Romance on the Edge 01 - Hooked

wasn’t going to allow her to make a fool of him again.”
    “Again?” Nikolai asked, his busy brows furrowing.
    “I think the situation between me and Sonya mirrored what happened between him and Kyra years ago, and he refused to let history repeat itself.”
    “You mean Sonya leaving you for Garrett?” Judd clarified.
    It shouldn’t have surprised him that these cops knew his and Sonya’s history. Whatever Sonya told Garrett about them, he would have shared with his buddies. “Technically Sonya and I have been over for a while. Her decision, not mine. Earl saw it differently.”
    “Why didn’t I see it?” Nikolai said to no one in particular. “Earl had always been jealous of Mikhail. Then when Mikhail decided to get into drifting, with Kyra behind him, Earl went ballistic. He caused all sorts of problems, got the set netters up in arms, the drifters worked up. A Fish and Game meeting was held to see if a set netter drifting was even permissible.” He paused as though to gather his emotions. “Chuck Kendrick actually came to Mikhail’s defense. We thought later it was because he wanted to unload the Mystic . When she sank, it had the effect of sending a clear message to the other set netters of what could happen if any of them followed Mikhail’s example.”
    “So when Sonya announced she was going to do the same thing as her father, it might have snapped something in Earl?” Judd speculated.
    Nikolai solemnly regarded Aidan. “Kendrick didn’t sell my boy a compromised boat, did he?”
    Aidan swallowed once again. Keeping the contents of his stomach down was getting harder and harder as the questions escalated. “No. It was Earl. He admitted to booby-trapping the electrical harness aboard the Mystic . I’m so sorry, Nikolai.”
    “You mean Earl sank the Mystic ?” Skip asked, bending forward. He’d been silent the whole time while he watched, studied, and judged. “ He killed Mik, Kyra, and Sasha?”
    “Yes, and he was just as determined to kill Sonya and Garrett too.”

C HAPTER T HIRTY- E IGHT
    Garrett sat on an over-turned bucket and leaned against the side of Wes and Peter’s skiff as they made their way to the Savonski’s camp. His head ached like a son of a bitch, and he was real unsteady. Wanda had sewn him up and complained like the good doctor she was when he insisted on leaving. He knew he had a concussion, but he wasn’t seeing double and he was aware of who he was, unlike the time in Iraq when he’d been blown a hundred yards by a bomb planted in the body of a twelve-year-old boy. It had taken him a month to figure out who the hell he was that time. This concussion produced a hell of a headache, and an upset stomach, but it didn’t hurt nearly as much as his heart did.
    Sonya had actually chosen Harte over him.
    He’d promised her he’d keep her safe, and then he’d thrown her overboard into her own version of hell. In his defense, he’d had every intention of helping her in the water, knowing she’d be panicked, but then something had hit him, a piece of shrapnel from the pipe bomb most likely. The last thing he remembered was Sonya saving his sorry ass.
    He’d bullied his way onto her boat and his own actions had set off a psycho. He’d known this whole mess had been tied to a Harte. He’d just been looking at the wrong Harte.
    Why was that?
    The answer was a bitter pill. Because he’d wanted Aidan Harte to be guilty, then he wouldn’t be competition. He’d be imprisoned. Garrett had done exactly what Skip had feared he would do. Let his feelings for Sonya interfere with his ability to do his job and she’d almost died because of it. Hell, he’d be dead, too, if it wasn’t for Aidan.
    Wasn’t that hard to swallow.
    “How you doing, Garrett?” Peter asked from the bow where he stood, holding onto the painter’s rope, balancing on the balls of his feet, while Wes drove the skiff full out, flying over the waves.
    Other than his breaking heart, pounding head, and nauseous stomach, he was dandy. “Fine,” he answered, just as the skiff hit the trough of a wave and banged him hard enough to see stars. Probably the ones laughing at him earlier.
    “Sorry about that,” Wes said. “Hold on, we’re almost there.”
    Garrett didn’t care how many bangs he had to take as long as Wes got them to the camp fast. He’d taken too long at Wanda’s. The woman had demanded he be checked over for hypothermia, since he’d shown up in her Infirmary wet, naked,