by Lisa Jackson
She came awake in an instant, looked scared, then annoyed to see him. Nothing new there.
She nodded, threw back the sheet and swung her legs over the side. It took a few moments to put on her tennis shoes. He was glad to see that she’d chosen dark jeans and a long-sleeved dark-colored shirt. She snugged a navy baseball cap down over her head and stood.
“The keys to the storage unit?” he whispered.
She held them up, along with a small penlight. She had to be kidding.
He handed her a real flashlight from his backpack and took the extra one for himself.
She pocketed her penlight and gave him a look that said she didn’t like him much.
Better that way, he thought as he motioned for her to be as quiet as possible. She followed behind him, barely making a sound. At the door, he opened it and peered out again.
No sign of anyone. He led the way down the stairs and through the archway. Once past the house and under the canopy of the trees there was no light from the moon. He stopped to listen to make sure they hadn’t been followed. He could hear Willa’s soft breaths. He reached for her hand; it felt cool to his touch.
Willa felt his fingers search out her hand. She tried not to flinch at his unexpected touch. Or shiver at the tingle of that same touch as his fingers tightened around hers.
She could feel the dampness, hear the breeze moving through the trees high above them, and smell the Gulf.
Landry stopped, pulled her close and for one crazy moment, she thought he was going to kiss her. Instead, he appeared to be listening, as if he feared they’d been followed. All she could hear was the sound of her own pulse pounding in her ears.
After a moment, he drew her deeper into the trees. She could hear the surf ahead. The trees opened. Moonlight spilled over the water. Waves curled white and broke on the beach. The tide was out again.
Landry moved quickly to the brush. She heard the scrape of metal over the sound of the surf breaking on the rocks behind her farther up the beach.
He pulled a small boat from the bushes and motioned for her to get in.
She hesitated but only for a moment, then stepped into the boat. Landry pushed it out and hopped in. A wave crashed over the front of the bow sending up cold spray.
She shivered as Landry paddled away from the island before starting the motor. The boat purred through the moonlight. She watched Landry as he worked his way past mangrove island after mangrove island, surprised how at home he looked on the water. She wouldn’t have been surprised if Landry was at home in almost any situation.
When she glanced back toward the island, she saw a figure at the edge of the trees.
“Landry,” she said over the putt of the outboard. She motioned back toward the shore.
He turned, eyes narrowing as the figure melted back into the vegetation. “Did you see who it was?” he asked after they’d rounded one of the other islands.
She shook her head, hugging herself. Someone had followed them. Someone knew they’d left the island.
For a long while, she watched behind them, expecting to see another boat on the moon-slick surface or hear another motor. But there was nothing but islands and the gentle rock of the boat to the steady throb of the motor to lull her.
She must have closed her eyes, lying back in the boat, looking up at the moon riding high in the sky. As she drifted off, she tried not to think about what would happen once Landry had the painting and the disk.
Her eyes opened as she became aware that the boat had slowed. Landry brought the bow up to the dock. She grabbed hold of the ladder and held on as Landry hopped out and tied up the boat before reaching for her hand.
They walked through Everglades City, the town deserted at this hour of the night. Willa felt as if they might be the only two people still alive anywhere. It was a strange feeling, this closeness to Landry, this feeling that they were in this together.
She knew it wouldn’t last but for tonight she breathed in the exotic scents, Landry Jones’s among them, and didn’t think about tomorrow. Or even the rest of tonight.
As they walked, she noticed Landry turning to look over his shoulder just as she had been doing for days. But she saw no one. She heard no other boat or even a car. It was off-season and most of the houses along the water were boarded-up and empty.
When they reached the storage facility, she took the keys from her pocket. The units were one long row of metal compartments behind a chain-link fence. She went to the gate and used a key to get them inside, locking it behind them.
Several large outdoor lights shone at each end of the property. Only moonlight lit the middle section and only on the east side. It was pitch-black on the west side where her unit was located. They stayed to the shadows, Landry watching behind them as she moved along the shell lane. She started at the sound of a dog barking in the distance.
She used another key to open the padlock on the door to her storage unit. It made a soft click. She froze, listened, then stepped aside as Landry rolled the door upward, the sound loud as a gunshot.
They quickly stepped in, closed the door and turned on the flashlights Landry had supplied.
The storage unit was nearly empty. Only a half-dozen boxes sat in one corner. Willa quickly moved to them not sure what they would find since all of the boxes had been packed by the police.
Landry pulled a knife and cut the tape on each box. She stared at the knife, remembering her cut art supply box, then shaking off her suspicion, began to go through the contents quickly, hoping she would find the painting or a disk—and yet afraid what would happen once she did.
It didn’t take long to go through the six boxes that she’d left here only days before. The painting wasn’t there.
She closed the last box and turned to look at Landry. He’d been going through the boxes after her. He swore as he looked through the last one, then he glanced up at her, a look of both disappointment and fear on his face.
“It’s not here,” she said because someone needed to say it.
He nodded. “You packed it for the show. The gallery owner must still have it.”
