A gush of water broke free of the leafy barrier and fell so close she saw it, felt its spray, but missed getting soaked.
Annie opened her mouth to breathe. She couldn’t stay here all night until it grew light. Eventually, if she tried to walk in a straight line, she would get out.
Fighting the urge to run, she took measured steps. How could there be so much noise where there was no life to be seen?
Her cell phone was in her purse. Usually she hated the thing but she longed to feel it in her hand.
The going was hopeless. Every few steps she stumbled, sometimes falling. Weakness trembled in her limbs but she didn’t stop again. Each move brought her closer…to what?
Annie fell once more. Hard this time. And she scraped her face against a tree trunk—and thudded on things that were hard and jammed into her. She couldn’t help crying out.
Great crashing sounds paralyzed her.
They came closer and closer and grew louder. A wild animal could have caught her scent.
This time not only the rain beat the air, but real thunder, distant and grumbling. Annie grabbed for the nearest handhold and found a broken snag. Slowly, she eased herself up…until a small bunch of something rough blew into her face.
The thrashing noise continued.
A gator could have come up from the bayou.
She brushed at the fibrous stuff clinging to her cheek and it landed in the crook of her neck. Annie swiped at it again. It itched. When she caught it, she felt filaments disintegrate between her fingers and she held them close to her eyes. Her heart seemed to stop. Whatever she held was invisible to her, but there was a scent. Damp. Equal parts of bruised magnolia and something burned.
Annie slapped it away. Sobbing, she flapped at her face and neck and wiped her palms down the bark of a tree. The crashing came closer and closer but she didn’t care. An animal she could deal with, the remains of burned human hair were enough to explode her brain.
She didn’t stop scrubbing at herself until every broken strand seemed gone. That was it, enough, she would get back to her car and go home for a long shower.
A light shone in her face, blinding her. Fear and anger made her strong and she lunged toward the beam, and the flashlight it came from, beating at the arm and hand she knew were there.
The new angle flooded diffused light over the newcomer and she looked into Max Savage’s stark face.
CHAPTER 17
Lee O’Brien approached Green Veil from the side that put the clinic between her and Rosebank Resort. Since there were few lights on in the renovated building and tall hedges almost hid Rosebank, she was probably safe from prying eyes, but she wasn’t taking chances.
Oh, lordy, no, not when she could be about to get started on the biggest story of her life—if her instincts were as good as she thought they were and if she was really lucky. Whatever information she got could cost her considerably, but if what she suspected was true, she might enjoy herself every minute along the way. On the other hand, maybe she’d just get some leads and go on her way.
And that could be a real disappointment.
Next door there were plenty of upper windows with a view of Green Veil.
But it was late and dark.
“Hi, Lee. Glad you could make it,” Roche Savage said, stepping from a doorway. “Come on in and I’ll show you around. It’s impressive, I think.”
Lee didn’t feel so sure of herself anymore. “I thought Kelly was goin’ to be here.” She’d made her arrangements to come with Kelly but Roche would do very nicely if he didn’t clam up on her.
“He had to go out of town this afternoon. I was supposed to call and tell you he’d like a rain check.” Roche shrugged and grinned. “You can’t blame me for deciding to take his place. He’ll be mad but you can always come back and see the place again with him—if you still want to.”
Lee giggled, but felt a little uncomfortable. If she had her choice she’d rather be with Roche, but it was true that he hadn’t really pursued her. After their last dinner he took her home and said good-night like an eagle scout working on a chastity badge.
“It’s nice of you to step in for him,” she said. Kelly had been careful not to show real interest in Lee when Roche was around, but she had felt his eyes on her and caught a few looks that were anything but cool. Lee figured she needed to get close to one of the two men if she hoped to get the Toussaint Trumpet noticed all over the country. “Are you sure it isn’t too late for you to do this?” she asked. Kelly, and she assumed Roche, thought all she wanted to do was write a piece on the clinic.
