by Cait London
The wind pushed his hair back from that stark face and in the shadowy light the hard lines had softened into genuine grief. At the funeral, he’d straightened Mallory’s collar like a loving brother. Were his feelings for her that tender? Enough to see her through her pain, to tend her? Had he come to this beach with Mallory to help her fight her demons, or to give them to her? “Tell me about the money, Kyle. Why did she write a check to you every month?”
“Handyman stuff.”
“I don’t believe you. I’ve seen the other receipts. Mallory had her depend ables and called them when she had a problem with repairs. Mom and Bob helped her sometimes, until Mom couldn’t take it anymore. Mallory wrote you a check for something else. What was it?”
When Kyle shook his head and that jaw locked, a taut cord running down to his throat, Rachel pushed harder, “Then tell me who you are. Where you came from.”
He smiled at that and leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Makes the investigation that much easier, doesn’t it? If you have those little details?”
She refused to move, and lifted her face to return the whisper. “Much easier. I’m going to nail you, Scanlon. No one knows much about you before you came into town. I guess no one has ever been curious before, but I’m going to dig out every little detail about you. I’m going to find out why you were taking money from Mallory.”
His lips brushed her cheek and his deep drawl packed a sensual punch. “I’m flattered that you care, honey.”
“Don’t be. As owner of Nine Balls, I’m going to demand repayment. I haven’t added it up yet, but you’re going to owe quite the tab.” The friction of his rougher skin, the heat and scent of it, struck her with the need to place her hand on it, stroke it, and feel the man inside, the gentle one who cared for Mallory when she needed him most. “Did she pay you for taking care of her?”
The thought that Mallory had almost died twice before, and hadn’t asked Rachel to help, hurt her.
“No. We were friends.”
“I was her sister.”
“She wanted to protect you.” Her body tensed as he moved against her. “Just blocking the wind, Rachel. Afraid?” he asked again in a deep raw tone.
“Not a bit,” she lied…because she feared what ran inside her, the primitive need to turn her head just that bit and taste those hard lips, to bite them slightly. Kyle was pushing and she knew it, because he expected that she’d move away. But she wouldn’t give him that pleasure.
His face shifted, the curve of his smile against her throat. “That’s my girl…fearless. If you want to know why I stayed in Neptune’s Landing, it was because I thought I’d found a home. I drove through town one day and it hit me that this was where I wanted to live. Just that easy.”
“If I was seventeen, you were nineteen when you came through town that first time. And it would take a lot of money to own that car you had at twenty-two when you started to work at Mac’s garage. The question is: How did you get the money to buy Mac out?”
“Why, honey, I sold my pretty little car. Then I worked my butt off.”
“How did you get that ‘pretty little car’ in the first place?”
“The same way I get everything, by using skill and patience. I rebuilt a wreck someone didn’t appreciate. Took me two years of working odd jobs to pay for the parts and working in body shops for the rest.”
“So you sold your baby to stay in Neptune’s Landing. That’s hard to believe, Kyle.”
His gaze moved down to her lips. “Maybe I saw something here that I wanted more than moving on.”
Her body was taut and warmed by his, but she wouldn’t step back. “I bet you know how to hot-wire cars and do a few other things. Or maybe you learned them in juvie hall?”
“If you say so.” His voice was deep and richly sensual, his face warm against hers. “You’re trembling and hot, Rachel. I can tell when a well-tuned motor—or a woman—is humming. Are you going to kiss me or not?”
That quick unexpected question took her back a step, and Kyle grinned. “You’d get me greasy anyway. This shirt is clean and yours is full of grease from that intake breather you cuddled. Or you could take yours off.”
She tilted her head, studying his confident smile, that cocky tilt of his head. Then her fist shot out and grabbed his shirt, tugging him down to her. “Back off, Scanlon. I know exactly why you make those remarks and spoil any inkling that I might have that you are anything but one big gland. You’re afraid of me.”
His silvery eyes flashed at that, the first sign she’d ever seen of any temper in their clashes, and she intended to nudge and use it.
