by Rachel Lee
Golden eyes. Brooding. Watching. Measuring. Assessing. Patient.
The presence of those eyes almost unnerved her. The other eyes that hovered at her consciousness, blue and green and hazel and brown, might as well have been blind. She could have floated right up to those eyes and plucked them out, and their owners would never have known or missed them. But those golden eyes were different. Not blind at all. Somehow, she knew that if she reached out to touch those eyes, they would burn a hole in her soul.
* * *
Declan felt her hands on his buttocks, pressing him closer to her, grinding him against her pelvis. A part of him wanted to tear off her shirt and find her wings, for surely this woman was an angel.
Her lips brushed over his, lightly, teasingly, sending tingles through him, making the hair on his arms stand up.
He had not felt this in so long. Maybe not ever. This was beyond a mere meeting of bodies, a blending of pheromones, nerve cells transmitting electrical impulses that triggered a cascade of endorphins. The anatomical processes he had committed to memory in hour after hour of study were at best a pale, cold description of the moment. This was…spiritual. This was…a meeting of souls.
He felt her angelic presence enwrap his, melding into him as he melded into her. Their hearts drew closer, closer, until cells mated and shared and they beat as one heart, one soul, one being. The lips on his, the hands that squeezed his buttocks almost to the point of pain, the dance of their tongues, were merely a gateway into the beyond. A beyond where the concepts of he and she, his and hers, gave way to we and ours.
And yet the gateway was exquisite. Her touches, her kisses, were magical, as if she had peeked into his mind, seen every fantasy he had ever had and determined to make them real.
She teased. He moaned. She giggled, as if knowing that he wanted that frustration, craved it, needed it. He moaned again.
He responded by trailing his fingertips up her rib cage, knowing the touches almost but not quite tickled. Her nipples grew to hard nubs, pressing through the fabric of her bra and her blouse and his shirt, announcing their readiness, and hers.
He wanted to take her and be taken.
Here.
Now.
* * *
The golden eyes would not leave her alone. Wendy lit another cigarette. Somehow she would have to deal with those eyes.
"Do it," she heard a distant voice whisper.
Yes. Do it, echoed a voice within her mind.
Of course it was wrong. Of course it was cruel. But the course of human history was forged by acts that lesser men and women might call wrong or cruel. Cruelty was at the heart of life itself. Ask any lion. Or any gazelle.
She drew on the cigarette, pondering that thought. To the gazelle, it was cruelty. To the lion, it was survival. It was a pleasant, warming notion, stirring yet another contraction deep within her. Pain and cruelty were as essential to existence as pleasure and kindness. More so, in fact. It was, simply, natural.
She tapped the ash from the cigarette, rolling the burning tip against the ashtray until the ember glowed hot and exposed.
Then she reached for those golden eyes.
* * *
Markie heard the howl and knew immediately.
Kato!
18
The half mile to Markie's house from the beach had never seemed so long. She ran it nearly every day with Kato by her side, a lazy ten-minute-mile round trip unless she chose to go farther. Tonight, although her legs and lungs burned with the strain of an all-out sprint, it felt as if she were running through molasses. Seconds seemed like hours.
Halfway home, Kato's howls stopped. Her heart slammed as even more adrenaline surged into her system. She kicked up the pace. Round the corner, two more blocks…
Finally, finally, she reached her front door. She hadn't locked it. Kato was all the security she needed. Or so she had thought. She had horrific visions of her dog injured or killed by some intruder.
She flung the door open and was hit squarely in the chest by a leaping dog. He knocked her down on the porch. She heard Dec calling her name.
Then Kato grabbed at her sleeve and tried to drag her toward the street. Disinclined to argue, she pushed herself up, reaching the sidewalk just as Dec reached her.
"Are you okay?" he demanded. "What the hell was that dog doing?"
Markie, trying to catch her breath, could only look down at Kato. His golden eyes looked back, everything about his posture trying to tell her something.
