Jack Rogan - The Ocean Dark

The window looked out at the lights of Miami. Even with the air-conditioning up too high, the way Maya liked it, the view of the sparkling city warmed him. He relished it, knowing that tonight would be the last he ever spent in Miami. The window also looked down on the street that ran by the front of the apartment building, and he could see the dark sedan parked across the road, and even the orange flicker of a burning cigarette inside. Agent Nadeau smoked. His partner, McIlveen — Mac, they called him — gave him shit about it: a constant stream of banter that Gabe would not miss.

He wanted quiet now.

Outside the apartment door there came the jangle of keys, followed by the scrape of one seeking the lock. With a click, the door swung inward and Maya entered, silhouetted in the light from the corridor, which made the red highlights in her hair glow. Just watching her move, the shape and gentle, familiar curve of her, Gabe felt his heart break all over again. His breath caught in his throat and he wondered if it had been a mistake coming here.

Maya dropped her keys on the little table under the mirror beside the door and set down her purse as she flicked on the light.

As she turned, Gabe breathed her name.

She jumped, and might have cried out if she hadn’t brought a hand up to her mouth to silence herself. The gesture broke him a little more inside, for she had always done the same while making love, embarrassed by the noise her body wanted to make.

“Gabriel. What are you doing here?” she asked, not approaching, eyes full of questions.

He wondered if she could see the broken pieces of him in his smile. “So, you missed me then?”

Maya exhaled, walking over to the sofa but not sitting. Instead, she stood behind it as though using it as some kind of shield, tracing her fingers along the sofa’s back.

“You blame me for being surprised? Last time we talked, you made your feelings pretty clear,” Maya said, fresh hurt and the old frustrations coming together in her tone. “Now I find you sitting in the dark, and … seriously, what the hell are you doing here? Something you left behind that you can’t live without?” Bitterness had crept into her voice.

“Miguel’s dead.”

The words startled her, like someone had slammed a door. And Gabe thought maybe that was near enough to the truth. Maya paled and stared at him, her breath coming a bit quicker. Her makeup was just so, her hair perfect, her hoop earrings the perfect accent for her face. Denim hugged her legs and ribbed cotton clung to her breasts and flat belly, all propped up on expensive heels. All in all, Maya Rio had the air of a woman confident in herself, the sort of woman who would draw stares she would pretend never to see.

But her husband knew the girl she had been, and now he watched part of that fragile girl shattering.

“You’re awful,” Maya said. “That’s not even funny, Gabe. What a terrible thing to say.”

Gabe only looked at her and she stared back, her denial crumbling.

“No, no. Come on, Gabe. Please don’t … No.”

At last he rose from Maya’s reading chair, the only time he would ever sit in it, and he went around the sofa and took her in his arms. Despite all that had passed between them, bitterness and bad blood and recriminations, she did not protest as he embraced her. For long minutes he held her, the night ticking away outside but time at a standstill for Gabe and Maya Rio. For a brief moment, they were husband and wife again.

“How … how did it happen?” she asked, her head still resting on his shoulder. “I thought you were still at sea.”

Gabe tried to reply, but the words wouldn’t come. They had not given him much time. How could he speak the things he had come here to say? He had never been eloquent. But perhaps truth would succeed where eloquence might fail him.

“Maya,” he said, holding her out at arm’s length, finding her gaze with his own, making sure they connected. He fought the anger and bitterness that churned like bile in the back of his throat and twisted his gut in knots.

“What?” she urged. “What aren’t you telling me, Gabe?”

He took a deep breath and released her, leaning back against the sofa. Best to give her space now.

“I know about you and Miguel.”

Before his eyes, Maya started to fall apart. She didn’t even try to deny it. Strange sounds came from her throat, little choking gasps, and then — hands shaking — she began to cry. The tears fell without sobs or even words, at least at first. Several times she tried to speak but emotion overcame her and she could only wave her hands about, angry with herself.

“Gabe,” she said at last.

And then it occurred to her, as he had known it would, and a wave of fear and suspicion spread across her features. One fluttering hand covered her mouth again and she took a step away from him.

“No,” he said. “I didn’t kill him, Maya.” Gabe glanced at the floor a moment. “I won’t say I didn’t think about it. I hated both of you, and I wanted to hurt you both, badly. But Miguel saved my life, chica . He died to give me a chance to live, and that bought me time to think. I don’t have a lot of words for the things I feel. Never have. But I know that we drifted really far from each other, and that was at least as much my fault as it was yours. You didn’t just betray me, you betrayed us. But you’re not the only one. I can’t put it all on you.”

He took a breath, and then a risk. He held out his hand for hers.

“My brother …” he said, emotion welling up inside him, studying Maya’s eyes, searching for the girl he’d first fallen in love with. “Miguel is gone, but we’re still here.”

“After everything …” she began.

“I know.”

“We can’t just—”

“I know.”

They stared at each other, and in her eyes Gabe saw fury and shame and regret that mirrored his own. Tentatively, she reached out and took his hand, and they stood like that for a few seconds, still far apart but connected by that uncertain connection.

“Miguel’s really … he’s really dead?”

Gabe nodded.

“I’m so sorry.”

Then she stepped gingerly forward and slipped her arms around him, careful — as though afraid he might break.

“What happened?”

Gabe took a deep breath and once more released her. He turned and walked to the window, wondered how long it would be before Nadeau and Mac ran out of patience. No one had seen Gabe coming into the building, and they could not afford to have anyone see him leaving, either.

“You might want to sit down,” he said.

Maya searched his eyes for some clue to what might be coming, what other dreadful news he might have brought with him, but she did as he suggested, perching on the edge of the sofa.

“You’re going to have a lot of questions about what I’m about to say,” he explained, “but I’m not going to be able to answer them. What I tell you now is all I’m allowed to tell you, do you understand?”

“Allowed? Allowed by—”

“Maya,” Gabe interrupted, “it’s all I’m allowed to say. Do you understand that?”

Wiping at her tears, she nodded.

“When I walk out of here, I won’t be coming back,” he said, his heart heavy. “Not to the apartment, and not to Miami. As far as the world will know, the Antoinette sank with all hands on board.”

“Christ,” Maya whispered.

Gabe swallowed hard, the words difficult for him. “Miguel’s dead. And you’ll be told that I’m dead, too. If you talk about me coming here, and this conversation, doctors will say you imagined it, that grief made you see things you wished to see. The government will confirm my death. And it will be like I really am dead. I’ll be just as gone, and just as impossible to find again.