Harbour Falls

by S. R. Grey

  With his hand in place, I couldn’t turn away. Adam said very slowly, “Ask me the question. Again.”

  My heart raced. “Was Chelsea blackmailing you?”

  “Yes.” Adam paused, releasing my chin but keeping his eyes trained on me. “There’s your answer. Are you happy now?”

  I shook my head. “No, of course not.”

  I felt queasy. It was difficult to hear him confirm what so many had suspected.

  “Aren’t you going to ask me what it was?” Adam chuckled, though it was an empty action, devoid of humor. “That’s always the next question.”

  “Um, was it something illegal?” I croaked.

  Adam looked at me like I was an idiot. “Hmm, you could say that.”

  His eyes were so intense that I dropped my gaze to focus, instead, on a light smattering of freckles that peppered his right shoulder. I cleared my throat. “Did you hurt somebody?”

  I was terrified to hear his answer, so I counted freckles in time with my beating heart. One, two, please say no. Three, four, please say no.

  “No, Madeleine, I did not hurt anyone.” Adam paused, and I released a whoosh of air I hadn’t even realized I was holding. “In fact, I can assure you it’s probably none of the things you’re thinking.”

  Relief and gratitude washed over me in the knowledge that whatever it was, at least he hadn’t injured—or done worse to—God forbid, some innocent person. Throwing caution to the wind, I wrapped my arms around him, the heat of his bare skin permeating through the thin material of my camisole. “Thank you,” I whispered.

  I wasn’t exactly sure why I was thanking Adam. I guessed it was because he had actually answered my questions, and so far it didn’t really sound like he’d done anything too horrific. Maybe what he’d done wasn’t even anything illegal? Or maybe it was something that had been illegal at the time? Then again…

  Relieved and lost in thought, I brushed my lips over that peppering of freckles on his shoulder. Adam lay back once again, absently curving my body to his while resting a hand on my hip.

  Between butterfly kisses down his shoulder, over his bicep, I decided to press my luck and push for more information. “So Chelsea knew this secret…and she threatened to expose it…if you refused to marry her?”

  On my hip his hand flexed. “Uh-huh,” he mumbled wearily.

  I really was incredibly intrigued. How had Chelsea uncovered this terrible secret? Had he confided in her? Or had she somehow stumbled upon the damning information?

  When no more information was forthcoming, I sat up suddenly. Adam’s hand fell away from my hip. I searched for clues in his perfect features. I willed him with my eyes to share. My mind screamed: What was it?

  Adam, perceptive as always, sighed, “Maddy, I’ve already told you more than I’ve ever told anyone. You do understand why I can’t give you any more details, right?”

  I shrugged. “It’s not like I’d run and tell the world, Adam. I just told you I wouldn’t write—”

  Adam cut me off and sat up. “Why would I even put you—or myself—in a position like that?”

  “So it’s a matter of trust?” I accused, stung. “You want me to trust you, but you don’t trust me. At all.”

  “Oh, you trust me?” he shot back dubiously. “Because as I recall in Boston, you said you thought you trusted me, but then you refused to even tell me what the fuck was going on when you found out about a phone call from four fucking years ago!”

  “I did tell you!” I yelled, outraged.

  “Only after I chased you down and pried it out of you,” he yelled back.

  Leaning his head back, he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. In a lowered voice, he asked, “So which is it, Maddy? Do you trust me? Or not?”

  How had this turned into a conversation about me?

  “I trust you, Adam,” I said quietly, casting my eyes down. And I did trust him. To a point.

  I continued, “I know you’re just trying to protect us both, but”—our eyes met—“if we are ever going to have a chance, eventually, Adam, you are going to have to trust me enough to tell me the truth. All of it.”

  He took my hand and pulled me to him, and then he eased us down into the pillows as he reached up and turned off the bedside lamps.

  “Maddy, Maddy. Eventually, huh?” he asked, the playfulness back in his voice. “You’re willing to wait?”

  I nestled into him and nodded. “Yes, I can wait, for now. But eventually, yeah.”

