by Rebecca York
Too bad she couldn’t hear the questions.
Was he the one she’d called Angelo when she’d awoken from her dream?
The feel of Max’s fingers tightening on her arm brought her back to the present.
“Annie?” he whispered.
She straightened. “We have to get out of here.”
“Unfortunately, there’s a little problem.”
She looked toward the shore. In the moonlight, she could see two men scanning the parking lot with giant flashlights. She had hoped they weren’t going to get any closer to the pier. But when the light swung to the water, she and Max both ducked behind the pilings and crouched under the boards.
She was glad the water was dark, because she did not want to take a good look at it.
They stayed where they were until the lights moved away from the water. But the men remained in the parking lot.
“Can we take them?” she asked.
“Probably, but they’re not the only ones looking for us.”
“What are we going to do?” She struggled to keep her voice as even as his.
“Swim farther along the coast, then go ashore.”
Taking her cue from him, she slipped into the water and began quietly swimming in the direction the tide was moving.
She was about thirty feet from the pier when suddenly the light swept across the water, heading straight toward her. Looking wildly around, she caught sight of Max. He dived, and she did the same. Below the surface, she held her breath as long as she could. Kicking upward, she stuck her head out, gulped in air, then went down again when the light came sweeping back toward her.
She was totally disoriented now, unsure of which direction she had come from and where she should be going. Fighting panic, she stayed under until her lungs were near bursting, then came up, gasping for air.
She was farther from shore and she had no idea where Max was. Terror threatened to swallow her, but she clenched her fists and ordered herself to keep functioning. When she turned in a circle, she located the pier and struck out in the opposite direction, angling toward shore. By force of will, she kept herself from calling out to Max. Was he all right? Had something happened to him when he’d dived under the water?
She had no way of knowing, and she had to fight the sick feeling that rose in her throat. They had started off as enemies. At the beginning she had been sure that she had to get away from him. Now, unable to locate him, she could hardly cope with the emotions swirling through her.
She was so tired it was tempting to simply let herself float, even if she was in danger of being swept out to sea. But she hadn’t reached that point yet, so she kept struggling toward shallow water. Finally, she could stand up again. Crouching low, she flopped to the wet sand. Ahead of her was a stretch of undeveloped land, covered with scrubby vegetation. She knew there might be snakes or even alligators lurking in the underbrush.
Hoping such creatures didn’t come down to the beach, she rolled to her back and lay in her wet clothing, staring up at the stars, marveling at how bright and sharp they looked. Before, she had seen them only through a muddy filter. She wanted to think about that more, but instead, she pulled her mind back to the danger around her.
She probably wasn’t far enough from the nightclub, and Nicki’s men would be combing the beach looking for her.
She was exhausted. And wet. And she didn’t know what the carp she was going to do.
They had sent her here to do a job, but they had no idea of the dangers she would face. They had doomed her to failure. She wanted to scream at them for being such fools—but she didn’t even know who they were. And of course, she couldn’t blame her present predicament on them. She’d asked to go with Max tonight because she’d wanted to help him. If she was honest, she’d admit she hadn’t wanted to be separated from him, either. Well, they were separated now.
She wasn’t sure how long she lay there before she heard a voice—low and urgent.
“Annie? Are you okay?”
“Max?” At first she thought she might have dreamed him because she wanted him to be with her so badly. Slowly, afraid that no one was really there, afraid she was having some sort of new mental disturbance, she turned her head—and saw him kneeling beside her on the sand. “Annie, are you hurt?”
He was there. He was really at her side. Gladness surged within her. Sitting up, she clasped him to her, unable to cope with the strength of her relief. “Max! I thought you were gone.”
“Yeah. I had a couple of bad moments after we got separated. Then I spotted you on the beach.” He sounded casual, but then he gave her a fierce hug. She wanted to cling to him, but knew they couldn’t stay where they were.
When he eased away from her, she turned him loose.
“Come on,” he urged.
“Where are we going?”
“Not back to the boat, that’s for sure. They’ll be looking for us there.”
She felt too tired to move, but because she couldn’t show him how weak and needy she was, she pushed herself to her feet. He clasped her hand, leading her away from the nightclub. Though she wanted to ask where they were going, she didn’t waste the breath and simply followed him down the beach.
He led her to the water, and they walked where their footprints would wash away. They tromped past the wilderness area, then came out onto a lawn. To her right was an impossibly large white house that looked out over the water.
“This is an estate?” she murmured. “Where rich people live?” she murmured.
“Yeah.”
They hurried across the lawn to a low wall. On the other side was another large house. The flamboyant structures loomed at regular intervals. She tried to imagine living in a place so large.
Max kept them moving rapidly past several boat docks where she could see various vessels moored.
Finally, he stopped under a large palm tree. “Stay here.”
Earlier she might have objected; now she did as he asked. She watched him climb onto a dock and move at a crouch toward a large cabin cruiser. A lamp high on a pole illuminated the area, and her stomach clenched as he stepped into the circle of light, exposing himself to attack.