“You seem to like grabbing me. Be careful with those fists. I outweigh and out-muscle you, honey, and I’m no gentleman. I wouldn’t push my luck, if I were you, sweetheart.”
“You won’t do anything. You had your chance, and you didn’t use it. I use mine, and I know that every time you drop one of those low-class, sexist remarks on me, it’s just after you show some human emotion. You’re afraid to show too much. But I saw it when you talked about Mallory. If you lied about her abortions, about being the father of her babies, I’m going to find out and I’m coming after you. And I’ll run you out of town, Kyle. That’s after I take everything you have.”
“Oh, God. Women think they know every—”
Then her other hand gripped that mass of thick hair and tugged his face down to hers. “Just to give you a little something to think about, and keep your hands where they are,” she murmured before lifting her lips to his….
She’d just tasted that wild hunger inside him, the banked storm when Kyle stepped back, glaring at her. “What was that about?”
“Just to prove my point. You’re afraid of me. I don’t know why exactly, and I’m tired of this conversation,” she said as she picked up the blanket and shook it deliberately in the direction the wind would carry the sand to Kyle.
She was shaking as she started toward the path, still shaking as she tossed the blanket onto her floorboard. Because the big Hummer had parked behind her, she had to wait until Kyle stalked by, slammed the door, and started the motor. When he reversed, she backed onto the road, slid Buttercup into drive, and pushed the powerful V-8 engine down the highway.
The Hummer came up behind her, but Rachel wasn’t afraid. She was too wrapped up in the taste of Kyle, in the discovery of how she could have devoured him. Rachel opened and closed her hands on the big thin steering wheel. She was just really, really tired, and Kyle had always set her on edge. “He intends to do that. And I let him. I hope that—”
The hard jut below his belt had said that Kyle had wanted her badly, instantly, his face hot against hers. If he wanted to play games, she was ending them, right there on the beach.
She adjusted her rearview mirror to cut the glare of the Hummer’s headlights. “I’m going to find out why she paid you every month, Kyle.”
While she was zinging Kyle, she might as well finish the job, Rachel decided as she hit the right-turn signal and braked hard, turning onto the shoulder of the road. Rachel didn’t wait until the Hummer had fully stopped before getting out of her car and walking back to Kyle. He was already out of his vehicle and waiting for her, his hands on his hips. “That’s no way to treat a good car.”
Because telling Kyle off wasn’t going well, she decided to take the offensive. “I want my cat.”
He leaned down to her and frowned, those silvery eyes studying her face as if trying to understand her.
“Have I upset you?” she asked sweetly, because she was winning a game that Kyle had started years ago and she was elated, flying high on victory. She’d pinned a truth on him that he hadn’t wanted, that he was afraid of her. For some reason, she had a real advantage in their skirmishes; she’d tagged him, and she’d won.
“Let’s just say I wasn’t prepared. With you, I’m usually not,” he said, moving suddenly to pin her back against his vehicle. “Just to even up,” he whispered softly before bending his head to kiss her….<
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Kyle was very careful with her, framing her fine-boned face with his hands, feeling the heat beneath that smooth flesh. He wanted her to see him coming, moving slowly, so that she wouldn’t be frightened. Wary of him, she wasn’t backing down or moving away. Instead, those dark eyes met his as he studied the texture of her hair, silky in his fingers, webbing sensually against his skin, binding him.
With a deep breath to steady himself, and a sense that he was free-falling off a cliff with no parachute, Kyle brushed his lips against hers, tasted the corner of her lips, one then the other. When Rachel inhaled sharply, he tasted her with the tip of his tongue, inserting it gently against her teeth. Those sharp teeth caught his tongue, biting with enough pressure to stop him.
Against his chest, her hands flattened, the fingers digging in, and then she sighed and closed her eyes, freeing him. She tasted incredible, soft, sexy, sweet, warm. “Open,” he whispered as he nuzzled her cheek and found her ear, nibbling it gently.