Then he looked at the house and growled.
"You stay here," Dec said. "I'm going in for a look."
* * *
The golden eyes winked out like lamps. Wendy shuddered and jerked back into the present, shuddering with a fear she could not explain.
Gary reached for the paper, snatching it from her hand. "What's this?" he demanded.
"I don't know. A house. Glass doors. Eyes."
She looked at the paper herself for the first time and saw what she had drawn. The house and doors were almost unidentifiable slashes on the paper. But the eyes…
She shivered again, cold to the bone. She wanted her robe. She wanted to bury herself in a heap of concealing blankets and hide from the chill.
The eyes were everywhere on the paper. Outlined in heavy strokes. Slanted eyes, dangerous eyes. Eyes that seemed to reach out from the page. She turned away.
"What are these eyes?" Gary demanded.
"I don't know. I saw them. Something told me to take them. I tried to reach them and…they were gone."
"Dammit."
She wanted to quail. Gary was angry with her. And for the first time in a long time, that seemed to matter.
"Try again," he demanded.
She shook her head. "I…can't. Not yet."
For an instant she thought he was going to hit her. Never in their entire marriage had he ever raised a hand to her, but right now he looked as if he wanted to hit her hard enough to knock her silly. Perversely, the idea did not frighten her. It thrilled her.
"I need some time," she said, hating her own placating voice. "I need to rest for a few minutes…."
Slowly, the hardness seeped from his face. "Okay," he said finally. "Rest for a while."
Then, still naked, he rose and left the den.
And Wendy wanted to cry.
* * *
Markie knelt on the sidewalk and hugged Kato close. He was shivering, she realized. He never did that. At once she leaned back and looked into his face.
"Oh, my God!" There was a burn on his snout, small but blackened. Tears burned her eyes and tightened her throat. "Who hurt you?" she asked him.
He shook off her touch as if it were of no importance and looked toward the house.
"Dec?" She called to him. He had just reached the porch.
He looked back. "Yeah?"
"Be careful. Kato's nose is burned. It looks almost like a laser burn."
"Oh, cripes." He looked at the door of the house, hesitating.
"Call the police," she urged. "Please."
But Dec was apparently determined to check out the house. He took another step toward the door.
Kato let out a howl, leaving Markie in his dust as he raced for the porch. He beat Dec to the door and planted himself sideways, blocking entry.
"Dec! Please! Call the police." Markie, still on her knees on the sidewalk, didn't care that she was begging.
Kato growled, continuing to bar the door.
"I know you wouldn't bite me, you determined beast," Dec said to the wolf. "You don't fool me."
But he pulled out his cell phone and called the cops. When he'd finished, he snapped the phone closed and looked down at Kato again. "There. Happy?"
Kato's tail lifted a bit and wagged once. Then, with his nose, he started pushing Dec back from the house.
Dec returned to the sidewalk, muttering, "First time in my damn life I've been herded like a sheep."
Apparently satisfied, Kato sat on his haunches and continue
d to watch the house.
* * *
Shaking with effort, Wendy pushed herself to her feet and went to the bedroom to get her robe. Then she went hunting for Gary. She found him in the kitchen, frying a steak.
"A steak?" she asked. Gary almost never ate beef.
"I'm hungry." He looked in her direction, but his gaze seemed to be focused on something else.
"I am, too." Maybe a few calories would help her recover. She felt as drained as if every ounce of blood had deserted her body.
"Did I tell you to put that robe on?" he asked, returning his eyes to the range.
It was as if an electric charge had pulsed through her womb. She dropped the robe to the floor. "No, you didn't. I'm sorry."
"Very well," he said, still not looking at her. "When I want you dressed, I'll tell you."
"Yes," she whispered. "Thank you."
It struck her as odd that she loved him more in that moment than ever before in their marriage. She realized she ought to be offended, to feel belittled, dehumanized by his raw assertion of power and ownership. Instead, she felt beautiful, wanted and loved.
