Page 111 of Until the Sea Runs Dry

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Marko’s face throbbed from the stitches he’d just had removed that bisected the scar on his left cheek. The wound ran only an inch or so long, but even that had been too much.

A burst of renewed rage threatened to spill over and into the room where he sat waiting for his plastic surgeon to return with his jacket.

The man had been surprised when he had arrived over a week ago, demanding to be seen, stitches normally being the work of hospital staff. But Marko took his appearance as seriously as he did everything else.

Everything had to be perfect.

Hehad to be perfect, which meant, if there was a scar to be left, that had to be perfect too.

He heard voices beyond the door. Another client had just arrived and was wondering if he’d be able to schedule in their daughter for a procedure.

Good luck with that.

The plastic surgeon was highly sought after, with a waiting list of months for his patients. Luckily, for Marko, the man was one of his clients, so the usual wait didn’t apply to him.

He’d kept the man on retainer almost as soon as he’d started his business in the city, after all, it was only smart to have someone on his staff who could give him a new face, if one were ever to be needed again…

Drumming his fingers impatiently, he glanced at the tacky tabloids that littered the coffee table.

And his heart stopped.

There, staring up at him, her face more happy, more lovely than it had every right to be… was his wife.

His dead wife.

The one who, he’d thought, was rotting in the bottom of the ocean.

Thoughts of his surgeon flew out of his mind. Marko snatched up the magazine, pouring over the pictures that were plastered over the pages.

How could this be?

How was she not only alive, but thriving — and living with a movie star of all people?

Confusion caused his heart to twist painfully.

In the days since she had left him, she had been all he could think about. He’d barely been able to drag himself out of bed, surrounded by so many reminders of their time together. The only time he’d even left the house was to come here, to have the stitches put in when it was clear that he’d needed them.

He couldn’t eat.

He couldn’t sleep.

Every time he closed his eyes, he could see the loathing on her face as she’d jumped into the water as vividly as if it were happening right before him.

He hadn’t been able to resign himself to the thought that she had actually believed that he would hurt her!

Yes, there had been times he had been a little rough, but it was only because he’d been driven insane by his love for her. He’d only ever wanted the best for her, so her betrayal, her leaving him like that, was like a dagger to his heart.

He couldn’t understand how she had survived that storm, being the terrible swimmer that she was. How was she alive and living with Logan Steel? And why had the authorities not come for him?

His head hurt as he tried to make sense of it all.

His eyes raced across the page, the words searing into his skull.

She was introduced as Steel’s girlfriend, but there was nothing about who she really was. They called her Jane Smith, said the two had met on the beach one day while he had been walking his dog. There were pictures of her around town, getting stopped by a policeman when her car had broken down, and some of her shopping for clothes on Rodeo Drive — and Steel was in all the damned pictures.

There were even pictures of the three of them on set, playing happy families with the dog.

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