See No Evil

by Morgan Hayes

  His hand tightened around the box as he fought the urge to race across the bridge toward the other car. He wanted to hurl Fenton to the ground and snatch Stevie away from Bainbridge. He wanted to hold her in his arms, to feel her body safe against his. He would tell her loved he over and over; he would do whatever he needed to convince her of that.

  But he had to get her out of this first.

  Allister wouldn’t have believed it possible, but his heart actually hurt when he thought of Stevie in that car with Bainbridge. A pain twitched deep in his chest when he imagined the terror she must be going through.

  “What are you waiting for?” Fenton shouted, his voice almost lost in another gust of wind.

  Allister fought the urge to look over his shoulder, to see if there was any sign of Devane and his men. But any gesture of that kind would only tip Fenton and Bainbridge off. Besides, he shouldn’t be able to see the police, even if they were there.

  “Where’s Stevie?” Allister shouted, holding his position.

  “She’s in the car. Just bring the coins.”

  “No. I want to see her first. Let her out.”

  Fenton stared at him for a breathless moment and then leaned into the car. Allister heard someone cursing, and finally Fenton reappeared.

  And then, at last, Allister saw Stevie. A helplessness churned in his gut. She was utterly dwarfed by Fenton’s bulk as he dragged her out from the back seat. She stumbled in his grasp, but even at this distance, Allister recognized her steadfast determination.

  It was when Fenton brought his gun up and thrust the muzzle into Stevie’s ribs that Allister started to walk again. He knew he should stall the process. The more time he took, the more chance Devane had of getting here with his men. But reason stood no chance against seeing Stevie, helpless, in Fenton’s ruthless grasp. And Allister couldn’t cross the bridge fast enough.

  When he was within ten paces of them, the other door of the car opened and Bainbridge himself stepped out.

  Long years had passed since he’d seen that smug bastard’s arrogant sneer, Allister thought, yet it seemed like only yesterday.

  Allister stopped dead in his tracks. He hadn’t imagined it could be this overpowering—the bitter animosity, the vengeful fury. He’d thought that the years would have softened those feelings. Maybe it had to do with Stevie. Maybe seeing her in Bainbridge’s clutches was the final straw, but it took every last ounce of humanity left in Allister’s soul to stop from screaming and lunging for Bainbridge’s throat with his bare hands.

  Instead, Allister made a tight fist with his right hand and crushed the box in his other. In the beams of the headlights, Bainbridge stepped to the front of the car. His fulllength leather coat flapped in the wind, and with gloved fingers he flipped up the collar.

  “Mr. Quaid.” He raised his voice above the low rumble of the car engine, and a halo of vapor circled his head. “It’s good to see you again after all these years.”

  “I’m sorry I can’t say the same, Bainbridge.”

  “I’m disappointed. Here I thought you’d be happy to see an old friend.”

  Allister shot a glance at Stevie. Even with Fenton’s arm pinning her to him, she shivered from the cold. And beneath that quiet determination, Allister recognized her fear.

  “Let’s get this done, Bainbridge.”

  “Hand over the coins.”

  Allister shook his head and then nodded toward Stevie. “Not until your hired ape releases her. You let her go, and when she reaches the other end of this bridge, I’ll give you your coins.”

  Bainbridge barked out a laugh. “I don’t think so, Mr. Quaid,” he said finally. “Besides, she’s blind. Wouldn’t you rather help her to the car yourself? Now come on, let me have the package. I’d like to examine my goods first.” Bainbridge did little more than raise a finger, and another man, even bulkier than Vince Fenton, stepped out of the car to stand next to his boss. “Let’s not dally, Quaid. I’m not sure how much longer Vince over there can restrain himself. He’s an impatient man, you know.”

  Allister caught the movement in his peripheral vision, and when he looked over toward Stevie, Fenton had pulled her so tightly to his chest that her feet had almost completely left the ground. A vicious grin cut the man’s face in two.

  Allister had no choice. He closed the gap between him and Bainbridge, and handed over the box.

  It seemed an eternity as Bainbridge opened it and slid out the narrow wooden case. It took even longer for him to unclasp the lid. Allister didn’t move. As Bainbridge examined the coins tucked in the velvet lining, Allister snatched glimpses of Stevie.

  And when Allister thought he could wait no longer, Bainbridge finally closed the box. He slid it into his coat and looked at Allister, a cold grin sliding across his moist lips.

  “It’s been a pleasure doing business with you again, Mr. Quaid.”

  “Call off your goon, Bainbridge. Let her go.”

  Bainbridge nodded to Fenton, and instantly Fenton shoved Stevie forward. She stumbled onto the snowy ground.

  But when Allister was about to rush to her side, he was stopped by Fenton’s gun. The muzzle of the short-barreled semiautomatic was trained directly on him.