  His fingers ghosted over the thin strap of my cami, sending a warm shiver through me. Despite being extremely tired, a part of me desperately wanted to stay awake. All the heightened emotions were fueling my desire to feel physically close to Adam. I hooked a leg over him and pressed myself to his firm body, eliciting a surprised, shaky exhale of air from him. Encouraged, I ran my hand down his chest until I reached his abdomen.

  Adam placed his hand over mine. “Maddy, don’t start something you aren’t willing to finish,” he said in a husky, low voice.

  I really was too exhausted to enjoy much of anything if I continued down this path, literally and figuratively. It had ended up being a trying day, and we were both in dire need of some sleep.

  Adam must have sensed my reticence, because he said softly, “We should sleep, for now.”

  “Yeah, I guess,” I agreed as I moved my hand back up to rest on the smooth planes of his chest. “Will you stay though?”

  I didn’t want to sleep alone, not tonight.

  “If it will help you sleep better, of course,” he said.

  Propping himself up on an elbow, he leaned over to press his lips to mine. We kissed—oh so slowly and gently—until I was positively dizzy. Pulling back, Adam said in a low voice, “Oh, Maddy, the things I’m going to do to you.”

  He caressed my cheek, his hand drifting down to my neck, over the swell of my breasts, a brush of fingers across my stomach, and then lower, lower, until his hand rested dangerously close to… A moan escaped my lips, and I asked breathily, “When?”

  Adam plopped back against the pillows, chuckling. “Oh, I don’t know,” he said slyly. “Let’s say…eventually.”

  I huffed, feigning indignation, and tried half-heartedly to roll to the other side of the enormous bed. But he easily caught me in his arms and eased me back to lie against him.

  We’d reached an impasse, of sorts, but, for this night, I was fine with where we were.

  “Good night, Adam,” I said, closing my eyes.

  “’Night, Maddy.”

  Chapter 13

  I woke up only once in the middle of the night, entangled in Adam—stretched across his bare chest, his arm draped over my shoulder, I tilted my head back just enough to watch him sleep. He seemed so peaceful, so at rest. Wishing for Adam to find that kind of contentment in his waking life, I laid my head back on his chest and allowed his steady heartbeats to lull me back to sleep.

  The second time I woke up, though my eyes remained closed, I could tell it was morning. Something velvety trailed across my cheek, tickling my skin. I lifted my hand to brush it away, smiling, and heard Adam chuckle. Opening my eyes, the first thing I saw was Adam and, in his hand, a vibrant red rose.

  Tentatively I touched the petals, the texture as velvety as when he’d brushed them across my cheek. Adam stretched out across the bed, already dressed for the day in jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt. “For you,” he said, handing me the flower and wowing me with one of his drop-dead smiles.

  I took the rose and inhaled the sweet fragrance of the bloom. “How’d you locate a red rose here on this island on such short notice, Adam?”

  He leaned close, trailing kisses along my cheek, following the path he’d made with the rose. “For you, Maddy, I can make anything happen,” he murmured.

  No doubt he could. “Thank you. It’s beautiful.” I smiled, truly appreciative of his sweet gesture.

  “Oh, there’s one more thing.” He rose from the bed and made his way over to the doorway. A
s he disappeared into the hallway, he called back, “I hope you’re hungry.”

  I was kind of hungry, now that he’d mentioned it, so I sat up and craned my neck to see what Adam was doing in the hallway. He soon appeared in the doorway, holding a breakfast tray laden with a delectable presentation of food. “Wow,” I mouthed, impressed by the presentation, not to mention the image of this gorgeous man bringing it to me.

  Once Adam reached me, he placed the tray across my lap and sat down next to me. “A vegetable omelet, toast, fruit, and orange juice,” he said, pointing to each of the items on the tray as he listed them off. “Hope this meets with your approval, Ms. Fitch,” he added as he slipped the red rose from my fingers and slid it into a slender, water-filled vase on the corner of the tray.

  “Thank you. It looks delicious,” I said, touched that the powerful Adam Ward was serving me breakfast in his bed.

