by B. J Daniels
“Oh, Will,” she moaned, her eyes fresh with tears. “Charley says there is nothing we can do without proof that Cassie was involved in Al’s death. And even that will take time.”
He leaned toward her, desperately wanting to take her in his arms and kiss away the hurt. He searched for words to reassure her. They were still missing two copies of Lucas’s damn game. But they had a hell of a lot of suspects. “She can’t do anything without all of the game pieces,” he said. “She still needs you to find the rest of them. And eventually, she will need the one Mercedes gave you.”
Samantha swallowed and sleeved away the tears shimmering on her lashes. “You’re right. Cassie wants the game. That’s why she’s taken Zack. She’ll take good care of him.”
Until she gets what she wants.
He brushed back a strand of hair from her face. She was so beautiful, her eyes glowing with tears and determination. Damn but he wanted to make love to her—as if that would make everything better.
His gaze moved over her face, lighting on her mouth, her luscious mouth, the memory of their kisses still fresh in his mind.
She shifted on the seat, her lips a whisper away from his. He could feel her breath, hear her sudden rapid breathing, see the pulse in her temple throbbing. Her eyes widened and darkened.
Someone moved past the pickup. She jerked back. “Sorry,” she whispered.
Not half as sorry as he was. He took a breath and let it out slowly. “Yeah,” he said, and cracked his window a little. It felt too hot in the pickup, her nearness unnerving, his body on overload. He’d hoped in the days he’d spent with her that the attraction would lessen. It hadn’t. If anything, he wanted her more with each passing hour. His body ached with a need he knew only she could satisfy. He wanted her in his arms. To feel the warmth of her body pressed against his. To touch his lips to the throbbing pulse at her temple. To cup her cheek in his hand. To kiss her and taste her and ultimately make love to her, slowly and gently—
“Will?”
He fought off the image of Samantha naked in his arms and sat up straighter. “Yeah?”
“It sounds like we’re almost there,” she said. “I’ll be right back. I just need a little fresh air.”
He wanted to warn her to be careful, but she was already out of the pickup and gone. As if he had to warn her.
He sat for a moment, cursing to himself. How had he let himself get into such an impossible situation? If Sam were anything but a private investigator—He got out of the pickup and went after her.
* * *
SHE STUMBLED up to the deck, needing the air and the cold and darkness to hide her tears, to sort out her thoughts. She’d almost kissed him. Again. Only this time would have been different. This time there would have been no holding back. Her heart raced with the thought of being in his arms.
You know it would only be temporary.
I know. But I don’t care. I want him. I need him.
I thought you weren’t going to let yourself need any man after Lucas?
The ferry slowed. Ahead, the lights of the island glittered like jewels along the shoreline. She worked her way to the back where the deck was empty. Standing at the railing, she looked out across the water. Mist rolled up out of the darkness and a breeze whipped the inky surface of the water. Will. Her mind wrapped about his name the way she wanted to wrap her arms around him; her body ached for him with a desire like none she had ever known.
Even for Lucas. Not like this.
She’d become accustomed to the sound of Will’s voice, to his smile, to the way he took off his glasses and cleaned them when he was thinking. Just the mere brush of his fingers against her skin—
She shivered and hugged herself against the cold night and the thought of never knowing Will’s touch the way she wanted to.
I’ve fallen in love with him!
Dumb move.
No kidding.
She was destined to lose both Will and Zack. What had she been thinking, letting either of them get so close? Worse, she’d found herself daydreaming about giving Zack the home he so desperately needed, and she’d seen Will in that perfect little family photo. What had she been thinking? To even let herself dream that dream again—
She saw something move, and thought it had to be Will. He’d come up on deck after her. Her heart leapt. But only for an instant. Instead of Will’s handsome face, she caught a glimpse of blond hair sticking out of a dark hood. The next moment she felt hands grab her and push hard.
She slammed into the railing, losing her balance and her footing on the wet deck. She felt the hands again. Strong hands. Grabbing her purse. Forcing her overboard!
