Chapter Text
“Sara… what… why are you in New Orleans?”
And here. At my house.
“To see you of course!”
She took off the sunglasses and he looked into those brown eyes he used to know so well. The years had barely touched her. It was eerie in a way. Like she’d been frozen while time marched on. Even her fitted dress could’ve easily been one she wore on the beach back then.
“I’m not tryin’ to be rude… but why? I thought you’d sworn off crossing the border…”
“I spent all these years thinking you were dead. So many contacts confirmed your death. Then, suddenly, the name ‘Henry Avery’ is all over and I immediately think of you. You had a lead on a cross, the last time I saw you. I figured it was your brother, but then I saw you. Alive.”
She put a hand on his cheek and he pulled away. “Yeah, Panamanian jail was pretty much like being dead.”
“What’s wrong?” she asked, a hurt look in her eyes.
“Ah… I’m just—I can’t believe you’re here… on my porch… while my son is asleep and my wife—“
“Oh, that’s who was on TV? The redhead? I thought that was Nathan’s wife?’
“No, no… Elena is Nathan’s wife and she kept her name. Trina—the redhead—is my wife. Katrina Drake.”
“You? Married?” Sara let out a laugh.
He held up his left hand, his wedding band easy to see. He rarely took it off. He didn’t need to.
“Wow. The forever bachelor, Samuel Drake, got married. I never thought I’d see the day. Are you pranking me?”
“No, no… very much married and happy. We… we have a son now. I swear, he’s gonna be runnin’ cons before he can walk!”
She nodded, but the smile on her face seemed strained.
“So…tell me all about you! What has Sara Stevens been up to? Conquer the world recently?”
“Oh, not too much. Odd jobs now and then, but mostly legit. Well, more legit than normal. I still keep in touch with some of the old gang. Don’t worry—I haven’t told them you’re alive. I half thought I’d come here and it wouldn’t be you.”
“It is me. Me, Sam Drake, treasure hunter.”
“And your… wife lets you do that?” Sara asked, one eyebrow raised.
He frowned. “She goes with me. We’re a team.”
“Uh huh.”
He took a breath. “You… you should meet her.”
He opened the front door, cigarette forgotten. “Trin? Babe?”
She stepped into the foyer, barefoot in shorts and a t-shirt, her curly hair up and away from her face. Trina had a dishtowel in hand. “Yeah?”
“I want you to meet someone. An old friend.”
Sam stepped aside as Sara entered the house, her high heels clicking on the tile flooring.
The dish or glass his wife had been holding dropped, then shattered into pieces all over the floor.
“Hey, hey, don’t—“
Trina yelped, a shard cutting into her foot as she bent down to clean the floor.
“… move. I gotcha.”
Glass crunched as Sam made his way to her side. He scooped her up and onto the kitchen island away from the mess. She couldn’t help but let out a whimpering sound. Her foot throbbed. She was pretty sure she could feel the blood dripping onto the floor.
“Stay. I’ll get the first aid kit and clean this up—“ her husband started, only to be cut off by the blonde bimbo standing in her house.
“Let me help,” the other woman said. “First aid kit… hallway bathroom?”
“Yeah, under the sink,” he said.
She watched as Sam grabbed the dust pan and broom to sweep up as much as he could. It wasn’t the first time she’d broken something in his presence. She still remembered the wine glass back in Scotland. The first time she really admitted to herself that he was attractive.
It was a lifetime ago now. She wasn’t the same person she’d been back then.
“Babe, I’m gonna get that tweezed out, just hold on—wanna get a bunch of this cleared first…”
“It’s deep… ow!”
Sam reached up and steadied her before she could tumble off the island. “Trina…”
She put a hand over his, reading the worry on his face. The fear. “I know. I know, it just really hurts.”
He looked down. “We might need to get stitches—call Elena? See if she can watch Henry?”
She whimpered, but nodded, taking her phone from her front pocket as Sam steadied her. Her rock, as always.
“Hey, do you think you could come watch the baby?” she asked after Elena picked up. “I dropped a glass and someone thinks I need st-oww!-itches.”
“Sure, I’ll be right over,” her sister-in-law said, sounding excited.
“Thanks!” She ended the call and looked at her husband and his furrowed brow. “She’s on her way. Happy now?”
“Ecstatic. You’re bleeding a lot. I don’t wanna risk yanking that glass out here.”
“You’re sure a fussy—“
“Got the kit!” Sara proclaimed, a bit out of breath as she returned, raising the kit up. Eager, like a child seeking praise.
“Thanks, Sara. I’m gonna take her in for stitches just in case. Can we do lunch soon? How long are you in town?”
The blonde bimbo’s face fell. Good. “Oh, I get it. Yeah, let’s do that. What’s your cell?”
Later
Hotel
Sara reclined across the bed and fired off a few texts. It had been a few hours now. Surely Sam had time to check his phone by now.
She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting after all this time, but it wasn’t that. The Samuel she knew and loved would’ve been sweeping her off her feet, not that rich bitch. And the way he kept saying “wife” was enough to make her almost lose her lunch.
Katrina Fucking Drake. It was more of a wrinkle than she anticipated. She’d thought the lovey dovey act was all for the cameras. To get at her fortune. It’s not like it was hard to connect her to Rafe Adler.
But before Rafe Adler, Katrina didn’t really exist.
