by Meryl Sawyer
“How long ago was this?”
“Almost three years.”
“No mention of any homosexual tendencies?”
“None. He could have discovered his true feelings when he moved from Palm Beach down here.”
“Possibly. Or maybe he’s bisexual. I’m told that’s very in these days.” Shane dodged a group of Japanese tourists with garlands of cameras around their necks.
“He could be stringing Trent along to get the money to set himself up in business.”
Shane returned to the office and copied the material off the computer to send to the DIA. He called his friend or mentor, really—the man who’d trained him to use the sophisticated new field computers developed by the Defense Department to track terrorists.
Hank Olfeld had agreed to put the information into the agency’s computer, but it would have to be done in off-time, when the DIA didn’t need to use the computer. Best guess was, it would take several days, maybe as long as a week, to decode the expertly hidden material.
Shane didn’t mind. The way this murder case was progressing, he could use his time to clear Taylor.
“Dios mio!”
Shane turned and saw Brianna sailing down the hall. He jumped up. “What’s the matter?”
Brianna saw him and stopped. “I was listening to Cristina being interviewed about her television show tonight.”
Shane hadn’t been in Miami long, but even he knew “Cristina” was Cristina Saralegui, the Latina talk show host who was wildly popular in Miami.
“Experts are going to roast the police for not immediately arresting Taylor and Trent and taking them in for paraffin tests.”
“Test for gunpowder residue just because their fingerprints were at the murder scene, when both of them had been in the house and might have entered the room. No way.” Shane raked his fingers through his hair. “I’ll bet the cops had a hard time convincing a judge to issue a warrant based solely on the prints.”
“This is just going to make more trouble for them.”
“Got that right,” he said as she rushed off to Doyle’s office.
Shane turned to finish getting the material for Hank. The front office receptionist rushed up to him, a FedEx envelope in her hand.
“This just came for you.”
“Great.” He took it, thankful he’d insisted on written DNA results. He’d figured Vanessa would need to see it in writing to believe it.
Chapter 17
“Graveyard shift. Saved by the bell. Dead ringer. Which is best?” Taylor asked Auggie.
She was in her apartment, working late on her computer game to take her mind off the murder. Shane hadn’t come home, but he’d given her a key and asked her to take but Auggie. The dog was great company, making her realize how much she wanted a dog of her own.
She reread the information and tried to condense it down to a single line for her computer game. In medieval times so many people had been buried alive—by mistake—that people were interred with a string around their wrist. It led up through the coffin and dirt to the ground above, where it was attached to a bell.
Someone assigned to the “graveyard shift” would listen and know when a person was “saved by the bell” or was a “dead ringer.” Fascinating, she thought, but she couldn’t see how to put the information into a single line for her Trivial Moments game. She set it aside for the longer answer trivia game forming in her mind.
She went on to the next bit of trivia on her list, still reading out loud to Auggie. “People in the Middle Ages married in June because they took their yearly bath in May. They were still smelling pretty good by June, but to make sure brides carried bouquets to hide any body odor.”
Taylor couldn’t help giggling and thinking how traditions like this had evolved through time. These days a bridal bouquet was a work of art, and brides spent hours at a spa pampering every inch of their bodies before the wedding.
The knock on her door caused her to flinch. The media had hounded her all day long. They’d left several hours ago, but she expected them to return tomorrow.
Until another suspect surfaced, she was in the spotlight.
A cautious glimpse through the peephole revealed Shane. She swung open the door with Auggie at her side. The dog’s tail swished through the air, and he danced on his hind legs as Shane walked into the apartment.
“I took Auggie for a walk, then brought him over here. I didn’t want him to be lonesome,” she said, but in reality she’d been the one who’d been lonely.
“Hey, boy.” Shane bent down and ruffled Auggie’s ears with both hands. “Miss me?”
“Of course he misses you. Bring him to the office. No one will care.”
Shane rose to his feet and gazed into her eyes. Something in Taylor’s brain clicked.
Bad news.
“Shane, what’s wrong?”
He led her to the sofa, saying, “Nothing’s wrong … exactly.” They sat down, and he put his arm around her. “The DNA report came back.”
“What were the results?”
“Renata is—was—your mother’s daughter. No question about it. The DNA matches.”
A suffocating sensation tightened her throat. Oh, my God. The woman she’d despised had been her sister. Half sister. Still, they’d been related, and Taylor had never given herself a chance to get to know Renata.
“I treated her so badly,” Taylor whispered.
Shane pulled her close. “Don’t be too hard on yourself. Just because she was the missing baby doesn’t mean she was a good person. I think it was pretty obvious she intended to take what she could get.”
Blurred shapes throbbed and swirled, swarming through Taylor’s brain. Renata stripping. Renata sitting next to Caleb. Renata with her mother.
Taylor’s mother.
Their mother.
“I wonder what kind of life she had. It couldn’t have been good. She ended up working as a stripper.”
A surge of guilt expanded in her chest, crushing the air out of her lungs. It took a minute for her breath to return.
“I had every advantage, every opportunity. She had nothing.”
