by Rebecca York
He sighed. “Okay. We’ll assume those feelings are coming from your subconscious, and we should pay attention to them.”
She felt herself relax fractionally. “Thank you. Are you going to take me to Sea Kingdom?”
“No. I’m going to call the Light Street Detective Agency.”
She tried to grapple with the terrible feeling of disappointment that swept over her.
“What can they do?”
“They can alert the governor’s staff. Light Street is a credible source of information, so the security will be increased.”
“A credible source of information—unlike me,” she couldn’t help saying.
“They have government connections. You don’t. You don’t even know who you are. If you try to tell your story, they’re going to take you into custody and interrogate you.”
Imagining that made her feel light-headed. “If that happens, I’ll die,” she whispered.
His gaze drilled into her. “Literally?”
She shrugged. “That’s what it makes me feel like,” she replied in a whisper.
“Then let me call Light Street.”
She didn’t like involving them, nor letting Max take charge again, but she gave a tight nod. “Okay, call them.”
Max pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and punched in a number. She heard him quickly telling whoever answered the phone that he’d gotten reliable information of a possible attempt on Governor Bradley’s life during his visit to Sea Kingdom next week.
There was more discussion, during which he glanced at her several times. Unlike Nicki, the person on the other end of the line this time was speaking in a voice too low to be overheard.
Max had believed her enough to take precautions. But he had not wiped away the terrible feeling of dread hanging over her.
“I want to go there,” she said when he disconnected the call.
“I’ve got them checking out the park—and the political groups down here.”
“That’s not enough!”
“Well, we still have almost a week. Let them follow it up. And we can be on the scene if it becomes necessary.”
“You would take me there?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I can see how upset you are. There’s something significant for you about the governor’s visit to the theme park.”
“Thank you,” she breathed.
He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, then reached out his hand toward her. But before he touched her, he let the arm fall back again.
“What?” she asked.
“A little while ago, when we were on the bed, you were trying to forget about your mission, weren’t you?”
His perceptiveness made her look away to hide the mixture of embarrassment and regret on her face. “What do you mean?” she whispered.
“You didn’t want to think about why you were here, so you used me to block it out.”
She shrugged, then forced herself to meet his eyes. “That may be true. You can think of it as a moment of weakness on my part. But it’s not the only thing that was true. Not the only thing I was feeling.”
He answered with a tight nod, and she wanted to tell him that the warmth and closeness she’d experienced with him had meant more to her than she could possibly say. She wanted to tell him that he had triggered monumental changes in her thinking, changes she couldn’t fully explain to herself. But she held all that inside, because she wasn’t sure it would do her any good. Not with this man. He relied on deeds and actions, not words.
He began speaking again. “About the governor and Sea Kingdom. Why don’t you try writing down everything you can think of about the park? See how much you come up with.”
She had just been thinking that her behavior would count more with this man than anything she could explain. Now his casually spoken words made goose bumps rise along her arms. All at once she felt trapped. She’d wanted to prove something to him. And he was offering her a way to show him whose side she was on. By doing something that made her feel literally sick to her stomach.
Yet she nodded in agreement, because she hardly had a choice. Not just with him. With herself. She had to find out why she was here, and maybe he had given her a way to do it. There was another benefit, as well. She would have to do it alone—and at the moment she needed to get away from Max.
“There’s a pen and paper upstairs. Do you want to sit at the galley table or out on the deck in the sun?”
“Inside,” she said quickly, because the thought of being in the open air only made her panic level rise.
Max led her through the lounge, took a pad and pen from one of the drawers along the wall and set them on the table. Then he went out on deck. She could see him through the door, staring out over the water.
She wanted to call him back, to tell him this was a bad idea. Instead, she turned the pen in her hand, looking at it. It felt oddly heavy, more like a weapon than a writing instrument.
“Stop stalling,” she told herself.
With a grimace, she touched the pen to the paper. She had no idea where to start, so she wrote the date of the governor’s visit.
March 22.
Then, as though her hand had been taken over by another person, she began to write more.
Chapter Ten
Annie’s throat was so dry she could barely swallow. Feeling as if fate had finally caught up with her, she let the pen flow across the paper. It moved quickly. She was writing without even thinking about where the words were coming from and what they might mean. At first it was fairly easy to let the pen carry her hand along.
But as the page filled with writing, it became more and more difficult to make herself continue. All at once, she simply felt too tired to go on. It was a strange sensation, as though her muscles were too weak to hold the pen. She was sure she could never have spoken about what she had just written. But Max’s idea of writing, instead of talking, had freed her to do what would have been an impossibility.
Setting the pen down on the table, she dragged in a breath and let it out slowly. When she looked up, she saw Max regarding her gravely. She blinked. “How long have you been there?” she asked.
“A while.”
“I didn’t see you come in.”
