Sirens screamed around them, voices shouted as police officers swarmed the area, and customers and business owners crowded onto the sidewalk to see what the commotion was.
Snapping his cell phone closed, he looked into Evie’s eyes for the first time.
He licked his lips. “You okay?” he panted.
Though her heart was racing and her mouth had gone dry, she managed, “Uh-huh.” The bruises on her back hurt like hell. She wanted to cry from the pain but fought it.
She realized her legs had somehow wrapped around Max’s and that his groin had settled into hers. With a start, she realized he was engaged in a full-fledged stress-induced erection.
“Tell me you’re not hurt, Evie,” he whispered, his lips only inches from hers. He looked deeply into her eyes as though he’d be able to see her answer before she spoke. As though he’d see something important there, if only he looked hard enough.
She’d never been this close to a man without kissing him. Did Max want to kiss her? Did she want him to?
“The bruises on my shoulder and back are killing me,” she rasped, blinking, breaking eye contact with him. “But I wasn’t shot, if that’s what you mean.”
Seconds passed. No more shots came. He’d be getting off her now, and while parts of her were glad of it, parts of her—everything south of the border—were going to be decidedly disappointed. It felt good to be in a man’s arms like this. But it wasn’t real. She had to remember that. He’d shoved her out of the line of fire, and that was all it was.
Pushing himself to his knees, Max brought her with him and gently sat her on the sidewalk, her back against the door of the parked car that had probably saved their lives.
“Stay put,” he said. His gaze dropped to her mouth. He licked his lips, then raised his eyes to hers.
When he didn’t immediately move away, she lifted her chin in silent challenge. Make the first move, then. Kiss me.
He tilted toward her. Someone shouted his name. He blinked, breaking the spell that had been spun between them.
In one swift move he was on his feet, his hand inside his jacket, reaching for his weapon.
Suddenly, Lorna was beside her, plopped down by Dabney, who said, “Be right back.” In a swift move of his own, he was on his feet and running up the street after Max.
Both Evie and Lorna leaned forward to get a better view. The sight of two hunky men tearing off up the street after a bad guy made Evie’s blood sing all the way to her toes.
She glanced at Lorna, who rolled her eyes and fanned herself with her hand. “That’s enough to give a woman an orgasm right there.”
“Lorna?” Evie gaped. Taking a long, hard look at the secretary, she said, “So, still waters run deep, hmm?”
Lorna raised her delicate brows and she sent Evie a smile. “You have no idea.”
A policewoman approached and crouched in front of them. “You two okay?” she said. “An aid car is en route.”
Lorna appeared every bit as messed up as Evie felt. Both of them had streaks of blood on their faces and necks where flying debris had pelted them, but it didn’t seem to Evie that Lorna had taken a bullet, either.
The aid car arrived and cleaned them up, and a trip to the hospital was deemed unnecessary. The policewoman took their statements, while Evie anxiously watched the busy street to see where Max and Dabney had disappeared to.
She was fine. Unhurt. But she was changed, nonetheless.
Max was her enemy. They both knew it. So why had she wanted him to kiss her? The heat of the moment? Maybe.
There were so many unanswered questions. Max Galloway was pushy and controlling and rigid. She knew she’d be absolutely crazy to fall for a man like him. So why was she tempted to do just that?
The look in his eyes when he’d asked her if she was hurt had gone straight to her bones. It had been real. He’d looked terrified. Was it because he cared about her a little, or was he simply afraid he’d lose Thomas’s money without her help? Or because if she were killed on his watch, his reputation would suffer? She didn’t like him and had told him so. Okay, she hadn’t wanted to like him, but over the last couple of days her dislike had been tempered.
Maybe Thomas had been a little wrong about Max. Maybe there was more here than met the eye. Maybe… Oh hell.
She lowered her head, placing her face in her hands. Dammit. Just because he could be charming and he could be funny, and when he touched her his caress was so incredibly gentle, it didn’t mean…
Oh, hell.
