by Cait London
“I usually have something in mind when I issue invitations, Scanlon.”
“Ah. Ulterior motives. I’ll keep that in mind.” While listening to the soft music she’d started in the small entertainment center, he ate the baked meatball, pasta, and cheese wedge with a spring-greens salad. The wine was a good Napa Valley red, smooth with a smoky cherry bite; it matched Rachel—smooth, full of body and strength, with an underlying nip that could satisfy and excite.
A man could really enjoy playing games with Rachel—waiting for her to deliver what she wanted, Kyle decided reluctantly, as she curled up at the other end of the couch. She sat sipping her wine and studying him and Kyle knew that she had an agenda; he wouldn’t be alone with her, in this apartment, if she didn’t.
He placed the empty plate on the coffee table, tossed his napkin on top of it, and sat back to look at her. Playing with Rachel was dangerous. On the other hand, Kyle never could leave a motor untuned and humming. The real satisfaction was in the ride, either smooth and long—or a hard drive to the finish. He was starting to get hard just thinking about making love to her—watching her react to each touch—and decided to speed up whatever she had in mind. “Okay, we went through that little routine to get me fed and pliable. Now what’s up? What do you want?”
He didn’t trust her slight, tight smile. Then Rachel reached to a side table, jerked open a drawer, and withdrew a pad and pencil. She held it out to him. “Here. Make a list of every man you even ‘suspect’ of visiting Mallory, of being involved with her.”
“Now that would be telling.” Kyle ignored the pad and she tossed it to the table. He didn’t know all of the men who had visited Mallory, though he was pretty certain some of Neptune’s Landing’s elite businessmen came to her for private pleasures their wives wouldn’t supply.
At first, he’d tried to stop them and the outsiders that somehow found Mallory’s door, but she’d been livid, furious with him. I have to have them…you don’t understand, Kyle, and you don’t have to—just take your do-gooder interference somewhere else.
And then Mallory had hugged him, held onto him like a lifeline. I love you, Kyle, but I have to do this….
With such a list, Rachel could get into real trouble, because these men didn’t want their lives disturbed. “Maybe you’d just better let this go, Rachel. Let Mallory rest.”
She scooped up his plate and was on her feet moving into the kitchen again. She moved quickly, efficiently, purposefully, and that was the Rachel he knew—set on her goals, determined. “There’s something I want you to hear.”
While the tape played, Rachel stayed near the entertainment center. She leaned against the wall as she watched his reaction—Kyle didn’t like the sound of a woman in pain; he didn’t care that his expression revealed how the sounds sickened him and twisted his gut with hatred for any man who would hurt a woman like that. “Turn it off.”
The pitiful sounds clicked off and Rachel spoke quietly, bitterly, “There’s more, but that’s enough to get the idea…. I’m going to catch that bastard and ruin him.”
He turned to her as she sat on the other end of the couch. “You think I hurt her?”
Kyle thought of the times he’d revived Mallory, the helplessness of taking care of a woman who wouldn’t defend herself, who wouldn’t let him defend her.
“No—”
“You’d better believe I wouldn’t. You’re coming close to insulting me, Rachel, so watch it. There’s limits to what a man can tolerate, and being labeled as someone who mistreats women is mine. You may not like me, but I’ve never touched a woman like that. Back off.”
Her voice was cool, precise, a businesswoman briskly presenting a sales package to a prospective client. “I just had to know. No one else knows about that tape. She hated a man, Kyle, and I want you to help me find out who did this to her. I want to keep Mom and Jada out of this.”
He was on his feet, pacing across the vanished floors, furious with the men that Mallory knew, who brought her down, who used her…furious with himself for not being able to stop them—or her very determined path to self-destruction. “You think I haven’t tried to find out who was hurting her? What spineless son of a bitch wouldn’t want his own babies? Mallory wasn’t talking, not even when she was drugged. Who knows? It might have been anyone, or someone who just stopped by when they felt like knocking her around. It could have been one or a few. Jesus, Rachel. Don’t you think I’ve tried?” he demanded again.
