It's A Wonderfully Sexy Life (15 page)

It was Mandy, calling his name. Relief hit him like a tidal wave, bringing with it renewed resolve. “Hold tight, I’m coming,” he shouted above the chaos and then swam toward her, numbed arms and leaden legs knifing through the icy water.

He surfaced at her side and wrapped an arm about her shuddering shoulders. Her teeth were clacking like castanets and he’d bet anything her nails were blue, but she was alive and so was he and for the moment that was all that mattered.

Sticking close, they managed to get a head count on the other passengers. Fortunately everyone could swim and all but one, the grandfather, had managed to grab hold of the side of the overturned boat. Knowing that older folks were particularly susceptible to hypothermia, Josh left Mandy with the others and went in search of him.

He found him a few feet from the capsized craft, a bird’s-egg-sized bump on the side of his head and thin arms flailing. Vaguely aware of flashing strobe lights and screeching sirens coming from shore, Josh swam as fast as he could. He came up beside him and grabbed hold.

Treading water, he asked, “Are you okay, sir?”

The man managed a groggy nod. “My wife…not m-much of a…s-swimmer.”

“Your wife is fine, and so is the rest of your family.” Josh grabbed hold of one of his slack arms and slung it over his neck. “We’re going to get all of you warm and dry in no time.” Hoping that was indeed the case, he towed him back to the boat sidestroke-style just as rescue workers arrived on the scene.

Thanks to Mandy’s quick thinking in calling 911, the fire department and police were already onsite, joined in short order by the nearby navy reservists whose divers managed to pull them all out of the water within minutes. Aside from the older couple taken to the hospital by ambulance to be treated for hypothermia, there were no injuries and, thankfully, no casualties.

Wrapped in thermal space blankets and seated on benches at the dock, they gave their statements to a homicide detective from Mandy’s precinct. Seeing Mandy, he greeted her by name.

“Hey, Delinski, the 911 dispatcher said an officer made the call-in. I thought you were out on a family emergency.”

Josh glanced to Mandy, wondering why she’d lied. She’d told him she had vacation time coming to her and that her boss had all but forced her to take it. Apparently that was less than the truth. “Er, I was. I mean, I am.”

“I see.” Pulling a notepad from the inside pocket of his polyester suit jacket, the detective continued, “Did you get a make or model on the craft?”

Mandy shook her head. Wet-haired and wide-eyed, she still managed to look beautiful, only younger, almost like a little girl rather than the fearless, grown-up woman whose quick thinking had likely saved all their lives. “It all happened so fast and well, I’m not really much of a sailing buff. I can tell you the color and give you a general description of the power boat, but that’s about it.”

Silent until now, Josh had no choice but to speak up. “I only got a quick glance myself, but it looked a lot like the new Fountain 47 Lightning. The Lightning packs two 1075 Mercury SCI engines that let it push upwards of 120 miles per hour. And it has a deep V-shaped hull with the steering console all the way in the rear. That would explain how the driver could hit us stern-side and still be intact to speed off.”

The detective paused from scribbling to look up. “Wow, you really know your boats. Just out of curiosity, what does something like that run cost-wise?”

Josh hesitated. He knew the craft specs inside and out because he owned the previous year’s model. Unfortunately he’d only got to take her out a couple of times before his life went to hell. The boat had been the real casualty in his faked death.

“Between 750 and 800 K, depending on what amenities you go for. The specialized paint job alone probably cost 50 K.” Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Mandy looking at him and decided he’d better stop there.

The detective shook his head. “Wow, too rich for my blood.”

The evidence so far suggested the attackers had lain in wait farther upriver, probably putting in at the Tidewater Fuel Dock and Yacht Service station until the water taxi had pulled out of the Fells Point slip. Unfortunately they’d taken advantage of the confusion to disappear. The police had issued an all points bulletin and were setting up checkpoints on all the ports and sundry put-in spots within a twenty-five mile radius. Still, without a tag number, they could be anywhere by now. As for the shooter and driver, “two men in ski masks and dark windbreakers” wasn’t much of a description to go on.

As much as Josh wanted to believe the culprits were random snipers, his gut told him there was no way that could be. The shot fired had been meant for him alone. The shooter had missed the first time if only because he’d moved at the last minute to lean in and kiss Mandy. That impromptu embrace had probably saved his life.

But he couldn’t count on his luck lasting forever. It was obvious the mob boys had tracked him down and now that they had, they’d be mounting a concerted campaign to take him out before the trial. He wasn’t safe and no one near him was either, meaning Mandy. For her own good, he had to get her out of his apartment and out of his life.