From his tone she knew going anywhere near St. Pete Beach would be dangerous. And not just for her. Landry was more well-known there than she was. He would be at an even greater risk.
“I can go try to find it,” she said, realizing that on some level she believed his story about Zeke’s death. Otherwise why risk her life to save his?
He smiled and turned off his flashlight. Hers was pointed at the concrete floor, leaving his handsome face in shadow, his eyes looking even darker than usual.
“There is no way I’d let you go alone,” he said.
“If you’re worried about me not coming back with the painting—”
“It’s not that. It’s too dangerous for you to go at all, let alone by yourself.”
She felt a prickling of suspicion. “You want to go alone?”
“You can call Evan, tell him to cooperate with me,” Landry said.
She stared at him, hating that he could so quickly make her feel uncertain of him.
“Isn’t it possible that I want to protect you?” He was staring at her as if it made a difference what she thought.
Don’t do this, Willa. Don’t trust him. You know he’ll only end up hurting you.
She couldn’t look into his face. She turned off her flashlight, pitching the inside of the storage unit into blackness. She could hear him breathing, knew he was close, closer than he’d been just moments before. She swallowed, her nerves raw with just the thought of him, her body alive with the thought of his touch.
“We should get back to the island,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.
“Not yet.” His voice was rough with emotion and so close, she felt his breath warm her cheek.
She jumped at the brush of fingertips along her arm, then his arm was around her waist, dragging her to him as his mouth dropped unerringly to hers.
He groaned as if kissing her had been the le
ast of his plans. She could barely breathe, the way he held her so tightly against him, her breasts crushed to his chest. He parted her lips with his tongue, and she opened to him.
Her heart was pounding so hard, she knew he had to feel it in his chest. Her body melted against his, her arms going around his neck as the kiss deepened and her pulse made a buzzing sound in her ears.
He shifted his body, his hand slipping between them to cup her breast. Heat shot through her, her breast aching, her nipples hard as pebbles, sending a fire shooting through her veins straight to her center.
She moaned against his mouth as he thumbed the hard peak of her nipple, the pleasure almost unbearable. “Landry,” she breathed against the hot pressure of his mouth.
Lifting her, he pressed her against the Sheetrock wall and shoved her shirt up to get to the old-lady bra she’d put on earlier. He jerked it up and freed her breasts in one shift motion. She leaned her head back, arching her body against him as the night air blew across her bare breasts, dimpling her flesh an instant before she felt the hot wet suction of his mouth on her nipple.
She gasped, the intensity of the sensation making her dizzy. She could feel his fingers working at the zipper on her black jeans, feel his hardness through his own jeans against her bare belly.
Without warning, he stopped, cursed and drew back, his hands on her hips the only thing holding her up since her legs had gone to rubber.
She let out a small cry of frustration and fear that he wouldn’t continue. She couldn’t see his face—just hear him breathing hard. She wanted him like she’d never wanted anything in her life.
“Tell me about all the men you’ve had,” he whispered.
She began to cry, great big tears silently rolling down her cheeks.
He leaned into her again, his lips brushing across hers, but she knew whatever had possessed him moments ago had passed. He’d changed his mind. She wanted to beat his chest with her fists. She wanted to beg him to take her.
He gently kissed her lips, then her tears. “Not here. Not like this. Not your first time.”
She started to protest but he covered her lips with his in a silencing kiss, then pulled back as if he heard something. He turned on the flashlight, pointing it at their feet, but his gaze was on her face.
“Someday you’ll thank me,” he said as he laid down the flashlight, the beam shooting across the floor to the back of the shedlike room.
He reached to button her jeans but she pushed his hand away as she pulled her bra down over her breasts, covering herself, fingers trembling as she fought to get her balance and jeans buttoned. She’d never slept with a man because she’d never wanted one badly enough. Until now.
The faint clink of metal on metal made them both freeze. Landry quickly motioned to her to be quiet as he reached down and shut off his flashlight. A clank of metal on metal. Someone had just come in through the gate to the storage units.
Landry moved quickly to the large door and lifted it a few feet off the ground. Moonlight bled into the opening. He checked outside, then motioned for her to slip through and followed her. She heard him quietly close and snap the padlock into place, then move along the shadowed side toward the front of the property, motioning for her to wait.
He returned a few moments later. “It’s an armed security guard,” he whispered, and motioned for her to follow him toward the back of the property.
Her heart lodged in her throat. If they were caught, Landry would go to jail. She would go to another safe house. Neither of them would be safe. In fact, she suspected they wouldn’t last long, given the powerful people after them.
A breeze stirred the palms that lined the back of the chain-link fence. She could hear mosquitoes buzzing next to her ear and smell the swampy stew that bordered the property. In the moonlight, she caught a glimpse of one alligator, then another. The tourist wild-animal park she’d seen was right next door.
Back here the fence surrounding the storage units was ten feet high but there was no razor wire along the top. There were just alligators lounging in the swamp on the other side of the fence.