His large hand cradled her face. “Don’t beat yourself up. What could you have done? Your mother gave her away.”
The heartrending tenderness in his gaze startled her. She’d known he was attracted to her, but now the look in his eyes said so much more. It was as if he cared about her and had been concerned how this news would affect her. Touched, she looked down at Auggie, not knowing what to say.
“Your mother was so sure Renata was her daughter,” Shane said. “Caleb had to have told her something over the telephone to convince her.”
“Do you think Caleb adopted Renata the way he claims?”
“The records show he had a daughter, but was she Renata?” Shane shook his head. “I doubt it. They don’t have a father-daughter relationship. More likely, they hooked up somewhere and Renata told him the story.”
“I think you’re right. A father wouldn’t laze around while his daughter worked as a stripper.”
“True, but there are men around who are real users. They’ll say anything to a woman, do anything to get what they want.”
Something in his eyes, his voice, alerted her. Was he trying to tell her something? She thought about it for a moment and decided he was warning her about Caleb.
“Just because Renata’s dead doesn’t mean Caleb’s leaving, does it?”
“I’d be blown away if he did,” Shane said. “He’s gotten tight with your mother. Now he’ll make himself indispensable.”
Taylor rested her head against Shane’s shoulder and tried to think. She kept seeing Renata, a hard, bitter woman, and wishing she had done something to make up for Renata’s past. Despite Shane’s reassuring words guilt gnawed at her.
Why hadn’t she given Renata a chance? Taylor had been too quick to condemn her as an impostor. She closed her eyes, her heart aching.
She could have helped Renata so much. Maybe sh
e had been interested in the business. Taylor could have taught her all about Maxx.
Instead, she’d condemned her to “shipping hell” as the workers called it. There she’d sweated out the last day she was alive and had her life threatened.
Why? Why? Why?
“I’ve sent the codes on your company’s Web site to a guy I know in the Defense Intelligence Agency,” Shane said, breaking into her thoughts.
Taylor opened her eyes and lifted her head off his shoulder. She recalled seeing the screen saver on his laptop when they’d been in New Orleans. The initials DIA were on the screen.
“Did you once work for the DIA?”
This close, Taylor saw the minute stitches of black in Shane’s blue eyes. She also detected a flicker of something in those eyes. It lasted only a split second, but Taylor had the distinct impression Shane was weighing whether or not to tell her the truth.
“Yes, I was with the Cobra Force. It’s an antiterrorist unit formed way, way back before we knew just how big a terrorist problem we were going to have. The Cobra Force members are trained by the military, then operate out of the Defense Intelligence Agency.”
“What did you do with them?”
Again something flashed in his eyes.
“Most of the time we concentrated on the drug cartels. A stunning amount of drug profits goes to terrorists groups.”
“Really?”
“You bet. Terrorists often control the land where coca trees or poppies are grown. Drug cartels pay them a lot to produce the stuff.”
“I remember reading the only good thing the Taliban did in Afghanistan was to stop the poppy growing.”
“They’re the exception that proves the rule. Most terrorist groups support drug cartels. It’s an important source of income.”
From the very beginning, she’d sensed an air of mystery about Shane. He was a good man to have on her side, she decided.
A dangerous man if crossed.
A man with secrets.
“Part of what I did required extensive knowledge of military field computers. That’s why I’m working with Vince now, but I’m not an expert with codes. While my friend works on the codes, I’m going to help Vince with the murder investigation.”
“Do the police have any new leads?”
“No, and I think they’re spending too much time trying to pin it on you or Trent because of the fingerprints. They aren’t developing new leads. Trouble could have followed Renata from New Orleans or wherever she was before that.”
“Caleb might be very helpful, if he’s willing to cooperate.” Taylor thought a moment, concerned about her lack of an alibi. “Won’t these DNA results convince the police I went into Renata’s room to get hair samples?”
“Possibly, but I believe they’re looking at motive. Except for crimes of passion, money is the number one reason people kill each other.”
Something inside Taylor fractured into a thousand jagged pieces. Renata, who never had anything, probably died because their mother had changed her will.
“Renata died because she stood to inherit a large sum of money.”
“Not necessarily,” Shane said, his arm still circling her shoulders.
He tapped on her forearm, thinking. “We obtained a copy of the new will. Your mother didn’t leave Renata money. She left her fifty percent of To The Maxx. That’s your mother’s share of the company. Right?”
“Yes. My father willed half to her, and the rest is evenly split between uncle Doyle, Trent, and me.”
“If Renata had inherited those shares, she could have prevented the sale of the company. That may be the reason she was killed.”
“True …” Taylor stopped herself from saying: Why would she?
“Renata may have been genuinely interested in learning the business. I was so quick to judge her. So determined not to like her. If only I’d given her a chance.”
“Stop it.”
Shane gathered her against his warm body and pressed his lips to hers, caressing her mouth more than kissing it. She inhaled the sweetness of his kiss and admitted to herself that she’d been longing to have him kiss her again. She’d tried not to be attracted to him, she honestly had, but it didn’t work.
A series of slow, shivery kisses made her pulse skitter, a fluid warmth seeping through her. The quivery heat spread, and desire, pure and elemental, invaded every inch of her body.
