Shadow of Doubt Omnibus

by Lisa Jackson

  His hand came up so quickly it took everything in her not to flinch. His fingertips were cool and rough as they trailed across her cheek to her lips. He dragged one finger over her lower lip, his gaze never leaving her eyes, then trailed it down her throat, stopping at her collarbone.

  She held her breath and wondered just how far Landry Jones would go to get whatever it was he thought she had.

  He drew back his fingertips and stepped away.

  She let herself take a breath, her body trembling, suddenly more afraid than when he’d held her under water. There were worse things than death.

  * * *

  LANDRY WAS LOSING patience—with this woman—and with himself. He was used to getting what he wanted. Even Freddy D.’s men knew better than to push him too far.

  For most of the past two years, he’d worked undercover, using intimidation like a weapon. Maybe he’d been undercover and around men like Freddy D. for too long.

  But this woman was also exasperating as all hell. She was nothing like the mild-mannered Willa St. Clair he’d asked out for coffee the night of her art showing. Funny how just a few days could change a person. Or had all this steel been under all that sweet innocence?

  Well, if she’d changed, he had only himself to blame for it. Seeing a man shot down in front of her had to have an effect. Especially on a woman like Willa St. Clair. He’d had a friend of his on the force do some checking on the artist. He suspected she was as squeaky-clean and green behind the ears as she seemed to be.

  Or had been. Now she was on the run and desperate. He knew from experience that that alone could change a person.

  He raked a hand through his hair and sighed. “Let me lay it out for you. I infiltrated a crime organization operating out of southern Florida. After a while Zeke came in and then Simon.” He looked past her to the gulf, his eyes dark. “We worked for a man named Freddy D.”

  “Freddy Delgado,” she said.

  He nodded, wondering if she knew more than he did at this point. Was it possible she’d already found the disk?

  “We knew Freddy had a cop in his pocket,” he continued, watching her face for any sign that she was way ahead of him. “My job was to find the dirty cop.” He touched his tongue to his lower lip, eyes darkening. Her expression hadn’t changed. “I had several leads on cops who Freddy was paying off to look the other way, but they were small potatoes. The guy I was looking for would have to be close to Freddy. Real close. As it turns out, real close to me, as well.”

  “You’re telling me Zeke was the dirty cop.” She didn’t sound like she believed it for a minute. “But you said he came into the organization undercover after you.”

  He smiled. The woman was sharp. And she’d been paying attention. “Yeah, so now you understand why I was blindsided. I never suspected Zeke. Why would I?”

  Her hair was wet. It curled around her lightly freckled face. Her eyes were wide and blue. She couldn’t have looked more adorable—even with the straight blond hair she’d had the night he met her. It hit him that under other circumstances, he really would have asked her out that night after the art show. She had that much of an impact on him.

  “Give me one good reason to believe anything you’re telling me is the truth,” she said, those big blues narrowing.

  He studied her for a moment, then lifted his shirt to show her the wound in his side. “When Zeke walked up to the car that night, I didn’t see the gun in his hand until it was almost too late.”

  She flinched at the sight of his wound. “How do I know you didn’t get shot when you attacked the safe house where the police were keeping me?”

  He raised his hands slowly as if in surrender. “What is it going to take to get through to you? Isn’t it possible I was trying to save you?”

  Her gaze said, Not a chance in hell.

  * * *

  THE GUNSHOT WOUND HAD surprised her. She could see where he’d been shot. The area was red and angry, although clearly starting to heal. Someone had shot him. Was it possible Zeke’s had been one of the shots she’d heard that night?

  She thought of Simon Renton, remembering how he’d lied about wanting a painting for his anniversary, a painting his wife had picked out. She’d foolishly opened the door and let him in that night even though every instinct warned her not to.

  “What did Simon leave in my studio?” she asked as she realized her only hope was to find out what was going on, what Landry Jones wanted from her.

  He seemed to relax a little. “A disk. Simon put it between a painting and the backing.” Landry’s gaze softened. “You saved him and the disk that night.”

  “At what cost to my own life since he still died?” she said angrily. “And for what? Some stupid disk?” She shuddered. “Do you think it was worth it for him to be tortured to death? He still told them about the disk and the painting, didn’t he?”

  Landry looked away. “Simon knew what was at stake. We were all risking our lives to bring down an organization that steals, kills and pollutes all of our lives.”

  She said nothing, not sure what to believe. “What’s on this disk?”

  “If I told you that, I would have to kill you.”

  She looked at him, narrowing her eyes. “You think that’s funny?”

  “Actually, truthful. I’m serious, Willa. That’s why I have to find that disk before Freddy D. and his men do.”

  It was the first time he’d called her Willa. She hated that he used her name in that soft tone of his and it had an effect on her.

  “Aren’t the police looking for it, too?” she asked, and saw the answer in his expression. “You want to find it before the police do, and you tell me you have nothing to hide?”

  “It’s complicated. The bottom line is that the disk is worth killing—or dying—for. You’re going to help me find it. One way or the other.”

  “Back to threats? What will you do to me? Try to drown me again? Torture me? Beat me up?”