  I took a tentative bite of the omelet and found myself pleasantly surprised at just how mouthwatering it was. “Mmm, Adam,” I said between enthusiastic bites. “This is so good. Did you make this yourself?”

  “I did,” he replied, chuckling. “Is it that shocking that I can cook?”

  I thought it over for a minute. “I guess not. You certainly seem to excel in everything you do.”

  Adam cocked an eyebrow, and I rolled my eyes, despite the fact that I was actually rather anxious to find out just what kinds of other things Adam excelled in. But instead of sharing those thoughts with him, I said, “You know what I mean.”

  “I do,” he purred. “But believe me, Maddy, I make it my mission to excel in everything I do.” He trailed his hand down my bare arm, leaving goose bumps in his wake. “And I do mean everything.”

  I wanted Adam in every way imaginable. I was sure he knew his words made my body ache for his touch. But it was more than that. Despite everything I was clearly falling for Adam a little more with each passing day. I just didn’t know if he felt the same way. True, he’d made it clear he didn’t view me as just some new sexual plaything, like Lindsey. But could he ever truly fall for me?

  Lost in those thoughts, I failed to respond, and Adam coughed a little. Sensing my hesitation he smoothly changed the subject. “We’d actually better get going soon. Max is expecting us.”

  “Right,” I mumbled into my orange juice. I’d almost forgotten about pressing charges against J.T. Almost.

  Before Adam drove me back to my cottage to change, I reluctantly threw on the clothes I’d worn the day before, grimacing when the smell of stale whiskey hit my nose. And after showering back at my own place, I was only too happy to throw the offending shirt in the trash. Actually a part of me wanted to burn it. Damn J.T., what an ass.

  Wanting now to get this over with and forget about it, I hurried back downstairs. I practically ran to the front door, passing by Adam as he stood waiting for me in the living room. “OK,” I yelled over my shoulder. “I’m ready.”

  Adam caught up to me. “You don’t have to do this, Maddy. You know that, right?”

  “No, I do. I really do,” I whispered, leaning my forehead against his chest. My voice was soft but full of conviction.

  So we drove down to Max’s modest bungalow, where it took only ten minutes for him to take my formal statement. I basically recounted exactly what had transpired at the café, while Adam held my hand. After I concluded, Max pressed the stop button on the recorder he’d set out on the coffee table and then informed us that J.T.—who was back in Cove Beach—would be taken into custody later in the day. Max explained how J.T. would be processed and then admitted to a rehab facility. As opposed to the alternative, jail, it seemed more than fair.

  After we left Adam drove me down to the dock. My father was still expecting me today, though I dreaded the visit. Adam must have noticed my solemn mood, because he offered to ride over with me on the ferry to Cove Beach. Without hesitation I took him up on the offer. Apart from it being an opportunity to spend more time with him, I was kind of secretly hoping Jennifer would be piloting us over. I couldn’t wait for her to see who was with me. I highly doubted she’d be her usual bitchy self in front of the owner of the island.

  Unfortunately, though, the wrong Weston was at the helm today. As usual Brody said very little, and the ride over was uneventful. After we docked Adam instructed Brody to wait for him before heading back over to the island. We then walked over to where my car was stored.

  Adam lifted the door to the garage and looking in, said, “Oh, Maddy, I see you’ve been holding out on me.” He nodded to my car. “A BMW, eh? And a pretty sweet one at that.”

  Knowing that Adam could easily afford an entire fleet of the model I owned, the M6, I laughed. “This from a man who drives a Porsche. And not just any Porsche, mind you. Let’s see…” I furrowed my brow in mock concentration and began to list off the stats, the facts rolling off my tongue smoothly. “The 911 GT2 RS…620 horsepower…only about five hundred in the world.”

  “I’m impressed.” Adam arched an eyebrow. “Someone must be reading their Car & Driver.”

  “Not exactly,” I admitted. “I looked it up on the Internet.”

  Adam chuckled. “Resourceful girl,” he said with a wink.

  Oh, if only he knew…

  I was reluctant to part, so I wrapped my arms around him. He held me tightly and said, “Just text me when you’re on your way back, and I’ll pick you up at the dock.”

