Authors: Heather Graham
Bougainvillea (16 page)
But he noted the porch. There were strange marks on the wood floor. It looked as if somethingâsomeoneâhad been dragged across it.
David followed the marks, frowning. Then continued through the high grass, and back toward Delaney property. He started to run again, Thor at his heels.
* * *
Kit heard water lapping against the boat. Despite her best efforts, she had blacked out.
But she wasn't dead.
Not yet.
She swallowed hard, trying to ascertain exactly where she was. A dinghy, she thought. She was in one of the little boats kept down at the dock. She'd been thrown to the bottom of it. The rhythmic sound she was hearing, along with the slap of the water, was Martin rowing.
Somehow, he knew that she had come to. “Just like your mother, Kit. You wanted to know so much. Well, now you do. You'll know every single second. You shouldn't have been so nosy, huh?”
Her mouth felt as if it weighed a million pounds. She couldn't quite work it.
“Your son is a cop,” she managed to say at last. She doubted if he could hear her. She could barely gasp.
“Thanks to me. She would have destroyed him.”
“They'll know the truth now.”
“How? I'll return the dinghy. They can all accuse one another. After that display this afternoon, it would be easy to convince almost anyone that you killed yourselfâI mean, you have one major fucked-up family, don't you think? This is far enough,” he said, interrupting his own enjoyment of his subtle humor.
She felt him moving toward her, trying to grapple her up in his arms. She managed to claw her fingernails hard against his arm.
She could swim. Like her mother, she could swim.
Except that she couldn't move her limbs. She had to stay aboard the dinghy, somehow. Once she went over, she was dead.
Like her mother, she would drown.
He had her. Had a good grip on her. He was swearing about the scratches she had caused, but still, he had his grip.
Then, the boat began to sway. At first, it appeared that the creature from the black lagoon was rising from the darkness of the sea. Then she heard a voice.
David.
“Martin! Let her go, now, this instant!”
Martin dropped her. She hit the bottom of the boat hard because Martin had turned, swearing, grabbing up one of the oars to slam against David's rising head.
She heard a sickening thudding sound and her heart sank, and she couldn't help but wonder if her mother had thought about the man who had really loved her, her husband, right before she had died.
“And nowâ¦!”
Arms gripped her again around the waist. She kept
trying to struggle. She was dragged over the edge of the dinghy this time. But before her weight could pull her over, a counter pull from the other side of the dinghy righted it.
Martin didn't have time to reach for an oar. David was aboard and the two of them were caught in a power struggle. The little dinghy began to rock.
With all her strength, Kit fought to kick out. Her right heel caught Martin hard, in the ankle.
He turned. David swung.
She was aware of another shift of weight, and a sickening, smacking sound, before the dinghy tipped over completely and she was cast into the murky depths.
She began to sink, lower and lower. Seaweed trailed over her face. Her lungs hurt, blackness and stars alternated in her vision.
Marina! she thought, vaguely wondering if her mother could come to her somehow, take her hand as she perished within the sea.
Then something reached out. A hand. For a moment, delusional, she thought that her mother had come.
She was pulled hard. She found some strength in her limbs again, and managed a feeble kick.
Moments later, she burst through the surface, gasping, choking, coughing, gasping some more. She was being towed in the water with a firm grip at her nape, and she heard David shouting, “Here, over here!”
A motor roared, then died, and a boat was next to them again. Someone pulled her aboard. Kaitlin stared down at her anxiously. “Get her up quickly, quickly!” It was Michael speaking. “Jesus, is she breathing?”
She was. David pushed her, Michael lifted her.
Lenore wrapped her in a blanket. She was held then, in the blanket, warmed. “Forgive me!” she heard, and she was aware of Seamus there, as well.
Her eyes closed.
“Brandy. Get some of the brandy into her!” Lenore cried.
“No!”
She coughed, breathed in a deep breath, and found some of her own strength.
“Coffee, give her the coffee,” David said, and then, dripping wet, he was taking her from Seamus's hold, bringing a plastic thermal coffee cup to her lips and forcing her to drink. She stared into his eyes, dark and intent, and realized that it was her turn, that they all had their fears and their doubts, and definitely their sins.
“Forgive me!” she said softly to David. “I was afraidâ¦of you. Afraid to trust that you really loved me. Afraid to believe that I wasn't a fool to be so much in love with you.”
“Just live!” he told her. And the slow, rueful smile that had first won her heart curled into his lips. “Just live. With me. Forever.”
His arms wrapped around her.
And no matter what lay ahead now, she could brave it.
A
s it turned out, Bougainvillea was Paradise.
Kit and David had gone away at first. For a long and extended vacation in Aspen, Colorado.
But then, they had come home.
And to Kit's amazement, everything had changed.
She had a family again. A family she wanted.
Lenore and Michael were going to leave shortly for the long voyage he had always wanted to take, sailing romantically through the Caribbean.
