Chapter 7
“Thanks, Linda. I owe you one.” Ethan replaced the handset to the phone. He’d just lied to a cop. Him. He’d never jaywalked, never gone more than a mile over the speed limit without remorse. Yet he’d nonchalantly misled an officer of the law. No, he hadn’t any clue why those men were after Mara. Absolutely, he’d let her know if he learned anything.
Beyond the windows, night had fallen, and street lamps flickered into action along Gaul Boulevard, floating orbs of half-light that barely penetrated the inky dark. The town had settled in for the evening. With its proximity to Caddo Lake, lush dogwoods bloomed well into the summer, dusting Kiev with white blossoms. Occasionally a semi truck rumbled beneath the windows, but mainly silence reigned.
Mara wore another pair of his boxers that left her legs bare and a white tank top she’d found tucked away in his closet. The soft, worn cotton clung diligently to every curve. She stood at the kitchen island making herself a sandwich the size of her head. Bread, cheese, and the container of meat littered the counter, crumbs joined by discarded plastic wrap and soiled utensils.
Feeling the pained rumbling of his own empty stomach, he could have done what he used to do—filched half before she could drench the turkey in her favorite, repulsive concoction of mayonnaise and maple syrup. But instead, he moved to the refrigerator for leftover spaghetti from last night’s dinner.
She’d settled easily into routines they once shared, a skill he’d never learned. To flow with the tide or roll with the punches or whatever the proper metaphor. Mara had always inserted herself seamlessly into a situation, molding it to her needs. He, on the other hand, stood awkwardly on the sidelines and waited for the proper moment, an invitation to join.
As teenagers, he’d been captivated by her refusal to allow the world to set the terms. Fascinated enough to overcome his natural reservation and invite her to a midnight marathon of Indiana Jones movies. He didn’t know that she would be locked in her room for breaking curfew. That hadn’t mattered to her. She’d reveled in the moment. Envy, now as then, lodged deep in him. She created a freedom for herself he couldn’t emulate. Or touch.
While the microwave whirred, he offered, “The sheriff will pick Lesley up at the airport in the afternoon. They’ll use the tunnels.”
Mara looked up from her machinations, knife in hand. She’d willfully disobeyed a police order. Experience told her that cops didn’t like unanswered questions. Her hands gripped the handle tightly. “Did she ask you about me? About them?”
“Of course she did, Mara. Not everyone is as gullible as I am.” He jabbed the microwave panel and popped the door. That had been Linda DiSantis’s second question. The first was how long Mara had been in town. He’d lied about both, too easily for his comfort. “I told her you were here with me and that you were scared that the men from the accident were stalking you.”
“She knows that’s not true.” Reaching beneath the island, Mara scooted out a stool and perched on top. Her legs swung negligently, her heel scuffing the rungs. “I told her about Guffin.”
Ethan set his lukewarm plate on the counter on the opposite side. He wasn’t ready to sit too close. Instead, he twirled noodles around his fork. “Linda’s a good cop. I don’t doubt she realized there was more to your crafty lies the minute you snuck out of the diner.”
“People believe what they want to believe, plausible or not. It’s human nature.” She nibbled at her sandwich, syrup oozing onto her fingers. “We are creatures of fantasy. The tooth fairy. The Easter Bunny. Winning the lottery. Human beings enjoy the art of the lie. We revel in holding off reality for another day. Pretending that what has to come can be put off if we don’t admit the truth.”
Like the fact that Lesley’s arrival would force him to make a choice, Ethan conceded. He couldn’t have Mara here if he truly sought to try a life with Lesley. He glanced up from his dinner to see Mara’s dainty pink tongue licking the sticky syrup that had dribbled along her fingers. The unconsciously sensual movement shafted lightning into his belly.
Without a word to her, he dropped his fork, snagged his keys from the countertop, and opened the loft door. “I’m heading downstairs. Don’t bother me.” He didn’t wait for a response. He rushed down the stairs and into the warehouse.
But even there he felt pursued. Tormented. Hell, he thought, he’d never expected a space so vast to suddenly feel like a prison. Then again, nothing about this project had gone as he expected.