Willa saw at once what Landry had planned and balked at even the idea. “Alligators,” she whispered, just in case he hadn’t noticed.
He knelt down, his fingers weaved together as he motioned for her to put her foot in for a boost up the fence. “Trust me,” he whispered.
Right. She heard the sound of footfalls coming along the edge of the storage units and quickly weighed her options before putting her foot into his hands. He boosted her up. She grabbed hold of the fence and climbed to the top, swung a leg over and teetered there for a moment before gingerly working her way down the other side, all the while keeping an eye on the alligators.
Landry bounded up the fence, over the top and down the other side. He caught her as she dropped to the ground. She heard the scurry of the alligators nearest the fence and for a moment she thought they were scurrying after her instead of away.
“Come on.” Landry took her hand, dragging her through the swamp toward the small shack that acted as a ticket booth for the wildlife exhibit. At one point, he stopped and pulled her down next to a large fake rock. She held her breath, listening not just for the security guard but for any alligators sneaking up on them. Off to her left, she saw a huge gator yawn, his massive jaws opening and finally closing again.
They slipped under the gate by the ticket booth and ran across the street, losing themselves in the shadows of the buildings as they wove through the small residential area.
“Neither of us can go to St. Pete Beach,” he said when they finally quit running. He’d stopped by a fishing shack near the canal. The area was a web of canals. The night was deathly quiet. No lights or vehicles anywhere. “They’ll be waiting for us.” His gaze met hers in the darkness, his dark eyes shining. “We have to try to get the paintings sent to us.”
She hated the thought of involving Evan Charles in all this. Keeping her voice down, she asked, “Are you sure the police or Freddy D. don’t already have the disk?”
“If the police did, then Freddy and his crew would be behind bars. No one would want us dead. Just the opposite.”
“And if Freddy has it?”
He shook his head. “If he did then he wouldn’t have any reason to want you dead. If anything, he’d want to keep you alive so you could testify against me.”
He touched her cheek, his hand cool, his touch making her shiver but not from the cold. “Trust me. The disk hasn’t been found. That’s why you and I are still alive. That’s why we have to contact the gallery owner—and not go there. Come on.” He took her hand. “I saw a pay phone back by that closed motel.”
Pop. Wood splintered on the shack wall beside her. Landry knocked her to the ground, landing hard on top of her and rolled them both down the slope toward the water. Pop. Pop.
The last thing she heard was Landry whisper next to her ear, “Hold your breath.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
They hit the water.
Landry pulled her under, dragging her deeper and deeper, forcing her to swim after him, the water growing colder and colder as they dove down toward the bottom.
Her head buzzed. She needed desperately to take a breath but he had a death grip on her wrist. Even if she thought about going to the surface and taking her chances against the would-be killer with the gun, Landry wasn’t letting her go.
Suddenly he stopped swimming and pulled her upward. Her eyes were open but all she could see was blackness as her head broke the surface. She gasped for breath, her lungs burning. Her free hand struck something hard.
“Quiet,” Landry whispered and she realized they’d come up under one of the docks along the canal.
She sucked in air, her body trembling from fear and lack of oxygen, as she treaded water, unable to touch bottom. The water was cold and she kept going under.
Landry pulled her to him, holding her up so her head was above water. His body felt warm and strong. She let him take her we
ight and fought the need to cry. She’d gone twenty-five years without anyone trying to kill her and now every time she turned around someone was shooting at her or putting snakes in her bathtub. She wasn’t sure how much more of this she could take.
As if Landry sensed her despair, he pulled her closer, pressing his cheek to hers, holding her gently. She wrapped her arms around him and closed her eyes.
Overhead someone stepped onto the dock. It rocked, making the water under the dock splash. Landry pulled her out deeper into the water until they were almost to the end of the dock, never letting go of her.
The footsteps were slow, purposeful. Did the killer know they were under the dock? Had he seen them? The dock pushed down as the would-be killer walked to the end, leaving little space above their heads for air. But in Landry’s arms, Willa felt safe. The irony of it wasn’t lost on her.
She leaned back, trying not to panic. Landry was still holding her, his touch calming. She thanked God she wasn’t alone or she knew she would have been dead. He’d saved her again. Her heart swelled, tears burning her eyes.
The dock buoyed upward as the footsteps retreated back down the dock.
They waited, listening. Water lapped softly at the sides of the dock. A dog barked in the distance. Finally there was the sound of a car engine, the crunch of gravel beneath the tires and then the growl of the car’s motor dying away in the distance.
“Wait here for just a second,” Landry whispered and disappeared below the water.
He was gone for more than a second. She was getting ready to panic when he reappeared.
“Looks clear. Take my hand.”
She did as he told her, swimming down before heading again to the surface. They came up on the lee side of the dock out of the moonlight. Quietly they swam to shore.
She was shaking hard now, the cold, the fear, all her adrenaline long gone. He helped her up onto the shore. Her legs trembled. She stumbled and would have gladly sat down for a while but he dragged her up along the side of the fish shack, then across the street, moving fast.