by Eve Langlais
His police car slowed to a halt outside the gates, and Hugo held in a sigh as he climbed down.
Pierrot emerged from the driver’s seat and drawled. “Looks like I visited at just the right time. You’ve got a trespasser.”
“Who was about to explain why he’s here.”
“As if you don’t know. My girlfriend is missing.”
For a moment, he actually wondered if he spoke of Ariel, but the man was much too young and unrefined for someone like her.
It was Pierrot who drew the right conclusion. “Five foot five, dark hair, about shoulder-length, tattoo of a bird on her hip?”
“Yeah. Did you arrest her?”
“Not exactly. You need to come with me.” A stream of curse words not in French or English emerged. Pierrot didn’t pay it any mind and was ready when the solution did its job and dumped the fellow.
The cuffs went on, despite a slight scuffle, and before Hugo could find out anything, Pierrot hustled the man off.
But that wasn’t what required several glasses of scotch to fall asleep.
Ariel.
Dammit.
Why did she have to betray him?
Chapter Twenty-Three
The last words she’d had with Hugo pressed heavily on her. She had little to say on the drive back to the resort, but the other women never shut up. She discovered all their names. Louisa, Audrey, and Portia rode with her, while the other vehicle held Tanya, Carla, and Marie. Marie Cadeaux, whom everyone called Mother.
She finally asked. “Did she adopt you all or something?”
“She’s not our mother-mother.” Tanya practically rolled her eyes. “She’s our handler. Your handler too when you go in the field.”
“Handler. As in a spy on a mission?” So much to understand, and none of it rang any bells.
“Depends on the job. You’re versatile.”
“Almost as flexible as Louisa is,” Audrey joked.
“Don’t stress trying to remember,” Portia soothed. “It will come back eventually.”
“You can’t know that for sure,” Merry argued, the name feeling right and wrong at once. Was it wrong she still wanted to be Ariel?
“Seeing your things might spark it.”
Except seeing the beautiful clothes in the closet did not make her recall buying them. Nor did the long line of toiletries do more than make her wonder how much time she spent daily in the bathroom.
The stories shared only served to make her feel even more alienated than before.
The person they described seemed so different. Brave and self-assured for starters. A bit of a slut, too, by all accounts.
“How many husbands have I had?” she asked, sure she’d misunderstood.
“Six, but you didn’t consummate four of those on account that they were old. One died right after the wedding.”
“I killed him?” she squeaked.
“Heart attack.”
It stunned to know she’d married a few times in the name of getting the job done. None of them very long marriages, thankfully. Apparently, she didn’t like being separated from her children for long.
She had babies. Not so young anymore, though. Their image on her phone had her touching the screen, sad, mostly because they seemed familiar yet she couldn’t recall their youth. She’d had to research to find out even their middle names.
It hurt to know she’d forgotten her own children.
She spent the day in her room, which didn’t prove very restful given someone kept checking on her every few hours. Did they think she’d run away?
Even Jacques showed up. Seeing him outside her door, she chose to slip out into the hall rather than invite him in.
“Superintendent,” she said, adopting Hugo’s word for him. “I’m surprised to see you here.”
“I went to check on you at Mr. Laurentian’s. However, he informed me your friends came to fetch you. I take it you’ve remembered everything?” His gaze was intent.
She shook her head. “Not yet, but I’m sure it won’t be long.”
“I do hope you’ll keep me informed. I want to see you recover.”
“Thank you.”
“I had another reason for visiting. So, we got a lead on the person who drowned in the pool. Turns out they’re not actually from here. They flew in from Chicago.” He said it as if it should mean something.
“And?”
“Isn’t that where you’re from?”
“No idea. Should I dig out my driver’s license to see? I’m sure it’s around here somewhere.” She’d come across her identification as she rifled through every single possession. She recalled staring at the picture of a serious-faced her, and an age that seemed a few years younger than expected. Was she really only thirty-four? Because she’d have said early forties, at least.
“I will need a copy of it for our records. But back to the person in the pool. Turns out they were wanted by your American law enforcement.”
“For what?” she exclaimed.
“Assault and battery. Theft over five thousand. Uttering of death threats. Possession and distribution of a controlled substance. Meaning they weren’t a real loss to our society.”
“Why did they come here?” she asked, yet she already knew. Obviously, a hired killer coming after Hugo and she just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.
“It is not unusual for criminals to flee here. They think we’re easy, but we’re not. We take crime seriously.”
“I’m sure you do.” She kept the sarcasm to herself.
“Curious, though, how they ended up on Mr. Laurentian’s property.”
“Most likely, they were going to rob him blind.”
“Possibly. And you’re sure you saw nothing?”
She shook her head. “Nap and then a shower. That’s it.” No body floating in the pool. That was only for her nightmares.
“And still no recollection of how you got that bump on your head?”
“Nope.”
“You will call me if you do remember?”
“Of course,” she lied.
