The Stranger

by Anna del Mar

  I had to force myself to ask the next question. “Why did you marry him?”

  “I didn’t know what else to do.” Her knuckles paled around the sheets. “At first, he wanted me to do all his schoolwork for him and take care of his—um—needs.”

  My nails stabbed against my palms. I had to make a conscious effort to ease my grip before I drew blood. The only blood I really wanted to spill belonged to that son of a bitch.

  “Then he wanted more,” Summer said in that even, impersonal tone. “He told me he was going to show Daddy the pictures if I didn’t marry him.”

  Pictures? “Explain.”

  “The pictures of me,” she said as if I should know exactly what she was talking about. “Doing stuff. Stuff he made me do. Commands he gave me. While asleep.”

  Jesus fucking Christ. I sucked in all the air in the room. “He threatened to show the pictures to your father if you didn’t marry him?”

  “Yes,” she said in a frail voice. “And after we were married, he said that, if I left, if I refused to do what he told me to do, he’d plaster the pictures all over the internet. I was mortified. What would Louise and Tammy think? Daddy was sick. Grief could kill him.”

  Son of a bitch. He’d played on Summer’s weaknesses to manipulate and control her. He knew how much she loved her family, especially her father, and had used that against her. It was worse than I’d imagined and for Summer’s pain, the asshole was going to pay.

  I wiped the tear that spilled from the corner of her eye and took a calming breath to smother my fury. When I could speak again, I asked, “How were you able to get out of the marriage?”

  “It was hard,” she said, dodging the question, even in her dreams.

  “Tell me how you did it.”

  Her brows met in a furious frown. “I said to him, ‘You have pictures of me? Well I have pictures of you. If you make my dad sad, I’ll make your father mad.’”

  It took me a moment to realize what she meant. Then I remembered what Spider had said about De Havilland. Sergio couldn’t afford to piss off his father, who’d only pay his expenses if the son behaved. A new question lurked in my mind.

  “What kind of pictures did you have on Sergio?” I asked.

  “The ones about the drug deals.”

  Of course. Spider had reported that Sergio was an addict, but his father didn’t know that. It all came full circle and clicked nice and neat.

  “Tell me,” I said. “Who took those pictures?”

  “I did.”

  I stared at the woman lying beside me, at the lines etched between her brows, at the sorrow reflected in her eyes. She’d taken a tremendous risk, following Sergio to his dealer and taking the pictures herself. It was typical Summer, brave to the point of recklessness. I could only begin to imagine what she’d gone through.

  “How did Sergio react when he learned you had those pictures?” I asked.

  “He was furious,” Summer said. “He said I had to give him the pictures.”

  “But you didn’t give him the pictures,” I said. “What did you do instead?”

  “I gave the pictures to an attorney,” she said. “I told him to release them to Sergio’s father and the press if something happened to me or if pictures of me surfaced on the internet. Then I demanded a divorce. Sergio didn’t want to face his father’s rage, so he signed the papers.”

  I was blown out of the water. What Summer had done was incredible. He wouldn’t dare mess with me, she’d said that first day in my living room. I made sure of that. Indeed she had. She had single-handedly identified her opponent’s weakness, devised the only possible strategy to resolve her problem, and executed it flawlessly. She’d managed to even out the odds and free herself.

  I now understood why she’d been so reluctant to warn me before she passed out on the truck, why she’d been so upset the morning after and so alarmed when she’d thought I’d had pictures of our night together. My admiration for Summer continued to grow. She was fierce. The more I learned about her, the more I understood the depth of her courage. I was in awe of her, but I wanted to pound Sergio De Havilland to dust and send the troll to hell where he belonged. Still, I forced myself to think through my anger.

  Could the pictures serve as a motive for murder? It didn’t seem likely. If something happened to Summer, Sergio would be screwed. But tonight’s developments merited further research and specific follow-up. I reached for my cell and typed a message to Spider. I was about to turn up the heat on Sergio De Havilland and he didn’t know it.

  I turned on my back, leaned my head on the pillow and hugged Summer to my chest. She lifted herself on her elbows, cased my face with her hands and kissed me, challenging all of my high-minded resolutions with the seductive gaze she beamed through her thick, dark, fluttering eyelashes.

  “Oh, no, you don’t,” I said. “We’re not doing this again.”

  “But you need me,” she said, translucent eyes ablaze. “You want me.”

  “You’re so right about that.” I planted a quick kiss on her warm, plush lips.

  “Your aura.” She traced the lines of my face with her soft fingertips. “It’s so beautiful. It’s like a solar flare.”

  “Now you remember.” Damn my rotten luck. Her light feathering touch was sweet and innocent and yet it tightened my balls and stiffened my dick into an aching rod.

  “A taste,” she murmured in between kisses that had me groaning with need. “Just a little taste?”

  “Not while you’re asleep.” I hated to give my next command, but I opted to be the better version of me tonight. “Close your eyes, Summer. Go to sleep.”

  She laid her head on my shoulder. Her lids fell like curtains over her eyes. Her body relaxed against mine. Her respiration evened. I stared at the ceiling. Everything I’d learned tonight contributed to my worries. I’d known that Summer was vulnerable when sleepwalking, but I hadn’t realized how vulnerable.

