Hurricane Page 15

  “I tried to think of what the fuck I’d done to piss you off. Couldn’t think of a damn thing. For weeks I called you in every recess, at the end of every day a dozen fucking times. I called you every morning. You refused to take my calls—”

  Wordlessly she shook her head, allowing her hair to curl around her breast like an amber question mark.

  “Then I lost my ass. The Cutters got control of that wreck, and I was fucked, holding the bag with none of the loot. It was a bitter pill. The day the ruling came down was the day I received your divorce papers. It was a one–two punch. I was KO and I didn’t fucking know why. I signed whatever they put in front of me. Against my expensive lawyer’s advice. I signed you away, signed Tesoro Mio away, too. I tried to contact Peri—her damn voice mail is always full. I tried Callie, but she was undercover with the Cutters and it was impossible to have a private convo with her. I was beside myself.

  “It was only three months later that I managed to get in touch with Kevin. Ostensibly to see if I could hire the team to go to Peru with me. But really to find out if she knew anything. She started crying and gave me her teary and heartfelt sympathy about the death of my daughter.”

  Addy gasped, her head jerking up. “You knew.”

  “No, Addison. I didn’t.”

  Thirteen

  Steady, red-rimmed storm-gray eyes met hers. “I swear on my life. Until Kevin told me about S-Sophie, I didn’t know.”

  It killed her that his voice broke when he said their baby’s name. And yet—God, it was good to hear Sophia’s name spoken out loud. Everyone else tiptoed about, as if she’d burst into tears if she heard her baby’s name. She might, but hearing it kept Sophie alive.

  She must have flinched when his fingers tightened even more, and he immediately loosened his grip. Ry stroked his thumb over the back of her hand. “I demanded to know why none of them had called me. She said you, through your mother, asked my crew, my friends to respect your privacy. Said we’d had marital problems and needed time to work it out without interference. A lie, I now know. Didn’t then. I was gutted by the news.”

  Addison had never seen this expression on his face. Raw grief reflected the same gaping black hole she’d felt since March 18.

  Turning one hand, her palm brushed his and she curled her fingers between his, supporting his large hand in the smallness of her own, braced on her knee.

  Ry drew in a harsh breath, his chest expanding as he held it. Centering himself. “My grief was a cavernous hole, impossible to fill. You, gone, devastated me; the news of our precious child’s death hit me in way I could never have imagined. My grief was profound, and terrifying in its intensity. Made worse because I had no one to share it with. I went through all the stages of grief I’d had for our divorce, all over again.”

  “You didn’t instigate the divorce.”

  “Fuck no. I thought you—” He shook his head. “I went into a dark cave and wanted to hibernate there. Didn’t help worth shit. I realized just how goddamn alone I was, and needed answers. For months it was almost impossible to function—hell, even to breathe. The devastation I felt was chest-caving. I was in the deepest, coldest part of the ocean treading water, barely keeping my head above the surface as I drowned in my grief.”

  His hand held hers so tightly, Addison thought he was going to break her fingers. She kept her hands in his, this time not indicating how painfully tight his grip was.

  “I knew if that’s how I felt, it’s how you must have felt. Must feel. I needed you with every fiber of my being. Needed to see and touch you. Hold you. Wanted you to need and want me in the same way. But clearly you didn’t. Because all I’d heard from you was through a Parisian lawyer I’d never fucking heard of.”

  “Naveen’s lawyer.”

  “Yeah, I figured. One more nail through my heart. I called you. Your number had been disconnected. I went to see your mother in Milan. She told me I was dead to her and slammed the door in my face. I put a private detective on her to see if you were staying with her. I tried calling the prince’s residences. Paris, Mumbai, New York. Messages were taken. No one knew where you were. I went to the prince’s penthouse in Paris. Was told Miss D’Marco and His Highness were on a trip to Scotland and not expected back for a month. I flew to Scotland. Thirty thousand square miles, over five million fucking people. I walked, I drove, I called hotels and rentals … I hired private detectives there, too. You were nowhere to be found.