“For me?” he said. “The later, the better. I’m at my best when the lights go out.” His innocent chuckle didn’t fool Lee. Maybe she’d do better with Roche, but she’d have to feel him out before she asked questions he wouldn’t expect. Of course, she’d find clever ways to work them in.
He took her arm and led her into a wide side corridor painted a deep green with paler green marble tile on the floor.
“No real decorating has been done down here yet,” Roche said. “The artwork and furnishings will change everything. I stay out of all that. Where do you want to start?”
Lee took a tiny recorder from her purse and smiled up at him. “Okay if I use this?”
“Why not?” His smile weakened her knees. She’d been away from the big city and any kind of male smorgasbord for too long.
“I’ll let you lead the way,” she told him, taken aback by a sinking sensation and a rush of shyness. Her cousin, Reb—and Reb’s husband—would be amazed if they knew where she was, and they wouldn’t be happy. But her life was her own and it was time she lived it—Reb and Marc were wonderful to her but they couldn’t give her success or excitement.
They thought she was on deadline at the paper, and spending the night in her office. She would spend it there, regardless of what happened beforehand.
“You’re quiet suddenly,” Roche said, taking hold of her ponytail and tugging lightly—as he did whenever he saw her. He tilted his head to one side and she got the full effect of his lazy blue eyes.
“I appreciate you lettin’ me come,” Lee said. She smiled back. Just because she ran a small-town newspaper, she didn’t have to come across as a hick. She hadn’t always lived in Toussaint. “Do you like workin’ with your brothers?”
“Can’t think of many things I like better,” he said, placing a hand at her waist and ushering her in front of him. “These are offices in this area. The administrative staff will be considerable.
“In addition to Max’s reconstructive work, we’ll provide extensive rehab, the best there is. Physical and occupational therapy. Sports medicine. General health and well-being. Self-image and psychological support is my job. I’m involved in every case from the beginning. There’s a spa you won’t believe. Our intention is to send our patients back to their lives in one piece. As close to the way they were before they were damaged if possible—better in some ways. I’ve heard talk of makeovers and fashion consulting but I get out of my depth real fast with that sort of stuff.”
Lee held her recorder a little closer and said, “What’s Kelly’s specialty?”
“Money,” Roche said.
“And he likes that, doesn’t he?” Lee looked at him steadily, but his expression didn’t change.
“You’d have to ask him about that.”
A white T-shirt fit his physique very well. Black hair, slightly curly, reached collar length. The casual look suited him. He gave the same impression she had formed of him at their first meeting: a confident man who enjoyed power—a man who used a convincing veneer of quiet charm and good humor to soften intense sexuality. He was uncannily like Max to look at but their personalities were not even similar.
The corridor ended at an open area where the walls were the color of raspberries and an arch of tinted windows stretched to the level where a curved staircase reached the second floor. They had kept old wood and ironwork intact. “This is reception?” Lee said, glancing back in
time to find Roche’s attention in the region of her derriere.
His eyes rose to hers and he didn’t smile. “Yes,” he said. “It’s going to be warm, welcoming—or so I’m told.” He pointed to a bank of elevators with paneled doors the color of koa. “Patients’ suites are on the upper floors. Terraces give them a place to walk outside in privacy until they’re ready to move around with the others. That doesn’t always happen at all.”
“How long are these people here? I didn’t think plastic surgery was that big a deal.”
His expression changed. His mouth formed a straight line. “Max doesn’t perform face-lifts. He reconstructs…Excuse me if I sound angry. I’m not. There isn’t anyone like Max. He only takes cases other surgeons would rather not take—as long as he believes he can make a difference. Max always makes a difference.”
“Sorry,” she said, deliberately frowning. “I didn’t mean to be offensive.”
“I’m not offended.” But a sharper light in his eyes made a liar of him.
