IN LOVE WITH MY BROTHER'S WIFE

EPISODE 7

"We are going to die in here, Jack. Make it count."

Sarah’s whisper was desperate, echoing off the cold steel walls of the vault. Her hands were already under my jacket, gripping my shirt, pulling me closer until there was no space left between us.

The air in the vault was still, heavy, and silent. But between us, the air was electric.

I looked into her eyes. In the dim red glow of the emergency light, her pupils were blown wide. She didn't look like the scared widow anymore. She looked like a woman who had nothing left to lose.

"Sarah," I breathed. "If we do this... there is no going back."

"I don't want to go back," she said fiercely. "I hate the past. I hate the lies. I want now."

She kissed me again, silencing any argument I had left.

This wasn't gentle. This wasn't sweet. This was a collision of grief and adrenaline. Her mouth was hot and hungry, tasting of salt and desperation. My hands found her waist, gripping her hips hard, bruisingly tight.

I lifted her up. She wrapped her legs around me instinctively, her heels digging into my lower back. I walked her backward until her back hit the wall of safety deposit boxes.

Clang.

The sound of her body hitting the metal was lost in the sound of our breathing.

"Jack," she moaned into my mouth. "Please."

I lost control. The dam broke. Three years of watching her from across the room, three years of being the "good brother," three years of loving a woman I couldn't touch—it all shattered.

My hands were everywhere. I tangled my fingers in her hair, pulling her head back to expose the long, white line of her throat. I kissed a path down her jaw, biting gently on the sensitive skin of her neck.

She gasped, arching her back, pressing her chest against mine. Her fingers fumbled with the button of my jeans.

The sound of the zipper was the loudest thing in the world.

"Are you sure?" I rasped, my forehead resting against hers. We were both panting, breathing in the same recycled air.

"Yes," she whispered. "I need to feel alive. I need to feel you."

I didn't wait. I couldn't.

I pulled her clothes aside. Her skin was burning hot against the freezing cold air of the vault. When I entered her, she cried out—a sharp, shattered sound that she stifled against my shoulder.

It was fast. It was frantic. It was the end of the world, and we were the only two people left in it.

Every movement was a reclamation. I wasn't just taking her; I was erasing him. With every thrust, I was pushing Danny out of the room. This wasn't his wife anymore. She was mine.

She dug her nails into my shoulders, anchoring herself to me. She whispered my name, over and over, like a prayer. Jack. Jack. Jack.

We moved together in the dark, driven by a rhythm that was older than us, older than the bank, older than the ocean. It was pure survival instinct masked as passion.

When the release came, it was explosive. Sarah shuddered in my arms, hiding her face in my neck, her body clamping down on mine. I followed her seconds later, groaning as the tension left my body, leaving me weak and trembling.

I held her there against the wall for a long time. neither of us moved. Neither of us spoke.

The only sound was our ragged breathing and the hum of the ventilation system... which was slowly dying.

Slowly, gently, I lowered her feet to the floor.

She didn't pull away. She leaned her forehead against my chest. I wrapped my jacket around her again, zipping it up to her chin.

"Jack," she whispered. Her voice was wrecked.

"I'm here," I said. I kissed the top of her head. "I've got you."

"We just..."

"I know."

She looked up at me. Her eyes were wet, but clear. The fear was gone, replaced by a deep, heavy sadness. And something else. A bond.

"I don't regret it," she said.

"Neither do I."

I brushed a stray hair from her face. "But we still have a problem. We're still trapped."

I looked at the heavy steel door. It was sealed tight. The air in the room was already starting to feel thin. My chest felt tight, like a band was constricting my lungs.

"The ledger," I said, shaking off the haze of the afterglow. "We need to hide it."

"Why?" Sarah asked, adjusting her clothes. "If we die in here..."

"If we die, we die," I said. "But if that door opens, it's not going to be a friend. It's going to be the Sheriff. Or the thief."

I picked up the black notebook from the floor where we had dropped it.

"If Ford finds this on us, he kills us and takes it," I said. "We need to put it somewhere he won't look."

I looked around the empty vault. There was nowhere to hide anything. Just steel walls and empty boxes.

"Put it in the ceiling," Sarah suggested, pointing to a small maintenance panel in the corner.

"Too high," I said. "I can't reach it."

"Lift me," she said.

I looked at her. She was steady now. The frantic energy was gone, replaced by a cold focus.

I laced my fingers together. She stepped into my hands, and I boosted her up. She was light.

She pushed the ceiling tile aside and slid the black notebook into the dark space above. She dropped the tile back into place.

