But what if she didn’t? What if they both waited for the other to initiate intimacy until the moment had long since passed?
Maybe it would be best if they did discuss it beforehand, Alex decided. Or better yet, maybe he ought to plan a little honeymoon. That would make the marriage appear more legitimate.
Unfortunately, it was too short notice to be away from work for more than a day or two, and besides, it might also seem a little presumptuous on his part.
Maybe the best thing to do was just to let nature take its course.
“Not thinking about jumping, are you?”
Startled, Alex spun from the window. The outer office where his secretary worked was dark, and for a moment, all he could see was a shadow standing in the doorway. Then the man moved into the room, and a sour taste rose in Alex’s throat. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“It’s been a while, eh, Alex?”
“What do you want, Lieutenant? Or is it Captain now? Did you finally earn that promotion you were so hell-bent on getting at my expense?”
Robicheaux laughed. “No, I’m still just plugging away in the trenches.” He came into the office and sat down without waiting for an invitation. His dark suit was rumpled and smelled a bit fishy, as if he’d just come from the docks. “I’m a homicide dick at heart anyway, but you—” He gave an appreciative whistle as he glanced around the spacious office. “You’ve come up in the world, I see.”
“What do you want?” Alex walked back over to his desk and sat down, scowling at Robicheaux. He didn’t like the man, and wasn’t about to pretend that he did. James Robicheaux had been the lead investigator on Aubree’s murder case, and Alex had always had a nasty suspicion that he was on Joseph Bellamy’s payroll. That was why he’d gone after Alex so hard even though he had an airtight alibi. When Robicheaux couldn’t pin anything on him, he’d leaked some ugly innuendos to the press. He was the one who’d gotten the rumors started that Alex had inherited a lot of money from Aubree’s estate.
Ha! Alex thought. What he’d inherited from Aubree’s estate was a massive debt load. By the time he’d paid everything off, his own savings had been almost completely wiped out. He’d had to start all over when he’d gone back to London with Taryn, and everything he owned today, he’d gotten by the sweat of his own brow.
But Joseph Bellamy and James Robicheaux had planted the seed of doubt in people’s minds, and there’d been little Alex could do to dispel it. It seemed that there was still very little he could do.
If James Robicheaux was sniffing around again, it could mean only one thing. Joseph Bellamy had sent him.
Robicheaux smiled, as if reading Alex’s mind. “Ten years is a long time to stay away, Alex, but I didn’t come here to take a stroll down memory lane with you. I want to talk to you about Naomi Cross. I’m wondering if you have any idea who might want to kill her.”
A shock wave rolled over Alex. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Robicheaux’s brows shot up. “You don’t know? I’m surprised she didn’t call you, being as how you two are so close and all.”
“Just tell me, damn it.”
“A man broke into her hotel room sometime after midnight and tried to kill her.”
Alex stood abruptly. “My God. Is she all right? Where is she?”
“She’s still at the Spencer, and she’s fine. Just a little shaken up.”
Anger flooded over Alex, along with a protective instinct more fierce than he could ever have imagined. “And the man who tried to kill her? You apprehended him?”
“Not exactly.”
He leaned across the desk, temper blazing. “Then why the hell aren’t you out there trying to find him? He could come after Naomi again—”
“That man ain’t coming after nobody,” Robicheaux said with a dry chuckle. “Miss Cross stabbed and killed him with his own knife.”
Alex sat back down again. He felt stunned, blindsided. He pulled a hand through his hair. “Are you sure she’s all right?”
Robicheaux gave him a sly look. “Why, Alex, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you genuinely care about this woman. But then, the two of you are getting married, I hear.”
Alex didn’t bother to ask how he knew. He’d learned a long time ago that Robicheaux had eyes and ears all over the city. “I want to see Naomi.”
“Maybe she doesn’t want to see you.”
“Did she say that?” Alex demanded.
“No. But I can’t help wondering why she didn’t call you.”