* * *
WILL MADE HIS WAY UP to the deck, the night air wet and cold against his face. They were almost to shore. Where was she? He’d gone from feeling foolish and angry with himself to feeling anxious about Sam. He’d come along on this ride to watch over her. Now he’d let her take off into the night, alone and hurt. And he’d been the one to hurt her.
But he couldn’t give her what she wanted. And they both knew it. He couldn’t be married to a private investigator. He couldn’t live each day knowing she might be jeopardizing her life. Worse, he couldn’t have the family he desperately wanted. Now more than ever. Zack and Samantha had shown him how much he wanted children and a wife. Not a P.I.
But tell that to his heart. To his aching body that right now only wanted to hold Samantha against him and breathe in the scent of her. Right now, he’d have promised her anything, just to feel her safe in his arms.
He had started toward the back of the ferry and was working his way along the railing when he saw her—and the cloaked figure trying to push her overboard!
He called out and ran down the deck. But he could see that Samantha had been taken by surprise. She was off balance, slipping on the wet deck, the figure overpowering her.
“No!” he cried.
But it was too late. Samantha went over the rail and dropped out of sight.
The hooded figure had heard him, and, without turning, raced up the other side of the deck, disappearing behind the passenger cabin.
He heard Sam’s cry as she fell, then the splash as she hit the water. He reached the edge of the deck, shrugging out of his jacket as he climbed the railing and dove into the dark water after her.
* * *
LATER SHE WOULDN’T REMEMBER anything but the cold and darkness. And the shock. Falling through the black. Then the icy water. Hitting hard, going under and under. The fear.
At first she’d thought she’d only dreamed Will’s arms dragging her to the surface. Powerful arms. His body the only warmth. His reassuring words as he pulled her with him to safety.
It wasn’t until much later, wrapped in a blanket, sitting in the front of the pickup, that she understood what had happened. She’d been pushed overboard. Her purse with Mercedes’s game piece had been stolen. Cassie had stolen the CD and pushed her.
That’s when the shaking had started, her body convulsing from it, and not even Will’s strong arms could stop the trembling.
“You saved my life,” she said, her teeth chattering as he lifted her into his arms. “Again.”
“Don’t think about it,” he whispered back.
Where was he taking her? Not to Charley’s. Too far, he’d said. A motel cottage on the beach.
“She tried to kill me.” Sam hadn’t seen her face. Just a glimpse of the blond hair. “Cassie tried to kill me.”
Will carried her into the cottage and kicked the door closed behind them, Sam still wrapped in the blanket he’d gotten from someone on the ferry. He didn’t turn on the lights, didn’t stop at the bed—just carried her straight to the shower and turned it on.
She was crying now, burying her face against his neck, aware of his wet clothing, aware that he’d jumped into the water after her. This incredible man whom she’d once thought was predictable. “Will,” she whispered, and pressed her body as close as the blanket and their clothing woul
d allow. “Will.”
He leaned her against the shower wall as he stripped off her wet clothing. Then, still clothed, he stepped into the warm spray with her. She leaned against him, her mouth seeking his, his kisses wet and warm and openmouthed.
“Will,” she whispered against his mouth. “Will.”
He must have heard the plea in her voice, felt the insistence of her kisses, of her naked body against his. “Sam, I don’t think—”
She covered his mouth with her own, swallowing his words. “Don’t think,” she whispered, turning her face up to his, the spray catching in her lashes, the water making her slick and pink and delectable. “Not now.”
* * *
HE COULD FEEL the heat coming back into her body, and the strength returning. She leaned up to take his mouth again, her kiss demanding. He held her to him, afraid to let her go, still shocked by what had happened. What could have happened if he hadn’t gotten to her when he did.
But she was safe. Safe. He closed his eyes and ran his hands over her slick, smooth curves. Don’t do this. You can’t give her what she wants. What she needs.
But he could no more let go of her than he could imagine waking up tomorrow and not seeing her, not hearing her voice, not smelling her intoxicating scent.