He wandered over to the pallet where the body identified as Verna Bair had been placed. Setting out his instruments, he wondered how he’d managed to find himself exactly where he’d been a lifetime ago.
Returning to Kiev should have made him famous and freed him, all at once. His credentials and tenure had been built on less than a series of well-preserved bodies marked by a madman. If he found the Shango manuscripts, he’d be a legend.
Most of his colleagues saw him as fastidious, boring even. Straight-arrow Dr. Stuart, always willing to take on an extra class or pick up the most vacuous task. Finding a fortune in gold and an ancient African artifact would shock them all. He returned to Kiev to prove to himself and to others that he had a streak of adventure and a patina of recklessness. That Ethan Stuart could be dangerous.
And his return to Kiev had been Lesley’s idea: Go home and lay to rest all the ghosts that kept him isolated and that he refused to talk about. She’d given him three weeks. And he’d been right on schedule.
Until Mara.
Now, despite his best-laid plans, the only two women he’d ever cared for were about to meet face-to-face. He couldn’t have screwed up his life better if he’d tried.
Exasperated, Ethan returned to his examination of Ms. Bair. The M.E. had identified her from dental records, courtesy of the Lorimar Dental and Orthodontics Practice. Kiev, the county seat, was the only town of any note in Lorimar County. Population 18,742, according to the marker on Highway 7. As such, it was the locus of all medical knowledge. Its environs hosted two dental practices, a free clinic, and at least four GP offices. The main hospital, in the center of town, boasted the county’s top orthopedist.
Lifting his tape recorder from the worktable near the gurney, Ethan began to record his findings. “Specimen identified as Ms. Bair, age forty-four. Resident of Kiev, Texas. Research indicates that Ms. Bair sold insurance in the tricounty area until 1992. Investigations have not revealed any mention of her since that time. Ms. Bair was unmarried, but she appears to have borne children during her lifetime. Cause of death has been determined to be cardiac arrest, but no foul play is suspected. Like every body located in this area, the right hip has been tattooed with a symbol. To this researcher’s eye, it appears to be the Greek letter theta. Sources inform this researcher that the symbol correlates to fruitfulness. Other bodies of child-bearing women share the same mark.”
He set the recorder on pause and reached for the digital camera. Framing the shot, he captured the gauzy black ink that had drifted through dormant pores over the years. The circle with a single dash in the center resembled a doughnut with a misshapen hole.
“Are you hiding from me?” Mara draped her arms across the banister. The bullet wound was healing nicely, signaling its presence with a dull throb occasionally. A perfect complement, she imagined, to the ache in her chest.
She knew that Ethan couldn’t stand to be in the same room with her, and tomorrow she’d have to pretend not to care that his girlfriend was in town. Any acting skills she claimed would certainly be put to use. No time like the present. “I’m not going to sleep quietly while you plan my fate. And I’m not going to let you hide from me, hoping I’ll just disappear.”
“I don’t believe in miracles, Mara.” Ethan pierced her with a quelling look. “You’ve never been one for doing what others expected. But you’re not the center of my world, darling. I came down here because I wanted privacy.”
“Playing with cadavers. I hate dead bodies.” Mara treaded lightly on the steps. “However, since you refus
e to leave, we probably need to decide on a plan. Which means you’ll have to talk to me.”
“Linda and I have a plan.” Ethan flicked the white sheet to cover the supine Ms. Bair with the ease of practice. Bending down, he unlocked the wheels to prepare the gurney for transfer into cold storage. The other bodies that had not decayed to bone were held in the facility. Skeletal remains were stored in a separate area for study. The construction crew had uncovered several bone fragments that had the faded ink markings, markings that could lead to the gold and the artifacts or simply be a zealot’s handiwork. Gold, adventure, bravado. Mara. Careful what you wish for. “Go to bed, Mara.”
“I’m not a child, Ethan. I decide when I’m tired and when I’m ready to talk. Right now, I want to talk.” This last emerged on a jaw-cracking yawn, which she tried vainly to hide.