“But it wasn’t Tommy?” she pressed.
Kyle remembered the scenes where Mallory had brusquely ordered Tommy to carry out Nine Balls garbage, speaking to him as if he were nothing—and Tommy had been too eager to please. “No. I think he was in love with her and Mallory knew it was no good. She knew he had a wife and children and that his life would be ruined if they were together. In her way, she protected Tommy by turning him away.”
Rachel stood abruptly and rubbed her hands together. “Whoever it was, she hated him. She felt powerless, but she took her revenge in an unusual way for someone in this part of the country.”
“What do you mean? ‘This part of the country?’”
She didn’t answer, but leveled a look at him. “The other wives? Did they know? Could one of their husbands have wanted to keep Mallory quiet?”
“I don’t know. Mallory wasn’t talking. I got the impression that there was only one that she really hated, some guy with a real power trip and a hold over her.”
Rachel went into the kitchen and returned with a small ragdoll, evidently meant to be male, and handed it to him. “The Northwest coast isn’t exactly voodoo country, but the meaning of this is hard to miss. It was something she needed to try, anyway.”
Kyle studied the pins, the different perforations remaining in the worn cloth, several in the heart and head and more in the crotch. “Think it worked?”
“Jada does know about this doll, but not the tape. I don’t care if Mallory was a consenting adult. He’s got brown hair, Kyle—fine, brown hair. I think that shirt and button belonged to him. And I want him.”
All this time, and Kyle had no idea that Mallory practiced voodoo. “So do I. You know this could represent several men, not an individual.”
“I don’t think so. But I think this was a special man, one who threatened her with the safety of people she loved. I think that this was something she held over him, some part of her that he couldn’t reach, some private pleasure of her own.”
Kyle thought of the little girl that Mallory loved more than herself, and perhaps even more than her family.
“Just for curiosity’s sake, how do you know that isn’t my hair? It’s the same shade.”
“Too soft and fine. Yours has a crispness and a tendency to wave.”
“So you noticed. Should I be flattered?”
“No. It’s just a fact. I felt it. Why else do you think I’d touch it?”
“At the moment, you had your reasons. So did I…Jada can’t keep a secret and you know it. You deliberately told her, didn’t you? To start things rolling so that you could get this guy to come out of the woodwork, to show himself? I thought you were a smart woman, honey, but you’ve just asked for it.”
“I’ll handle it.” Rachel replaced the doll and walked to the door. She opened it slightly. “Okay. Thanks for coming. You can leave now.”
Kyle rose slowly; he didn’t like the way she dismissed him. “Just business, right, Rachel?”
Her jaw lifted. “That’s right. The only other thing you can do is to tell me why you were on Mallory’s monthly payments.”
He smiled and let that drop, but Kyle wasn’t done with her. “You stay here, get obsessed with this place and revenge for Mallory, and you could be in real danger, especially when he finds out about the doll. He’ll be coming after it.”
“It’s been a long, long day. Good night, Scanlon.”
Rachel had set her mind to driving this guy out of the woodwork and making him pay. Kyle worried that her obsessio
n could kill her. “I’ll buy this place from you. Name your price.”
“You don’t have enough money and I promised Mallory. I’m going to get this place up and running, turning a profit, and draw in the money crowd. This isn’t going to be the local tavern with a few pool tables added for boy-girl games. You’re not getting Nine Balls, Kyle.”
“You think I’d do that? To something Mallory wanted to be high class?” Rachel was getting to him, putting him in his place, and she was pretty damned irritating. And right now, he needed to push her buttons, testing her….
Just that flickering of her eyelashes as she looked away from him said that she was aware of how close he stood. Just to push her for a reaction, Kyle reached to curve his hand around her nape. At that, her eyes lifted to his. “Easy….” Kyle murmured. “You’re getting all nervous and jittery. Now I wonder why.”
