Out of Nowhere

by Rebecca York

  Two years ago, after she’d made it clear she wasn’t interested in warming his bed, he’d started getting his jollies by needling her. She would have gotten rid of him months ago, but he’d had the bucks to finance some very profitable deals. So she was stuck with him as a business partner—unless she wanted to take drastic measures. She figured it was better not to press her luck.

  Hap left the bar and sidled over to her table. Without waiting for an invitation, he pulled out one of the curved-back chrome chairs and sat down.

  “So,” he said, pitching his voice above the music and the background chatter, “what do you think about Max?”

  She gave him a sharp look, and he pressed his lips together.

  Didn’t he have enough sense to keep his mouth shut until they had some privacy? Probably nobody was listening, but you could never be sure.

  For several minutes, as she avoided further conversation, she pretended to be fascinated by the dancers out on the floor. A good-looking guy caught her eye and smiled. She smiled back, thinking that if Max Dakota didn’t want to make love with her, there were plenty of other candidates.

  Then a prickly sensation at the back of her neck made her twist in her seat and look back toward the hallway that led to the rest rooms, the phones and the office. In the shadows she saw the figure of a large, broad-shouldered man and knew her other business partner had arrived. He stayed out of the light, as well he should, because there were people here who would be inhibited by his presence.

  “Our friend is here,” she said in a barely audible voice, then pushed back her chair and headed for the hallway.

  Hap was a few steps behind her as she opened the door to the office and entered. Sheriff Bert Trainer was already there, taking up most of the floor space and the oxygen in the room.

  Trainer made her nervous. But then, he made everybody nervous. He was an odd guy. Intimidation was his main mode of operation, and it was a very effective tool in keeping the undesirable element in Hermosa Harbor in line.

  His beefy face looked as if he had a perpetual sunburn. His eyelids drooped over watery blue eyes, and his expression might have been described as slack, until his steel jaws snapped together and his lids lifted in sudden interest, transforming him from a sleepy cop to a spider ready to pounce on his prey.

  It was lucky they had come to an accommodation when she’d first arrived in town, Nicki thought as she sat down behind her walnut desk and gave him an easy nod. As long as he got his cut, he didn’t give her any trouble.

  Still, she had to remind herself not to swivel back and forth nervously in her contour chair as the two men took the guest chairs across from her.

  Trainer got right to business, fixing Hap with a speculative gaze. “So why did you call this meeting?” he said.

  “There’s a new development at the marina,” the other man answered.

  Trainer tipped his head to the side. “Oh, yeah?”

  “Max Dakota is entertaining a young lady.”

  The sheriff looked from the informant to Nicki. “Sorry, I can’t arrest him for that.”

  “I wasn’t suggesting it,” she snapped.

  “I’ve got some pictures.” Hap reached into his pocket and took out several color photographs. Although she wanted to pretend disinterest, Nicki found herself leaning forward to get a better look. The photos weren’t sharp, nor were they from a good angle. Obviously, Hap had taken them with a telephoto lens through the window of The Wrong Stuff.

  One showed the marina resident sitting across the table from a slender blonde wearing a baggy aloha shirt and shorts. The next one showed the two of them standing beside the table in a close clinch, their lips fused. The third showed the same scene, only Max’s hand was under the woman’s shirt.

  “He told me she was his girlfriend from up north,” Nicki said.

  “You think that’s the God’s honest truth?” Trainer asked.

  “It could be. But the thing is, nobody saw her arrive at the marina,” Hap said. “Just all of a sudden, she was there. Makes me wonder if somehow he picked her up while he was supposed to be out fishing.”

  “What would be the point of that?” Nicki asked.

  Hap shrugged. “Alls I’m telling you is that I found him entertaining a lady friend. But she didn’t drive herself there. And she didn’t ride up in a cab, and she didn’t come in a boat that docked at the marina.”

  Trainer looked thoughtful.

  “I couldn’t get a good look at her. The question is, could she be that chick who was nosing around here a few months ago? I mean, it looks like they’re the same body type. The same hair. The same ass—”

  The sheriff’s voice interrupted Hap’s recitations. “You don’t have to worry about the woman who was here a few months ago.”

  “Because?”

  “Because I had a very frank chat with her, encouraging her to leave town. I don’t think she’ll be coming back to Hermosa Harbor.”

  Because she’s dead, Nicki surmised. That was what Trainer had implied. Or was that a ploy? Was he lying through his teeth? Was there really something going on between him and Max’s friend that he didn’t want her or Hap to know about?

  She didn’t voice the questions because playing it safe with Bert Trainer was always the best policy. She respected his opinions, gave him his cut most importantly, and, had let him know that the damaging information she had on him would be sent right to the Miami Herald and a New York law firm if anything unexpected happened to her.

  “I’ll keep an eye on the situation,” Hap said.

  “And I’ll stop by the marina later,” Trainer added, letting the sentence hang in the air.

  For what? Nicki wondered. To make the woman wish she’d never come to Hermosa Harbor? Or to confer with her?