“Will.”
He opened his eyes.
She gazed up at him, the darkness gone from the blue-green, her body no longer trembling from the cold or fear, but from desire. It flashed in her eyes like sunlight on a tropical sea.
“Make love to me,” she whispered.
He swore softly, all the fight gone out of him. He knew it was wrong; he knew they’d both regret it in the morning. Especially Sam. But he covered her mouth with his, deepening the kiss, needing her as much as she thought she needed him.
She stripped off his wet clothing, kissing the cool flesh beneath, leaving behind a hot, sensuous trail with her lips until he was as naked as she was.
They clung to each other, their bodies slippery and wet and warm from the water and desire. Steam rose in the shower, cloaking them in a surreal mist that made his head swim and his body weak with the need to be inside her.
He turned off the water just before it grew cold, and swung her up into his arms. In two strides, he carried her to the bed. For a moment, he looked down at her, his eyes trailing over her naked skin slowly, lovingly. His gaze met hers, and a current sparked between them as hot and bright as flames.
“God, you’re beautiful,” he whispered.
Samantha felt herself flush, the heat racing through her veins, making her throb with a need for him. She reached up and touched his cheek, cupping it in her hand. Slowly she pulled him down.
He covered one hard, ripe nipple with his mouth, gently sucking it to an aching point. She groaned with pleasure, arching her body to the warm wetness of his wonderful mouth. He drew the other nipple in and taunted it to a hard peak with his tongue, sending a hot wave to her center.
She ran her hands over his muscled chest, across the hard contours of his back and shoulders, her fingers memorizing every inch with her touch. She knew she couldn’t have Will Sheridan. Not the way she wanted him—forever. But she could have him tonight. And that was enough.
He explored her body, finding every erotic spot as if with a sixth sense. She surrendered to him, giving herself in a way she never had before. And never would again.
His touch made her implode deep inside with shudders that sent goose bumps racing across her bare skin. Then he took her in his arms and kissed her crazy before he slowly, tenderly, filled her, fulfilled her.
She rocked with their rhythm, like a boat in the waves, their lovemaking a music that drifted on the night breeze as waves lapped at the shore. She cried out his name again and again, until finally he filled her with heat and contentment and collapsed in her arms. She held him to her, feeling the weight of him, the wonderful weight of him.
Then he lay next to her, holding her as if he thought she might break. If she thought about tomorrow, she knew she might.
Instead, she didn’t think. Not about Will. Not about Zack. She only felt, losing herself in the heat of this incredible man, as the night slipped away like a thief.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Samantha wasn’t sure at first what had awakened her. She dragged herself up from an exhausted, contented sleep to find that she was curled in Will’s strong arms, warm and secure. She smiled, warmed by the memory of their lovemaking, and closed her eyes as she snuggled against him.
But her thoughts wouldn’t let her fall back to sleep. She opened her eyes, not sure at first what it was that was bothering her.
It was the case.
She eased out of Will’s arms, pulled on her dry clothing and padded across the floor into the adjoining room, not wanting to disturb him. Moonlight streamed through the window. She moved to it, trying to fit the pieces together, something bothering her, something she couldn’t put her finger on.
Outside the window, waves beat the shore, the moonlight silver on the water.
Five pieces of a game. Cassie had one, Eric, Bradley “Buzz” Guess and Mercedes had all received one of the CDs in the mail. Now Cassie had hers and Mercedes’s. How did Cassie intend to get the others?
Sam’s heart suddenly leapt into her throat. She looked around hurriedly for the phone and realized there wasn’t one in the cottage. Her cell phone. It had been in the pickup—not in her purse. She found the keys to the truck where Will had left them on the table and quietly let herself out of the cottage.
Inside the cab of the pickup, she dialed Charley’s number. It rang several times before he picked up. A cop was used to getting calls in the middle of the night.
“Charley, it’s me, Sam,” she said quickly.