Alex’s jaw tightened at the innuendo. “You’re out of your mind if you think I had anything to do with this.”
Robicheaux spread his hands. “I haven’t accused you of anything, have I? I just want to ask you a few simple questions. Then you can go see Miss Cross. Assuming of course, that she’ll see you.”
Alex fought back his anger as he glared at Robicheaux. “What do you want to know?”
The detective flipped open his notebook. “Does the name Ray Beauchamp ring a bell?”
“No.”
Robicheaux glanced up. “You said that pretty quickly. Don’t even need to think about it?”
“I don’t know any Ray Beauchamp,” Alex snapped. “Is he the man who attacked Naomi?”
Robicheaux nodded. “Nasty character, Ray. Into a lot of nefarious activities from what I’ve been able to gather. Even did some jail time a few years ago. But what I find most interesting about the man is the fact that he worked for Ventura Oil. Out on one of the offshore drilling rigs. Sure you don’t know him?”
“Ventura employs thousands of people. I can’t be expected to know them all.”
“You used to work on one of those rigs yourself during summer when you were in high school and college. Isn’t that right? Thought your paths might have crossed back then.”
“That was twenty years ago,” Alex said impatiently. He was anxious to go find Naomi, see for himself that she was okay. “If our paths crossed, I doubt I’d remember him.”
“Oh, I don’t think you’d forget Ray. Like I said, he was a pretty nasty guy. Got real mean when he drank. Had a snake tattoo on his arm, a great big one. You couldn’t miss it.”
“Half the men who work those rigs have tattoos. I’m telling you, I don’t know this guy.”
“I’ll have to take your word for that, I guess.” Robicheaux made a production of putting his pen and notebook away. He strode across the room, but at the door, he glanced back. “If you have any plans on leaving the country, going back to England, say, I’d put ‘em on hold, if I were you.”
* * *
NAOMI HAD DISCARDED her clothing as soon as she’d locked the door of her new suite behind Mr. Bessant, who had by then been accompanied by the day manager. Both men had bent over backward to see to her every need, but all Naomi had really wanted was to be left alone so that she could claw her way out of her bloody pajamas.
Stripped, she’d stood under a hot shower for as long as she’d had the energy to remain on her feet. She hadn’t been allowed into her old room to get her clothes or any of her belongings, but thankfully, a thick terry-cloth robe had been furnished by the hotel, and Naomi belted it around her after she’d dried off, grateful to be wearing something clean. Untainted.
But now that she’d showered, there was nothing left to do. The day stretched endlessly before her, and she suddenly felt more alone than she had in years. She thought about calling Alex, but it was still early, and she didn’t want to wake up the whole household. She especially didn’t want to alarm Taryn.
She wanted to call Abby, but Naomi knew her sister too well. She’d be on the first plane to New Orleans regardless of how it would affect her training at Quantico or her future with the FBI. Naomi couldn’t let her do that, and besides, just talking to Abby would chip away at the fragile veneer of courage she’d managed to maintain.
The courage, however, was only an illusion, which shattered the moment someone knocked on her door. Naomi jumped, her heart catapu
lting to her throat. Calm down, she told herself firmly. It was probably just one of the hotel managers coming to check on her again, hoping, no doubt, to ward off a lawsuit.
They had nothing to fear from her. Naomi wished she could put the attack behind her and never think of it again, but that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. Maybe not ever.
She glanced through the peephole, and her heart pounded even harder. Alex stood outside.
Naomi quickly unlocked the door and pulled it back. His dark gaze raked over her.
“I just heard. Why the hell didn’t you call me?” His gaze lit on the bruises at her throat, and his expression hardened. “You are hurt.”
“No, I’m fine,” Naomi said hoarsely. “Really.” She stood back so that he could enter, and then closed the door behind him. “I was going to call you, but I didn’t want to alarm Taryn, and—” she broke off, her eyes filling with tears.”
