mouth. “Discipline is of utmost importance in my regiment.”

  “What will happen to the women now?”

  “It’s still being discussed. Some will be able to go home. There are calls for the others to be offered asylum in America and Australia—their rescue made good television, so all the big networks are talking about it. Amina’s death made the story even more poignant. No one’s making a connection with Laura Hyland, of course. No promises yet, but they’re in a far better position than they were yesterday. And they’re very happy—there’s quite a party happening on the mess deck.”

  “Glad to hear it. So, what Gabriel said, about Amina’s story being dismissed as a hoax—it wasn’t true?”

  “He attempted to put that story around, through his contacts, but Amina’s lobby group is influential. They refuted it. Your friend did not die for nothing, ma chérie. She will be remembered as a symbol of her cause.”

  “What will w—? What will you do, now?”

  He pushed himself up and studied her. Was she having second thoughts? “What will we do, you mean?”

  She nodded, her cheeks turning the color of sunset. “It’s going to take me a while to get used to that word.”

  “I have called Theo’s grandmother.” He inhaled. Another difficult conversation. “I had warned her not to tell anyone about Theo’s disappearance, to say he’d gone on holiday with me. I had no idea how hard that would be for her. She is relieved. I am thankful she doesn’t blame me.”

  “Of course she doesn’t.”

  “She read the report Gabriel had left for her—about my past. It didn’t have the effect he’d intended. She apologized to me, for not having understood why I was the way I am—the way I was. She told me...” He swallowed, his eyes burning. “She told me I am a son to her, always, and she will always believe in me.”

  He reached into his pocket. “I asked the air force to recover these.” He pulled the amulets out and rolled them in his hands.

  “What will you do with that one?” She nodded at the largest stone—Gabriel’s.

  “Keep it, I guess. A reminder that I come from somewhere, that I had a brother who was once an innocent child, that we were both loved. They’ve found records of our village among Gabriel’s papers, which were stashed on a Lost Boys boat intercepted this afternoon. I may go there, try to find out if my sister is still alive—once I’m satisfied Theo is okay.”

  He leaned over her and pushed Simone’s—Holly’s—amulet over her head, releasing a clean, fresh scent from her hair. He kissed the stone. Like him, it had found its home.

  “I have spoken to my commandant about getting a discharge. An honorable one, I hope. I will have to fulfil my next assignment, but I’ve done more than my time.”

  “What? You’re giving up the Legion?”

  He nodded. “It’s okay.” He’d always feared the day he might have to retire, feared the nothingness that waited on the other side. Now, all he felt was a sense of calm. “I have a chance to make things right with Theo, to be the father I should have been all along. The Legion was always an escape for me, a place of last resort. I don’t need to escape anymore. I don’t want to turn my back on life, on my son, on a chance to be...happy.” He cleared his throat. “I’ve realized I no longer need the rules of the Legion to be a good man.”

  “But you still want to go back to Corsica, to be with your wife’s family?”

  He grabbed her hand, running his fingers over the calluses from her months of sailing. That roughness paired with the softness of the skin beneath mirrored the woman as a whole—tough as steel, but vulnerable, too.

  “I would like us to, yes. Maybe we could reopen my wife’s water sports school. I know it might not be easy for you. I have told Theo’s grandmother about you—about how you helped to rescue Theo. She might struggle, but she will make a great effort to accept you as her own, as she has with me. She is a very good woman, and these are welcoming people.” His words caught. He had a lot of people to prove himself to. “It is important for Theo to be with his family.” He touched her cheek. “And I want to be with the people I love.”

  Her mouth upturned, her chin dimpling. “Oh, Rafe, France won’t let me in—I have a criminal record. I don’t even have a passport.”

  “I made a phone call about that today, to the office of a certain American senator who would rather have you settled happily in France than unhappily in his country. It will not be a problem. He will use his contacts. He will not jeopardize his new image as an American hero and presidential front-runner.”

  Holly closed her eyes and puffed out a breath.

  “It’s over, Holly.”

  She shook her head and smiled. “You keep saying that. But, no, it’s not over. It’s just begun.” She ran a finger down his forehead. “You look like you’ve been relieved of a heavy load.”

  “I feel calmer than ever in my life. I know where I’m from, I’ve accepted my past and I’m looking at my très belle future.”

  She wound a hand around his neck, pulling him in for a leisurely kiss. When she finally relinquished him, she inhaled and exhaled heavily. There was a lot for her to process.

  “So will you take a risk on me?” he said.

  Her eyes shone. “Trusting you could be about the least risky thing I’ve done. Strays and mongrels belong together, right?” She giggled, and her face contorted with a fleeting pain. “Don’t make me laugh—everything hurts.”

  “You made yourself laugh—I had nothing to do with it. Ah, princesse, I wish I could kiss your injuries better.”

  She grinned, and the sight heated his body, lighting up his brain and calming his soul. He wanted to see that smile every day for the rest of his life.

  “You should at least try. And you should definitely do it in French.”

  * * * * *

  Acknowledgments

  Being a writer mostly means sitting at a keyboard and typing one letter after another until the story is done. “Done,” in the case of Deception Island, meant almost half a million finished letters—written, critiqued, rewritten, deleted, revised, edited, edited and edited again, proofread and, finally, printed.

  The process isn’t nearly as lonely as that might sound. I would not be fortunate enough to be writing an acknowledgments page for my debut novel if it weren’t for the encourag
ement, advice and support of dozens of friends, fellow writers and industry professionals:

  My editor Allison Carroll and agent Nalini Akolekar, who believed in me and this story from the first chapter, and their colleagues at HQN Books and Spencerhill Associates.

  My critique partners, beta readers and writing cheerleaders, who keep me positive, accountable and sane: Christine Sheehy, Cassandra Gaisford, C. A. Speakman, Gina Hagedorn, Mia Kay, Kari Lemor, Carol Opalinski and M. A. Grant.

  The talented writers who’ve so generously given up their time to mentor me: Donna Alward, Valerie Parv and Daphne Clair. And the editors whose perceptive advice has been instrumental in helping me grow as a writer, especially Laurie Johnson.

  The many people who’ve given me technical advice on this story, including Brad McEvoy, J. M. Bray, Deb Harkness, Lynette Eyb, Pippa McKelvie, Matt Otway and Mark Dunn. Any errors are my responsibility alone.

  The writing associations and groups that have kept me encouraged and inspired, and given me invaluable opportunities to learn and develop: Romance Writers of New Zealand, The Ink Spot, the Dragonflies, Flash Forward, the Harlequin Community, Romance Writers of Australia, and Romance Writers of America and its Kiss of Death chapter.

  And my beautiful husband and sons. Love you guys to infinity.

  If you loved Deception Island, then be sure to check out the world of romance and suspense in New York Times bestselling author Marie Force’s The Fatal Series.

  Love, politics and murder intertwine in

  FATAL IDENTITY

  Every family has its secrets...

  As the first anniversary of her marriage to Vice President Nick Cappuano approaches, Lieutenant Sam Holland is dreaming of Bora Bora —sun, sand and a desperately needed break from the DC grind. But real life has a way of intervening, and Sam soon finds herself taking on one of the most perplexing cases of her career.