"What about the keycard?" she asked, dropping back down to the floor. "And the photo of Ford?"

"I'll keep those," I said. "If he searches us, he needs to find something. If we come up empty, he'll know we hid the rest."

"You're using yourself as a decoy," she realized.

"It's my job," I said.

We sat down on the floor, shoulder to shoulder. The cold metal seeped through our clothes. The air was getting warmer, stuffier. Carbon dioxide was building up.

"Jack?"

"Yeah?"

"Tell me something true," she said. "Danny told me so many lies. Tell me one true thing."

I took her hand. I looked at her fingers, entwined with mine.

"I wanted to ask you to dance," I said softly.

"When?"

"The night you met Danny. At the diner. I saw you first. I was working up the nerve to come over and ask you if the seat was taken. But I dropped my fork. And while I was picking it up... Danny sat down."

Sarah squeezed my hand. A tear slid down her cheek. "You saw me first?"

"I saw you first," I promised. "And I never stopped seeing you."

She rested her head on my shoulder. We sat in the silence, waiting for the air to run out.

My eyelids started to feel heavy. The headache was starting behind my eyes.

Is this it? I wondered. At least I tasted her. At least I know.

Then, a sound cut through the silence.

CLUNK.

It came from the door.

We both sat up, adrenaline spiking through the drowsiness.

CLUNK. WHIRRRRR.

The heavy steel gears were turning.

"Someone is opening it," Sarah whispered. "Is it Maya?"

"Maya doesn't know the combination," I said. I scrambled to my feet. I pulled Sarah up and pushed her behind me.

I looked around for a weapon. The wrench was gone—left in the hallway.

I had nothing but my fists.

The wheel on the door spun. The bolts retracted with a heavy THUD-THUD-THUD.

The massive door groaned and swung open.

Bright, harsh light flooded the vault, blinding us. I threw up a hand to shield my eyes.

A silhouette stood in the doorway. Tall. Broad. Wearing a hat.

"Well, well," a voice drawled. "Look at what we have here."

My vision adjusted.

It was Sheriff Ford.

He was standing there, calm as a cucumber, holding a heavy revolver in his hand. He wasn't pointing it at us. He was holding it loosely by his side.

Behind him, two deputies stood guard in the hallway.

"Sheriff," I said, keeping my voice steady. "You took your time."

"Had to wait for the alarm company to call," Ford said, stepping into the vault. He looked around. He sniffed the air. He smelled the s*x, the sweat, the fear. He smirked. "Cozy in here."

"We found the thief," I lied quickly. "He was drilling into Box 404. We chased him off."

"Is that so?" Ford looked at the drilled-out lock on Box 404. "And did you save the contents, Jack? Or did the thief get lucky?"

"He got away with it," Sarah said. She stepped out from behind me. Her voice was strong. "He took a bag. He ran out the back."

Ford looked at Sarah. He looked at her messy hair, her swollen lips. His eyes narrowed.

"I don't believe you," Ford said softly.

He raised the gun. He pointed it directly at my chest.

"I think," Ford said, "that you two found something that doesn't belong to you. And I think you have it right now."

"We don't have anything," I said, stepping in front of Sarah again.

"Search them," Ford ordered the deputies.

The two men stepped forward. They were rough. One of them grabbed me and shoved me against the wall. He patted me down. He found the envelope in my pocket.

"Found it, Sheriff," the deputy said.

He handed the envelope to Ford.

Ford opened it. He pulled out the photo—the picture of him shaking hands with the General. And the keycard.

Ford stared at the photo. He didn't look angry. He looked disappointed.

"Danny was sloppy," Ford muttered. "Keeping souvenirs."

He put the photo in his pocket. He looked at me.

"Where is the notebook, Jack?"

My heart stopped. He knew about the notebook.

"What notebook?" I played dumb.

"The ledger," Ford said. "The list of names. The shipment dates. Danny never went anywhere without his notes."

"I told you," I said. "The thief took a bag. Maybe it was in there."

Ford sighed. He c****d the hammer of the revolver. Click.

"I'm going to count to three," Ford said. "If you don't tell me where the book is, I'm going to shoot Sarah in the kneecap. Then I'm going to ask you again."

"No!" Sarah cried.

"One," Ford said.

I looked at the ceiling tile. It was invisible. He wouldn't look there. But I couldn't let him shoot her.

"Two," Ford said. He lowered the aim to Sarah’s leg.

"Wait!" I shouted. "It's..."

WHEEE-OOO! WHEEE-OOO!

A deafening sound exploded through the bank.