“Where the hell are you?” he demanded. “I heard what happened on the ferry. Dammit, Sam—”
“Cassie tried to kill me and I’m afraid she will do anything to get the other pieces of the game—including kill Lucas’s partner Bradley Guess and the half-brother, Eric Ross.”
“Too late, sweetheart,” Charley said quietly. “Bradley Guess was found dead a few hours ago. His piece of the game is missing. And your twenty-four hours are up.”
She closed her eyes and squeezed the phone receiver.
“The chief could pull my badge if he finds out I let you—”
“Charley, I don’t think it’s a game. I think there is something hidden in the game.”
“Like what?” he asked. She could tell she had his attention.
“I don’t know yet.” She thought of what Bebe had said about a way to break into any computer in the world.
“As of this moment, you’re off this case,” Charley said. “Don’t make me pull rank on you. I’d hate to see your butt behind bars, cuz. Worse, mine.”
“What about Zack?”
“You leave Zack and Cassie to me,” he said confidentially. “There are cops working on this case as we speak. You’ve repaid any debts you thought you owed Lucas and Zack. You done good. But now it’s out of your hands.”
She knew he meant it. She was surprised he hadn’t demanded she quit when Lucas was found murdered.
“Then I’d better tell you something,” she said. “I think I know where the fifth piece of the game is.”
“Oh yeah?”
She realized that’s what had awakened her. The notes from a song, the same one she’d heard leaking out of Zack’s CD player for miles. “I think Zack has it.” She explained her theory. “He was so protective of his stuff. It just threw me when I didn’t find the CD in his backpack. I should have thought to look in the player.”
“You and me both,” Charley said. “Where are you, anyway?”
“In some beach cottage with Will,” she said almost shyly.
“Good,” Charley said with a chuckle. “Stay there. By the way, I think Will is a keeper.”
“Me, too.” She didn’t tell him that Will knew the kind of woman he wanted for his bride—and she wasn�
��t it. “Good night.”
“Good night, cuz.”
She switched off the cell phone and sat in the darkness of the cab, listening to the waves crashing on the shore and the painful pounding of her heart. She’d lost Zack. And it was just a matter of time before Will went back to his old life. Worse, she hadn’t been able to solve the case and save Zack. Or find Lucas’s game.
The cell phone rang, making her jump. She picked it up, thinking it must be Charley calling her back. She’d had enough bad news for one night.
“Sam!” Zack cried. “You have to help—”
Panic seized her heart at the fear in his voice.
Another voice came on the line. “Sam?”
Her heart stuck in her throat, the air around leaden, unbreathable. “Lucas?” she whispered, knowing even as she said his name that it wasn’t him. Lucas was dead.
“Do as I tell you,” Lucas’s voice instructed. “If you don’t—” His voice broke off. She could hear Zack in the background crying softly. “You must come alone.” She glanced toward the cottage where Will was still sleeping. Leave Will? Her heart felt torn. But nor could she endanger him any more than she already had.
“If you don’t, she will kill him,” Lucas was saying.
She tried to interrupt but the Lucas voice continued as if he hadn’t heard her. Of course he hadn’t heard her.
“Listen,” he said. “And do exactly as I say.”
She listened, understanding only one thing. She’d failed Zack. Now he was in trouble and she had to try to help him. No matter what Charley said.
* * *
WILL WOKE TO THE SOUND of a boat. It grew nearer, the soft putt-putt of a large motor. He reached across the bed, realizing groggily that the warmth had gone out of the night. Samantha was no longer beside him. The bed was empty!
He sat up with a start. Moonlight splattered across the bare floor, silver shards of light. He jumped up and rushed barefoot and naked into the adjoining room of the cottage, suddenly afraid.
“Samantha?” he called softly.
No answer.
She wasn’t in the bathroom or the small kitchen. He glanced toward the front window, not surprised to see the boat he’d heard. It was large—a speedboat dark against the night. He caught his breath. A figure stood silhouetted against the moonlit water. Samantha! She seemed to be waiting on the dock for the approaching boat.