Speak No Evil_ A Novel - Allison Brennan [128]
“I’m sorry.”
“She was wonderful, my mom said. Always happy. But at sea . . . three days with no food and only a gallon of fresh water to share. There were sharks in the water, and every once in a while they’d bump the bottom of the boat.
“My father was in the army, but he was on maneuvers in the Keys. He saw the boat in the distance and took a motorboat to meet it. You know the general rule, right? If Cuban immigrants make it to land, they have amnesty. If they’re apprehended at sea, they’re taken to a military base and deported.
“My mother would have been severely beaten had she been returned to Cuba, probably killed, because of her escape. Made an example. She had embarrassed her father in front of his commander, Castro.” She tensed, knowing the pain her mother had endured and the emotional pain still in her heart. Nick rubbed her arm and she relaxed. It was so nice to have him in her bed.
“Your dad didn’t deport her.”
“He brought her to land. My aunt was dead, but my mom had kept her body in the boat. To bury her in free soil.” Carina’s eyes watered, as they always did thinking of what her mother must have been like when she was young. Thinking about the aunt she never knew.
“My father lied to his superiors, said he found the women on an island in the Keys. On land. They were inseparable, and a week later they married.”
“Fast.”
“They’ve been married forty-one years. Not bad for a quick engagement.”
“Not bad at all,” Nick said and kissed her forehead.
Carina didn’t know why she was compelled to tell Nick the story, except that she felt so right with him.
“You’re a great cop.”
“Hmmm.”
“You know, we all make mistakes. I should never have left you without backup at the Burns house.”
“You should never have gone into the restaurant without backup, either,” Nick told her.
“But,” she continued, “you saved Leah and the situation in the restaurant was contained. We make decisions, right or wrong, in a split second. We don’t always have the luxury of time.”
He kissed her. “You don’t need to remind me. I’ll never forget what happened today.”
“But I can honestly say I don’t know that anyone else would have done anything different under those circumstances. We trust our instincts, the gut-level impression born in the moment. When my dad broke the law to bring a Cuban immigrant to shore. When you inspected that cabin outside Bozeman. When I decided to act in the kitchen—and when I decided not to act.
“Mistakes happen. We pay the price and go on.” She kissed him.
He stared into her eyes, serious. “I love you, Carina.”
She sought out his lips. “I love you, too, Sheriff.”
They took their time, slow kisses and languid touches. A whisper, a murmur, skin on skin, hands entwined. This was making love. This was what Carina had been missing in her life.
She didn’t want to let him go.
Nick’s internal clock woke him before dawn. He leaned over, looked at Carina’s silhouette, her hair sprawled across the pink pillow. He smiled. Pink. He’d never have suspected that Carina Kincaid had a girlie streak that included frilly linens and pink decor, but somehow it suited her. Hard and focused on the outside, all woman on the inside.
He was going to miss her. Already, he regretted having to leave.
But his duty was to the people of Gallatin County. He was an elected official who had already been lax in his responsibilities since the Butcher investigation closed.
He’d been thinking about what needed to be done, and running away was not the answer. And if he stayed here in San Diego, he’d be doing exactly that, running away from his problems and leaving the sheriff’s department in irresponsible hands. He’d given thirteen years of his life to the department, good and bad, and he couldn’t turn his back on the men and women who had stood by him in his darkest hour.
His flight left later that morning; he needed to be on it.
He didn’t want to leave.
Silently, he rose from the bed and rubbed his knee. He also had the surgery coming up. He couldn’t miss it.
He wanted Carina there with him.
“Cara,” he whispered in her