Which, considering she’d introduced Sam to Rafe to help back his search for Henry Avery, she couldn’t help but wonder how the redheaded bitch had inserted herself into the lives of both men. What were the odds?
What made her special? What made men fall for her? She wasn’t stunningly pretty. She wasn’t rich before Rafe. She could see Sam using her for the money, but why not go ahead and take the money and kill the bitch? Was there a pre-nup?
She’d seen the autopsy. Which someone—likely the bitch—had tried to bury. Rafe Adler hadn’t been crushed to death. He’d been stabbed multiple time by a sharp bladed instrument. The crush injuries were AFTER his death. She just wasn’t sure who had done it—Sam or the bitch? Had they planned to swindle Rafe out of his fortune?
To be fair, Rafe Adler was an asshole. He was selfish. Had an ego the size of a small country. More money than God.
At the end of the day, he was still family.
Her phone dinged and a new text popped up.
Sara smiled. Sam wanted to meet her tomorrow. Alone.
She turned onto her back and let out a happy sigh. She was close. So close to regaining her life. And her love.
She just had to get rid of Katrina first.
Sam and Trina’s House
As he fluffed up the pillows under her bandaged foot, Trina sighed. He’d been right and she’d required seven stitches to close up the gash in her foot. Now she could barely get around without assistance due to where the shard had pierced her skin.
“That better?” he asked, frowning.
“I can’t really feel anything right now with all the painkillers.”
“Good. I mean… I don’t know…”
“Sam, you know I love you, right?”
“Yeah? But?”
“You’ve never mentioned her before. Not even once. Who is she?”
“Who… Sara?”
She nodded.
He sighed as he laid back on the bed beside her. “She’s the past. We were off and on over a few years, more off than on. I haven’t thought about her since the early days of Panama.”
“You didn’t even ask about her when we first met. Only Nate.”
Her husband nodded. “Yeah… she was pissed about the plan. We fought. She told me not to come back. So… I didn’t.”
“Then why is she here?”
“I don’t know.”
“Should I be worried?”
He frowned. “Worried?”
“Are you sure she didn’t—“
“Wait… you don’t think she—“
“I don’t know. I didn’t even know she existed this morning!”
“Because she was the past! We… that was a long time ago!”
“Didn’t look like the past to her. I half expected her to unzip your pants in the foyer.”
“Oh? You really want to go there?” he growled.
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Try me.”
“Do you have any idea how much it fucking hurt me to see you with him? I wanted to poke my fucking eyes out at times!” He was practically spitting at her across the bed.
“Then why didn’t you?”
“Because as crazy as it was, I love you. I loved you then. I love you now! You drive me abso-fucking-lutly insane, Trin, but I wouldn’t trade our life together for anything!”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
She looked at him, at her other half. Studied him. He was almost spitting mad in a way, but he wasn’t lying. She knew how to read him better than most. He wasn’t lying. This Sara didn’t mean anything to him.
Maybe she had once. But not now.
Trina leaned up to kiss him and that was all it took. Hungry lips, almost devouring each other, hands tugging at clothes, and her pillow stack destroyed as they rolled across the sheets.
Seventeen Years Ago
Panama
Sara paced the hotel room. They should’ve been back by now. It was supposed to be a quick in and out. Rafe had sworn it was all arranged. That it was safe.
She heard the key in the door and looked up.
“Sam?” she called, running across to rip open the door—only it wasn’t Sam outside the door.
“Hey Sara.”
“Rafe? Where’s Sam? Sam?” she called, peering around him. Sam was taller of course, but she couldn’t see any sign of him.
“Sara… you should sit down.”
“No… no… you said it was easy! You promised! You promised he’d be fine!”
She slapped him and then beat her fists against his chest. He eventually grabbed her wrists and she collapsed into a sobbing mess against his shirt, her anger burned out and replaced by sadness and grief.
“You promised…”
“I know. I know.” His voice was soft.
“Sam… my Sam…”
“He’s gone, Sara.”
“No… no…”
“There was no time.”
She looked up at him, tears streaked down her cheeks. “You swore it was safe. Nathan was supposed to die, not him. Not Sam!”
“I know. Vargas turned on us. I had to improvise.”
“Improvise? All you had to do was break into a prison cell, find whatever Burns hid there, and come back. Come back with Sam…”
Sobs wracked her body and she had to sit on the edge of the bed. She couldn’t see him through her tears.
“Look, I’m not thrilled either. Nathan is a liability. I only let him tag along because Samuel insisted we needed him.”
“Did you?”
Rafe sighed. “I don’t know. The fucking cross was empty.”
“Empty? So you went through this entire disaster for nothing?”
She saw the rage flash across his face. “It wasn’t like I planned this!”
“But you did! This… this was all your plan. For fuck’s sake, how hard is it follow simple directions? It’s not like they’re identical!”
“Look, I hate Nathan just as much as you do. But you and I both know Samuel doesn’t like to leave him behind.”
She stomped across the room and opened the nightstand drawer. Reaching for the handgun, she checked the clip, put on the safety, and tucked it into the holster on her belt. “Where is Nate Drake?”
“Woah, woah. You can’t go running around halfcocked and killing him.”
“Why not? He’s the reason Sam is dead, right?”
“He’s the only other one who knows Avery. We don’t have a choice. We still need him.”
“The minute we don’t, I’m putting a bullet in Nate’s head.”
“Of course, I’ll even load the gun for you.”
“I’m holding you to that promise, Rafe.”