  “You do realize, Mr. Quaid,” Bainbridge whispered close to Allister’s ear before backing off, “that I can’t let the two of you go?”

  Stevie’s world tilted in a whirl of light and shadows. In it she searched for Allister. But there was only Fenton, standing above her. She heard snow crunch beneath someone’s boots, and then she heard Bainbridge’s icy voice.

  “Kill them,” she heard him snarl. “Kill them both.”

  Blurred shadows spun in slow motion.

  In an instant Stevie saw Fenton’s arm come up. Headlights gleamed like liquid silver against his gun. Allister’s name screamed in her heart. And in a breath of frigid air, she lunged.

  Pain jarred through her shoulder when she collided with Fenton’s broad chest. She heard his surprised grunt as he staggered back. And then Allister yelled her name seconds before an ear-shattering explosion split the night.

  When Fenton threw her to the ground this second time, Stevie thought for a moment she’d been shot. But other than the dull throb in her shoulder, there was no pain. She gathered herself again and was about to go after Fenton once more when Allister’s voice stopped her—sure and clear through her dim haze.

  “Don’t, Fenton.” His warning was followed by the metallic click of a gun being cocked.

  Stevie squinted as lights suddenly flooded the bridge, and in moments there was a voice amplified over a bullhorn.

  “Hold it,” the voice demanded. “This is the police. Everyone put down your weapons.”

  Stevie looked at the vague outline of the figure she knew was Fenton. He didn’t move. He stood only a few feet away from her. It was then that she realized his gun was pointed at her.

  “I mean it.” The voice on the bullhorn blared again, and this time Stevie recognized it as Devane’s. “I got twenty men out here on this bridge, and I don’t think you wanna find out if I’m bluffing. Now put the gun down and step away from the woman. Now!”

  Still Fenton didn’t move.

  It was Allister’s voice that gave Stevie hope. She saw a shadow shift to her right and knew it had to be him.

  “Fenton, if you don’t believe him,” Allister warned, “then at least believe me.”

  Whether it was a look Allister had given him then, or whether Fenton had finally grasped the futility of his situation, his arm lowered. Stevie saw him drop his weapon, and then his hands came up as he backed off. There were even more lights now, and shadowy figures stormed the bridge, running across the packed snow, shouting orders.

  Stevie turned to where she’d heard Allister’s voice last. Backlit by the glare of headlamps, she saw a silhouette. Light turned to liquid, seeming to melt around the ap proaching figure. And when strong arms reached for her, lifting her from the snowy ground, Stevie knew it was Allister.
>
  Allister heard Stevie’s whimper of relief and pulled her to him. Her body shivered once against his before she seemed to take strength from his embrace. Her arms tightened around his neck.

  She murmured his name, almost chanting it as he held her close. And only when he lowered her to the ground again did she stop. Taking her by the shoulders, Allister held her at arm’s length.

  Nothing had ever looked so good in his life.

  “Stevie, are you all right? Did they hurt you?”

  She shook her head. Her face glistened with tears, but her smile shone through.

  “Are you sure?”

  She nodded, and then Allister noticed her eyes. It could have been the play of the lights coupled with his own exhaustion, but as her face tilted toward him, it seemed as though she was looking at him.

  Allister touched her cheek with one cold finger and wiped away a tear. Her eyes never left his.

  “Stevie, can you…”

  But he didn’t need to finish. She was already nodding.

  “Allister,” she whispered, the last syllable curving her lips into a heartrending smile. She reached for him, her fingers trembling as they caressed his face.

  When he swept her up into his arms, Allister felt his own darkness slip away. As the police stormed the bridge, he was only vaguely aware of the arrests being made. It was Stevie who was the center of his world now. And if she could ever find it in her heart to forgive him, Allister swore he would never let her go.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  STEVIE PULLED her robe around herself and stepped closer to the window. Her breath cast a thin fog against the cold pane, and when it cleared, she watched snow sparkle down in the pale shaft of lamplight. It scurried in fleeting tunnels of wind, and then disappeared into the early-morning shadows.

  Behind her, the bedroom lay in darkness, and she could hear Allister’s low breathing, a familiar and comforting sound.

  With the nightmare of Bainbridge behind them, remembering last night’s events was not so terrifying. It wasn’t until Devane had found them in the midst of the commotion, assuring them that they had Bainbridge, Fenton and his other thugs in custody, that Stevie realized what Allister had done. By going to the police for help, he had taken a gamble with his freedom. He’d had to set aside his mistrust and his personal fears, and then he’d risked his own life for hers. If there had been any lingering doubt whatsoever in Stevie’s mind about Allister’s love, it was gone in that instant.