Pierrot left, and she paced. One killer had been foiled, but Hugo remained in danger. Perhaps it was dumb of her to care, but there was something about the man that she couldn’t let go. It bothered her how they’d left things between them.
The anger seething inside him.
She’d never meant to deceive him. But she wasn’t sure he believed that. If only she had the nerve to speak to him again. Maybe find the right words…
What if she showed up at his gate, though, and he wouldn’t talk to her? What if he hated her? What if…she actually acted instead of making assumptions?
She stared at the clothes hanging in the closet. So many beautiful things. Slinky, elegant, luxurious. The woman who wore those things didn’t cower and let anything frighten her. This Meredith they’d told her about was a bold, take-charge kind of woman.
That woman wouldn’t let something like a man’s bad mood stop her from trying to make things right.
Before she could choose a dress of courage to wear, there was a knock at her door.
No real surprise. It had been a whole three hours since her last check-in. She swung open the door. “I’m fine. No, I don’t remember anything yet, I—” The words trailed as she saw him standing there. “Hugo.” Such pleasure infused her at the sight of him.
He shifted. “Um. You forgot this.” He thrust the bathing suit at her.
He could have easily not bothered or had it couriered over. But he’d brought it himself. Surely that meant something.
“Want to come in?” She stepped aside and, for a second, nerves convinced her that he’d decline.
He crossed the threshold, and her heart hammered in her chest as she shut the door.
“Nice view,” he said, looking out the window.
She snorted. “It’s okay compared to the one from your place.”
“Listen, I came to—”
“Hugo, I—"
Th
ey both paused as their statements clashed.
He inclined his head. “Go first.”
“I wanted to say again how sorry I am. I don’t know what real-me planned. But the amnesiac version of me never meant to hurt you or lie to you in any way.”
“You didn’t hurt me.”
“Then you’re the lucky one.”
“Meaning what?”
A single shoulder lifted, and her chin ducked. “I thought after the night we spent—”
He interrupted. “That was sex. Nothing more.”
“It felt like more.”
“I’m not looking for a relationship. Never said I was.”
Her nose wrinkled. “According to Carla, I’m the same way. I like to keep it casual. Rarely going back for seconds.”
“Keeping it emotion-free makes for fewer misunderstandings later on.”
“With the only drawback being the years spent alone adding up.” Her lips turned down. “I’m starting to wonder if I really want my old life back.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
“Did you just call me old?” For some reason, he teased to lighten her mood. He couldn’t have said why. He was still angry.
Her lips twitched a little. “Well, you do have more gray hair than I do.”
“How would you know? You don’t even know if yours is natural.” He arched a brow.
“It’s real. All of me is.” She glanced down at herself, and his gaze followed. “No nips or tucks, apparently.”
“Why mess with perfection.” The unbidden words slipped from his lips.
But the smile she gave him was well worth the gaffe. “My passport says I’m thirty-four, you know. But, apparently, my real age is closer to forty-six.” Her nose wrinkled. “I don’t feel that old.”
“Because you’re not old. You’re halfway there at this point. In your prime.”
“Definitely didn’t feel old last night.” Her sultry expression had the desired effect.
He got hard. So fucking hard. Then muttered, “What am I going to do with you, Ariel?”
“You could do me.” She moved into him, and he welcomed the feeling of her in his arms. “Turns out, I’m not seeing anyone.”
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” He said it, but his body argued it.
“Because of the age thing. I get it. Once a day is all you can manage. Pity.” She shoved away from him, and he blinked.
The gauntlet had been thrown. His masculinity challenged.
“Oh, like fuck, Ariel.” He reeled her back in, knowing she’d neatly trapped him and not caring.
He wanted to be inside her again. To see if that moment of connection had indeed existed, or if he’d imagined it. Perhaps it was a one-time thing.
He kissed her, but she only allowed a short embrace.
“Maybe you’re right, and it’s a bad idea.”
“It’s a terrible idea.”
“The worst,” she agreed, nipping his chin. “But…”
“We’re both mature adults.”
“Too mature.”
“We really owe it to ourselves to have one last time. You know, on account of our advanced ages.”
“To get it out of our system,” she agreed.
“Then we’re done,” he murmured against her lips before he kissed her. A press of his mouth was all it took to ignite the passion. It simmered between them, hot and demanding. It didn’t care that they were wrong for each other. When it came to lust and desire, they were perfectly matched.
Following a sensual rhythm, the mouths tasted. Caressed. Their breath a hot mesh of anticipation. Pushing her against the wall, Hugo dropped to his knees, her dress an easy thing to push up, baring her to him.
A touch of his fingers parted her thighs. It took only a small shove to have her drape it over his shoulder, truly exposing her to him. The pinkness of her beckoned, and he eagerly pressed his mouth to her. She shuddered and moaned, her excitement causing the core of her to pulse.
He felt it and had to take a lick.
