Necessary Detour (23 page)

The sky had lightened enough that she could now see Pete’s face clearly, the small lines fanning from his turquoise eyes.

“I read that you retired suddenly.” Pete’s thumb made circles on the cushion beside him.

“When I found out about the pregnancy, everything changed. It was at the end of my concert tour and the timing was right.”

“To leave show business and be a mother?”

She nodded. “I want this baby more than strutting around onstage in front of thousands.” She laughed lightly. “Besides, I can’t go on being a rock star forever.”

“Oh, I bet you could, if you wanted to.”

Nikki shrugged. “I don’t want to. I’m ready for motherhood without show business.”

“And what about your husband? Will he quit too.”

She could almost hear the wheels turning in Pete’s head. “This has nothing to do with my ex-husband. He’s not the father.” She couldn’t look him in the eyes.

The gentle lapping of the water against the boat was the only sound for an uncomfortably long time.

Nikki took a deep breath and thought about revealing too much to someone she barely knew. “The father is no one I knew well.” Saying it to Pete filled her with shame. Her breath caught in her throat. “It’s hard to admit that about myself, but that fact makes it convenient.” Nikki felt like she’d set something free. “I’m not going to tell the man.”

“We’ve all made mistakes,” Pete whispered.

She nodded, looking down at Elvis. “Yea, this was a whopper but with heavenly consequences.” Nikki patted her tummy and a smile formed on her mouth. Pete was silent, probably feeling extremely uncomfortable. She’d just thrown a deadly snake into the room and he was trying to decide what to do with it.

She smiled at him apologetically. “Sorry, I can’t imagine why I’m telling you this much.”

“S’okay. I’m known for keeping secrets.” He smiled.

“I suppose as a U.S. Marshal, you’ve kept a lot of them.”

“Yup. Confessions don’t scare me. I was raised a Catholic.”

She laughed through the veil of tension surrounding them. “The funny thing is that I was divorced before this happened, and in spite of what Burn put me through, I was faithful to him right up until the divorce was final.” Looking at Pete, she confessed, “I’m actually happy it isn’t Burn’s. I’d rather raise this child alone than with a father I had to apologize for all the time.” She’d said enough. It was time to go to bed, before daylight ruined the moment, before she revealed any more about herself, and before she leaned in to kiss Pete Bayer. But first. “One last question.”

He nodded.

What’s your real name?” She knew he’d tell her now.

“Judson Peter Daniels.”

“Judson,” she said, before lifting Elvis from her lap.

“I go by Pete.”

With the little dog in her arms, she crossed to the blackness of the hatch door.

“I’m Nicole Ann Crossland,” she said, turning around to look at Pete. “But a U.S. Marshal probably knows all that.”

Pete pretended to tip his hat. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Nicole Ann Crossland.”

****

Nikki was awake with her eyes still closed. What would she see when she opened them? Last night when she’d come into the cabin, two beds had been made from the table’s bench seats. Pete must’ve done it when he’d gone below for a beer. Both had blankets, a pillow and a sleeping bag. She’d figured one was for her and she bedded down with Elvis, relieved to be horizontal.

She had no distinct recollection of the moments before she fell asleep. Pete might have come to bed, but she wasn’t sure. Consciousness was lost as soon as her head hit the pillow. She opened her eyes to see that the second bed looked undisturbed.

It was strange to think of Pete as a U.S. Marshal when twenty-four hours before she’d wondered if he was a criminal. Everything she had thought about him was now out the window. Everything, except how he kissed. That much was Judson Peter Daniels.

An engine purred at the stern, and Nikki felt the movement of the boat, cutting through the water. Elvis sprawled at the bottom of her makeshift bed and she heard voices on deck. Sunshine poured through the windows on the starboard side. She’d woken with a feeling of freedom that she hadn’t enjoyed in years. Like being on a glorious vacation. Not only was she totally protected from Shakespeare, but the press had been left in the dust.

Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, Nikki’s thoughts drifted to the last few days and the whirlwind of surprises that had come her way. “Did you sleep well, Elvis?” She rubbed the little guy’s tummy. He rolled over onto his back to give her easier access to his favorite scratching place. “I sleep with Elvis, don’t I? Not many people can say that.” There wasn’t much stuff around the cabin, aside from a few books on a shelf. Was this sailboat where Pete lived when he wasn’t working? He’d told her that he just bought the boat in the last few months. Maybe he hadn’t moved in or maybe U.S. Marshals didn’t accumulate stuff.

She raked her fingers through her hair and looked around for her bag, hoping to tame her mane with a brush before she went topside. There was a very handsome man on board who was not married to Connie after all. While brushing, she reminded herself that this was not a vacation, and contrary to her sudden lightness of spirit, this was serious. People were after Connie. And a lunatic might still be pursuing her.

Hearing a noise from the bed in the bow, Nikki peeked in to see Tony’s arm wrapped around the hamster cage. Elvis obviously hadn’t gotten a whiff of that thing yet.

She opened the door and sunshine poured in causing Nikki to squint at the domestic scene on deck. Pete was at the wheel with a cup of steaming coffee in one hand. Connie was settled into a blanket on the couch cushions, talking to Pete and sipping from her own mug. A strange little pang of jealousy at the sight of them sharing a lovely moment invaded Nikki’s heart.

“Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Bayer,” she said. “Tony is still sleeping.”

Connie nodded. “He was so tired.”

“Poor kid.” Nikki meant it in many different ways, on many different levels.

“Welcome to the sunshine.” Pete grinned at her. “How did you sleep?”

“Like a pregnant log.” Elvis squatted and urinated at the stern. “Oh, Elvis, are you supposed to do that right there?” Resilient little Elvis, from a shelter, to hotel rooms with a rock star, to a lake house, to a sailboat. The world could learn from Elvis’s ability to adapt.

Pete watched the dog finish. “That’s okay. He’s gotta go somewhere. I’ll wash it overboard in a minute.”

“Thanks.” Nikki sat beside Connie. “I had a dream about you last night. Your name was Linda, I think, and you were a clothing designer.”

Connie laughed. “What a stretch, especially because you’ve seen me wear the same clothes for weeks now.”

Nikki looked at her. “Is Connie your real name?”

“Let’s just say it is.” Pete was quick. He stared ahead, his hand on the wheel.

She was allowed to know Pete’s real name, but not Connie’s.

Connie looked apologetically at Nikki, as if to say “I’ll tell you later.”

“No more questions,” he said. “Sorry it was so cold down there. I just turned everything on and got some heat going. Last night, I wasn’t sure how the heater worked.”

They were headed out from the bay. Nikki looked back to where they’d been moored. The anchored sailboats behind them looked unoccupied, with covers over the deck areas, no sign of life. Sea birds bobbed on the surface of the slight swell that rolled toward the beach. The green water was dotted with long strips of sea kelp, like cheese on French onion soup, and there was a definite briny smell to the air. It was an interesting contrast to Louisa Lake.

“I love the ocean.” She breathed deeply. Maybe Pete had a fishing rod on board. But would she stay the day? Pete said he’d get her to Seattle if she wanted. Was that where they were headed? Nikki needed to decide if she was safe on this boat, with these people, or would she be better off somewhere else. “Do I smell coffee?” she asked.

“Yes, and I even have some decaf for you, mommy. Didn’t you hear me twenty minutes ago, banging around in the kitchen, ten feet away from your sleeping head?” Pete smirked.

She blushed. “I guess I didn’t.” She had to call Quinn soon to tell her that she was on a vacation. Of sorts. With a U.S. Marshal and a fugitive and her son.

Once satisfied with their new remote location, Pete turned off the engine and threw the anchor overboard. Connie and Nikki had set the dining room table for breakfast, stowing all pillows and sleeping bags on Tony’s bed to wall in the hamster cage from Elvis. The mood on board was more like the prelude to a vacation brunch rather than a desperate getaway. Tony settled himself at the table and snuck a piece of bacon. Between bites, he stared at Nikki. “So, are you really Goldy?”

“And good morning to you too, Tony.” Nikki laughed.

“Hi, Gooooooooldy.” Tony drew out her name like it was a joke.

Nikki ruffled his hair and smiled. “Hello, Tooooooonyyyyyy.” She sang to him, riffing his name into multiple notes and watched his eyes widen.