  As Allister had guided her to the car, Devane had followed. She remembered the detective commending Allister. And when he’d told her she was lucky, she hadn’t known if the detective was referring to her ordeal with Bainbridge or to her reunion with Allister.

  Devane had agreed to let them go, provided they file statements in the morning. But when he suggested that Allister take Stevie to the hospital, Stevie was adamant. She’d had more than her share of hospitals, she argued, and so Allister had driven her home.

  Paige had been absolutely frantic with worry by the time they came through the front door. She’d thrown her arms around Stevie, and when she realized that Stevie could actually see her, Paige had hugged her again. By the time Paige left the studio a little later, she was already bubbling over with plans for the Armatrading reshoot.

  Still, Stevie’s vision had been very distorted. Dr. Sterling had been wrong about the recovery time, but he’d been right about one thing. The best place to be during that disorienting period of blurred vision and wavering peripheral was in bed.

  Stevie couldn’t resist a smile now as she remembered how Allister had carried her to her bed, and the tender and passionate lovemaking they’d shared. No, she couldn’t think of anyplace she’d have rather been.

  She was still smiling when she heard Allister move through the dark room and come up behind her. He wrapped his arms around her waist and drew her back against his strong solid body.

  “What are you doing up so early?” His question was a hoarse whisper in her ear.

  “Watching the snow.” She swayed in the solace of his embrace. “I never thought snow could look so good.”

  And she never thought she could feel so good, Stevie mused as she leaned her head back against Allister’s chest. She never dreamed that the kind of love she had for Allister was possible. For all these years, she’d always been too wrapped up in her work.

  It had taken the blindness, a forced break from her photography, to make her realize what she’d been missing in her life. And now that her sight had returned, she understood that its temporary loss had actually been a blessing. Without her blindness, she might never have found Allister. And he was the one and only thing she had seen in that darkness.

  Turning in his embrace, Stevie pulled away far enough so she could look at him. Dark hair framed his handsome face—a face more beautiful than anything she could have possibly imagined. She traced her fingers along the lines of his face as she had before, but this time her eyes followed: caressing the high, chiseled cheekbones, roving along his square jaw to his almost defiant chin, and finally trailing down and across his broad chest. And when she looked up again and caught his dark gaze, she saw the smile in his eyes as his lips curved beneath her fingertips.

  Seeing him in the delicate glow of the street lamp, feeling the heat of his body against hers, Stevie felt a shiver of familiar desire sweep through her.

  “What?” Allister asked, amusement turning up the corners of his mouth.

  Stevie shook her head. “Nothing,” she said, and traced the softness of his lips. “It’s just…you’re a real sight for sore eyes, you know that?”

  She couldn’t see his smile as he drew her to him, but she felt its curve against her mouth. And as he kissed her, as he pressed his body to hers, Stevie felt utter peace. In Allister’s arms, she’d found a profound sense of belonging, and she couldn’t imagine ever being anywhere else.

  Allister pulled back from their kiss and stared down at her. She met his admiring gaze, and he hoped she could see the love there.

  “So, do you think it’s a sight you could get used to?” he asked.

  “And what exactly do you mean by that?”

  But Stevie knew what he meant. He could see her understanding in the way her eyes sparkled and her lips parted into one of those breathtaking smiles of hers.

  “What I mean is, do you think it’s a sight you could spend the rest of your life with?”

  She studied him then, as though thinking about it, but her answer was already there, lighting up her eyes.

  “Yes,” Stevie said at last. “Yes, Allister, I think I couldquite easily.”

  When he drew her into his embrace, Allister wondered if he should pinch himself to be sure he wasn’t dreaming.

  Get on with your life, Gary had advised him. But never in his wildest dreams had Allister imagined that getting on with his life could be this glorious, that he could find such love and passion. Yes, he’d get on with his life now—his new life with Stevie.

  Allister felt her tense slightly and pull away, and in a glimmer of panic, he followed her gaze out the window. But the street was empty, only the pale glow of the lamp and the drifting snow.

  “What is it, Stevie?”

  She gave him a quick smile and stepped back.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To get my camera, Allister. I don’t want to ever forget this moment.”

  But he caught her wrist then and tugged her back, wrapping his arms around her.

  “I’ll give you something to remember this moment,” he murmured seconds before he claimed her lips.

  They were breathless when at last they parted, and he searched Stevie’s dark eyes. “So, do you still want your camera?”

  “Camera?” she asked, sharing his smile. “What camera?”

  eISBN 978-14592-7042-8

  SEE NO EVIL

  Copyright © 1997 by Illona Haus.

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilizatio
n of this work In whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any Information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

  This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

  ® and TM are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and In other countries.

  Printed In U.S.A.

  Table of Contents

  Cover Page

  Excerpt

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Other Book by

  Title Page

  Dedication

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Copyright