Her hips bucked, meaning he had to grip her, hold her so he might keep licking and tasting. Lapping between her folds before flicking her clitoris. She jerked each time he jabbed it, and he wanted to feel her excitement. He thrust a pair of fingers into her, the heat and wetness gripping him as he continued to play with her clit. Teasing it. Tugging it. Her sex squeezed his digits. He pumped them as his tongue tickled her nub, flicking it as he thrust into her.
When she came, he felt it, tasted it. And he kept going. Taking that ebbing climax and rolling her into the beginnings of a second one. She panted and moaned, then squirmed free so she could kneel and shove at him, her hands going to his pants and tugging him loose. She gripped him, her fist tight, and she worked his cock, drawing a long, drawn-out moan from him.
“Lie down,” she ordered. Forget all the perfectly fine beds and chairs and couches.
He lay down on the floor, and she positioned herself over him. Their gazes locked, and he held his breath as she lowered herself just enough to tease the tip of him.
He put his hands on her waist and pulled her down, sliding his thick shaft into her. Deep. Stretching. Filling her enough that her head fell back, and she moaned.
“Yes.”
She rocked on him, slow, hard grinds of her body against his. He helped, his hands on her waist, helping to push him deeper. And when her breath hitched as he moved a certain way, he made sure to repeat that motion.
Over and over. Hitting her in that g-spot. Feeling her tighten. Knowing she was close to coming. Coming on his cock.
She dug her nails into his chest as she climaxed, the muscles of her sex squeezing him so tightly, he couldn’t help but explode.
She collapsed atop him, his cock still inside her. Both of them breathing hard. His body and hers bathed in a thin sheen of sweat. He didn’t want to move. Wanted to forget the outside world for a bit.
She said nothing.
What could they say? The chemistry between them didn’t change the circumstances.
She’d lied.
He couldn’t trust her.
She was a killer.
So was he.
It would end in someone being hurt—or dead.
But he still spooned her as he fell asleep.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Before dawn, Merry snuck out of bed. Literally, squeezed out and tossed on a bathing suit before leaving the room. Not because she wanted to.
She wanted nothing more than to remain lying beside Hugo. The heavy weight of him, a soothing comfort.
Yet she had much to ponder. Such as what she would do since her memories remained stubbornly locked away. She also didn’t know how to handle Hugo. They’d said one last time.
No promises.
No strings.
Problem was, she still desired him. Not love, though. Even she knew better than to think she could fall in love so quickly. But he was right, they couldn’t be together. No matter how good it felt.
Exiting the building, the humid air and redolent scents filled her senses. The resort was just starting to stir, sprinklers finished their cycle, leaving the foliage damp. The hint of the spray used to keep the bugs at bay, lingered in the air.
She began to walk towards the main restaurant where she could find coffee and a pastry. She could have called someone to bring it, and yet that would have meant spending more time with Hugo. He might have woken. Dressed. Left.
It might be cowardly, but she didn’t want to deal with it.
As she followed the path she’d learned only the day before, mostly because her friends insisted, she noticed no one else up and about. A pity. There was something stunning about this time of day when everything was pristine and perfect.
The sound of an engine had her scooting to the side and glancing over her shoulder. A golf cart, the vehicle of choice on the resort, slowed and stopped. The man, younger than she, had a thick beard and mustache, sunglasses, and a hat pulled low, the logo for the resort stamped across
both it and the shirt he wore.
“Give you a ride?” he asked.
“That would be lovely.” She slid into the rear of the golf cart facing backwards. “It’s a lovely morning.”
“Umg.” The driver grunted and pulled away, tires spinning and spitting gravel. She jolted and frowned as she grabbed a support bar.
“Careful.”
No reply, nor did he slow down. The bright exteriors of the buildings flashed past with chunks of forest. He was taking a different route than she did on foot. They veered off the paved lane to a dirt one, the pitted surface jostling them hard enough that she got worried. “This isn’t the right way.” It suddenly occurred to her how stupid she had been, getting into a vehicle with a stranger. Had she forgotten those that’d tried to kill her?
She needed to get off. The moment the speed slacked a bit, she jumped, landing better than expected, her body going with the motion so that she hit with both feet, knees bent.
Pushing up, she began to run back down the path towards the resort and people. Safety.
Only the driver of the cart flipped around and came roaring at her. She veered for the woods, her breaths huffing as she ran wildly through the foliage, getting thoroughly lost, her panic making her pause as her chest heaved.
She had no idea where to go.
Not a sound other than those of the forest stirred the air. Birds cawing. The rustle of branches. The whine of insects.
A sudden prickling at her nape had her whirling. Too late to do anything.
The blow sent her into dreamland—with a hint of cloudy nightmares.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The door slammed open, and so did her eyes in response to the loud thud. The red, glowing digits on the clock showed that it was just past three a.m. The bar had closed and kicked everyone out. Tommy was home.
And Tommy didn’t care if his antics woke her and the children.
She knew better than to say anything. Even the neighbors didn’t dare complain, not anymore. Mr. Sandrowski still wouldn’t meet her gaze if they passed in the hall.