He stroked his thumb along that smooth throat and felt the electricity in her, between them, sensing that it could strike at any moment. He held his breath, because pushing Rachel could result in anything.
After a heartbeat, she looked away. “I’m too tired to spar with you.”
“You’re all keyed up. You won’t sleep. I could help you to relax.”
She eased from his hand and opened the door wider, indicating that he should leave. “Maybe I am a little tense, but that’s not your concern, is it? Don’t you have ex-wives waiting for you?”
“Women usually do. It’s that anticipation thing, making them wait.”
She didn’t hesitate, moving into getting what she wanted—information. “You buy clothes for a girl. You’ve got a girl’s bike at your garage. There was a picture of you in Mallory’s scrapbook with a girl around seven or eight. Do you have a daughter, Scanlon? Another ex-wife tucked away somewhere? Or a girlfriend you never married? Do you have a daughter with Mallory?”
That picture was a year old and that very special girl was nine now, but Kyle wasn’t giving Rachel any tidbit to work on. He smiled then, because Rachel was back in the ball game, hunting for something she could use. “She’s just a little girl, no relation to me at all. Mallory liked the picture, and I gave it to her. I’m saving myself for your sister, Jada, honey. I thought you knew.”
Rachel reacted immediately, her eyes flashing at him. Once again those slender capable hands gripped the front of his shirt and Kyle allowed her to haul him closer. “Don’t you dare.”
“But I promised, and like you, I always keep my promises. You just have to have your hands on me, don’t you?” He placed his hands over hers, smoothing them with his thumbs. He loved nudging that hidden emotional side of Rachel, momentarily distracting her from tracking down the men in Mallory’s life.
But she’d be watching for anything that might tie a man to Mallory, and she was definitely going after whoever was on that tape, whoever Mallory hated enough to try black magic.
He studied Rachel’s face, the candlelight framing her hair in a reddish tinge. He smoothed it, held that silk in his fingers, and studied the different shades, warm against his skin. “Don’t go after them, Rachel. It’s dangerous.”
“You could help me. You seem to know more than anyone about Mallory.”
“And watch you get tangled into the same mess? No. That would be a real shame for a girl who looked terrific in a mermaid outfit,” he added to lighten the mood and bent to brush his lips across hers.
“Scanlon?”
“Mm?”
“Tell me more about the girl. Who is she? Where were you when that picture was taken? There were fields in the background, and a horse, so it was at a farm, right? Around here somewhere? No, somewhere else, because those are pine trees…the mountains maybe?”
Rachel wasn’t moving away. She was still gripping his shirt in her fists and Kyle leaned closer to nuzzle her cheek and taste her ear with a flick of his tongue. “Scanlon?” she breathed against his ear. “I’m going to find out anyway. You might as well make it easy on yourself.”
“Or you could,” he suggested and let his hands wander over that sleek satin covering her bottom. He deserved a little feel-good action, he decided, enjoying that softness as he squeezed gently.
“You’re in for trouble, Scanlon,” she whispered against his lips, her hands slipping up his chest. Her arms locked around his shoulders. “I’m good at research, really good.”
“Promises, promises,” he returned and slanted his lips to hers.
She was all there, everything a man could want—heat, hunger, strength, and softness combined. But she was dangerous, withholding, keeping just that edge from really opening up, and he knew that she was on the hunt for answers he didn’t want to give.
His body aching now, Kyle eased away from her. “Nice try.”
Rachel crossed her arms and her tight smile didn’t reach her eyes. “I thought so.”
He had to admire her control and promised himself that he’d see her break it, watch the passion darken her eyes, feel her body let go of that slight tension and release itself to him. He placed his fingertip beneath her chin and lifted it for a brief hard kiss. “Good night. By the way, I would have thought you’d have a different perfume. You’re wearing the same vanilla scent Mallory liked, aren’t you?”