Kaitlin had been planning on leaving after that awful day on the beach, but Kit had managed to change her mind. It had helped that Kaitlin had burst into tears the night of her rescue, swearing that she had never believed that Marina had been murdered, or that anything could happen to Kit. The next day, she, Josh, and Kaitlin, all half siblings, had finally talked about their situation.
They were definitely on the raw edge of dysfunctional. But then, Kit figured, such was life for many people those days.
Kaitlin needed to plunge into the business more. She
knew it as well or better than either David, Josh, and maybe even Seamus.
Mary was never going to believe that Kit was anyone but Marina. That was okay. As long as she could be assured that Marina was right there, she was fine.
Eli and Shelley had been in shock as well. It was Martin's body that washed up on the beach that time.
Shelley had thought that they could never be friends again. Kit had assured her that they could.
And Eli, well, Kit knew he was going to have to learn to live with it all. Plus, Jen was crazy about him and was ready to stand by him, and in timeâ¦
It came down to Bougainvillea.
Their first day back, David had reminded her that they could move. He'd be more than willing to quit Sea Life altogether and move to another state.
But Kit didn't want to leave. She wanted to know Kaitlin and Josh better.
And even Seamus.
She had point-blank told him that she would never consider him to be her father. But he could remain an uncle, and as such, she enjoyed him, and even loved him.
They could make it.
She could make it.
Mostly because of David, of course. It didn't matter if they did move, or didn't move. As long as they were together.
And there was Thor, of course. David told her that he'd never had realized that Martin was dragging her out on one of the boats if the puppy hadn't followed the trail so certainly.
And soâ¦
Bougainvillea.
It was her home.
On her first morning home, she knew it for certain.
She woke up in her husband's arms, seeing the sun rise through the windows that looked out on the lagoon. She felt his eyes on her, and knew that look in them, and smiled, rolling into his arms. He reached out and his fingers moved against her flesh lazily, evocatively. His whisper was warm against her cheek.
“Welcome home, again,” he said softly.
“Umm.” She snuggled against him, then moved her toes against his inner legs, higher, higher. “Home, huh?”
A little shudder escaped him.
But then, suddenly, their bedroom burst open and Thor came loping across the room and leaped onto the bed.
In just a few months, he had grown huge.
“Out!” David ordered.
The dog howled. Kit laughed. She leaped up, and ran downstairs with the dog in pursuit, found a chew toy, tossed it to him, and raced back up, closing the door behind her.
She grinned at David.
“Welcome home to you!” she said softly, and somewhat like Thor, she raced across the room, and pounced upon David.
Home.
Bougainvillea.
David.
She was exactly where she wanted to be.
* * * * *
“Dark, dangerous and deadly! Graham has the uncanny ability to bring her books to life.”
â
RT Book Reviews
If you enjoyed
Bougainvillea
by
New York Times
bestselling author Heather Graham, you won't want to miss the first entry in a brand-new series packed with deadly intrigue and exhilarating romantic suspense:
Flawless
(April 2016)
And be sure you don't miss the any of Heather's electrifying
Cafferty & Quinn
stories. Visit the shadowy side of New Orleans, where not everything is as it seemsâ¦
Looking for more heart-pounding suspense from Heather Graham? Discover the spine-tingling
Krewe of Hunters
series, featuring the FBI's elite team of paranormal investigators, the Krewe of Hunters:
“Murder, intrigueâ¦a fast-paced read. You may never know in advance what harrowing situations Graham will place her characters in, butâ¦rest assured that the end result will be satisfying.”
â
Suspense Magazine
on
Let the Dead Sleep
Order your copies today!
Connect with us on
www.Harlequin.com
for info on our new releases, access to exclusive offers, free online reads and much more!
Other ways to keep in touch:
Read on for an excerpt from Heather's novel
The Dead Play On
.
MICHAEL QUINN PARKED his car on the street in the Irish Channel section of the city of New Orleans.
There were several police cars already parked in front of the 1920s-era duplex to which he'd been summoned.
He headed up a flight of steep steps. The door to “A” stood open; an officer in uniform waited just outside on the porch.
“Quinn?” the man asked.
Quinn nodded. He didn't know the young officer, but the officer seemed to know him. He had to admit, being recognized was kind of nice.
“He's been waiting for you, but he wants gloves and booties on everyone who goes in. There's a set over there.” He pointed.
“Thanks,” Quinn said. He looked in the direction the officer indicated and saw a comfortable-looking but slightly rusted porch chair on the far side of the door. He slid on the protective gloves and paper booties.
“You're good to go,” the officer said.
Quinn thanked him again then entered a pleasant living area that stretched back to an open kitchen. The duplex had been built along the lines of a “shotgun”-style house. It was essentially a railroad apartment; the right side of the room was a hallway that stretched all the way to the back door, with rooms opening off it on the left. He'd never been inside this particular building, but he'd seen enough similar houses to assume the second half of the duplex would be a mirror image, hallway on the left, rooms opening off to the right.
Crime scene markers already littered the floor, and several members of the crime scene unit were at work, carefully moving around the body.