  “I left for the dive in the North Pacific. A good wreck, with plenty of gold to replenish my wallet, and enough work to prevent me from drinking myself to death. New crew. Went into town for supplies, and when I got back Sea Dragon was gone, hijacked by a bunch of terrorists. Left most of my crew and divers dead on the wharf. Police, investigators … A shitload more trouble—

  “Understatement,” he said, his voice bitter. “It has not been a good fucking year. For the past thirteen-plus months my life has turned to shit—”

  “You think everyone—” Addison’s voice cracked as though she’d been crying for a month. She had to start again. That water would’ve been welcome now. But she didn’t want to get up, refused to leave him. “—conspired to keep Sophie’s death a secret from you?” she finished. “Why?”

  His hesitation was almost imperceptible. “Put together your truth and my truth. What do you get?”

  She didn’t hesitate. “Hollis.”

  “You called and left messages?” He looked as grim as she felt.

  “Dozens of them. And a hundred texts.” He let go of her hands, and the blood flowed back in sharp pinpricks. “Where are you going?”

  He leaned over to the bedside table on her side of the bed and retrieved her cell phone. Turned it on. “Delete any of the messages?”

  She hadn’t been able to look at them, and somehow deleting them would make what they had shared evaporate, too. “No.”

  The light from her phone illuminated the dark side of his face as he scrolled through RECENTS. He held the phone up so that she could see all the incoming and outgoing calls. She knew what was there. Most of her outgoing calls and texts had been to Rydell’s number. His lashes lay on his cheeks as he looked down, scanning some of the text messages she’d sent over several months. There were hundreds of them.

  “God, Addy.” His voice broke, and his throat worked.

  “I told you.”

  “I swear I never received any them.” Holding her iPhone where she could see the screen, he went into CONTACTS and found his name. ICE RYDELL CASE. In Case of Emergency. “This isn’t my number.”

  “Of course it’s your number!”

  “No. It’s programmed with my contact name on it, but this isn’t my phone number, never has been.”

  She blinked, her mind stumbling over the truth. “I never looked at your number. In fact I doubt I’d even remember your number. I always use speed dial.”

  “Everyone does. Someone,” he said dangerously, “reprogrammed your fucking phone.”

  Her chest ached. “Someone hated ‘us’ so much, they sabotaged us when we needed each other the most.”

  He stroked her wet cheek. “We have to forgive each other, Addy. It’s the only way we can hope to heal. Especially now we know there was an explanation for the miscommunication.”

  * * *

  Addison wanted to rip off the face of whoever had manipulated her phone, with her fingernails. Then stomp them with her favorite Christian Louboutin five-inch stilettos and chain them to the anchor and drop them over the side of the ship, then haul them above the surface and stomp them again.

  She and Ry had barely slept for the rest of the night. Instead, they’d curled together, emotionally and physically spent, and talked.

  Telling her, showing her, how damn sorry he was that he eventually stopped trying to find her because he was convinced that that was what she wanted didn’t take away the hurt that he’d given up. On her. On them.

  Addison hoped one day to forgive him for that. Knowing how stoic and
unemotional he could be was no excuse. He shouldn’t have given up. Ever.

  Now, an hour after they’d parted ways in her cabin, she was dressed and having breakfast like a civilized human being. Screams lodged in her throat, and her stomach churned. Closing her eyes behind her dark glasses, she breathed in slowly, willing her racing heart to slow the hell down and give her time to plan some sort of strategy.

  She’d deal with her mother via telephone.

  Naveen was right here beside her.

  Since ripping off a face was not only a disgusting visual, and she wasn’t going to ruin her favorite pumps, nor was she going to throw someone overboard—especially not, she thought with a glimmer of amusement, with the Coast Guard still on board—she was going to sit here and make nice until she formulated a viable plan to deal with Hollis. And if necessary, Prince Naveen Darshi as well.

  Breathe in. Breathe out.

  The stormy night had provided a fitting backdrop for her intense conversation with Ry. A conversation for which there should’ve been no need. On so many levels. As unsettled as the conversation had left Addison, the storm should be continuing, but not a cloud remained in the Wedgwood-blue cloudless sky.