  I didn’t get to sleep for a long time. When I finally did, the nightmares came: the planes flying into the towers, the RPG punching through the helicopter, Summer walking into the ocean like her mother. And my life, empty all over again.

  * * *

  “Morning, beautiful,” I said, as soon as her eyes opened.

  She smiled and the day got a whole lot better as I appropriated her lips.

  “I love waking up to you,” she mumbled against my mouth.

  “Me too.”

  I traced the edges of her face with my lips, pressing small kisses along the line of her jaw. Her eyes were slatted with traces of sleep. Her hair spilled all over the pillow. Lines from the sheets marked her cheek. Christ. Having her in my bed felt like a prize.

  “Did I?” she asked.

  I had to tell her the truth. “You did.”

  Fear flared in her eyes. “Did I get out?”

  “Do you really think I’d let you get away like that?” I smirked. “Not under my watch. No worries, you were very active last night, but I fought you off my body with heroic flair.”

  “My hero.” She giggled. “You must be exhausted after such an epic battle.”

  “You are the one who must be tired,” I said. “You worked out a brilliant technical solution to Jer’s pylon problem last night.”

  “I did?”

  I planted another kiss on her mouth. “You were amazing.”

  “I want to see.” She bounced out of my arms and off the bed, marched out to the desk and, returning with her laptop in tow, settled back on the mattress next to me. “Oh, my God! This could work.” She scrolled down her screen. “If we can produce these, Jer’s problems will be solved!”

  “We can produce these,” I said, looking at the screen over her shoulder. “We can manufacture the parts.”

  “I need to work in my sleep more often.�
� She set the laptop aside. “Those specs must have taken me a while. Were you up all night with me?”

  “It didn’t take you all night,” I said and it was true, although I omitted the rest of the story. What was the point in upsetting her all over again?

  “You must be so tired.” She brushed her knuckles against my stubble. “And today you have to travel to Juneau to meet with the governor.”

  “Tired?” I coiled my arm around her waist and brought her down on my chest. “No, more like horny as hell.”

  “Well, well, well.” Her kisses traced my lips from one corner of my mouth to the other. “I can take care of that.”

  My entire body reacted to her grin. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

  * * *

  Summer was taking a shower and I was in the dressing room, adjusting my cuff links, when my tablet chimed. I propped it up on the dresser and clicked on my secured com. Spider came online, his narrow face amplified on the high-definition screen. The tarantula look sharpened his features.

  “Hiya,” Spider said. “I found something curious about Summer’s father.”

  That caught my attention. “Go ahead.”

  “Somebody set up a deferred life insurance policy with his name on it,” Spider said. “You know, the kind that fathers set up for young kids. Say I die now, but I don’t want my kid to blow the money before he grows a brain, so the money automatically goes into trust until the kid reaches a certain age—”

  “I know what it is.”

  “Well, there’s one of those set up under Miguel Silva’s name and by the looks of it, it must be large enough to matter.”

  “Is Summer the beneficiary?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What do you mean you don’t know?”

  “I know that the policy exists because it’s listed under the insurance company roster,” Spider explained. “I haven’t actually hacked the policy itself.”

  “Are you waiting for a printed invitation?” I said. “If Summer is the beneficiary of that policy, we’ve got motive for murder.”

  “We’re back to the stepmother, aren’t we?”

  “Summer remembers another man in the room on the night her mother died, not another woman.”

  “The observation doesn’t necessarily exclude the stepmother,” Spider said. “I hear Louise Silva speaks in a hoarse baritone that could be easily confused with a male’s voice.”

  Spider was on his game. Leave it to him to point out the obvious. I’d noticed too.

  “Don’t you think Summer would’ve recognized her own stepmother’s voice?” I said.

  “Not if she’s not ready to accept a difficult reality.”

  Another excellent observation.

  “Let’s wait and see.” I picked out a tie.

  “The thing is...” Spider hesitated.

  “What?”

  “I have confirmed that Louise owned a condo at Fountain Way at the time that Summer’s mother died.” He shrugged. “Sorry, but I think we’re getting close.”

  The damn tie tightened like a noose around my neck.

  “I made sure we’ve got eyes on the stepmother while she’s here,” I said, “but we need proof. Summer’s really protective of her family.”

  “Dude, you’re about to stick your dick in a hornet’s nest,” Spider said. “Word on the street is you’re into this gal.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yeah.” Spider flashed a crooked smirk. “Word is she’s cool and you’re screwed.”

  I couldn’t deny any of that.

  “She socked Alex.” Spider’s smirk opened into a smug grin. “How cool is that?”

  Did everybody know about that?

  “If this pans out,” Spider said, “she’s gonna be mad as hell at someone, and that someone’s gonna be you.”

  No two ways about it, if this lead turned into something solid, Summer’s life was going to change and not in a good way. On the other hand, her life was at risk and I couldn’t rest until the threat was neutralized and the danger gone.

  “Do it,” I said.

  “Don’t tell me I didn’t warn you,” Spider said before he signed off.