The fire alarm.

Strobe lights flashed in the hallway. Flash-flash-flash.

Then, the sprinklers kicked on.

HISSSSSSS.

Water rained down from the ceiling, soaking everyone instantly. It was chaos. The deputies flinched, looking up.

"It's the alarm!" one deputy yelled. "The Fire Department will be here in two minutes!"

Ford looked distracted for a split second. He wiped water from his eyes.

"Grab them!" Ford yelled.

"Run!" I screamed to Sarah.

I didn't run away. I lowered my shoulder and rammed the deputy standing in front of me. He slipped on the wet floor and went down hard.

Sarah bolted for the door.

Ford fired. BANG.

The sound was thunderous in the confined space. A bullet sparked off the vault door, inches from Sarah’s head.

"Go!" I yelled, grappling with the deputy.

Sarah didn't leave me. She grabbed a metal cash tray from a cart in the hallway and swung it.

CRACK.

She hit the second deputy in the face. He stumbled back, clutching his nose.

I kicked the first deputy in the ribs and scrambled up.

Ford was raising his gun again.

We sprinted for the stairs. The sprinklers were pouring water like a monsoon. The floor was slick. We slipped, scrambled, and clawed our way up the steps.

"Stop or I'll kill you!" Ford roared from the basement.

We burst into the lobby. The strobe lights were blinding.

We ran for the front door. I shoulder-checked the glass doors, bursting out into the street.

The rain outside was heavy, mixing with the water soaking our clothes.

"Where is the truck?" Sarah gasped, looking around frantically.

The alley. We had parked in the alley.

We ran around the corner.

The truck was there. The engine was running.

Maya was behind the wheel. She looked terrified, but she was honking the horn. BEEP! BEEP!

I ripped the passenger door open. I shoved Sarah inside and dove in after her.

"Drive!" I yelled. "Go, go, go!"

Maya slammed on the gas. The truck peeled out, tires screeching on the wet asphalt.

We sped away just as Sheriff Ford burst out of the bank's side door, gun in hand. He fired two shots at the truck.

Thwack. Ping.

One bullet hit the tailgate. The other shattered the rear window, spraying glass over us.

"Get down!" I covered Sarah with my body.

Maya swerved around a corner, running a red light. We fishtailed onto the main road, leaving the bank—and the Sheriff—behind.

We drove in silence for five minutes, putting distance between us and the town center. Maya was hyperventilating.

"I saw them go in," Maya choked out. "I saw the Sheriff. I waited... I didn't know what to do. Then I just... I pulled the alarm box in the alley."

"You saved our lives, Maya," Sarah said. She was picking bits of safety glass out of her hair.

I sat up, brushing glass off my jacket. My shoulder throbbed where I had hit the deputy. My lungs were burning.

But my mind was racing.

"He has the keycard," I said. "And the photo."

"But we have the book," Sarah said. She looked at me. "Right? It's safe?"

"It's in the ceiling of the vault," I said. "He didn't find it. But we can't get to it now. It's stuck there."

"So we have nothing," Maya said, slowing the truck down. "We have no leverage."

"We have something else," I said.

I reached into my back pocket.

When I was grappling with the deputy—the one who patted me down—I had done something stupid. Something reckless.

Danny had taught me how to pick pockets when we were kids. It was a game we played.

I held up my hand.

In my palm was a set of keys. Car keys. With a Sheriff's Star keychain.

"I took Ford's keys," I said.

"His car keys?" Sarah asked.

"No," I said, holding up a small, silver key on the ring. "This isn't for a car. This is a master key."

"For what?"

"For the Evidence Room at the station," I said. "Ford planted drugs in my apartment. He took the drone. He took everything."

I looked at the key.

"If Ford is working for the Syndicate... then the evidence he 'confiscated' from Danny isn't in the Evidence Room. He would keep it close. He would keep it somewhere private."

"Like his house?" Maya asked.

"No," I said. "Danny's logbook mentioned a 'drop point.' A place where he met the Third Diver."

I looked at Sarah.

"The logbook said the drop point was 'The Old Lighthouse'."

Sarah went pale. "The lighthouse? That's abandoned."

"Exactly," I said. "We don't need the book. We remember the entries. We know where they are moving the cargo."

"Jack," Sarah said, her voice trembling. "If we go to the lighthouse... we're not running away anymore. We're hunting them."

"They tried to kill us," I said. I looked at her, remembering the heat of her body in the vault. The promise we made. "I'm done running."

I looked at Maya.

"Turn the truck around," I said. "We're going to the lighthouse."