She breathed unevenly. “Scanlon?”
“Hmm?”
“What’s going on here?”
“Mm? What do you mean? The usual, I guess. You. Me. Us.” Her pulse was racing beneath that soft skin, her throat arched for his access.
“Do you really think you can use sex to keep me from finding out whatever you don’t want to come out?”
He smiled at that; it was typical of Rachel to distrust him and think about alternative motives at a time like this. With another woman, he’d have moved on and they’d both be satisfied by now. With Rachel, he enjoyed the game, the unique way she played it. “What makes you think that?”
“A. You’re very hard and that says you have intentions of a sexual nature. B. You’re taking your time.”
Her voice was husky and uneven, and she’d just lifted her hips against said hardness. Kyle moved his foot between hers, nudging slightly until her legs opened just that bit. “I’m a thorough sort of guy.”
Her arms were around his shoulders now, her hands gripping his hair. He studied her expression: unpredictable, mysterious, setting her terms. Just to see how far he could go, Kyle let his hands wander downward, over those soft curved breasts, testing the warm weight in his hands.
“You’re all hot and shaking, Scanlon. Too bad, because you’re going to regret getting all worked up later,” Rachel murmured huskily, and he realized that she was testing him as much as he was pushing her.
She didn’t move when he smoothed her hips and cupped her bottom, kneading that softness gently. She tensed and looked surprised as he suddenly lifted her against him. Then face-to-face, Rachel studied him and her lips curved at just that one side as if she were confident and in control. “A little macho, baby-I’m-so-strong, demonstration?”
The rock-hard ache below his belt proved that she was winning. It took all of Kyle’s willpower to carry her to her car and let her slide down his body. “Nope. Just trying to pry you off me and send you on your way, before you embarrass yourself.”
Rachel’s confident smirk died, replaced by a quick frown and a snappy, “Don’t think that you interest me, Scanlon. Not in that way. But like I said, I’m going to find out everything about you.”
“Liar. You’re hot for me. But because you’re no sweetheart, I’m going to play hard to get.” He opened her car door and held it, waiting for her to slide inside. “Next time, bring a picnic basket. You can feed me, romance me, and then you just might get lucky.”
Before she revved the engine, Rachel’s frustrated groan pleased him. From inside the Caddie, she scowled up at him. Then she smiled prettily. “FYI, Scanlon—you’re a real rat. Don’t count on any picnic baskets from me…. Buy the Hummer for some kind of compensation symbol, did you?”
With a knowing grin, he let that one pass and the Caddie’s tires spun as the big V-8 dug out, swinging onto the highway again.
Kyle shook his head and grinned as the taillights disappeared softly into the night. Rachel caused him to feel alive and fresh, emotions he hadn’t felt for a very long time, the need to share his life, to have a real home with a few kids in the mix. They were old dreams, rusty and forgotten, and that hot kiss had proved that Rachel wasn’t out to make his life easy.
At least she wasn’t thinking about whatever had happened to her, reliving that time when Mallory had flown to her side….
He inhaled the damp night air and watched a big elk move from the brush to cross the highway. He’d promised Mallory that no one would know her secret, that he would keep it safe.
And Rachel was set to examine everything in Mallory’s life.
She just could get caught in Mallory’s nightmare, in her obsessions…she was probably right about someone coming into Nine Balls last night. Mallory had a lot of late-night visitors.
Maybe new locks would stop them, maybe not.
Kyle got into his rig, started it, and sat for a moment while the motor idled. With a shake of his head, he put the Hummer in gear—and realized that with Rachel in town, he was in for trouble.
The man eased back into the shadows of the trees and watched the big Caddie’s back lights float through the fog and into Trina Everly’s driveway. Rachel moved out of the car and hurried into the house.
Where was Mallory’s private stash, the little pieces of herself that she kept intact and private? If she’d left anything that could tie her to him to what he was, it could ruin him!