  Nicki was going to have to figure it out soon, because there was a shipment coming in any day. Nothing was going to interfere with its sale and distribution. So if Max Dakota and his friend were planning something, too bad for them.

  “Keep me posted,” Nicki said. Then she stood. As far as she was concerned, the meeting was over.

  SOMETHING WOKE MAX from the light sleep he’d finally fallen into an hour earlier. He’d been ready for trouble ever since he pulled Annie out of the water, and he was instantly alert. The Glock that had been under his pillow was now in his hand.

  His eyes and ears strained in the darkness, and he heard a low, moaning sound coming from down the hall. From Annie’s room. He uttered a silent curse. Had the people who had pushed her off the bridge found her—with Hap’s help?

  Quickly he crossed to the door, opened it noiselessly, then started down the hall, the Glock at the ready.

  He reached her door and slid it open, then stood with the gun in a two-handed grip, ready to mow the bastards down.

  His gaze darted swiftly around the small cabin, then zeroed in on the bottom bunk where Annie lay, wearing the T-shirt he’d given her that evening. She was alone, her head moving on the pillow, her eyes closed, her voice high and keening. Apparently he wasn’t the only one having nightmares tonight.

  He wanted to go to her, wake her from the bad dream and comfort her. Yet at the same time, he was pretty sure he could learn something from what he was seeing and hearing.

  “Please,” she moaned. “Why…want me?”

  Crossing to the bunk, he set the gun down on the floor where she couldn’t see it.

  Her words were low and strung together, and he had to bend toward her to hear them. Even so, he wasn’t sure he was getting everything she was saying.

  Someone must have answered her, because she shook her head violently. “Please…no. Don’t ask that.”

  After a moment’s pause, she said, “Never come back…?”

  It sounded like a question, but he couldn’t be sure.

  Her face twisted, and she moaned. Beads of sweat stood out on her forehead, and he had to press his palm against his side to keep from wiping them away.

  She was speaking again. “Don
’t hurt Suli… Please, no. Momma, help me!” The plea ended in a high, inarticulate sound.

  Then there were no more words he could catch, only screams and moans as she writhed on the bed.

  God, it sounded as if she was being tortured. Of course he couldn’t be sure if the dream was the reliving of a real event or just a collection of horrors conjured up from the depths of her imagination.

  But whatever was digging its razor-sharp claws into her, he couldn’t take it for another millisecond. “Annie, wake up. You’re all right. It’s Max Dakota. You’re safe with me.”

  He put his hands on her shoulders. Instantly she came up off the bed, fighting him, and he knew he had made an error in judgment. She might still be sleeping, but that made her no less dangerous.

  At that moment, the need to keep her from killing him superseded all else.

  “Annie, wake up!” he shouted as he wrapped his arms around her, coming down heavily on top of her in purely defensive mode as he kept talking, telling her who he was over and over again while she struggled under him, trying to kick him, bite him, inflict damage any way she could.

  But he had the advantage of size and strength. No woman, no matter how well trained, was going to beat him in an endurance contest.

  Well, that was what he thought. A few minutes—or was it hours?—later, he wasn’t so sure who was going to win the life-or-death wrestling match.

  They were both breathing hard, and he felt his own muscles trembling with the effort to keep her from damaging some important piece of his anatomy.

  He was wondering if he could spring off her and put some distance between them when she went still.

  “You’re awake,” he breathed. “Thank God.”

  He’d turned his head away to protect his face from her teeth and was rewarded with a painful chomp on his earlobe. Cautiously, he turned back to her and saw her staring up at him with large, dazed eyes. She had never looked more beautiful, nor more vulnerable.

  Before she could marshal her defenses, he shot a question at her. “Who is Suli?”

  “My sister,” she answered, surprising him with the information and the quick delivery.

  He felt a surge of satisfaction. Finally they were getting somewhere. “Someone’s holding her captive? Is that why you won’t tell me what’s going on? Is that the problem? If it is, I can help you.”

  A look of utter terror contorted her features. “I don’t know!”

  Instantly he wished he’d asked another question, something she could answer.

  “But you remember her?” he pressed before he lost any advantage he’d gained. As he watched, the terror and vulnerability he’d seen on her face vanished, and in their place was the iron resolve that both impressed and frustrated him.

  She swallowed, and he thought she wasn’t going to answer. But as he lay there with his heart pounding, she did speak—in a voice that was barely above a whisper. “She’s little and weak. I promised Momma I would take care of her.”

  “She’s younger than you?”

  “Yes. And her genes are bad.” She said the last part with a gulping sob.

  “Why? What’s wrong with her?”

  She gave a helpless shrug, and he saw her grimace, making him realize he was still lying with his body pressed intimately to hers. He could feel her breasts, her hips, the tender place where her legs were splayed slightly.

  “If I let you go, will you stop trying to kill me?” he asked, only half joking because he knew what she’d tried before.

  “Yes.”

  Cautiously, still ready for a stealth attack, he shifted his body off her. She lay limply on the bunk, her breath ragged, her eyes closed.

  They snapped open when he brushed the damp hair back from her face.

  “Max,” she murmured, “what are you doing here in bed with me?” She looked down the length of him. “You…you don’t have any clothes on.”