Besides, she had a bigger problem than simply falling for Max Galloway. Somebody had fired shots at her. That meant the trap in the barn hadn’t been meant as a prank or to hurt her. It had been set to kill her, and that changed everything.
Chapter 10
Dear Diary:
Pete isn’t going to be my dad. My mom said it’s because he suffercates her, whatever that means. She told me that men always want to own her and that when they get too attached, it’s time to move on. I told her I liked Pete a lot and that maybe having him own us wouldn’t be too bad, but she said, nope, kiddo, we’re hitting the road. Someday, I’m never going to hit the road. I’m going to find a good place and stay there forever and ever.
Evangeline—age 10
By the time they were done at the crime scene, it was too late to go to the library. The butler and the psychic had one hell of a head start on him, and if they’d already found Clue Number Three, they may even have found Number Four.
Max stood in the doorway of the precinct captain’s office, rubbing his jaw with his knuckles. Even if he knew what the second clue meant—which he didn’t—the attack had taken a lot out of Evie and Lorna, and everyone needed some rest.
Especially Evie. She’d been through hell in the last week, and it wasn’t over yet. While he’d saved her from taking a bullet, her peace of mind had been shattered. Two attempts on her life in a week. Emotionally, she was trying to hold it together, but she was seriously shaken.
Walking over to where she sat against the wall, he crouched before her chair.
“Evie?” He looked into her face, and saw magnificently suppressed terror. Her eyes were rimmed with red, her cheeks were pale. She held her hands in her lap with fingers twisted together so tightly her knuckles had turned white.
“There must be something you can tell me,” he coaxed softly. “People are rarely targeted like this for no reason. Is there anyone you suspect? Any reason somebody might want you dead, even if it seems completely far-fetched?”
She blinked, then pressed her lips together. Her hands trembled, so he placed both of his over hers to warm them.
“Have you pissed anybody off lately?” he persisted. “Stolen somebody’s husband, stiffed a waiter after an expensive meal? Are you blackmailing anybody? Give me something here, honey.”
“D-Don’t call me that.”
“Honey?” He shrugged. “Most people consider it an endearment.”
“I don’t like it,” she said quickly. “My… my mother’s boyfriends used to call me that. They were always around, looking at me, wanting to touch me. ‘C’mere, honey,’ they’d say. ‘How about you climb up here on my lap and…’ ”
Her voice trailed off. Then, licking her lips she said, “Don’t call me honey. I don’t like it.”
Max was silent for a moment, processing what he’d just heard. Her mother’s boyfriends? Son of a bitch.
Anger swelled inside him, filling his mouth with a bitter taste. A vulnerable little girl, an irresponsible mother… Jesus Christ. What a wretched childhood she must have had.
“I think I understand,” he said, trying to keep the edge out of his voice, the fury. “I promise. I won’t call you that again.”
Running his splayed fingers through his hair, he said, “Look, you thirsty? There’s a machine just down the hall. How about a Coke?”
She nodded. “Yes, please. That would be good.” As he dropped coins into the machine, he turned the day over in his mind.
Of course, it could have been Edmunds. He could have doubled back, waited for the right moment to catch Evie in the crosshairs. But why? And what about the Grovda woman? Was she simply waiting in the car, or had the butler already killed her? Knowing how Evie felt about Edmunds, he hadn’t even suggested the possibility that the butler might be behind the attempts on her life. He’d just wait and see how everything played out. For now.
A bottle of soda rolled out of the dispenser, and he picked it up, letting his fingers wrap around the cold, damp plastic. As he walked back into the precinct lobby, he let his gaze brush over Evie, sitting with Lorna under the Most Wanted bulletin board.
Dammit. She’d come that close to being killed again today, only this time she’d been under his protection—and he hadn’t seen it coming. They’d been on a sidewalk in front of a tavern, in broad daylight, on a busy street across from a police station, yet somebody was waiting and took a crack at her. How ballsy was that?
