Marcie couldn’t imagine a man who loved a woman so much he’d do anything to fix things for her, to love her so much that he would wear blinders.
“I holed up here in this cottage for a long time after, drinking. Then the rumors started—Elise and I were on the take. I didn’t try to fight it. Instead, I went back to the apartment and searched through everything of hers. I found a file she kept that outlined some guy in the Pacific Northwest who shipped marijuana, guns, and cocaine; some big-time operator she was keeping an eye on. Then I found a note. Leon worked for the broker here who was this big dealer’s contact. That was when an offer came from the DEA to join them and a new task force they were assembling, out of the Seattle office, to target all the marijuana grow-ops running rampant on the isolated islands in the Pacific Northwest. And I jumped on it, knowing this was my ticket to finding the grower responsible for killing my wife. If she hadn’t been investigating that smuggling ring, she never would have come across Leon. This chain of events would never have happened. Three lives destroyed: Elise, Leon, and Della.
“Six months ago, our task force went international. We had the Sequim Sheriff’s Department, the Coast Guard, and Interpol. It was a lot of bodies, which upped the chances of someone on the team being an informant. With a high-profile investigation, the leads, the stakeouts; each day we got a little closer to establishing rock-solid evidence on the largest marijuana smuggling ring operated by, this big drug lord, Lance Silver. This guy’s almost untouchable—and he screwed me by turning the tables. A knapsack of marijuana was discovered in my locker after an anonymous tip was called into the Sequim detachment at, exactly, the same time we were raiding his deserted estate on the island of Las Seta.”
Lance Silver… just hearing that name again triggered something familiar; except Marcie couldn’t pull that elusive thread from her memory. Even at the name of the island, her stomach gave a little pang, but why?
Headlights flashed, and Sam jumped back. “Stupid, careless, do you see what you do to me?” he muttered under his breath as he peered out the side of the window, tracking a car when it pulled up and parked behind his Camaro. He seemed to relax for a minute before grabbing the blue shirt dangling over a shabby, orange easy chair and pulling it on. Marcie couldn’t see who it was, and Sam didn’t waste any time hurrying to the door. Each porch step creaked under the weight of an unknown intruder.
Marcie held her breath. Her heart slammed against her ribcage.
“Get in the bedroom and stay there.” Sam whispered the order.
His gun was drawn. An unmistakable click pierced the silence when Sam removed the safety. Where’d he get the gun? She didn’t argue but backed away, fighting cold panic while slipping quietly into the bedroom. A heavy hitch in her breath echoed, she was sure, through every room in the cottage. It was too late to close the door. She couldn’t remember if the hinges squeaked. She needed something to use as a weapon, only the darkness made it impossible to see. She bumped the nightstand, rattling an old-fashioned wind-up clock. She grabbed it and held the loud ticking against her chest while she slid behind the door. Marcie could see only a sliver of light. The front door squeaked, and in a blurred flash, a wild tussle ensued, followed by a muffled curse.
Marcie struggled to see, but the kitchen’s dim light was blocked by a large man’s shadowy outline. His determined footsteps were approaching fast. She could taste the fear in her mouth, briny and sour, as her heart rose higher and thumped erratically in her ears. What happened to Sam? Was he hurt? With both hands, Marcie gripped the alarm clock, raising it high over her head. She held her breath when a large man stepped into the room. She didn’t think. She reacted, bringing the clock down hard, aiming for the back of his head, only he quickly whirled around, knocking the clock from her grasp. It sailed, landing with a shattered clang across the room.
“What the hell, Marcie?” Sam. Her Sam, incensed, tired, and he smelled so good. Her fear transformed to overwhelming relief when she fell into him. She looped her arms around his neck and cried—a real, messy, tears-flowing, nose-running cry.
“Hey, hey, what’s this? It’s okay.” He rubbed her back and tightened his comforting hold. Marcie burrowed her face into his strong chest when hit by an aftershock of what had transpired. Her body trembled. He wasn’t injured, so it must have been the other guy.