"I love you, Gary," she whispered.
He turned to her, and a smile flickered across his features. Momentary, but real.
"I love you, too, Wendy. Now set the table."
* * *
Tom Little arrived at Markie's house within five minutes. Dec waited with Markie at the curb, where she was examining the burn on Kato's nose. It was a small, round wound, of a type Dec had seen too many times before.
"Cigarette burn," he said.
She looked up at him.
He simply nodded. "I worked an E.R."
Her eyes seemed a well of infinite sadness. Without a word, she returned her attention to the wolf. What she had left unsaid hung in the air like the sulfurous residue of a struck match. Someone had been in her home.
Tom Little emerged from the house with a look of confusion. "I didn't see any sign of an intruder. No broken glass or obvious signs of burglary."
"Someone burned my dog," she replied. "And there would be no reason to break in. I don't lock my door."
"I'll dust the doorknob for prints," Tom said. "And we should go through the house together. You can tell me if anything's been disturbed. Bring the dog with you. He might signal something that would help."
Markie hesitated, glancing at Dec.
"It's okay," he said. "I'll wait here. I'd just be in the way."
"Don't leave, okay?"
"I'm not going anywhere," he promised.
He watched as they went into the house, Kato in the lead, and fought against the notion that all the problems he'd come here to get away from had followed him. Violent death. Cruelty. Pain.
He supposed he ought to think about the positive things he'd found on Santz Martina. A good practice in a top-quality medical center. Wonderful mountain roads on which to ride his bike. A climate to die for. Friendly people, by and large. A woman he was coming to care about.
And he was going to lose her. He was as certain of that fact as he was of the sunrise. He would say the wrong thing, do the wrong thing, be the wrong thing. He always did, always was. Earlier, on the beach, for just a fleeting moment, he'd felt her desire. He'd felt like a desirable man. And he'd nearly lost himself in that, let them tumble over that cliff. But the simple fact was, once she really got to know him, she would find a million little things that bothered her. Including his hours. Always the hours. And she would leave. And he would ache. Again.
Just the way he'd looked at death and pain and misery before and was seeing it now. Again. Life was full of second chances. But to paraphrase the words of David Mamet, the only second chance we get is the chance to make the same mistake again. And here he was, about to make the same mistake.
Again.
* * *
Kato pointed his nose up into the air, sniffing, his cheeks fluttering as he puffed the air back out. He led them around the living room, then back to the dining room, where he sniffed at the back door.
"It's still locked," Markie said.
"You lock the back door and leave the front open?" Tom asked.
She nodded. "It's weird, I know. I've been locking it for a couple of days now. Ever since he started sitting in front of it and staring through the glass."
"So you've had the idea that something's out there before?"
"I guess," she said. "Kato certainly has."
He unlocked the door, slid it open, and looked at the catch and jamb. "I don't see any tampering. Let's look around the rest of the house."
There was nothing out of place in the dining room or her bedroom. The second bedroom could have been turned over by a tornado and she wouldn't have known. She'd only been there six months and it was full of boxes, some open and half-empty, others still awaiting her attention.
"Is this…yours?" Tom asked.
Markie smiled and blushed a bit. "Yeah. That's my mess. I couldn't tell you if anything's been disturbed. Most of it is probably junk I shouldn't have bothered to pack and move to begin with. Maybe I got lucky and the burglar took some of it away."
He laughed. "That's one approach to unpacking." After a quick glance in the closet, he added, "I don't see where I have a lot to report."
Markie paused for a moment, then nodded. "So who burned my dog's nose?"
He spread his hands. "I wish I had an answer for you, Dr. Cross. But I'm not psychic. I'm just a cop. I'll write up the incident, though. Maybe we'll catch a break and turn up something. No promises, though."
"I understand," she said, as they walked back to the kitchen. "I'm sorry I wasted your time. Can I offer you a cup of coffee, at least?"