  I studied my reflection in the mirror. The bruise around my eye was almost gone, replaced by a yellowish stain. I took in the neatly creased trousers, the crisp white shirt, the striped tie, and my father’s silver cuff links. I’d come a long way from the mangled mess I’d once been. I felt as if I teetered at the edge of restoration. I’d be fine if I could convince Summer to stay. But how the hell was I going to do that if I had to break her heart first?

  * * *

  Louise Silva opened the door in a polka-dot babydoll that did little to conceal her artificially enhanced chest. She leaned against the door and perched a hand on her hip.

  “Why, hello, handsome.” The end of her cigarette flared as she drew from it. “You’re dressed for trouble today. I wasn’t expecting you this morning.”

  “I’d like to speak to you before I leave,” I said. “May I come in?”

  “Sure.” She exhaled a toxic cloud and gestured me inside. “Have a seat.”

  I followed her to the club chairs, fanning the smoke out of my way. If Grandma and Robert knew Louise was smoking in her room, they’d both have a cow. Me, I had to pick my battles. Thankfully, Louise slipped her scrawny arms into a robe before she sat on the padded chair across from me.

  “Spit it out,” Louise said. “What’s bugging you?”

  “Summer loves you,” I said. “She thinks the world of you.”

  “But you aren’t so keen on me, are you?” She unpinned one of the pink rollers that covered her head and released a multicolored curl. She dropped the roller on her lap before she moved on to the next one. “Let me guess. She’s smart, gorgeous, and educated. She’s tasteful, chic, and stylish—kind of like you. But she doesn’t jive with crude, ordinary old me. I don’t look right to you. I’m loud and obnoxious and I grate on your nerves.”

  “It’s about Summer,” I said. “I want her happy and safe.”

  “Then you and I have something in common.” She dropped another roller on her lap.

  “Do we?”

  Her mouth set on a downward curve. Her acrylic nails tapped on the pile of pink plastic on her lap before she recovered. She unpinned the last roller, shook her head and combed her short mane with her fingers.

  “I won’t bite,” she rumbled in her husky voice. “I lost my marbles yesterday, but I promised Summer I’d be good today. So say what you came to say. I don’t like people who wanna play mind games.”

  I had to give it to Louise. She was smarter and more perceptive than I’d anticipated, which also confirmed her as my best suspect. I had to tread carefully.

  “Summer has gone through a lot in order to find Tammy,” I said. “She could’ve gotten hurt, but you didn’t care. You sent her out here, all by herself, knowing about her challenges, without so much as a second thought.”

  She worked her throat, making a supreme effort to control her temper before she answered. “I’m a bit impulsive at times. Maybe I made a rash decision. But you think I’d mess up one child to get the other back. You think I love Tammy more than Summer, because Tammy’s my biological daughter.”

  “You have to admit,” I said. “It looks likely from the outside.”

  “I’m gonna tell you right now. I love both my daughters. Summer’s just as much mine as Tammy. I worry about Tammy, that’s true. She’s got a wild streak about her. But I also worry about Summer.”

  I eyed the woman skeptically. “Summer’s got a good head on her shoulders. Why should you worry?”

  “Buried alive in her work, hanging on to her routine like a cat dangling from its claws, refusing to put herself out there for fear of betr
ayal.” Louise paused. “What kind of life is that?”

  “Do you know what happened to her?”

  “Of course I know,” Louise snapped. “I’m her mom. Who do you think picked her up from the bastard’s apartment on the day she walked out without a dime to her name? Who do you think helped her find an attorney? Who do you think helped her keep the secret from her sick dad and nursed her when she wouldn’t come out of her room for ten days straight?”

  I bristled at the mere thought of Summer broken like that. But maybe Louise had ulterior motives in helping her stepdaughter. If she knew that Miguel Silva had made provisions for his daughter, perhaps she’d colluded to endear herself to Summer in order to get the money.

  Time to up the ante.

  “Did Summer tell you that someone tried to kill her here in Alaska?”

  Louise flinched. “Come again?”

  I’d known some great actresses in my time, but I didn’t think any of them could blanch as authentically as Louise did now. The color drained from her face, highlighting the sunspots that blotched her complexion.

  “Twice,” I said. “A hired killer tampered with her brakes and, when that didn’t work, tried to drown her in a lake.”

  The expression in Louise’s gaze shifted from confusion to fury. “Who?” she demanded. “Tell me who, right now.”

  “He’s dead now,” I said. “His name was George Peterson. He didn’t give up his employer’s name. He tried to set it up so it looked like a sleepwalking episode.”

  Louise stared at me. “Summer’s mother drowned while sleepwalking.”

  “Coincidence?”

  “You don’t think so.” Louise’s eyes tapered into slits. “You think Summer’s murder attempt was somehow linked to her mother’s death. Why would anybody want to kill Summer or her mother?”

  “I thought perhaps you’d have some ideas,” I said. “Can you think of anyone who might want to harm Summer?” I didn’t add other than yourself.

  “You think it was me.” She glared at me, incredulous. “You think I hired someone to kill Summer’s mother and then Summer.”