“It’s okay. You’re safe.”
“I thought you were hurt, that it was the bad guy coming in here.” She felt the rumble deep in his chest before his thunderous laugh burst out.
“The bad guy, Marcie?”
He chuckled in a way that sent her emotions tumbling. She planted both palms on his chest and tried to back away, only his powerful arms held on while sliding teasingly down her curvy waist, as if appreciating all the curves of her slim, womanly body.
“Sam! What about the bad guy?” She pointed when he wouldn’t let go. Sam reached for her hand and dragged her out of the bedroom to the open front door. He flicked on the dim porch light, and there was Jesse, sprawled on his stomach, cursing while he stirred and struggled to push himself up.
“Sam, did you hit him? He’s hurt.”
“It was dark. I didn’t know it was Jesse. Don’t worry, he’ll be fine.” Sam released her hand and squatted down beside Jesse to help him up.
“You asshole, what the hell did you hit me for?” Sam guided Jesse to one of the old kitchen chairs. The chair creaked when Jesse sat. He winced as he leaned back, pressing his hand to the back of his head. “Shit, I think I’m bleeding.”
“Oh, stop your damn whining, will you? You’re not bleeding. And just what the hell are you doing here? I asked you to call me—hey, wait a second. How’d you find me, anyway?”
The look that passed between them was brotherly. Marcie couldn’t help feeling left out.
“Calling you after I’m telling the cap’n I don’t know where you are would not be smart, since, I’m sure, my calls are now being monitored. Besides, this is where you came the last time you hid out. You may want to ask yourself how many others know about this place.”
Hide out, when was this? Marcie watched raw emotions dig in around Sam’s eyes. She wanted to ask, but she didn’t.
“Okay, okay, I get your point. So what’d you find out?”
“There’s a lot of heat right now on this whole situation surrounding you and the girl. Derek’s quite the hothead, and he’s really pumping up your involvement, another notch in his belt to look really good with the commissioner. They’ve interrogated Reggie about his role in the missing backpack, except he clammed up and demanded a lawyer. And his lawyer pointed out we got nothing since the video’s not solid evidence of a crime. As a matter of fact, the video shows clearly that Reggie didn’t take the backpack, and as far as passing something to the guy who robbed Marcie, the lawyer said that’ll be hard to prove. The video doesn’t show what was passed. Also, we’re not allowed to talk to her client again unless she’s present, and she warned us that next time we had better have real evidence. We had no choice. He’s been cut loose.”
Sam shut his eyes and tilted his head up.
“Sam, we got a tail on him. You and I both know whatever he’s part of, he’s only the little guy. What I’m worried about is Derek’s tunnel vision in wanting to see you go down for all this. He doesn’t give a shit about Reggie. It’s you he’s trying to pin this on, as if you’re this big connected guy overseeing some smuggling racket from up north. Derek’s determined to talk to Marcie. He’s convinced Reggie and Marcie are mules. And the only reason she’s with you is so you can keep her quiet. He even ordered one of the detectives to go through all baggage claim security footage to see if you or Marcie appear at other times. But then guess what happened? Local Feds shut him down and are now claiming jurisdiction at the airport. They even yanked all the security videos Derek confiscated.”
“Well, this is getting better and better.”
“It actually does get better. Derek put an APB out on you and Marcie. Even
went to your boss, implying you’re a dirty cop and a drug dealer. But then a funny thing happened. Apparently, your boss didn’t share his suspicion, indicating this is the first time you’ve been back in New Orleans in over six months. He shut Derek down, said he won’t even consider the notion unless credible, solid evidence is produced.
“Then before I got here, this amazing woman by the name of Diane Larsen called me, said she’s your partner. Well-organized lady pulled out all the stops. She’s responsible for sending the Feds to get Derek off your back. It’s nice for me to hear she’s watching your backside.”