“I’m sorry, Naomi. God—”
It was amazing to Naomi how natural it seemed that he would take her into his arms, that he would hold her so tightly she could hardly breathe, and that she would press her cheek against his shoulder, feeling warm and cozy and protected.
“I can’t believe this happened.” He stroked her hair. “Are you sure you’re okay? Have you seen a doctor?”
Naomi pulled back a little. “My throat’s still a little sore, but I’m fine.”
He drew her over to the couch and they both sat down. “Can you tell me what happened?”
Naomi shuddered. “When I woke up, he was in my room. He attacked me. I think he was going to rape me and then—”
Anger flashed in Alex’s eyes. “How did he get inside?”
Naomi told him about the faulty lock, and the police’s theory that the man had been stalking her.
“Wait a minute,” Alex said. “You saw this man following you? Why didn’t you report it to the police? Or tell me?”
Naomi shrugged. “Because I saw him once in a restaurant. There’s no crime in that. I was never sure he actually followed me. It was just a feeling I had. You can’t call the police because of a feeling.”
“No, but you could have told me.”
“And what could you have done?”
He scowled. “I get your point. There was nothing I could have done to help you.”
“There was nothing anyone could have done.”
He got up suddenly and began to pace. When he turned, his expression was more grim than Naomi had ever seen it. “Do you think this was just a random attack? Do you think he singled you out because of the way you look? Because I could buy that. I mean, look at you.” His gaze flickered over her. “But I can’t help worrying about the timing. You’ve been in New Orleans less than a week, and you’re almost killed.”
“New Orleans is a dangerous city,” she said.
He resumed his pacing. “I realize that.”
Something Lieutenant Robicheaux had said came back to Naomi. “Have you never heard of a murder for hire?” And suddenly she knew what Alex was thinking. She rose. “Are you afraid someone sent him here to attack me? Someone paid him to kill me?”
Alex shrugged. “I don’t want to believe that.”
“Who?” she asked hoarsely. “Who would want me dead?”
“Think about it, Naomi. You show up in New Orleans, claiming to be Taryn’s birth mother. Claiming you have a right to her. You tell me. Who would be the number one suspect?”
She gasped. “You?”
“You can bet if things had worked out differently, Robicheaux would have had a lot more questions for me this morning than he did.”
Naomi’s hand fluttered to her throat. “But who, other than you, would want me dead—” She stopped short. “Joseph Bellamy?”
“He could get rid of us both in one fell swoop. With you murdered and me in prison, he and Gwen would be given custody of Taryn.”
“But he’d be taking an awful risk,” Naomi protested. “His reputation, his name.”
“Maybe. But with James Robicheaux on his payroll, he may have figured he had all his bases covered.”
“Robicheaux?” Naomi asked in shock. There had been something about the man she hadn’t liked, but she hadn’t figured him for a dirty cop.
“I wondered why he came after me the way he did when Aubree died,” Alex said. “I thought for a while it was because he had a thing for her. A lot of men did. But then I figured out one day that his zeal wasn’t personal. It was bought and paid for by Joseph.”
“How did you manage to get Taryn out of the country so quickly? Didn’t they try to stop you?”
He shrugged. “They had no evidence against me. No reason to hold me. And Taryn was my daughter. I was her legal guardian. I had every right to take her back home with me.”
“I’m not questioning your decision,” Naomi said softly. “I was just wondering.” She paused for a moment. “There’s something you should know about Aubree’s murder. Something I found out that I haven’t told you. Her body was found on the same day my daughter Sadie disappeared.”
His scowl turned to confusion. “What are you saying, Naomi?”
“Just that given what happened fifteen years ago in that hospital in Eden, I find it hard to believe that the timing of your wife’s murder and my daughter’s disappearance could be a coincidence. How could it be?”
He gazed at her in astonishment. “How could it not be? What possible connection could there be between those two events? Why would someone kill Aubree, and then drive to an obscure town in Mississippi to kidnap your daughter? It doesn’t make sense.”