  He groaned. “What do you want?”

  “How about the truth? What’s on the disk?”

  “Important information about organized crime in southern Florida—names, numbers, enough to shut down these people.”

  She waited, staring at him.

  He groaned again. “There’s also proof on the disk that I didn’t kill Zeke in cold blood. Proof that it was self-defense because the name of the dirty cop is on that disk. That disk will clear me.”

  “Or condemn you,” she said.

  He smiled and settled his gaze on her. “Either way, I need the disk. I’m asking you to trust me and help me find it.”

  Trust him? How could she, given what she knew? “How do I know that once you have the disk you won’t kill me?” She couldn’t suppress a grimace.

  He raised a brow. “You don’t. But without me, sweetheart, you’re dead. Someone on this island obviously knows who you are and has been paid to come here and kill you.” He smiled. “You left a trail anyone could follow. You think they’re going to let you off this island alive without my help?”

  He had a point. He’d found her and obviously someone else had. Unless, of course, he was the one who’d shot at her. But would he take such a chance when he needed her alive to help him find the disk?

  The alternative was that he was right. Someone on the island wanted her dead. Other than Landry Jones.

  “We need each other,” he said.

  “At least until you find the disk.”

  He shook his head in obvious frustration. “You want to get off this island alive? Help me and I’ll help you. Maybe by the time we find the disk, you’ll realize you can trust me.”

  Maybe. But she doubted it. Even if Landry Jones wasn’t a murderer, he was dangerous. Especially to a small-town girl from South Dakota.

  She looked toward the trail and again thought about trying to make a break for it. If she could reach Carlos, get him to take her to the mainland…

  As she started past Landry, he grabbed her wrist so quickly she hadn’t eve
n seen the movement. His fingers clamped down. “Don’t underestimate me, though. That would be a mistake.”

  She winced in pain and he loosened his grip, turning her hand over and opening his fingers. He frowned down at the bruises on her wrist.

  “Who did this?” he asked, sounding angry.

  This from a man who had just held her under the water. “I almost fell in the pool last night at the villa. One of the residents grabbed me.” She rubbed at her wrist as she pulled it free.

  “One of the residents?” he repeated. “You sure he was trying to save you?”

  She wasn’t sure of anything, and it must have showed. “How did you know it was a he?”

  Landry only smiled. “I think you’d better tell me about the other people on the island before we go back.”

  “We’re going back to the villa?” she asked in surprise. She’d figured they would be going back to the mainland. And she would get away from him.

  “Don’t you think it would be wise to find out who on this island might have reason to want you dead?” he asked.

  “You mean other than you.” Her sarcasm wasn’t wasted on him.

  “I’m amazed you’ve stayed alive this long,” he said, stepping past her to pick up his backpack.

  Now that she knew what was at stake, Willa was surprised herself. But as she looked into Landry’s handsome face she was reminded again that there were worse things than death. Taking him back to the villa with her could be one of them.

  “And how exactly do you intend to explain your appearance on the island?” she asked. “All the apartments are full.”

  “You let me worry about that,” he said. “Tell me about everyone on the island.”

  Willa told him about Odell, Henri and Blossom. Landry listened, and when she finished she had the strangest feeling that he’d already known all of it.

  She recalled the animal-like movement she’d seen from the balcony last night. It hadn’t been Odell. It had been Landry. She was sure of it. “How long have you been on the island?” she demanded.

  Landry grinned. “Long enough to know what you sleep in.”

  She felt her face heat as she remembered her little foray behind the villa with the shovel. “You were spying on me last night?”

  “Look, the tide is coming in. We’re losing our beach. Pretty soon we’ll be arguing about this underwater.” He turned his back on her and started through the trees.

  She didn’t move even when she felt a wave wash around her ankles.

  He disappeared into the trees and she was considering taking the boat and making a run for it, when he returned looking irritable at best.

  “What?” he asked, hands on his hips.

  “Did you see what happened by the pool last night?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “I came running when I heard you scream but by then your friend Odell had already saved you.”

  “He isn’t my friend,” she snapped. She was angry at Landry for spying on her. But even more angry that he hadn’t seen what had happened before Odell showed up at the pool. “So are you going to tell me which painting Simon hid the disk in?”

  “No.” He started to turn toward the trees again but must have seen that she wasn’t moving an inch until he told her. “It’s a painting of a sailboat. That’s all you need to know right now.”

  A painting of sailboat? She had done dozens of those.

  “You’re just going to have to trust me.”

  She stared at him. Trust him? He had to be kidding. Did she even believe him? She believed he was after something. Possibly that was the only reason she was still alive. What she feared was that there was something on the disk that Landry Jones needed to save himself, all right. He needed the disk so he could destroy it for his boss Freddy D.—and save the truth from coming out about him. And once she was dead there wouldn’t be anyone to testify against him. It would be his word against a dead man’s.

  He smiled. “Calculating the odds?” His question took her by surprise.

  “What odds?”

  “Whether I’m lying to you or not.”

  He’d hit too close to home and she knew it must have shown in her expression. “Just my luck that Simon picked your art studio.”