  “I’ll be back before dark,” I promised, pulling back.

  Adam kissed me until I was breathless, and then he opened the driver’s side door for me. “Have a nice time with your father.”

  “I will,” I replied, getting in.

  In my rearview mirror, I watched as Adam walked away. And then I was off. Half an hour later, I was parked in front of my dad’s stately, white frame house in Harbour Falls. The home I’d grown up in.

  My dad and I spent only a short time at the house—mostly I tidied things up for him—and then we headed over to one of the local steakhouses. I suggested it because I knew my dad’s beloved Patriots were playing, and that particular place had a big screen TV.

  My dad appreciated the gesture, but he had no idea I had another, more selfish reason for suggesting the steakhouse. I was hoping that if the mayor was occupied with the football game, he’d be less likely to inquire about whether or not I was staying away from Adam.

  And it went pretty well for a while, with no mention of Adam. Then at halftime he brought up the investigation. “So, sweetie, you finding all you need in those case files to work on that book of yours?”

  “Mmm, yeah,” I muttered as I focused intently on cutting a piece of steak. “They’ve been really helpful,” I added, probably with more enthusiasm than was warranted.

  I wasn’t lying though. The case files had been helpful. But not enough to prevent me from snooping around, and I knew that was what my father had hoped to prevent by giving me those files. No doubt my dad would kill me if he knew I’d already paid off a shady bartender for information the police didn’t even have.

  “That’s good.” My dad took a drink of his soft drink and then setting the glass back down with a clink, continued, “I want you to stay under the radar, Madeleine, if you’re going to continue to live on that island.”

  Huh? “What do you mean, Dad?”

  “Well, I’ve been thinking about those pay phone records.”

  “And?”

  “Ms. Hannigan didn’t once use her cell phone after leaving the hotel, but we know it was in her possession.” The mayor paused meaningfully. “However, as we know, she did make a call from the pay phone at the bank…to Mr. Ward.”

  Uh-oh.

  My dad eyed me curiously when I suddenly coughed. “Is something wrong, Maddy?”

  “No, no.” I cleared my throat. “So you were saying.”

  “Ms. Hannigan made that call and then attempted to make another in Cove Beach.”

  “At the convenience store,” I added helpfully.

  My
dad nodded. “And we have no way of knowing how many other calls she made that night that weren’t caught by any surveillance cameras.”

  “Exactly!” I agreed. “I thought the same thing when I read the files.”

  My dad leaned forward, while looking around to make sure nobody was listening to our conversation. “I think it’s safe to assume Ms. Hannigan was calling people from these other phones because she didn’t want them traced back to her.” I nodded, and my dad continued, “I have two theories: One, the most obvious is that she was covering her own ass in case the authorities ever got ahold of her cell records. This way they’d show nothing damning.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure her drug dealer wouldn’t have appreciated her calling from an easily traceable phone, like her cell.” I added. “Nor would Chelsea want that drug dealer traced back to her.”

  “Yes, but maybe she was calling someone other than some drug dealer from these other phones.”

  “Like who?”

  “Maybe she was calling a lover,” my dad said, his face reddening.

  I was just as embarrassed as my dad. We never talked about those sorts of things.

  I quickly said, “So she was calling, er, someone else.” I paused. “And you think she was protecting herself—and that person—from the authorities?”

  “Not from the authorities.” My father held my uncomprehending gaze. “This is where my second theory comes into play.”

  My ears perked up because, when it came right down to it, the mayor really was incredibly wise. “The flaw in the first theory is that we’re assuming Ms. Hannigan was being proactive in case the authorities ever caught up to her. But based on all her prior behavior, I think we can safely say she viewed herself as being above the law.”

  That much was true. Chelsea had done plenty of illegal and immoral things with no regard for the consequences.

  “What are you getting at, Dad?” I asked, kind of at a loss.

  “By not using her cell phone, Ms. Hannigan was behaving as if she had every expectation that those records would be seen, seen by someone other than the police.” My father looked at me pointedly.