Mallory had somehow gotten into witchcraft and creating spells. He’d stripped away her how-to books whenever he found them, but he couldn’t erase her insidious small remarks here and there, just enough to make a sane person wonder. She’d fashioned a voodoo doll from his hair and shirt; though he’d never seen it, he didn’t doubt the pleasure she took in tormenting him with its existence.
Cleared of Mallory’s things, the apartment should have felt different, but she was still here, waiting, watching….
In her office last night, the laptop had sprung into life and showed that Rachel had been transferring Mallory’s neat handwritten ledgers into electronic spreadsheets. Rachel’s notations on the yellow pad revealed nothing, no damning evidence to show that Mallory had “after-hours pleasures” that paid very well—or that he had taken that money from her.
Mallory had been paying Kyle Scanlon four hundred a month—holding back that money from him, the man who owned her. He’d always left her enough to pay the business bills, but not enough to run away from him. “And she held back on me. If she were alive now, and I knew this, I’d—”
He breathed in the salty fog, and a chill wrapped around him. “I’ll haunt you forever,” Mallory had said.
Just one bit of evidence, tying him to Mallory, and he’d be ruined.
“Where is that damned doll?”
Where? Mallory’s sultry laughter seemed to curl around him. Why are you so worried, lover?
Chilled by the eerie sense that Mallory’s curses could come true, he shivered. What’s the matter, lover? Worried that someone will find out our little secret? I’ll be waiting for you—on the far, still side of forever.
Seven
“MALLORY?”
The next morning, the overpowering sense that her sister was near caused Rachel to stop just inside the apartment door. “Mallory?” she repeated and waited for an answer that did not come.
She looked at the bare apartment, the small towers of boxes, as yet unpacked. Stripped of their heavy drapes, the windows were open to let in the fresh May air. The bare varnished floors gleamed in the sunlit squares. In a canning jar serving as a vase, the bouquet of fresh flowers that Rachel had bought were fragrant and perky. They stood on the kitchen table she’d found at the used furniture store; of chrome and Formica, it was small, serviceable and perfect, a marbled red to match the four chairs.
Rachel inhaled slowly, preparing to face a day of cleaning and moving, and hoped to stay in the apartment that night.
“I don’t like the thought of you staying at that place. I wish you would reconsider, maybe
stay with us for a while, or maybe rent a place, some little house away from Nine Balls,” Trina had said earlier.
“I’ll be working odd hours to get the business up and running, Mom. I wouldn’t want to disturb you—”
“Disturb me? Disturb me? You think I’m not afraid that what happened to Mallory will happen to you? That you’ll become as obsessed with that place as she was—oh, I can see that you’ve made up your mind. In some ways, you’re just as headstrong and stubborn as I am.”
“It works for me,” Rachel had said with a smile. “And you, too.”
“I just want you to be safe. What about installing an alarm system?”
Rachel had started to say that she’d lived in a big city and she’d managed…but that wasn’t true. She’d been attacked while walking home at night…she knew the dangers and the panicked aftermath of fear that occurred after an attack. “New locks should do it,” she’d said.
She looked around the small kitchen that hadn’t been cleared and cleaned. Apparently, in the last years, cooking and eating weren’t a priority with Mallory. The apartment-size stove seemed new and unused, the instruction booklet still inside the oven. The refrigerator was also new, empty but for a few frozen dinners that Rachel quickly tossed away. After turning on the local radio station, she scrubbed the refrigerator’s shelves thoroughly, planning to fill it later.
The announcer moved from the weather to sports, and then back into the soft rock portion of the program and the music filled the stillness of the apartment, the DJ a talkative companion as Rachel worked. Ricky Timberlake’s friendly voice announced a sweet ballad-like song, not his usual choice, but something that fit the day—I’ll be with you forever, till the tides no longer flow, till doves no longer fly and roses no longer bloom, till time comes no more…. I’ll be with you forever. On the far, still side of tomorrow….
Rachel paused and closed her eyes, remembering how well Mallory had liked the song. “Oh, Mallory. There was so much we could have done together, so much life—how could you? How could you?”