Later that evening, settled at the dining room table with Dylan’s laptop, heads huddled together in fierce concentration, they tried to come up with a website design for Baylee’s jewelry business.
“Baylee’s Beads, catchy title. I like that. What’s your favorite color?”
“Soft blue, I guess.”
“Of course, the aquamarine eyes,” he said, as he let his fingers fly, tapping keystrokes in rapid fire succession.
“What?”
“Your eyes are the first thing I noticed that night at the hospital. They’re almost the color of turquoise, only bluer, softer. Beautiful color. Since the goal is to get orders online, we’ll make it easy to navigate, easy to sort through the catalog by category, bracelets, necklaces, earrings. Anything else?”
“Rings.”
“Right. Got it.” He hit the keyboard a couple of more times, and voila, her catalog appeared.
She sat back and inspected the screen. This was her first foray into owning a legitimate website. “You are amazing.”
“That I am. Marvelous, actually. Glad you finally took note.”
“And conceited of course. Did I mention over-inflated ego?”
“Let’s not get carried away. My sensibilities might get bruised.”
“You have no sensibilities,” she said lightly.
With that, he drew her onto his lap, nuzzled her ear, then her neck. “I bet I can find each and every one of your sensibilities in a matter of minutes. Want me to prove it?”
She nuzzled back. “Mmmm, let me show you. Besides, I need to pay my web designer. It seems he did all this incredible work getting me online.”
She picked up his hand and led him to the stairs. As he followed her down the hall to the bedroom, Dylan let her take the initiative. She seemed to thrill at taking the lead. When they got to the bed, she pushed him back and began to undress him. She pulled his T-shirt over his head and tossed it aside. She began to work the zipper on his shorts. When he was down to his underwear, he reached to undress her, but she pulled back just far enough and said, “I’ll do it while you watch.”
He liked that idea. As she began to move, to dance without music, he watched as she slowly, seductively started removing her top. She then ran her hands down her own body until she fingered the waistband of her shorts, began to shimmy out of them. By the time her hands moved to unsnap the bra, she had his mouth going dry. She slithered out of her panties. That was it for him. He’d used up all the patience he had. He reached for her. She pushed him further back on the bed, straddling him. She brought her lips down on his and whispered, “I want you, Dylan. I want you inside me. Now.”
Baylee moved her hips. She flexed her muscles, continuing the dance, moving to an imaginary beat. She seemed determined to do the work. He took her lead, tried to hold back, waiting out her climax. The minute he felt her body start to tremble, he starting moving, began to build his own rhythm until a frenzied pace sent them both sailing through the glassy dune.
CHAPTER 21
In the dream, they were twelve, spending the last lazy days of summer vacation on Catalina, playing on the beach, running carefree along the sand.
With her long black hair flying loose in the sea breeze, Quinn as usual was out in front leading the pack, darting in and out of the waves, running at full throttle, her only speed. “Come on you guys, hurry up. We found it. It’s ours. We need to claim it and drag the thing up here before the Fallon brothers see it and try to capture it as theirs. It’s our ship.”
Quinn had spotted the beat-up, old, wooden dinghy from the front deck of the house. She had taken off like a shot, encouraging Kit and Baylee at the top of her lungs to follow. They had been hot on her heels in pursuit ever since, trying to catch up with her to get a glimpse of Quinn’s find.
“It wasn’t here yesterday. I’m sure of it,” Quinn yelled over her shoulder. “It must have washed ashore sometime during the night.”
“It was that thunderstorm we had last night,” Kit reasoned, as she caught up with Quinn just as they reached the vessel.
Out of breath, Baylee came up behind them. She looked down at the ten-foot rowboat with peeling green paint and rotten planking, listing badly at Quinn’s feet. The poor thing had seen better days at sea. But to Baylee and Kit and Quinn, the old boat held the promise of hours and hours of something to do besides listen to grownups bitch and moan about their lives, watch on the sidelines as they drank booze, smoked weed, and take hit after hit of blow.