“I know. You looked as if you were in a trance—if you’ll pardon the expression. Have you ever heard of automatic writing?”
“No. What is it?”
“When someone claims to communicate with the spirit world and they let the spirit take over and write.”
“Have you seen that?”
“No. But I’ve heard of it.” He pulled out the chair opposite her and sat down. “How does your head feel?”
She searched for an answer to the question and came up with a descriptive word. “Empty.”
“No headache?”
She focused on how she felt. “No. Thank The Protectors.”
“The Protectors. Who are they?”
She shook her head. “I wish I knew.”
To break the ensuing silence, she said quickly, “I wrote something.”
“What?”
She glanced down at the paper. “It looks like a lot, but I have no idea what it says.”
“Read it to me,” he said gently. She wanted to cling to that gentleness, but she wasn’t sure it would do her any good. She had gotten close to him a while ago. Now it seemed as if he’d taken a mental step back.
She wanted to crumple the paper into a ball and flush it down the toilet before she found out what she had written. Instead, she picked up the sheet and focused on the handwriting. It didn’t even look familiar.
“Sea Kingdom…” she began, feeling the thickness in her throat. After clearing it, she tried again. “Sea Kingdom occupies two hundred well-landscaped acres in south-central Florida. It is a vacation destination for families from all over the United States but chiefly from the Eastern seaboard. It has never achieved quite the importance of Disney World or Sea World
. But it is a major secondary entertainment center. The campus consists of large and small exhibits, as well as parklike areas. All are well maintained. In one building, visitors walk through a plastic tunnel while sharks and other sea creatures swim over them. In another large tank, visitors swim with friendly seagoing mammals called dolphins. In a nearby exhibit, they can watch sea lions perform.
“The penguin house is a climate-controlled habitat where unique, flightless birds frolic in ice-cold water and on snowy cliffs. Nearby is a similar enclosure for polar bears. Killer whales and dolphins perform stunts in a huge amphitheater.
“In a large pool, adults and children can ride in a simulated submarine past displays constructed to resemble coral reefs with fish swimming about.
“The governor will be speaking in the indoor auditorium. The usual activity there is the making of a film where volunteers from the audience can participate in the creation of an underwater rescue movie. Then they can buy the results at a high price.”
When Max laughed, she looked up inquiringly.
“It’s a good piece of merchandising. The tourists get to take home a flick from vacation where they star with some Hollywood names.”
“Oh,” she answered, not really understanding. Going back to her text, she read, “‘The governor’s appearance will draw dignitaries from all over the state, as well as media from around the world. Which is a crucial part of Carp—” ’
What she had written stopped abruptly, and she felt a mixture of relief and frustration.
“Carp,” she said. “It says that word, carp.”
“Yeah. What does it mean?” he shot at her.
She flapped her arm in an angry gesture. “If I knew, I’d tell you.”
He gave her a long look. “It seems you know a lot about Sea Kingdom.”
“Yes.” She clenched and unclenched her hands. “And before you ask, I don’t know why.”
“But you went to a lot of trouble to memorize those facts.”
“What’s your point? What do you want me to do? Just tell me!” Fear and frustration made her shout the plea.
Before he could answer, the phone rang, and she breathed out a small sigh—part relief and part disappointment—as his attention shifted away from her.
For several moments Max listened intently to someone on the other end of the line. Then he said, “Thanks for the information.”
When he hung up, she tried to read the expression on his face.
“Who was that?” she asked.
He hesitated and she thought he wasn’t going to answer.
“An informant I’ve cultivated in town.” Watching her closely, he added, “He told me that a major drug shipment is going to be delivered tonight. I want to be on hand to document what’s happening.”
“I will go with you.”
“This isn’t your concern.”
“At the beginning, you thought it was!”
“You know damn well I’ve changed my mind.”
She nodded. That was something, anyway. “Well, you helped me. I want to help you. As you said, I’m good in a fight.”
“I don’t think there’s going to be a fight.”
“Let me come with you,” she tried again, because it was all she could say.
“What about Sea Kingdom?”
She didn’t want to think about Sea Kingdom. In fact, she was glad to have another focus for her attention. “As you pointed out, the governor is not coming until March 22. And you have Light Street working on it.”
“Yeah,” Max agreed.
“If I’m going with you tonight, we should plan the operation.”
“In military terms?”
She shrugged. “If you want to put it that way.”
“You’re the one who said it.”
“And what does that prove?” She struggled to keep her voice level.
It was his turn to shrug.
She swallowed, wondering if she was about to take another terrible chance. “Okay. I see you’re still not sure if I’m on your side. Maybe it will help if I show you something I discovered the night I came here.”
“What?”
Instead of answering directly, she said, “You mentioned that people can see in through these windows. That they might be watching.”
He nodded.
“Then we need to go downstairs.”