He smiled. "No doughnuts?"
"Sorry," she said. "Kato ate them all."
He looked down at the wolf. "Somehow, I can believe that. But no, thanks. I need another cup of coffee like I need a second head. I won't sleep tonight anyway."
She walked him to the door and smiled as Dec came up the walk.
"All clear?" he asked.
"Seems to be." He seemed different, she thought. Unsure. "Would you like to come in?"
He looked down. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"
She caught her breath, understanding what he meant. Different answers surged to her lips, then ebbed away. She wasn't sure. Did she know him well enough? How much of a risk was she prepared to take?
Finally she looked down at her toes and spoke the clearest truth. "I may go to the hotel. I don't want to be here alone tonight."
He started to speak, no more than a syllable passing his lips before a shove from behind pushed Markie right into his arms.
A startled laugh escaped him.
"Kato!" Markie said sharply, both embarrassed and dismayed. Straightening, she turned from Dec and looked down at her dog. He grinned back at her. "What has gotten into you?"
"I don't think he wants you to stay here alone," Dec said, a devilish but wary twinkle in his blue eyes. "So I'll camp on the couch. Or the two of you can come stay at my place. I don't know that the hotel would let him in."
And she certainly wasn't going to leave the dog alone again. Somebody had hurt him.
"I'll camp on the couch," Dec said, settling the issue. But even as he spoke, she could hear the subtle question. He was awaiting her permission.
"Thanks," she said, trying to sound gracious, although gracious wasn't at all what she was feeling. Her nerves were as taut as bow strings, and she was on the edge of screaming.
Why, she didn't know. Only that someone had hurt her dog, and the craziness on this island was beginning to drive her nuts. The north pole was beginning to sound attractive.
Turning, she waved Dec inside. She didn't know if she wanted coffee or something stronger. If it was something stronger, she was out of luck, because she didn't keep alcohol on hand. She settled finally on a bottle of water, tossing another one to Dec.
Kato camped himself by the pantry door, reminding her that he hadn't had dinner ye
t.
"He seems okay now," Dec remarked.
"Yeah."
His too-wise eyes studied her. "But you're not."
"No. I'm not." She reached for the pantry door, and Kato moved to let her open it. Using the metal scoop, she filled his bowl with kibble. When she closed the door again, she nearly slammed it.
"Sorry," she said, not looking at Dec. Grabbing her bottle of water, she went into the living room, as far from the glass doors in back as she could get. Sitting on the easy chair, she curled her legs beneath her.
Dec sat on the sofa. "Want to talk about it?"
"What's there to talk about?" she asked. "Alice…I can't get that out of my mind, Dec. I try to pretend everything's okay, but I keep seeing her, jerking around like a fish held on a hook. And nobody knows why. And Kato. I can't believe he would let anybody close enough to him to do that."
Dec hesitated, then admitted the unthinkable. "I don't think he would, either."
Her face looked pinched and her eyes anguished. "Then what? What?"
He was afraid of the answer to that. Mortally afraid.
19
Tim finished hosing off his boats, trying not to think about the quarantine that was killing his business. Keeping these boats in harbor was an expensive proposition, since he was still paying most of them off. He had reserves, of course—he was a good businessman—but they could last only so long without income.
It was dark now, only the lights of the marina and his boat illuminating his way. He wound up the hose, grabbed a mop and swabbed the water in the cockpit toward the scuppers. Satisfied at last, he stowed the mop and the hose, and sauntered away from the marina.
He didn't want to go home. He rarely wanted to go home anymore, even though it was one of the few places in the world where he could have all his comforts around him. Dawn was there, and he didn't want to face the deep freeze.
So he climbed in his Jeep and headed up the mountains toward Annie's old plantation. From there he could look down on Martina Town and the lights of the harbor. Maybe even see a few of the cruise ships that were forever plying the shipping lanes to the west on their way to favored locations like Aruba.