“Aw, hell. I can’t get enough of this,” Shane whispered.
“Don’t stop,” she heard herself say.
His tongue melding with hers, Shane cupped her breast with one hand, and the nipples instantly peaked. A tiny moan escaped her throat. She couldn’t resist spearing her fingers through his thick hair. It sifted between her fingers, wavy and surprisingly soft.
This time he groaned, a low rumble deep in his chest. She couldn’t help smiling inwardly, proud of her feminine power over a man who outmatched her physically.
He was teasing a nipple through her lacy bra before she even realized he’d unbuttoned her blouse. She clutched a fistful of his hair with one hand. She let the other coast down his torso.
His impressive chest felt as hard to the touch as it looked. Beneath her fingertips, his heart beat with rapid, pounding thuds. Her hand came to rest on his muscular thigh.
“Go for it.” He lifted her hand from his thigh to the iron heat of his sex.
“What’s this? A mouse in your pocket?” She tried for a joke, but her voice sounded raw, thick.
“Oh, hush.”
She gripped him hard, not quite able to feel him the way she wanted through his slacks. He groaned, a moan so deep it almost sounded as if he were in pain.
She nudged her hand inside his pants and stroked his turgid penis through his cotton underwear. She slid her thumb inside the soft fabric and caressed the velvet tip of his penis.
For a second, he froze.
Then he bent down to kiss her breast. Sucking a nipple through the sheer lace of her bra, he slid his hand under her skirt.
She was already moist, aching for his touch when his fingers found the wet heat between her thighs. With expert precision, he stroked her.
“You’re awfully good at this,” she whispered.
“I’m inspired.”
Waves of sensation built, lifting her as if she were weightless. The next instant, release hit her with a mind-numbing geyser of golden light, a glorious jolt of pure pleasure. It sapped every ounce of tension from her body, and she slumped bonelessly against the sofa.
“No way. We’re just getting started.”
Shane ripped off his clothes and had hers in a pile beside the sofa in an instant. Suddenly, she was flat on her back, the powerful length of his body pressed against hers.
He thrust deep inside her, then burrowed farther. A second ago, she’d been sated, ready to fall asleep. Now her heart lurched, then pounded so furiously she could feel it throb in her temples.
In a heartbeat, desire hit a flash point, almost out of control.
She clutched his shoulders, digging her nails into his bare skin, and arched upward as his hips hammered away, driving her toward yet another pinnacle.
“Don’t stop,” she cried out, although she had no indication he could be stopped.
Her body contracted, a flood tide of pleasure washing over her, cresting. She cried out, “Oh, yes!”
Slowly the sensation retreated, leaving her languid. A moment later, Shane threw his head back with a guttural moan and squeezed his eyes shut. He went rigid, every muscle tensed, his face a grimace. His breath rasped, a serrated sound that filled the room.
After a minute, he opened his eyes and gazed down at her. “All I can say is—wow!”
“Wow doesn’t quite cover it.”
“Are you complaining? We can try to improve on it. We’d have more room in your bed.”
He stood up and gave the mesmerized Auggie a quick pat. His penis hung heavily between his powerful thighs. He was so masculine, so heart-stoppingly male, that h
er throat constricted.
When had she last felt this glad to be in a man’s arms? It had been so long.
Too long.
Chapter 18
Shane stood beside Taylor the following morning as they waited for someone to answer the door at her mother’s house. He’d spent the night with her. Most of the time they’d gone at it like minks in heat—not that he’d ever witnessed minks screwing, but word was out on those little critters.
When they’d taken breaks and talked, Taylor had continued to express guilt about Renata. Nothing he said could make her feel any better.
He didn’t think she should blame herself. Who would have guessed?
Renata didn’t look like her mother, and no one could prove she was the missing baby. But Taylor, for all her success in the business world, had a sensitive side.
He liked her all the more for it. Aw, hell. Who was he kidding? He’d fallen in love with her.
He should be grateful Taylor’s guilt was focused on Renata. He’d half expected her to regret making love to him, because of Paul Ashford.
The worthless son of a bitch.
“Missy, so happy you come,” Maria said with a Spanish accent as she opened the door.
Shane noticed the glimmer of tears in the maid’s eyes. Uh-oh. Now what? He put his hand on the small of Taylor’s back.
“What’s the matter, Maria?” Taylor asked.
“Your mother … mala.”
Mala. Bad.
Shane listened as Maria told Taylor in broken English. There had been a mix-up at the lab. The test results Taylor’s mother had received belonged to someone else. Her blood work showed she had taken a turn for the worse.
Shit.
The doctor had called yesterday with the bad news. Beneath his hand, Taylor’s body went rigid. Shane knew she was upset because her mother hadn’t contacted her.
“Where is she?” Taylor asked, concern etching her beautiful face.
“Bed.”
“Is she asleep?”
Maria shook her head. Shane followed Taylor through the quiet house to the master bedroom suite.
“Mother, it’s me,” Taylor called softly from the sitting room adjacent to the master bedroom. “Shane’s with me. May we come in?”