  “I have on undershorts.”

  “Oh…well, then,” she said, as though he’d told her he was dressed in a protective suit.

  He didn’t point out that in the light from the hallway, he could see the dark circles of her nipples through the thin fabric of the T-shirt he’d lent her.

  “You were having a bad dream.”

  She touched his bleeding ear and sucked in a sharp breath. “I hurt you. I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” he said, when really it stung like hell.

  “You need to put something on it. A human bite can be dangerous.”

  “I’ll take care of it in a minute. Right now I want you to tell me what you remember.”

  “Nothing.”

  “You remembered your sister.”

  “Yes. But that’s all.”

  Was she lying? He couldn’t be sure. “You were having a nightmare,” he said. “Focus on that. See if you can remember what it was about.”

  She closed her eyes and was silent for a few moments. Then she said, “Angelo was yelling at me. He hit me.”

  “Why?”

  “He was angry. He said I was the best one for the job. I had the most chance of success. I told him I could never do it.”

  Max reined in his own emotions as he kept the questions coming. “Who is Angelo? Your pimp? Your trainer? Your boss?”

  She answered none of his questions. Not directly. “He’s big. And he hurts you if you don’t do what he says.”

  Max’s hands closed over her shoulders. “Who is he?” he repeated.

  She shrugged.

  “You knew a few minutes ago!”

  “Did I?” she asked, sounding as innocent as a child.

  “You brought up his name.”

  “I know. But now…”

  “Damn you! Stop playing games with me.”

  “I am not playing anything.”

  “Right,” he sneered.

  He felt a tiny tremor go through her. “Max, I swear I don’t know. I do not know!” She almost screamed the words.

  “Sure,” he answered with similar frustration, then saw tears well up in her eyes. She was trying to hold them back, but they brimmed up and spilled over the edges. These first tears were like a crack in a dam. Seconds later, she was sobbing.

  He caught her up in his arms, rocking her, stroking her back and hair.

  She cried for a long time, hiding her face from him. Finally the sobs began to ease. He pulled a tissue from the box on the table beside the bunk and handed it to her.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered after she blew her nose.

  “For what?”

  “I’m supposed to be strong.”

  “Who says?”

  She gave an uncertain laugh. “I suppose that guy named Angelo. If I knew who he was, I’d tell you.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “You don’t believe me?”

  “I want to believe you.”

  “Carp!”

  She started to scoot toward the end of the bunk. He caught her wrist and pulled her back, and she came down against him, staring at him in the darkened room.

  Her mouth was close to his. All he had to do was move a fraction of an inch and their lips would touch. He knew he should move his head back. A bed was a dangerous place for the emotions he was feeling. Too much had happened in the past few hours for him to stay rational. Which was why he needed to be by himself. To think.

  He should get up and leave the room before he got them both into serious trouble. Instead, he watched her eyes darken as he leaned closer.

  She could have backed away. A moment ago she had tried to flee, and he had prevented her escape. Now he told himself he was giving her that option.

  But she stayed stock-still, next to him in bed, waiting for whatever he was going to do. And he felt as if he’d suddenly been caught in a trap he’d created all on his own.

  He could still stop, he told himself. Then she made a small sound deep in her throat, and he was utterly lost.

  He answered with a greedy sigh and closed the gap between his lips and hers. />
  Lost in the taste of her, he forgot about the questions he’d been asking—and her hesitant answers. There was only the reality of the woman in his arms on this narrow bunk.

  At first her body remained stiff. But as he kissed her, he felt her turn warm and pliant.

  “Good. That’s good,” he murmured against her mouth.

  “Oh, yes.”

  Her lips parted, and he took advantage of her surrender to slip his tongue inside for a deeper taste. He was instantly intoxicated with her essence; she tasted like spring flowers after a light rain.

  But in truth, she filled every corner of his senses, bringing feelings to life that he thought had died a year ago with Steph.

  His heart was slamming against the inside of his chest as his arms came up to imprison her, only this time, there was no need to hold her in place. She moved closer to him, sliding her body along his until his erection was cradled in the cleft between her legs. Only two thin layers of fabric separated them—his briefs and the shorts she still wore.

  He dragged in a shaky breath. So did she. He wanted more. He knew she did, too. But she had stopped him once, and he was afraid she would do it again.

  He kept his mouth on hers, giving her deep, passionate kisses as he rolled to his side and fumbled with her T-shirt, dragging it up as far as he could without pulling it completely off.

  He was trying to let her know that he wouldn’t go too fast. But he was aware her breathing became shallow as he lifted his head and looked down at her breasts.

  They were small but perfectly shaped, the crests a deep, dusty color, and they were puckered, begging for his touch. He lifted the mounds in his hands, feeling their soft weight, stroking and caressing her before delicately circling one nipple with his thumb and forefinger.

  When she made a small, needy sound, he bent to the other side, imitating the action with his tongue.

  She moved against him, her hands sliding up and down his back, over his shoulders, splaying themselves against his hot skin. Then her fingers moved upward, through his hair, and clasped his head, pulling him closer.