In the midst of finishing up giving their statements, his pager went off. Glancing down, he saw the familiar number and stifled an “Oh, shit.” Turning to Mandy and the detective, he said, “Excuse me, but I have to take this.”

Mandy looked over at him. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but and then closed it again. Instead, she answered with a mute nod and returned to giving her statement.

When he phoned in, McKinney’s voice crackled from the cell’s waterlogged receiver. “What the fuck are you doing out in the open playing tourist on a goddamned water taxi, for Christ’s sake? Why not put a fucking bull’s eye on your ass while you’re at it?”

Holding the phone to his ear, Josh scanned the vicinity. “Where are you?”

“Don’t worry about where we are. Worry about where you are. That was one close call. Next time you won’t be so lucky—and you can bet that white-bread ass of yours there will be a next time.”

Clenching the phone, Josh shot back, “I can’t stay a prisoner in this rat hole of an apartment 24/7. Besides, you’re the ones who set me up as a bartender for six months now. If that’s not out in the open, I don’t know what is.”

“For chrissake, Thornton, it’s less than a week to trial. Fuck bartending and lay low for a few more days. In fact, as of now, consider yourself on lockdown until the trial.”

“I can’t.” Taking a deep breath, he admitted, “I’ve met someone.”

“Yeah, the lady cop. We know all about your little fling. You’ve had your fun, but it’s time to break it off.”

“It’s not a fling. I have…feelings for her.”

If McKinney was a closet romantic, he hid it well. “The dead don’t feel, Thornton. If you really care for this woman, you’ll break it off for both your sakes. Continuing to see her endangers her life as well as yours as this little adventure goes to show.”

That cinched it. Josh would sign up to take that risk, but he didn’t have the right to make that choice for her. After the trial, he would call her and hope she’d understand—but would she still be willing to see him knowing he’d been lying to her all along?

“Okay, I’ll tell her I’m going home for a few days to take care of a personal matter and that I’ll get in touch afterward.”

McKinney hesitated. “It’s not that simple.”

The agent’s cryptic tone sent foreboding plowing into him like a fist in the gut. “But you said once I testified, I’d be in the clear.”

“That was when Grady was still alive and on tap to testify, too. His death changed the whole landscape of the case. Now you’re the sole federal witness.”

“So?”

“A smart guy like you, you don’t really think the Romero family is going to let you sail off into the sunset after you put one of their captains in the pen, do you?”

Not even narrowly avoiding a bullet in the head could come close to causing the visceral fear that hit him like a fist in the gut on hearing that not only was his life not his own, but apparently it never would be again. He’d put his ass on the line for more than six months now, exposed his family and friends to unimaginable grief, all in the service of justice. But as much as he wanted to see right done, he wasn’t about to martyr himself so that some hotshot FBI special agent could get a promotion.

“What if I decide not to testify, call the whole thing off?”

“That’s funk talk, Thornton, and you know it. Even if you bail on us, and I strongly recommend you do not, you know too much for them to let you live. But look, don’t worry. We’ll get you a new permanent identity. This time, you’ll have your pick of locales. Hell, we might even be able to swing getting you a job that uses your business and technology skills.”

Josh clicked off the cell without answering. The depth of the bad news penetrated his shock-fogged brain, sinking the sick feeling of foreboding deeper in his stomach. It seemed he was doomed to be on the run for the rest of his life. On the run—and away from Mandy.

Turning out of the parking lot onto Pratt Street, he looked into his rearview mirror and saw a black sedan pull out of a parking space and make the turn behind them. Even though it was too dark to see through the windshield, he knew the driver would be Special Agent Walker and the passenger Special Agent McKinney. With the two federal agents just a car length behind, they would be safe, for the time being at least.

Relaxing marginally, he cast a sideways glance to Mandy. Sitting silent beside him, profile backlit by the headlights of passing cars, she hadn’t said a word since they’d gotten in. Now that the first hard-hitting shock was ebbing, her brain was probably working overtime trying to process what had just happened, only unlike him she would be wondering why. He thought again of that terrifying handful of seconds before he heard her calling to him, when he hadn’t known if she was dead or alive, and a fresh current of fear surged through him.

He tried for a joke to break the silence. “At least we’ll always remember our first date.”

She turned to him and in the dim light he saw her pretty mouth curve into a soft smile that didn’t match the anxiety in her eyes. “If it’s all the same to you, next time let’s skip the water taxi part.”

“It’s a deal.” He smiled back though it felt stiff, forced, and not just because his face like the rest of him felt as though he’d just emerged from a walk-in freezer, but because he’d been literally lying to her through his teeth.