She got up from the table, and marched toward the stairs without looking back to see if he was following. When she heard his shoes on the treads, she let out the breath she’d been holding.
He followed her inside her cabin, and she turned to face him.
His features were drawn as he asked, “What’s the big secret? Something you found on my boat? Are your friends planning to blow it up?”
Her heart pounded in the back of her throat. “No! It’s something on me. Under my shirt, unfortunately.”
When he raised an eyebrow, she quickly added, “And I’m not talking about my ta-tas. I didn’t bring you down here for a stripper show.”
“An interesting choice of words.”
“Is it?” she asked, sorry that she was wearing nothing under the shirt. She didn’t want to take it off, so with fingers that felt wooden, she lifted the fabric just under her arm and turned so that she was exposing the skin there to his view.
He leaned closer, and she saw from his face the moment he zeroed in on the mark.
His curse zinged along her nerve endings.
“How long have you had that thing?” he demanded.
“I wish I knew. I found it that first day—when I took a shower.”
“What the hell is it?”
Ignoring his sharp tone, she tried to keep her own voice even. “You know as much as I do. It looks like the same symbol that I drew on that piece of paper. I didn’t know what it meant then and I still don’t know.”
When she heard him curse again, she cringed, but she wasn’t going to just stand there letting him act as if she’d done something wrong. “What? Do you think it’s from that biker gang? Do you think I…I belong to them? That they sent me down here for some nefarious purpose and hypnotized me so I couldn’t tell anyone about it?”
“I don’t know what the carp to think!”
He’d used the word that he’d picked up from her. And despite the tension, she laughed. “That’s a good way to put it.”
The laughter died, and they stood regarding each other uneasily. Slowly he raised his hand, and she braced for the contact. His fingers gently touched the tattoo, traced its outline. Holding very still, she struggled to keep her breathing steady. His fingers felt warm against her skin, the way they’d felt when he touched her intimately. But now his purpose was hardly intimate.
“I can feel something under the skin.”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“What is it?”
Her frustration bubbled over again. “I told you, I don’t know! Maybe somebody put a poison capsule there. Maybe I’m supposed to break it when I’ve completed my assignment.”
His hand jumped, and he pulled it quickly away. “You don’t really think that, do you?”
“Like you, I don’t know what to think.”
“But you’re tough enough to handle it—whatever it is?”
“I have to be, don’t I?”
“Being tough isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”
She wondered if he was thinking about his wife. She couldn’t ask. But the emotion in his voice made her feel exposed, so she let her shirt drop back into place.
They stood together in charged silence. She broke it by clearing her throat and asking, “So now that I’ve showed you the thing I knew I had to hide at all cost, are you going to let me help you out tonight?”
“If that’s what you want to do.”
“Yes. Thank you.”
His voice became businesslike, and she could tell he was glad to focus on the assignment. “If you’re going, I’d better give you some background. We should make some contingency plans. And I sh
ould tell you exactly what we’re facing here. Then we need to get you something appropriate to wear.”
She nodded in agreement, relieved to turn her attention to the evening ahead and away from the mysterious mark on her body. Away from Sea Kingdom. She was convinced now that it was the reason she was in Florida. But she didn’t want to think too much about that. Not yet. She had time, she told herself, even when in her gut she knew that was a lie. Time was her enemy.
MAX LOOKED at Annie sitting across the small table from him and smiled.
She smiled back, but he could tell she didn’t like the noise level in Nicki’s Paradise, or the flashing lights, or the constant movement of the dancers.
If he had to guess, he’d say she’d never been in a dance club before. Or at least she didn’t remember the experience.
For the thousandth time, he wondered about her background. If she’d been a moll in a New York biker gang, the nightclub scene would surely seem familiar.
Had she been raised in a convent? On a Pacific island? In a puritanical cult? And where had she gotten her mixture of ethnic looks, her Scandinavian accent and her stilted way of speaking?
She lifted her glass and took a sip of her soft drink. He’d ordered it for her, suspecting she couldn’t handle the hard stuff. To keep his own head clear, he was sticking to soda water with lime.
Partly to fill up the hours before they could leave for the club, they’d gone shopping in the afternoon. He’d enjoyed her delight in what most women he knew would have considered a mundane experience, since they were buying her outfits at a low-end department store out on the highway. She didn’t seem to have a woman’s instinct for what would look good on her, so he’d helped her make selections. Now she was wearing her favorite—a peach-colored T-shirt with green palm trees and a pair of light-blue jeans, both of which looked a lot better on her than the oversize shirts and shorts she’d borrowed from him.
“We could dance,” he said, pitching his voice over the noise.
“I don’t know how.”
“It’s not too difficult. You just move your hips and arms around.”
“It looks obscene.”
He laughed. “Okay. We don’t have to do it.”