“I didn’t think so, either, at first, but then...” Naomi trailed off and glanced away. “I’ve talked to a private investigator about this. The same one who helped me locate Taryn. I’ve asked him to look into Aubree’s murder—”
He grabbed her arm. “My God, why? Why would you do that?”
She blinked at his sudden anger. “Why? Because I think there’s a connection between Sadie’s disappearance and Aubree’s murder, that’s why. I want to find out what it is.”
“Naomi.” His grip on her tightened. “I can understand why you’d want so desperately to find out what happened to your daughter. I can’t even begin to imagine what the past ten years has been like for you. But you’re grasping at straws again. I’ll admit the timing seems suspect, but it has to be a coincidence.”
“No, it doesn’t.” She pulled away and stared up at him. “What if Aubree was killed because she found out Taryn wasn’t her child? What if she threatened to expose the person who swapped our babies? The person panicked and killed her.”
“And Sadie?”
“She was taken because she looked exactly like Taryn. If anyone saw her, they’d know Taryn wasn’t Aubree’s daughter.”
It had sounded so much more logical in Michael Donnelly’s office. Now it sounded like what it was—the desperate ravings of a desperate woman.
“Naomi,” Alex said softly. “Suggesting someone might be frightened enough to kill Aubree in cold blood to save his own skin is one thing. But to harm an innocent child—” He broke off when he saw the look on her face. “How long have you thought this?”
“I found out about the date last week, and then I talked to a private detective over the weekend.”
“Would you mind if I talked to him, too?”
She frowned. “Why?”
“Because Aubree was my wife. She was my daughter’s mother. If someone’s going to be prying into her background, I think I have a right to be involved.”
“Because Aubree was my wife.” Was he still in love with her? Naomi wondered. In spite of the bitterness with which he spoke of her, could he still harbor deep feelings for her? Naomi drew a breath. “His name is Michael Donnelly. He has an office in Jackson, Mississippi. I have his number in my old suite, but I can’t go in there right now because...” She trailed off as images flooded through her. The blood-soaked carpet. The splattered walls.
Naomi put trembling
fingertips to her lips. Something in her face must have showed her horror, because Alex was beside her in a flash. He put his arms around her and drew her close. “It’s okay. Shush. It’s okay.”
The rumble of his voice, the slow, steady beat of his heart brought fresh tears to her eyes. It had been so long since anyone had held her, since anyone had soothed her this way.
She drew back and stared up at him. His hand moved up to gently caress the bruises at her throat. “I could kill him for that.”
Naomi shivered. “I already did,” she whispered, and then when she started to tremble again he pulled her back into his arms.
“I’m glad you killed him. If anything had happened to you—”
She felt his lips in her hair, and when she tilted her head back to gaze up at him, he trailed kisses down her face until he found her mouth.
This kiss was not a gentle brush of his lips against hers as their first had been. No, this was a real kiss. A deep, passionate, heart-pounding, soul-shattering, major-league kiss, and without hesitation, Naomi opened her mouth to his. She surrendered to his seduction with nothing so much as a whimper.
And when he walked her backward to the couch, when he pressed her back against the cushions, she did whimper then, but not in protest. She cupped her hand around the back of his neck and pulled him to her, kissing him as deeply and as passionately, although with perhaps less finesse, as he’d kissed her.
“Are you sure?” he whispered raggedly into her ear.
“Yes, yes,” she breathed.
His hand moved up to slide inside the lapels of her robe, and Naomi instantly froze. She could feel the cold edge of steel against her skin and she shuddered.
Alex instantly drew back. “What’s wrong.”
“I’m sorry.” She reached up and pulled her robe tightly together. “It’s just...everything that happened...”
His gaze lit on her bruised throat, and he understood. “I know. It’s too soon.”
“It’s just—”
“Naomi.” He sat up, taking her hands and pulling her up with him. “You don’t have to explain. I understand. Maybe everything considered, we should postpone the wedding.”
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