“Wow! You can even make my name sound good.” He smiled at his mom.

This was not the kid from the lake. This boy seemed light-hearted and well-adjusted.

“I don’t think I ate yesterday,” Nikki said, sitting down.

Connie looked horrified. “And you’re pregnant?”

“Pregnant, and very hungry.” Nikki scooped up a pile of eggs and helped herself to toast, feeding a tiny piece of bacon to Elvis who waited at her feet.

A few bites later, she looked up to see everyone staring at her. “Okay, Bayer family. Do I leave today or what?” She took another bite of eggs. “And who made these fantastic eggs?”

“Me.” Pete seemed pleased.

“I didn’t know U.S. Marshals were trained in the culinary arts.” She smiled warmly at Pete.

He took a piece of bacon, not meeting her eyes. “Do you want to leave us today?”

She shrugged. “Should I?”

Pete put down his bacon and sat back in his chair. “We can’t keep you here against your will. Well, actually, I can, but I probably won’t given who you are and that we only need a few more days of secrecy. And if anyone can understand privacy, it’s probably you.” He gestured to her with his open palm. “…but it’s better for everyone if you remain with us.”

She stopped chewing.

“Let’s see how to put this?” Pete stared at the ceiling. “We’d like to invite you to stay?” He faked a smile like this was the invitation of the year, and Connie actually laughed.

She looked between the three Bayers.

Pete took another run at the explanation. “Because of the reporters at Louisa Lake, we were forced to make a quick getaway last night.” Pete continued. “We had to go to plan B when the press showed up looking for you.” He took a swig of his coffee.

“So you’re saying…” She looked between Pete and Connie. “…that I’ve already put you in jeopardy by being in such close proximity to you. Now, I owe it to you to stay, because if I leave, I might be forced to tell someone where you are.”

“Basically.” Pete ate a forkful of eggs. “You know too much at this point for me to feel completely comfortable letting you go off on your own.” He spread jam on his toast. “I doubt anyone would target you or that you’d willingly leak our location but look at your trip to town the other day. Someone photographed you. The press love you, Nikki. And now Connie tells me that you know she’s a trial witness.”

Nikki stopped eating. Witness? “Are we talking about the witness-protection program here?”

Pete looked at Connie. “I thought you said…?”

Connie stared at the table.

“You’re in the witness-protection program and you’re going to testify at a trial soon?” Nikki put down her fork.

“Shit.” Pete did not look happy. “Connie?”

“I said I thought she guessed as much.” Connie said.

“What’s the chance of your bad guys finding us here?”

“Next to nothing.” Pete was still giving Connie the stink eye.

Tony’s gaze swiveled back and forth, like watching a tennis match. Poor kid had endured months of silence and now hearing this information spill out was probably thrilling.

“How can you know that?” Nikki placed her palm on her belly.

“I don’t, but I’m very good at what I do, and this is considered a low-risk case. Unless someone is looking for us, and I seriously doubt that, and they know where we are out here on the ocean and are prepared to chase us in a boat, I’d say we’re safe.” Pete held his gaze on Nikki.

“How bad are your bad guys?” she wanted to know.

“They killed my husband,” Connie whispered.

“Oh, my God, Connie!”

Pete stepped in. “The risk is when we move her to Seattle for the trial. And we have that covered. You won’t be with us at that point. But don’t stay out of guilt because we had to leave Louisa Lake. Only stay with us if you feel safe.”

Connie jumped in. “I don’t honestly think my life is in danger, or Tony’s, but the DA wanted to take every precaution, before I testify. If anything, the Justice Department is being overly cautious.” She smiled at Pete.

There was a feeling of respect and fondness between Pete and Connie—something she hadn’t seen when she thought they were married. “How long do you need to stay hidden after the trial?”

“She can’t talk about that,” Pete said.

“What’s your real name, Connie?”

“Nikki.” Pete looked like he was chiding a bad kid. “Give it a rest.”

She wiped her mouth with a napkin. “Then try this one. What’s up with your laryngitis, Pete?” She stared at him.

“Vocal chord nodules.” He added, “Not contagious.”