Swiftly he climbed onto the deck of the boat, then disappeared inside. As he vanished from view, her heart began to pound in her chest.
She hated hiding uselessly in the shadows. But there was nothing she could do to help him now. If she climbed onto the boat, he would think she was an attacker.
So she stood in her wet shirt and jeans, working to keep her teeth from chattering and straining her eyes into the darkness, but she couldn’t see Max or anyone else.
Once again, it seemed as if hours passed before he reappeared on the deck and waved her forward. A glad cry rose in her throat, but she kept it locked inside as she ran across the lawn and scrambled up on the pier. When she got to the boat, Max reached for her arm, helping her onto the deck.
Feeling slightly dazed, she let him lead her into a large lounge, then downstairs and into a cabin.
She had thought his boat was luxurious. There was enough light coming in from the lamp out on the dock for her to see that this craft was larger and more opulent. The cabin into which he ushered her was rich with polished wood and leather.
“Is it all right to stay here?” she asked. “I think somebody will object.”
“I’m betting they won’t know about it.” He gave a short laugh. “You remember when that guy, Andrew Cunanan, killed Versace? It turned out he’d been living on some rich dude’s boat tied up behind his house.”
She shook her head. She was beyond acting as if she understood references that had no meaning for her.
“Versace?”
He tipped his head to one side. “You don’t remember that famous murder case?”
“I’m sorry…no.” She sighed. “And I am tired of pretending.”
He regarded her gravely, then shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “We should get you warm and dry.”
She
looked down at her clinging clothing, then back at him. His hair was plastered to his head, his shirt to his broad chest. “Not just me. You, too.”
“Let’s see what there is to wear.” He opened a closet and began looking through clothing on hangers until he pulled out a terry-cloth robe. “Start with this. And let’s hope that we can use the shower without turning on the generator.” He opened the door to the head and looked inside. “We’d better not switch on any lights.”
Reaching into the shower, he turned the taps. After a few moments, he said, “I don’t think we’re going to get hot water.”
“That’s okay.”
He swung back to her. “You’re used to cold showers?”
“I think so, yes,” she answered. “I think I am used to less than luxurious conditions.”
“I’ll give you some privacy.”
When he left the cabin, she stepped into the bathroom and pulled off her wet clothes. In truth, the cold shower wasn’t bad at all, since she was already cold and clammy.
Using the shampoo and soap she found on a shelf, she washed and rinsed her hair and body. Then, moving her hand slowly upward, she felt for the tattoo under her arm, wishing it had magically disappeared.
No such luck. It was still there, and she closed her eyes as she fingered the raised skin. The damn mark meant something, but she didn’t know what. She wanted to scream out her frustration. Instead, she turned off the water with a jerky movement.
After drying herself, she went in search of Max and found him emerging from another cabin where he had obviously showered and found clean clothing.
He looked from her to the window and back again. “I need to tell Light Street about the drugs—and about Jamie Jacobson.”
“Tell them? How?”
“I’ve got to find a phone. Mine didn’t survive that swim.”
She clamped her hand over his shoulder. “Not now!”
“Yes, now.” He gathered her close, rubbing his hands in circles across her back. “I know you don’t want to stay here alone, but I can move faster by myself.”
“I can stay by myself!”
“Good.” After a moment, he stepped away from her and started opening drawers. “I’d feel better if you had a weapon.”
“You expect to find a gun—just like that?”
“You have no faith in the American reverence for defending home and hearth.” As he spoke he strode into the companionway, then entered another stateroom. Again he searched through the drawers. In the third room, to her surprise, he did find a gun, a revolver. And the bullets were in a nearby box. “You know how to use this?” he asked.
She took the gun, checked and loaded it. “Yes.”
“Then I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Again she wanted to protest, but she quietly went back to the cabin where she’d showered and sat down in the chair in the corner, wondering if she was doomed to spend her life waiting for Max Dakota to come back. A swirl of emotions threatened to overwhelm her, but she held them in check, because she had to focus on keeping watch.
Twenty minutes later she sat up straighter when she felt the boat shift. Someone had stepped onto the deck, and was now coming rapidly down the stairs.
“Don’t shoot!” Max called out. “It’s me.” He stepped into the room.
She stood. “You made the call.”
“Piece of cake.”
“Cake? What does cake have to do with it?”
He tipped his head to one side. “One of our strange English-language expressions.”
“Don’t tease me. Tell me what you did.”
“There was a big cabana out by the pool. They had a phone inside. I made a quick call to my office. They’ll alert the DEA—Drug Enforcement Administration.”
She breathed out a little sigh. “Do we have to do anything?”
“We’re out of it at the moment. Our best bet is to get some sleep.”
“Okay,” she answered, accepting his judgment.
His gaze bored into her, reminding her that she was naked under the robe.
“How are you holding up?” he asked.
“I’ve been better,” she answered, because the simple explanation was easier than dealing with the emotions threatening to break through the wall she’d built up around them.