  Breathe in.

  Breathe out.

  Ry had asked to keep her phone for a few hours. Her heart hurt for both of them knowing that right now he was in his own cabin, reading all those heart-wrenching, desperate text messages.

  Breathe in.

  Breathe out.

  Reliving Sophie’s death had been heartbreaking. But it was heartbreak shared. She hated, hated, hated her mother for what she’d done to both Ry and herself. It was an unconscionable crime, for which Addison could—would—never forgive her.

  Sunlight glinted off the smooth, dark-blue water, making sunglasses necessary. Tesoro Mio’s powerful engines drove the large ship smoothly through the water, leaving a trail of frothy white lace in its wake. From Addy’s vantage point at a small table in the shade on the middle deck, Mother Nature had painted a day that was picture perfect, while her own mother had painted a life—Addison’s life—that was filled with high drama, and not in a good, enjoy-the-opera way.

  The air smelled of ocean, bacon cooked minutes earlier in the nearby galley, and Naveen’s Versace Eros cologne.

  Breathe in. Breathe out.

  She was going to need a flat-out, balls-to-the-wall run after this.

  Naveen sat at the table with her. Choosing the seat right next to her, even though no one else was around. It was damn hard for her to be civilized after the revelation about her phone being reprogrammed. Had Naveen known what her mother had done? Had he been part of it? Hollis had never made any secret that she wanted her daughter married to royalty.

  While her only child had been dazed with profound grief, had the two of them colluded to irreparably split her and Rydell?

  The thought ate at Addison as she watched the prince’s handsome face while he sliced into his eggs Benedict. Was he capable of that kind of deceit? Was anyone? Yes.

  Her mother was certainly not only capable, but motivated. The knowledge chilled Addison to the bone. She loved her mother, but she wasn’t blind to her faults. And she didn’t like her. Hollis was a terrible mother, forgetful, vengeful, manipulative, and careless. But this topped anything she’d ever done. This was pure evil.

  “It’s a good thing I’m here to protect you and your interests,” Naveen said as he took a sip of coffee.

  He was dead serious, and she appreciated the sentiment, if that was his truth, if not the reality. If she needed or wanted protection physically, she’d take Ry’s brute strength and tenacity over Naveen’s sophisticated verbal volleys. Each had its place she supposed, but when the chips were down, she wanted Ry in her corner. He’d fight for her to his last breath.

  She’d decided to let Naveen down easily. His ego would be bruised, but stringing him along was not only unfair to him, it was wrong. She could never care for him the way she did for Ry. Never. Everything about him paled when compared with her ex-husband.

  Now …

  If he’d had anything to do with Telephone-Gate—even if he’d known and not told her—she was not going to let him down easy. She was going slam-dunk his ass overboard.

  She stabbed a slice of pineapple with the tines of her fork and set it on her plate beside the rashers of bacon she shouldn’t be eating. “From my ex-husband?”

  Perfect opportunity to ask if he knew about the phone tampering. He’d stuck by her through some harrowing times, and at the very least been a good friend. It was only fair that she give him the opportunity to say his piece about the changed phone number. On one hand there was a possibility—a remote possibility—that he’d had no idea. On the other, he very well may have been her self-absorbed mother’s willing accomplice in the diabolical scheme.

  Addison’s heartbeat sped up. If that was the case, he must’ve been deaf, dumb, and freaking blind, because he’d been with her almost night and day for three months under his own roof. It was hard to believe he hadn’t known.

  In the heat of the moment last night, Ry had told her how much he loved her. He’d shown her with his body when they’d made love again, after they had talked.

  In the past, returning the sentiment, saying how she felt in return had never been an issue. Now a small part of her—a small, petty part of herself—couldn’t manage to get those words out. She wasn’t sure why. Even after they’d bared their hearts earlier. She just couldn’t. Not yet. And as if her heart hadn’t been wrenched enough, Ry had seen the hesitation, knew the words weren’t coming anytime soon, and he had placed his fingers on her lips and said, in a choked, harsh whisper that told of endless pain, “I understand. It’s okay, I can wait.”