Lee touched his solid forearm and said, “Thanks. My ignorance is showin’. I need to find out more about his history.” Her wide eyes could fool anyone, they had put the toughest interview subjects at ease.
Roche looked at her fingers on his arm and patted them, the corners of his mouth turned up again. “I can tell you anything you want to know about him—as long as it’s not too personal.” He gave a short laugh. “We three share everything.”
She just bet they did. And she wasn’t surprised that Roche wanted to be in control of any questions she might ask about Max.
“You admire him a lot,” Lee said, watching the steel in Roche’s eyes.
“Everyone admires Max, they always have.”
She avoided asking if they admired him when he was under suspicion of murder—twice—or if Michele Riley’s disappearance had made them doubt wonderful Max. That would come later when she had more of Roche’s trust, and it could take time. She tightened her belly against a thrill that felt dangerous.
“What angle do you intend to take on this story.”
Lee gave him another wide-eyed look and breathed deeply. His glance moved down, to her breasts, and lingered.
At least she didn’t blush easily.
She did tend to reflexive reactions. The pull came, the inner contractions, and she felt her nipples distend against her lace bra.
“Not sure of your angle?” he said, running the tip of his tongue along the edges of strong teeth. “Come on, I bet you could manage just about any angle if you really wanted to.”
Lee swallowed. “It’s amazing you and your brothers chose an out-of-the-way place like Toussaint for your wonderful clinic. I think the whole town is fascinated—a lot more than the town. People in little places can get taken up with what they’re used to—simple, everyday life. I want them to read somethin’ that’ll make them proud of where they live. I want them to try to see it through your eyes. You must have thought it was beautiful and just the right atmosphere for all your poor…injured people.”
She shut her mouth firmly. Babbling came easily enough in the course of whatever she was doing, but it wasn’t usually the kind of drivel she’d just poured out. Polite should be Roche’s middle name, he surely listened politely and smiled like he was interested. He would be thinking what a backwoods idiot she was.
“That’s my angle,” she said firmly, raising her jaw. She had experience with the art of bluffing.
“Mmm-hmm.” Roche nodded and concentrated on her face. “Great. We’ll want to use what you write. Patients will be touched by it, and we’ll be grateful you put so much into something special.”
She shrugged. “I’m a perfectionist. Whatever I do, I give it my all.”
“That’s what I’d expect from you,” he said. “We’d better get to it, then. Remember, any photographs you want taken are yours. Shall we go up to the suites? Surgery and treatment rooms are there, too, and if you don’t go wild over the spa you’ll disappoint me.”
They climbed two flights of stairs. Roche used a key card and put a code into a pad beside double doors that swung open when a green light showed.
When they were inside, the doors thudded softly shut. Lee had an urge to see if they could be opened by pulling on one of the handles.
“We have the security system to make sure no one who doesn’t belong can walk in.”
He’d seen her look at the door. “I thought so,” she said. “It’s warm in here.” Really warm or she wouldn’t notice.
“You haven’t lived till you’ve gone through the kind of project we’ve got here. Contractors are a different breed. The air-conditioning quit earlier and the heat’s building up. It’ll be fixed when they can get to it. Would you rather go back down?”
“Of course not,” she said, looking into a spacious room. “Is this a patient suite?”
“Yes. Go on in. Don’t miss the bathroom.”
Lee trailed self-consciously across blond wood floors to French doors and looked around the suite. “Unbelievable,” she all but whispered. “So beautiful.”
“Thank you. We think so.”
One French door was open and a light breeze filled filmy white drapes. White silk-covered love seats faced across a glass-topped table. A pink ceiling drew Lee’s attention. It sent a warm glow over the room, over a bed like none she’d seen in a hospital. This was king-size, with white eyelet lace trimming satin sheets and the subtlest shade of pink matelasse just showing at the edges of a snowy wisp of down blanket.
“Wow,” was all Lee could think to say. “I love it. I don’t think I’ve ever seen down blankets in Louisiana.”