Ethan smothered a laugh. He clasped the iron railings and shook his head. “I might be in the mood to have a civil conversation with you in the morning, but not tonight.”
“You can’t ignore me away, darling.”
“No, but I can ignore you.” With that satisfying shot, he tapped in the electric key combination, and the storage door slid open. Ethan guided the body inside the facility to the rows of storage lockers that had been converted for his use.
“You don’t ask me any questions.”
The quiet comment came from the doorway. He glanced over his shoulder. Mara propped herself against the concrete wall. His gaze took in her bare feet, and for an instant she reminded him of the young woman he’d once known. He’d had a million questions for her, an insatiable curiosity about her every thought. Who she was? Who did she want to become?
But this new creature, with the sharp edges that could slice him clean, this woman he was afraid to know. Afraid that the curiosity would return, and with it the myriad other habits he’d shed. Like waking up with her on his mind. Going to sleep dreaming of her and not Lesley. As he had since her return.
“I know everything I need to know about you, Mara. As I’ve known for some time, you’re a liar and a thief. And you’ve explained that you’re a cheat and con artist.”
“I’ve made a good life for myself.”
She is so blithe about it, he thought. So nonchalant about threats and danger and murder. As though this—this insanity were normal.
She sounded like his Mara, the soft, southern lilt glided over her words like sunlight. She looked the same, maybe thinner, the beauty refined by hard living and maturity. But she was not the girl he remembered. Still, the images of both collided, swirled in his thoughts. Two women, two memories, with only room for one truth. Certain his head would explode, he spun around to face his confusion. “Who the hell are you?”
“Do you want to know?”
“What I want is to have you gone. I want to go back to not knowing where you are. Not caring about what happens to you.”
“I didn’t come to you. You brought me inside. Your choice.”
“I’ve never had a choice about you.” He stopped himself, hearing the plea layered by distrust and tendrils of possibility that threatened to choke him. In vicious self-defense he countered, “Why did you come back?”
“To help you.”
“Because of you, I’m now the target of gangsters—”
“Not gangsters. Hit men. There’s a difference,” she corrected wryly.
“Whatever. You brought these men to my door. These killers. Don’t lecture me on the nuances of criminal behavior. To my mind, you’re all alike.”
Mara stared at him, stung, then stumbled away as if from a blow. “You don’t mean that.”
“Honey, it’s just a matter of degrees.” Ethan pushed past her to return to the warehouse and failed to see the slight color fade from her cheeks. Halting at the end of the workstation, he leaned heavily against the metal desk, hands splayed flat, dipped his head and sighed. It was all too much. “I don’t know the rules in your world, Mara. I don’t know if it’s de rigueur to be shot at on Monday and kidnapped on Thursday. I’m not clever enough to make quips about having my life threatened and that of the woman I love.”
“You love her?” Mara whispered the bitter question. She curled her fist tight, knuckles scraping against the crevices in the concrete, grateful for the pain. At least she had proof that life could carry on, even when her heart ceased to beat. “Lesley?”
Troubled by his betraying slip, by the fact that he wasn’t sure of whom he spoke, Ethan squared his shoulders and lied without compunction. He still refused to look at her. “Yes. I do. And I don’t want her exposed to your kind.”
“My thieving, whoring kind?”
“Your words, again. Not mine.” Ethan resisted the compulsion to turn to her and gather her close. To apologize. “I need you to leave, Mara. Tonight. I’ll help you, but I can’t work with you.”
“I have nowhere else to go.” She said it simply. “I’ve run out of places to hide, Ethan. This is it. Home.” Though he couldn’t see it, she shrugged, a weary shift of shoulder that told its own story. It was simpler to hold the truth inside, she decided. Easier for everyone. But she understood better than most that the truth had shades and layers and angles. That by sharing a sliver of honesty, few would seek more, sated by what they believed they comprehended. “The Reed fortune is what I came back for. I need the gold to stop Rabbe and Guffin. To save my life.”
Ethan returned to her then. He stood in front of her and grasped her elbows, pulling her away from the wall. “Fine. So go and find it. Leave me out of it.”