“Dad keeps some tools in the garage, paint too. We could fix that planking and repaint it.”
“That’s the idea,” Quinn agreed. “But we need to pull it up to the house before someone else comes along and takes it. Like those Fallon boys. They’re always getting in our business. You never know when they’re out sneaking around, spying on us.”
“They spy on us because Eric has a major crush on Kit.”
“Bull. They spy on us ‘cause they’re dirtbags,” Kit decided.
“That too,” Baylee agreed. “But even when we get it back to the house, we’ll need to keep it out of sight until we can get it seaworthy.”
“Good thinking,” Quinn said, as she reached down to grab hold of the bow. “You get the stern, Kit. Baylee and I will take the bow.”
“Why do I always have to get one side all by myself?” Kit complained.
“Because you’re a good head taller and stronger than both of us put together,” Quinn told her emphatically. “Quit whining. The sooner we get the boat up to the house, the sooner we can start work on it. A little elbow grease and we’ll get it back in the water inside of a week then christen it with a bottle of wine from William’s stash.”
It wasn’t lost on either Kit or Baylee that it might take a lot more than elbow grease to make this broken-down tub seaworthy ever again. But neither girl felt like dampening Quinn’s enthusiasm.
But just then, Kit let go of her side when she spotted Quinn’s mother walking toward them. It wasn’t quite eight o’clock in the morning and the way she walked gave Kit every indication that Ella was already plowed or maybe still high on the blow from the night before. Either one was enough of a reason to dread the woman’s sudden appearance.
“Please tell me you are not bringing that disgusting piece of junk up to the house,” Ella screamed at the trio.
With that, Quinn dropped her side as well, which caused what was left of the bow to bounce and land on Baylee’s foot.
“Oww,” Baylee moaned. “I think I got a splinter.”
“See, that’s the reason you do not need to be playing around with this broken-down piece of shit. Honestly, did it ever occur to any of you that you are girls, as in female? For chrissakes act like girls instead of like a bunch of heathens and grubby little boys. You should be playing dress-up or playing with dolls, maybe even getting into makeup, not out here on the beach with some nasty piece of garbage that floated in with the tide. How many times have I told you, Quinn, dirty and filthy is not an attractive feature?”
“Neither are drugs or booze,” Quinn muttered.
“What did you say to me, you little shit? That’s uncalled for. I’m the grownup here. You aren’t. You’ll do what I tell you when I tell you. Got it?” She turned to Kit then. “And for God’s sakes, Kit, look at you. Your mother would faint if she could see you now. You have grime all over your face and you’re all sweaty. You’re all three disgusting.”
Baylee saw Quinn wince while at the same time watched Kit take a step back in retreat at the harsh words. She knew that look on Quinn’s face, the one that said, “I know I should have kept my mouth shut. But she makes me so mad, I can’t help it.”
Baylee understood that completely.
Ella’s words had slurred then, the words coming in slow motion as the dream began to fade. What had Ella Canyon been doing on the beach in Catalina? Why was she there? Why had she intruded on the trip in the first place and why had she come along to ruin their adventure?
Dylan not
iced Baylee tossing and turning in her sleep. When she started moaning, he leaned over and gently touched her arm. “Baylee, you’re dreaming. What’s wrong, baby?”
She sat upright in bed so fast she bumped heads with Dylan. “Whoa there, it’s me, honey. It’s me, Dylan. Relax now.”
“I was dreaming,” she squeaked out, sleepily. “We were kids, Quinn, Kit, and I.”
“What was it about?”
“I’m not sure exactly. Nothing really.” She rubbed her forehead, not sure if she understood why the dream had upset her.
“Baylee.”
“Just an incident from childhood. It’s nothing.” But she needed to talk to Quinn and Kit.
“If it’s nothing, why did it upset you?”