Her confident cool slipped momentarily. “No, I’m not wearing any perfume. There’s just the candles, and they’re lavender scented—Vanilla was Mallory’s favorite scent…. Do you…do you feel that Mallory might still be here? In this apartment?”
He didn’t want to admit that his senses were telling him that there were two women in the apartment—one was Rachel, sharp, strong, and in control, and the other one was waiting…. But then, listening to that tape, seeing Mallory’s cloth doll, the pins in it, and combining that with a woman he wanted badly, could do strange things to a man…. “She died here, that’s all. You’re letting this place get to you, Rachel, and that’s not smart.”
“Don’t ever underestimate me, Scanlon.” Rachel wasn’t the kind of woman to toss idle threats around; she knew how to back them up—but then, so did he.
“Oh, I won’t.” Kyle studied her, their gazes locking. “I’ll be around.”
“Yes, that would be nice.”
“Because?”
“You know why. You have something I want and I’m going to get it.”
“Harry likes it at my house.”
“I’ll get him—and whatever else I want,” Rachel stated confidently.
He smiled at that. Because Kyle knew what he wanted—Rachel—and he knew other things, too. She liked the hunt, and all he had to do was to wait….
“I’ll haunt you forever….”
He wiped the sweat from his forehead, his skin clammy and cold. Rachel was up in that apartment, burning those candles and focusing in on him. She had Kyle with her, probably explaining how to use the pins—
“Kyle, always Kyle. They were together and sinning long before you got tangled up with Scanlon, Rachel. Now you’re following your sister’s road straight into hell, Jezebel. You’re going to see that it isn’t a pleasant road, dealing with me.”
He looked up at the lighted squares of the apartment and pictured what they were doing—Kyle Scanlon and Rachel Everly.
He stepped back into the shadows as the door opened, a slice of light in the darkness, and Kyle’s tall body stood outlined in it. He’d be so easy to kill, standing like that.
Rachel came to stand beside him, male and female silhouetted against the flickering candlelight, and the man’s anger leaped, full blown, furious with them both. Mallory’s witchcraft wouldn’t protect them, not when he was ready—
The door closed and Kyle, an athletic man, came down them two at a time.
Then a song floated through the open windows, a song that tortured the man, because it was Mallory’s favorite and she’d promised to wait for him in hell—
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….
Nine
MID-MAY’S COOL EVENING MIST SWIRLED AROUND ATLANTIS Street’s lights and settled on the cars in the Nine Balls parking lot. The first official Ladies-Only Monday night was in session, the players a mix of housewives and businesswomen who were oddly quiet, as if wary of the new owner.
Trina pocketed the eight ball and looked around at the other players in Nine Balls as she chalked her cue. “Business is picking up. You’ve only been open for a week, just a month and three weeks after Mallory—left. You’ve been very busy herding business back.”
She lined up a ball parallel to the end rail and positioned the cue ball between the ball and the rail, angling her cue high. The trick shot called for “a massé” in which the shooter plunged the cue down, skimming the one ball and causing it to jump over the others on its way to an end pocket. “I used to be able to use more than one ball as an obstacle. Let me see if I can try something else.”
Trina placed six balls in a row leading off an end rail, positioned a cue ball near the rail and took her time studying the shot. “The cue ball is supposed to—if hit right with enough english—spin around that line of balls on its way to the opposite pocket….”
When she missed the shot, Trina shrugged and sighed. “I’m way out of practice. I used to make a lot of money taking bets on that shot.”
Rachel racked nine balls into a diamond shape, indicating a game of nine ball on the tournament-size table. “I haven’t had much time to practice or to play either.”
“I know. You look really tired and we haven’t seen much of you.”
Rachel chalked her cue and looked at the tables. She had decided that her mother didn’t need to know about Mallory’s tape or the doll, and was choosing her moments to ask questions. “I’ve been going over Mallory’s things, her scrapbook and pictures. Did she ever talk to you about anyone in particular?”