“I would, if I thought you’d let the mystery go.” She tugged at her caged arms, but his grip held firm. “Admit it, Ethan. If I ran off and hunted for the treasure on my own, you’d chase after it.”
“No, I wouldn’t.” Lying, wishing his words were true, he grated out, “I’d be willing to sacrifice finding the manuscript to have you out of my life again.” He leaned his face in close, their breaths mingling. Her huge brown eyes filled his vision and her scent rose up to twine its skeins around him.
Baffled, he inhaled deeply, against his will. In rough tones he growled, “You disrupt everything, Mara. My thoughts. My work. Hell, I haven’t slept in four days because of you.” Unbidden, his thumb began to trace the silken skin at her elbow. The skin beneath trembled, and he reveled in her body’s tiny betrayal. “I’ve spent a lifetime undoing the damage you caused before.”
“Then why did you come back?” She echoed his question softly. Her brain was growing fuzzy, lulled by the shivers that danced along her captive flesh. “You could have turned the company down. You have a new life in Austin. A new love.”
“To exorcise ghosts.” Ethan freed one elbow to slide his hand along her arm, trailing fire. With a short step he erased what had remained of the distance between them. “To bury the dead, Mara. I needed to be here without you, to know that I could. I deserve a life that isn’t clouded by you. By memories.”
“Are they all so terrible, Ethan?” She lifted a questioning hand to rest on his shoulder. When her fingers curled around the nape of his neck, he tugged her closer yet. She moved into him willingly, eagerly. Fluorescent light gilded the room and a bulb flickered intermittently, drawing the room in guttered shadows. “Why can’t you stay away?”
“Because you owe me.” He stared at her mouth. The dark lips, wide and welcoming, taunted him. Tempted him. “By God, Mara, you owe me.” In the next instant his mouth closed over hers.
Even as he tasted, the countless reasons why he should stop swirled in his hazed thoughts, but none seemed imperative. What mattered was how her mouth softened beneath his. How her lids drifted down and she arched effortlessly into his hungry body. That her high breasts, covered by his borrowed shirt, seemed to swell to fill the emptiness of his hands, that her arms wrapped him close, as though he belonged. All that counted was the glorious drowning, when memory submerged the present and they were again two people drawn together by an irrefutable desire. By a passion and a bond that would not be den
ied.
Mara gasped beneath the lips that seemed determined to devour her. In his hard, deliberate kiss she could taste the confusion, his resistance to the need that stretched taut between them. Logic demanded that she pull away and spare both of them the coming regret. But she hadn’t expected a second chance to feel like this. Craved. Control slipped into the gray dimness of the warehouse and left only the compulsion to savor. She reveled in the slick glide of tongue, the subtle nip of teeth. The hard, lean body that had filled out over the years accepted every curve she offered, as though they’d never been apart.
Chapter 8
But they had, hissed Mara’s reluctant conscience. And he’d moved on with his life. Even as his beloved hands closed over her hips to drag her impossibly closer, the warning shrilled caution. She was not the woman he loved. Worse, if he betrayed Lesley, she’d be the one he’d blame.
Summoning a will she didn’t realize she possessed, Mara flattened her palms against his chest. The heart beneath raced with a vital speed, and her resolve wavered. Fevered kisses snaked a chain along her throat, burning away reason.
“Ethan,” she moaned into his ear, tracing the exotic whorls there. “Are you sure?”
In mute response, insistent hands anchored her thigh and hiked it near his hip. She could feel his hardened length, could remember its promise. Desperate now, she scrambled for buttons, loosening them from their moorings.
Ethan skimmed beneath the loose cotton to fasten his eager fingers around her naked breasts. With delicate savagery he toyed with the hard, sensitive tips and reveled in her abandoned cries. Determined to fend off caution, he dragged them both across the room to the laboratory table and lifted her up.
The cold marble at Mara’s back shocked her senses and she reared up. “Ethan!”
He joined her, bearing her onto the surface. “I want you.” He traced a line of wet fire along her collarbone, then dipped his tongue lower. “Should I stop?”
Hidden Sins Page 11