  “Addison? Where’d you go?”

  She blinked Naveen back into focus, thankful for the sunglasses that hid her red eyes, and also the look of suspicion he’d be able to read if her whole face was exposed.

  “I was thinking about your man, and how terrified he must’ve been.” Not quite a lie. That thought was in there somewhere with the rest of the stressors. The Coast Guard had told them that recovering the body would be next to impossible, but they’d searched for hours in the storm to no avail anyway.

  They’d disembark when the ship reached the Maldives tomorrow. Hopefully taking the killer with them.

  Naveen was closemouthed about the incident, and now his lips were set in a thin line. He didn’t want to talk about it. Not with her anyway. Officials had questioned him at length the night before, and were still on board, going through every inch of space on board looking for clues. He apparently didn’t want to talk about that, either.

  “I was referring to having a murderer on board.” Naveen’s eyes narrowed. “Do you need protection from Case?”

  The dive crew and Rydell were down in the dining room, which was now more of a staging area than a place to eat. Addison knew exactly what it would look like this morning. Gone would be the pretty place mats and flowers. In their place would be charts and research material—Ry liked to print out everything. All four of the monitors would be in play as the dive team planned their first dive, which was to take place in a couple of days. He was capable of compartmentalizing his life. He’d sink himself into the dive and push aside what he’d learned last night. She wished she could do the same.

  Thinking about the dive reminded her that Ry was still hiding something from her. What, she had no idea. But if they truly wanted to clear the air, he was going to have to share with her why this salvage was so damn important. Why this one? Why now?

  Or was she seeing problems where there were none, because the rest of her life was off kilter?

  And if, and when, Ry found his treasure, what then? Where did they go from here?

  Addison was just fine with not seeing him for breakfast. In the light of day she was more confused than angry. Sex between them had always been spectacular. Last night had been no exception, but the last year proved that life wasn’t jus
t about sex. She needed space to think things through. Time, to come to terms with his explanation and rationale. Time to decide how to handle Hollis, and what to do about Naveen.

  She had to be sure when she said she forgave Rydell that she really, really meant it. Finding him undone in Sophia’s room had given her a glimpse of what it had been like for him to lose his daughter. It had also cracked the wall she’d firmly installed between her heart and any feelings she had for him.

  “Darling? Come back to me, I asked whether you feel you need protection from Case?” Naveen’s words were clipped.

  She didn’t blame him for being impatient with her inability to focus. The fog that her swirling thoughts created suddenly lifted, and with crystal-clear clarity, she knew she needed protection from her own bad judgment, not from Ry. “Of course not. Sorry. I didn’t get much sleep last night. Rydell is just as worried about this as we are. But we’ve got all the Coast Guard officers on board. I don’t think whoever did this will act again, do you?”

  “I don’t know what to think,” Naveen told her, pouring her another cup of fragrant coffee. “All I know is there was never any trouble before Case and his divers came on board.”

  Exactly what Ry had said about Naveen and his men. Addison raised an eyebrow. Naveen had hurled that accusation at Ry last night, too. If that’s what he believed, it would make the trip even more uncomfortable. “Why would any of them throw your bodyguard overboard? None of them knew him before yesterday.”

  Addison noticed a sheen of sweat on his suddenly pale skin. It wasn’t that hot outside yet. Barely seventy. She gave him a look of concern. “Are you okay?”

  “Of course, why wouldn’t I be?”

  “You look—” Agitated. Annoyed. Scared? “Worried.”

  “Not in the least, darling. Just a small issue with a business matter. Nothing that a phone call won’t resolve.” He smiled. Nice white teeth, zero joy in the gesture.

  A business matter? Not concern about the death of his man? Or demands that the killer be found immediately? None of his usual bombastic, royal decrees that his subordinates—and to Naveen pretty much everyone was a subordinate—hop to it, and get the job done. Immediately?