“I think when patients are recovering they often need extra comfort, extra warmth. And when the air-conditioning isn’t defunct, the idea is a winner.”
“I’m sure it is.” Lee turned back to the windows and looked out. All she saw were shadowy trees and, more distant, a few lights of Rosebank. “You’re still stayin’ at Rosebank?”
“Oh, yes. I doubt if I’ll ever spend a night here. I’m looking for a house.”
“That’s nice.”
Looking for a house. How must it be to have as much money as you needed to do whatever came to mind? She had started out with a nice financial cushion from her mother’s will, but running a little newspaper, even with her friend Simon Menard shouldering some of the cost, strained her budget. Lee was careful how she spent, and didn’t spend at all unless she had to.
“Where did you live before you came here?” she asked, already knowing the answer. Best to appear mostly ignorant of the Savages’ background.
“New York. I thought everyone knew.”
She shook her head. “I never heard it mentioned.” The Internet and archives from some New York State newspapers had filled in a good deal, but she wanted to hunt down facts not so easily obtained. She wanted a scoop.
“Did you have a clinic there?”
“No. Walk into that bathroom. Go on, just walk in there.”
He would only say what he wanted to say and that wouldn’t include expanding on questions that didn’t interest him.
The bathroom, at least half the size of the sitting and bedroom, astonished Lee. “It’s huge,” she said although Roche had remained in the bedroom. There was a Jacuzzi tub as big as a wading pool, a shower with no doors and a stone-tiled floor that sloped down so water wouldn’t escape. Curved counters followed a curved wall and a plush swivel chair with arms was placed as if before a mirror, only there weren’t any mirrors.
Lee backed out. The colors were stronger in there. A toned down shade of the raspberry she’d seen downstairs seemed more intense when applied to the ceiling as well as the walls. Red veins showed in gold stone on the floors.
“No mirrors,” Lee said and let out a gasp when she bumped into Roche who held her upper arms to steady her.
“Did the bathroom take your breath away, or is it me?” He laughed. “No mirrors until the patient is ready, or unless the patient insists on having th
em from the start. They lower into place electronically. Are you impressed?” He rested his chin on her shoulder and she felt his warmth on her face. He was testing her reactions to him.
“Very impressed,” she said, not moving away from him. She didn’t want to. Maybe he shouldn’t, but he excited her. “It’s going to be a great success.”
“Yes. You’re right. In surroundings like these, and with what we bring to them, we can’t fail.”
Unless it turns out the great surgeon is a killer.
“I want you to try that bed,” Roche said, spinning her around and walking her toward the acres of white satin, eyelet, silk and glimpses of pink. “No girl can be complete until she’s experienced that mattress.”
In the company of Roche Savage? Lee’s nerves stretched. His light, bantering tone didn’t stop her from being on super-alert. If she planted her feet and said she was leaving, he wouldn’t stop her. He couldn’t afford the risk of nasty gossip—or worse.
Lee smiled sideways at Roche. If she did leave she might regret it later.
“Climb aboard,” he said.
She put her purse on the floor, slipped off her shoes and lifted her denim sundress just enough to climb on top of the bed. Gingerly, she lay down, making sure her full skirt was modestly in place.
Instantly, every muscle stiffened, even her jaw and she clamped her teeth together. “So soft,” she managed to say, and it was.
“Just relax,” he said. “Close your eyes.”
The last thing she wanted to do was close her eyes and leave herself vulnerable to a strong, sexy man who stood, staring down at her.
That old autonomic response reared its head at once.
“Do it,” he said softly. “You won’t believe how comfortable it is. If you go to sleep I’ll make sure you get up in time for work in the morning.”
And what would he be doing if she fell asleep? Where would he be? And where would he sleep? She looked up at him through her lashes and a quick inventory of his pants confirmed that Roche had more than the clinic on his mind.
A Marked Man Page 15