Even though sleep still muddled her thoughts, she managed to sputter out, “I’m not sure. But I remembered Quinn’s mother, Ella Canyon, was with us here in Catalina. I hadn’t remembered until now she made the trip over with us one summer.” She told him about the scene on the beach. “Why would I dream about Quinn’s mother? I haven’t seen her in years. For some reason it was unsettling.”
To Dylan, it didn’t sound so bad. But he could tell she was upset by the way her entire body tensed. “I think you’re on high alert, so much that any little thing is worrisome. Let me see what I can do to take your mind off your troubles.”
Despite her frame of mind, the snicker slipped out. “Oh, Dylan. You’re the best.”
“I know. But you’re supposed to reserve praise for after,” he drawled, as he began to place kisses on her throat before moving to her mouth. “Luckily, I don’t need much incentive.”
“So I’ve noticed.”
They made love, and afterward, Baylee spent a restless night, so much so that around five-thirty, she finally crawled out of bed, leaving Dylan snoring softly into his clump of pillows. As quietly as she could, she crept out of the room and down the hall to Sarah’s room. Finding her daughter still sleeping, she headed downstairs to make a much-needed pot of coffee.
As she made her way into the kitchen, she decided she could get used to this sleeping through the night thing. It’s a shame the dream had gotten in the way of enjoying it.
She couldn’t figure out exactly what disturbed her about a dream when they were kids. There had been no violence, no argument, just the typical callous words from one of their parents. And for what? Ella had gotten offensive over an old dinghy.
Why would Ella’s nastiness bother her after all these years?
She hadn’t thought about Ella Canyon in years, and certainly not the brief time the three of them had spent on Catalina. The trips there that included her friends had always occurred during the summer. But if it weren’t the harsh words from Quinn’s mother that disturbed her, what was it? Had the scene actually taken place? Had Ella Canyon ever been on Catalina Island? And why did it matter?
After putting the coffee on, Baylee picked up the phone to call Kit. She would have called Quinn but knew if she weren’t on duty at the hospital and had any downtime at all, she might not appreciate a call this early in the morning, especially about Ella. But one thing Baylee knew about Kit, you could always count on the woman being awake this early in the a.m.
She dialed Kit’s number and waited for her to pick up.
“What’s wrong?”
“You don’t say hi anymore?”
“Not when you call this early. What’s up, Baylee? Is it Connor?”
“No. I have a question. Do you ever remember Ella Canyon coming with us to Catalina? It would have been in August, I think.”
“Well, that came out of left field. Whew! Let me see, weren’t we twelve when she tagged along with us and your dad that summer? She was having some problems around that time.”
“When wasn’t Ella having problems?”
“Good point. As I remember, she horned in on our trip. None of us wanted her there, especially Quinn. Why?”
“So, she was there the day we found that old rowboat washed up on shore and she made us leave it there.”
“Sure. She pitched a fit for no good reason and the Fallon brothers scooped it up out of nowhere and claimed our pirate ship for theirs. That pretty much ruined the rest of our stay while we had to watch them fix it up and get it in the water. What’s this about Baylee?”
“I’m not sure. Do you think there was something going on between her and my father?”
“Oh, Baylee. Of course there was. They shared the same bedroom the whole time we were there. The woman had major drug problems around that time. She was using and drinking. For that matter, so was your dad.”
“Ah, that’s what I thought. Thanks, Kit. I just needed to kick-start my memory.”
“Did you hear the news? Ballistics came back on the slugs they found at the crime scene back in ‘69. That .357 according to the Sheriff’s Department was definitely the murder weapon used to kill the Parkers.”
“Wow. You really did it, Kit. You solved a forty-year-old cold case.”
“We all did, Baylee. And Jake thinks he’s located Ben Griffin living on a farm in the countryside on the outskirts of Galway. He’s sending an overnight package to the address he found. Maybe just maybe this is him and we’ll finally get lucky.”
Baylee could hear the excitement in Kit’s voice. “You let me know when you and Jake make your travel arrangements. Don’t take off in the middle of the night and head for Ireland without saying goodbye.”