“There’s something I need to say,” he told her.
Her own worries faded into the background when she noticed the anger in his voice. “Something bad?”
“Yeah. I’m sorry things turned out the way they did. It looks like my informant who was taking my money turned us in to Nicki.” His face contorted. “I’ve been running this operation on a kind of fast-and-loose basis. Too damn loose. It was lucky you insisted on coming along tonight, otherwise I’d probably be facedown in the swamp by now.”
“No!”
“Of course, in the process of taking you to Nicki’s place tonight, I almost got you killed, too.”
His flat tone and the defeated look on his face sent her hurtling across the space between them so she could wrap her arms around him. He held himself stiffly for a moment, then leaned into her as a shuddering sigh escaped her lips.
“Max, don’t blame yourself.”
She curved her body as tightly to his as her robe and his clothing would permit. Frustrated by the fabric, she opened some of the buttons on the front of his shirt and slipped her hand inside.
His eyes were intense as he stared down at her. “Honey, I appreciate the sentiment, but you’re, uh, being kind of provocative.”
She raised her chin. Then truly astonished by her own boldness, she said, “I hope so.”
When he continued to stare down at her, she added, “Max, I’m not going to throw myself at you. Well, not any further than this. I’m hoping you have enough sense to take over.”
Then she waited with her heart pounding to see if he was going to turn away from what she offered.
Chapter Twelve
He didn’t answer her with words. Instead, he lowered his mouth. As his lips touched hers, she made a sound that was part plea, part invitation.
Heat flared between them as he angled his head first one way, then the other.
“Annie.” His warm breath caressed her mouth as he spoke. Then his lips were moving over hers with an urgency that sent a shock wave through her, making her feel as though the boat was rocking wildly under her feet, although she knew it was not.
Last time, he’d kissed her with passion. This time, she felt something more—a desperation that robbed her of breath. He needed her, and the realization was intoxicating.
Until now he had been so strong and in charge. Now he clung to her in a way that made her feel both weak and powerful.
The hand still inside his shirt began to move restlessly against his hot skin. Enjoying the sensation of crisp hair against her fingers, she opened more buttons and stroked the skin it laid bare. When she brushed the hard nubs of his nipples, he sucked in a strangled breath.
Anxiously, she lifted her head. “Does that hurt you?”
He looked down, his eyes warm as they met hers. “Does this?” he asked, slipping his hand inside her robe and stroking her tight nipples. She could only answer with a quick, indrawn breath.
He smiled, and she basked in the warmth of that smile. The only thought in her mind was that she needed to get closer to him—as close as possible. Seeking his heat and strength, she finished with the buttons of his shirt and pulled the fabric aside. But that wasn’t enough.
Wondering how she’d become so bold, she began fumbling with the buckle of his belt. He helped her, opening the buckle, then unzipping his borrowed jeans and stepping out of them before tearing off the shirt he still wore.
In seconds, he was naked, his body hard and tense—and fascinating. She found the sides of his hips, then moved one hand inward, finding his sex. It was large and hard, and standing out from his body as though it had a life of its own.
She was drawn to that part of him. Once again astonis
hed at herself, she trailed her fingers over the rigid shaft, marveling at the silky feel of his skin and the hardness beneath.
Enthralled, she stroked him, then clasped him in a tight embrace. He dragged in a shuddering breath, but this time she knew she wasn’t hurting him.
Still, his hand closed over her wrist. “Honey, if you don’t want this to be over before it starts, you’d better find some other focus for that very sexy hand of yours.”
She didn’t quite follow what he was saying. But she guessed that her touch might be too intense. So she inched her hand upward, then pressed her palm against his flat belly, feeling his muscles jump.
“My turn,” he whispered, tugging at the belt of her robe, pulling it out of the way, then spreading the front open. But he didn’t stop there. In one quick motion, he swept the heavy garment from her shoulders. The weight dragged it downward, and suddenly her arms were trapped. She felt a spurt of panic as she tried to move them. Then she heard him draw in a breath, and her nerves jumped again as she looked up at him.
“You are so beautiful,” he said.
“Am I?” she asked, because she couldn’t believe the simple words.
“Oh, yes.” He caressed her breasts, bringing the already tight crests to points of pure sensation. And when he gently stroked them, then rolled them between his thumbs and fingers, he wrung another gasp of pleasure from her.
When he folded her into his arms, the shock of that intimate contact made her head spin.
He gathered her more tightly to himself and lowered his head for a deep, sweet kiss. As he did, the whirlwind of emotion she felt threatened her balance. She struggled to stay on her feet when he led her across the room toward the double bed attached to one bulkhead.
She knew she wanted to be with him like this. At the same time, now that they were standing beside the bed—both naked—some deeply buried taboos made her throat close. Even if she didn’t want to admit it, she knew this was wrong. Uncertainty leaped inside her.
He must have sensed her change of mood, because he lifted his head and said, “Annie?”