Who in the hell was this guy, and why did he want her dead so badly he’d followed them to Seattle?
The only bullet they’d been able to recover had been dug out of the door frame. Hopefully, ballistics would tell them something. He just wasn’t sure what.
His attention fell to Evie’s lips, and he remembered how close he’d come to kissing her. She’d been daring him, and he’d almost done it.
For the second time since they met, their bodies had come into close contact. He was beginning to crave the feel of her against him, want more of it. They’d landed on the ground just like they would land in bed, and his body reacted in the only way it knew how—with an automatic, masculine response, straight up, all systems go.
With her head cradled in his palms and the silken feel of her hair tantalizing his fingertips, it had been all he could do to concentrate on the fact somebody was trying to gun them down. Then she’d looked up at him, her eyes shocked and confused, yet somehow trusting. It touched him in a way he’d hoped never to be touched by a woman again, and for one crazy moment he thought maybe she’d come into his life for a reason, that maybe the gods had granted him some kind of reprieve from his own anguish and stupidity.
But he was a jerk. He knew he was. He’d practiced the skill for years at the feet of the master. Just like his old man, he’d ended up hurting everyone he should have cherished, everyone who’d love him unconditionally. He’d already lost one good woman, driven her away. Evie deserved better than a man like him.
As he unscrewed the plastic cap on the Coke, he walked over and took a seat next to Evie and across from Nate, who was having a lot of trouble maintaining his cover, especially under the circumstances. However, judging from the look of rapture on Lorna’s face as Nate spoke, things hadn’t been shot to hell quite yet.
“…splintered wood screamed beneath the blast that laid the bodies in the gutter, low. And with that shot, another came, and another yet—”
“In passion and in pain,” Max interjected dryly as he handed the soda to Evie. “Yeah, we know. Well, it ain’t the Iliad, but who knows, James. In another three thousand years…”
Ignoring his sarcasm, Nate turned to Lorna. “Did you like it?”
She beamed at him. “Oh, Dabney. You’re simply… amazing.”
Max slid his foot forward and tapped the toe of Evie’s shoe with the toe of his. Her head turned, her brows lifted, her gaze locked with his, and it was as though they’d done that simple move a thousand times before.
He’d done it without thinking, then realized it was a very “couple” thing to do. And here he’d just given himself hell over her…
Instead of pulling back, he maintained the position. She could scoot away if she wanted. He’d let her decide. Yeah, that was the ticket.
But she didn’t scoot away. Instead, she took a long pull on her soda.
“So,” he said, sprawling back in his chair, sliding his leg along the side of hers. “Since there’s nothing left to do here, what do you say we either head back to the island or check into a motel? We could all use some R and R. Maybe give the clues more thought and—”
“I have an idea where Thomas might be directing us,” Evie interrupted. He felt the heat of her leg against his, and still she made no effort to pull away. “I’ve been sitting here thinking about those very clues…”
Max leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, pressing his thigh against hers, tormenting himself, yet unable to stop. “Good. Let’s hear it.”
Around them phones bleeped or buzzed or chimed, uniformed and plainclothes police officers talked with each other or took statements from civilians, but Max tuned all that out and concentrated wholly on what Evie was about to say.
“The villain in the story killed most often in Seattle, but he lived in Tacoma,” she said. “We’ve already discussed the fact that, if you consider Thomas only had time to change the last clue, it’s probably at Mayhem. It would make sense, then, that he’s leading us back there, that he began the treasure hunt at its farthest point. Then, each clue brings the hunters closer to the island, and back home for the culmination. We began in Seattle, next would be Tacoma. That would leave four clues spread out between here and Heyworth Island. Of course,” she sighed, “I could be dead wrong.”
“No, no,” Max protested quickly. “I think you’re right. That way, he can have his grand finale on the island, at Mayhem Manor. A fitting end to his hunt.”
“But where in Tacoma?” Lorna said. “It’s a big city.”