  “My thoughts exactly.”

  He shook his head and settled his gaze on her. “Look, if all I wanted was the disk, wouldn’t I just kill you and go through your stuff? Apparently that’s what the person who was shooting at you had planned.” He raised a brow in question.

  “And they would have been very disappointed,” she said. “I don’t have any of my paintings with me.”

  That got his attention. “Where are they?”

  She just looked at him and said nothing.

  His jaw muscle jumped, his eyes darkened.

  Clearly they had reached a stalemate. It was her turn to smile. “Who doesn’t trust whom?”

  “You’re starting to burn,” he said, and cocked his head toward the sun beating down on them. “We need to get you back to the villa.” But he didn’t move. “Don’t you want to hear my plan?”

  From his pleased expression? No. “What?” Her voice cracked. She had a bad feeling she knew exactly what he was about to suggest.

  “The way I see it, someone on this island knows who you are. They could be searching your apartment right now. Or maybe planning to wait until tonight to break in, kill you and search it.”

  “That’s crazy,” she said, but rubbed her wrist, remembering last night by the pool and the gunshots only minutes before.

  “Is it crazy? If those bullets would have found their mark earlier, you’d be shark bait.” He must have seen her surprise. “You think your body would ever be found?” He chuckled. “As far as everyone is concerned, you’ve disappeared. So the simplest thing is for your body to end up as fish food. No one would ever have to know what happened to you.” He sounded as if he’d given this some thought. “You’re in over your head, sweetheart. You’ve got one chance and that’s me.” He grinned wickedly at her.

  She didn’t like his smugness. Nor was she sure Landry Jones’s help was what she needed at all. She dug her heels in, even though the water was now washing around her thighs. “It sounds to me like you need mine since I’m the only one who knows where the painting is.”

  “So we work together.”

  There was no doubt in her mind that once he had the disk he would be long gone. “What’s in it for me?” she asked.

  He blinked in surprise. “Excuse me? When I have the disk, I clear my name and put some major scumbags in prison. You, sweetheart, get to keep breathing.”

  “I told you not to call me sweetheart.” She felt his gaze go to the front of her wet T-shirt. More specifically to her breasts poking against the thin fabric of her bra and the wet fabric.

  She crossed her arms over her chest and he had the good grace to look sheepish as he raised his eyes to her face again.

  “I’m sorry. What did you say?” he asked, eyes hooded.

  She glared at him, knowing darn well he’d heard her.

  “So where are your paintings?” he asked.

  She gave him a like-I’m-just-going-to-tell-you look.

  “Fine. Want to take your chances without me, sweetheart? Up to you. I’ll track down your paintings without you since I’m betting you’ll be swimming with the sharks by midnight.”

  “Stop calling me sweetheart and I’ll consider your offer.”

  He raised a brow. “My offer?”

  It was simple enough. Even if he was lying, he would keep her alive until they found the disk. If he was telling the truth, once she knew which painting Simon Renton had hid the disk in all she had to do was find it first and get it to the police….

  His gaze lazily caressed her face, a grin tugging at his lips. He had a pretty great mouth on him, too, she noticed. “First, let’s discuss my cover. I’m your boyfriend.”

  “No way.”

  He didn’t seem to hear her. “I got a ride out to t
he island to meet you here.” He reached into the boat and brought out a duffel bag reminding her of Blossom’s duffel. “We’re lovers just having a nice vacation.”

  His grin made her stomach flip-flop. “I told you the painting isn’t on the island.”

  “I’d like to make sure myself. I’m from Missouri, you know, the Show Me State?”

  So that’s why they were going back to the villa. “Whatever. Don’t believe me. What about the person who wants me dead?”

  “I’ll take care of that, as well.”

  She eyed him. “Like you did Zeke?” She saw at once that she’d hit a sore spot.

  “Zeke was my friend. I don’t know what the hell happened, what made him do what he did.” Landry’s eyes darkened. “But do me a favor, don’t bring him up unless you want to make me mad, okay, sweet—” He caught himself. “Okay?”

  She nodded.

  They stood glaring at each other for a long moment, the water rising around them. Then he said, “Can we go meet your island mates now, darlin’?” Before she could protest, he added, “I can’t call you Willa. I have to call you something and we are lovers.” That wicked grin again.

  She wanted to wipe it off his face. But instead, she stalked past him. He grabbed her arm and spun her around to face him.

  “You should let me go first. Just in case we run into one of your neighbors, the one with the gun,” he said with a lift of his brow. “If that’s all right with you, darlin’.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Willa groaned as she stared at his arrogant backside. She was sure she heard him chuckle and hated him all the more as she followed him through the trees and underbrush.

  It was cool in the trees. She felt flushed. From the sun. From being around this impossible man. But if this stupid disk would get her life back, she would find it. What choice did she have but let Landry Jones accompany her? He knew which painting the disk was hidden in. She didn’t. At least not yet.

  The quiet in the trees unnerved her. Was the person who’d shot at her waiting nearby, planning to finish the job this time? More to the point, would Landry Jones save her again?