“Huh? The plan is to get him to make the trip over here. We discussed heading to Ireland and realized in the midst of all this it just isn’t feasible. I’m not leaving you, Baylee. I may want to meet Ben, but I’m not going anywhere while Connor is on this obsession kick and Collin is waiting to pounce.”
“Thanks, Kit. You know, I haven’t said this in a while, but I love you.”
“I love you, too. You’re my rock. Always have been.”
“Right backatcha.” When she heard Sarah’s voice over the baby monitor, Baylee told her, “I gotta go start breakfast. I want to make Dylan something special.”
Kit chuckled. “Is that what you’re calling it these days?”
Baylee hooted with laughter and hung up.
Fifteen minutes later, Baylee had the waffle iron going and the table set. Without a microwave, bacon sizzled on the stove, the old-fashioned way. The smell of breakfast cooking gave the house a homey feel. It reminded her of the many occasions growing up when she’d walked into the kitchen and found Tanya preparing breakfast. The memory made her smile.
She heard Dylan overhead, knew by his footsteps that he was more than likely taking Sarah out of the crib at that very moment.
A couple of minutes later, Dylan appeared in the kitchen doorway, carrying Sarah on his hip. Despite holding the baby, he looked sleep-tussled, like he needed coffee while little Sarah looked wide-awake ready for a brand new day. Baylee watched as he slipped Sarah into her high chair and walked to the coffeemaker, saw him stir in enough cream and sugar to choke a horse.
“Morning, Baylee.” He leaned over and touched his lips to hers.
She smiled. “Breakfast is ready.”
“It smells wonderful. But then so do you.” With one hand, he pushed her hair back off her neck and placed a chaste kiss there.
“I smell like bacon.”
He laughed. “That must be it then. I’m starving.”
This seemed so easy, Baylee thought, as she forked a waffle onto a plate. She could visualize this scene playing out day in day out. Turning around at the stove, she noticed Dylan had already started mixing Sarah’s cereal. Her breath caught. Her stomach fluttered and flip-flopped. When had that happened exactly? Oh. My. God. She was in love with Dylan Burke, all the way in love. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. How could she have fallen in love this fast? Just because the man could charm panties off a mannequin didn’t mean she had to take the fall like a love-struck teen. Okay, okay, she loved the guy. So what? It didn’t mean she had to confess her every thought to him, did it? No, she had
no desire to make an ass out of herself in the middle of what passed for her messed-up life. She would just have to bide her time. When this chaos was over, she’d somehow work on getting Dylan Burke wedged out of her heart. Even if it took a damn crowbar.
It wasn’t until later that day Baylee managed to reach Quinn at the hospital where the res was into her seventh hour of a twenty-four-hour shift.
“Hey, can you talk? I don’t mean to interrupt your work but…there’s something I need to ask you.”
“No prob. Just finished putting fifteen stitches into the forearm of a guy who got a little too close to a switchblade.”
“That sounds…horrible,” Baylee said, her stomach pitching a little at the idea.
“Well, he said he had it coming since he made a play for his brother’s woman and should have known better.”
Baylee gasped in horror. “His brother cut him for making a pass at his girlfriend? That’s barbaric.”
Quinn snorted. “More like sliced him open. But that’s life on the streets. Apparently. What’s up?”
“I have a question about Ella Canyon.”
“What has she done now?”
Through the cell phone, Baylee could hear the self-assurance go out of Quinn at the mere mention of her mother. “It isn’t that. It’s about…one summer. Were you aware she and my father were sleeping together during our trip to Catalina that summer we were twelve?”
“Sure. Who didn’t Ella sleep with? That would be the short way to go. As I recall, your dad was her go-to guy for snow and weed that summer and her meal ticket for a month or so. Why? What’s this about, Baylee?”
“Nothing really. It’s just that I had this dream about that summer when we found the old rowboat that washed ashore. So Ella made the trip to Catalina with us then?”
Deeper Evil (The Evil Secrets Trilogy Book 2) Page 32