That was true. They’d said it all. More than they should have. Things that could never be unsaid.
Water, bridge, he reminded himself. “I need your help.”
She shook her head. “I’m sorry, Colt. Whatever it is, I can’t help you. You...” She stopped, and straightened, looking him right in the eye so there would be no mistaking. “It took me a long time, but I’ve moved on. I’m finally getting on with my life, and Hurricane Colt isn’t going to blow in and mess that up.”
The words she’d uttered a long time ago came back to him.“You’re like a hurricane. You destroy everything around you and leave nothing but misery in your wake.”
She’d been crying then. Bawling. As if he’d ripped her heart out when it had been the other way around. He might have pushed her away, but did it have to be with someone he considered one of his closest friends? He’d said some ugly things to her—things he’d hoped she would deny—but she never did.
Hurricane Colt.Maybe it was true. He’d destroyed their marriage long before she’d turned to Scott. He’d tried to warn her. But she thought she could change him. That her love would be enough to wash away his sins. For a while even he’d believed her. But eventually they both realized the truth.
“I heard about your engagement to ‘Her Majesty’s Ambassador to the United States.’ Congratulations.”
She ignored the well-wishes, assuming he hadn’t meant them. Had he? He might have. She wasn’t the only one to move on. Although his kind of moving on didn’t involve an engagement ring. That fucking ship had sailed once. Kind of like theTitanic. All those big hopes and dreams... crash and burn. Or sink.
“Leave me be, Colt. I’m happy. For the first time in a long while, I’m happy.”
She started to walk away.
“Get me in to see the general, and you’ll never hear from me again.”
She stopped. He thought the temptation would be too great. Not for the first time, he overestimated himself in her eyes. “I stopped caring what you do a long time ago. Do what you want as you always have. I pity anyone who thinks they canhave a say in anything you do. But whatever it is you want with my godfather, leave me out of it.”
In other words, she didn’t care enough to get rid of him.
Had he really expected anything else?
He was nothing to her. Whatever hold on her he’d once had was long gone. She’d cut him out of her heart forever. Just as he’d wanted.
His fists clenched, anger and resentment burning hotter than they should. But he knew how to get to her—how to force her to help—and it pissed him off.
He wanted to grab her arm as she ran past him and break through that ice-princess facade. But he knew better than to touch her. Instead he said the one thing guaranteed to stop her in her tracks. “It’s about Scott.”
Seventeen
Dean cursed, seeing not one but two large boats on the horizon ahead of them. The dots of orange told him everything he needed to know.
Coast guard.
Which meant two things. The island directly opposite North Uist that he’d been headed for was out, as was taking the longer and less risky route around the chain of islands from Barra to Lewis that made up the Outer Hebrides.
Change of plans. He was going to have to chance cutting through the Sound of Harris, the narrow five-mile-long channel that separated Harris from North Uist, and hope to hell they could take shelter on one of the small islands before anyone saw them.
Because of the size and color of the inflatable, Dean didn’t think the coast guard boats had sighted them—assuming no one had been using binoculars.
He cranked the wheel, quickly turning the inflatable around in the direction from which they’d come. After about a half mile, he veered east toward the sound.
He’d been keeping the speed moderate to try to conserve fuel, but that was now secondary to getting the hell out of there.
He opened up the throttle and the inflatable tore across the waves. As he had to keep his focus on the seas in front of him,he shouted at Annie to hold on tight and watch behind them to see if they were being followed.
Even if she couldn’t hear everything he said, she’d heard enough to get the gist.
She held on to one of the handles—not the one with the taped seam—and kept her eyes peeled on the seas behind them as the boat thumped across the waves.
“Anything?” he shouted above the roar of the motor.
“Not ye—” She stopped. “Wait. I think I see one.”