“Look,” Nate interjected. “Tacoma’s only an hour from here, but it’s already nine-thirty. Maybe we could hit the road and talk about it on the way. Maybe check into a motel or something then go after the clue in the morning. I don’t know about you, but I’m beat.”
Evie and Lorna in one motel room, Max and Dabney in another; somehow, they’d all gotten through the night in spite of the fact they would have had a lot more fun, and gotten even less sleep, if the room assignments had been switched.
It was close to seven in the morning when Evie and Lorna took a table in the busy coffee shop, anticipating that the men would join them soon. Just as they sat down, the double glass doors opened and Max and Dabney walked in.
They’d all had to wear the same clothes as yesterday, yet as Max approached the table, Evie thought he managed to look like he’d just stepped out of a men’s clothiers. He and Dabney had obviously found someplace to buy razors, because they were both freshly shaved and looked clean and sexy, a fact that was apparently not lost on Lorna, if the little sigh she gave when she saw Dabney was any indication.
Evie casually perused her menu, but she couldn’t help notice that every waitress in the place, and half the women customers, had stopped whatever they were doing to gaze at the two men as they made their way to the table. She had to admit, it was an impressive sight. In blue jeans and jackets, a sexy guy with dark hair and a hunky blond with weak eyes seemed to have every female fantasy covered.
But neither Max nor Dabney appeared to notice their admiring fans. They made a beeline for her and Lorna, smiles on their faces, a trail of disappointed femmes in their wake.
The first words out of Evie’s mouth as the men joined them were, “I think I figured it out.”
Before Max could respond, the young waitress—beaming like she’d just won the lottery— materialized between the two men, coffeepot in one hand, menus in the other. Lorna’s elbow lightly nudged Evie’s arm.
Yeah, I know, thought Evie, trying not to roll her eyes. Women probably fell at their feet wherever they went.
After the waitress had gleefully poured coffee, taken their orders and departed, Max said, “Okay, Detective Randall. Let’s have it.” He grinned at her over the rim of his coffee mug, forcing Evie to try and remember what she’d been about to say.
She li
ked him. That was so nuts! She hadn’t wanted to like him—in fact, she’d been prepared to hate him—but he wasn’t at all what she’d expected, Yes, he could be arrogant and pushy and a bit on the alpha side, but there was something about the way he looked at her, something behind the cynicism and wariness in those hazel eyes, that she connected with. Maybe it was because he cared so passionately about what he did, about being one of the good guys, or maybe it was something else.
Should she explore that possibility? she wondered. Probably not. Yet it was tempting… it was so tempting.
“Here’s the thing,” she said. “I started to analyze all the phrases in our clue and I remembered that, after the salesman killed one of the women, he rolled her body up in a rug and put it in his trunk. Later, he dumped her in the mud near a saltwater inlet where he went fishing every summer. Most of the locations in the story are pure fiction, but the inlet is real. Maybe we could start there.”
She wasn’t certain she’d interpreted the clue correctly, but she hadn’t been able to make heads or tails of Lorna and Nate’s clue at all, so it was either this or head back to the island to regroup.
They hurried through breakfast, then Dabney and Lorna excused themselves to go to the rest rooms.
“No matter what happens today,” Evie said to Max as he walked her to his car, “Tomorrow’s Tuesday, and I have an appointment. I’ll have to go back to Port Henry.”
“What if we find the third clue?” he said. “We’ll probably need your help to figure it out.”
“I’ll do what I can,” she argued, “but this is an appointment I made weeks ago and refuse to cancel. It’ll only take a few hours in the afternoon. Besides, I would expect the clues to get harder and take longer to analyze. Edmunds can’t be having an easy time of it. I called Mrs. Stanley first thing this morning, and nobody on the island has seen or heard from Edmunds or Madame Grovda since they took off on Saturday night.”
Max opened the car door for her, then put his hand on her arm to stop her from getting in.
Midnight In The Garden Of Good And Evie Page 10