Rule Number One: Don’t give out personal information, no matter how innocuous, to anyone you meet—and that includes admitting you’re a federally protected witness.

Fuck the rules. Mandy wasn’t just
anyone.
She deserved to know what she was in for.

Turning right onto President Street, he couldn’t stand it any longer. “Mandy, we need to talk.”

“I thought we were talking.”

“We need to talk about what just happened. The shooting, it was no random incident. That was a planned mob hit. A planned hit on me.”

Rather than ask if he was prone to paranoia, a reasonable response under the circumstances, she said, “You’re not really a bartender from Boston here for a change of scenery, are you?”

“No, I’m not.” He turned onto Fleet Street and took a deep breath, bracing himself. “I’ve been in the federal witness protection program since last summer. Josh Thorner isn’t even my real name, it’s an alias. My real name is Joshua Thornton, and my family owns a telecommunications company based out of Boston. I came across some evidence that my brother-in-law, our VP for marketing, had been embezzling money from sales of WiFi networks and funneling it back to a Boston crime family, the Romeros. I didn’t know what to do, so I went to the FBI with what we’d found so far. When another informant from my company turned up dead, they put me in the witness protection program. The feds staged my death as a sailing accident and relocated me here to wait out the trial date. My testimony is critical to not just indicting my brother-in-law but to bringing down the whole crime cartel, but only if I can stay alive until January second.”

He’d expected her to freak out or at least ply him with questions, but instead she waited for him to wind down before asking, “Is that it?”

Of all the responses he’d expected from her,
is that it
wasn’t among them. He couldn’t believe how calmly she was taking the news, almost as if it wasn’t news to her at all. Christ, he’d just told her he was a federal witness on the run from the mob and living under an assumed name. If that wasn’t enough to shake her, he didn’t know what would be.

“You do believe me, don’t you?”

“Yes, I believe you. I just wish you’d trusted me enough to tell me before now.”

“I thought about it, but keeping you in the dark seemed like the best way to keep you safe. And until the other day, I had myself convinced I’d given them the slip. But now they’ve found me, and it isn’t fair of me to keep putting you in danger.”

“You sound like you’re breaking up with me.” For the first time since he’d launched into his story, she looked alarmed.

“It’s one thing if they get me. I signed up for this after all. But you, well, all you did was say yes to a cup of coffee with a stranger and look what’s happened.” He turned onto Boston Street and predictably the sedan did, too. “What I can’t forgive myself for is putting you in danger. I haven’t been fair to you and while I’m sorry about that, to be truthful, I can’t say if I had it to do over again, I would do it any differently. The fact is these past days with you, they’ve been…well, magical, the best of my life, actually.”

“Magical? You really mean that?”

He angled a look at her. Even with her hair plastering her head and mascara streaming her cheeks, she’d never been more beautiful to him—or more precious.

“Magical just like you.”

She answered with a wobbly smile. “I want to spend the rest of this week with you. Whatever comes, we’re in this together now, okay?”

If he hadn’t been in traffic, he would have leaned over and kissed her. “You’re sure about that?”

She turned to look at him, and her earnest eyes met his. “I’ve never been surer of anything in my life.”

Glancing into his rearview mirror, he checked to make sure the black sedan still followed. Sure enough, it was there albeit at a discreet distance. The Men in Black were on the J.O.B. and taking no chances—and no prisoners, either, he suspected. They’d make sure he and Mandy got inside his building. That was something at least.

Turning back to her, he saw a wicked smile light her eyes. The last time he’d seen that smile she’d been on top of him, straddling his hips. Its reappearance after what he’d just told her lifted his heart—and hardened his cock.

Reaching over the stick shift, she found his knee with her hand. Sliding it slowly upward to his thigh, she used her most sultry voice to say, “If it’s okay with you, I’d like to place my dessert order in advance—a scalding shower and you in it making love to me.”

Had that first bullet hit an inch or so lower, he might easily have ended the day dead, but it hadn’t and for the moment, this moment, he was alive and so was she. “I think we can arrange that.”

Her smile widened, and she moistened her lips in a way that had him forgetting all about being cold. “Good, I was hoping you might be hungry, too.”

She settled her hand between his thighs, cupping his erection, and in spite of the threat hanging over his head, make that
their
heads, in addition to feeling aroused as hell, he felt almost happy. He
was
happy. Even dripping wet and pungent with dead fish and pollutants, not to mention packed into a car that ought to have been relegated to scrap metal long ago, it was good to be alive.
But for how long?
he asked himself.
How long?