Sam shrugged. “She has integrity, an anomaly on our team, and works damn hard to make sure we follow the letter of the law so scumbags won’t get off on a technicality. I don’t have to prove my innocence to her. She knows me. She’s a good friend.”
“Yeah, I figured that much. She’s about ready to hop on a plane, come down here and save your ass. Help clear up this mess with Marcie—clear your name.”
Just listening to the woman’s name sparked another wave of jealousy. Sam said they weren’t involved, but they sounded really close.
“Sam, if Derek keeps pushing, you and I both know evidence could suddenly appear against you. And then the Feds won’t have a choice; you’ll be dragged into this investigation, your career gone, your freedom, too. Is that what you want?” Jesse said.
Marcie couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She waited for Sam to say something, anything, but he’d clammed up. The hard lines in his face turned to granite.
“Look, Sam, just let Derek talk to Marcie. Don’t piss him off any more than you already have. If you give him something, he might back off on you.”
“Why does he want to talk to me? I don’t remember anything.” Marcie crossed her arms over her braless chest.
“Well, see, that’s the thing. He doesn’t believe it.” Jesse shuffled over to the sink and splashed cool water over his face, dunking his head under the rusty tap.
“Sam, maybe I should just talk to him and tell him I don’t know anything,” Marcie said. “I’m sure if I explain, it’ll clear this whole thing up. Maybe then Derek will leave you alone.”
Sam gave her a look as if she had sprouted a second head.
“Okay, maybe not,” she said.
“Marcie, that’s a very honest gesture, but it’s also very naive and dangerous. Jesse here wants me to throw you to the wolves to save my own skin. And no, Jesse, I won’t do that. Marcie doesn’t know who she’s dealing with. You aren’t talking to Derek or any cop right now. These guys are trained to twist your words. You wouldn’t stand a chance. Derek’s not looking to find the right guilty party. He wants to close this and doesn’t care who takes the fall, just as long as he looks good to the brass. They’d have you confessing to crimes without any clarity from your lost memory. I wouldn’t be able to get you out, Marcie.”
Sam grabbed a tin percolator from the back burner of the stove. He tossed Jesse a dishtowel and then shoved him aside to fill the coffee pot with water, sprinkling in ground coffee and setting it to boil. Jesse dried his face. Both men continued as if she wasn’t there.
“You want coffee, Jesse?”
“Sure, and then I need to head back before Derek decides to put out an APB on me, too.”
Didn’t they realize she stood beside them? Even with this lapse in memory, Marcie knew she had a voice, yet she said nothing.
Sam was being high handed and protective, and, honestly, she liked it. Jesse, what could she say? He was Sam’s friend.
Jesse cocked his head toward Marcie, a purely chauvinistic motion. “You sure she didn’t get her memory back, even a little?”
Both men studied her. Marcie felt her cheeks burn from being thrust into the hot seat, her integrity constantly in question. She directed her response solely to Sam. “No, the girl didn’t get her memory back.” Her voice mocked an imitation of Jesse’s southern drawl. “And please stop talking around me as if I’m not in the room.”
Jesse flashed a wide smile. His deep, raspy laugh shook his soft belly. Marcie wasn’t sure if this was humor or another insult, so she glared, and, in a childlike retreat, turned and walked over to the stove, pouring herself a cup of coffee.
Sam reached around her and grabbed a second mug on a plastic rack above the stove. He poured a cup and handed it to Jesse.
“Thanks.”
Marcie felt heaviness expand the room. For a moment, nothing was said. Sam and Jesse exchanged some shared knowledge.
“You’re not going to let me take Marcie, are you?” Jesse said.
“No, Jesse, I’m not. There are too many pieces missing in this puzzle. Look at her. She wouldn’t stand a chance with Derek. I need to find answers first.”
“I better get going. Call me, especially if mystery girl here remembers what she was really doing. Oh, and thanks for putting me in touch with Diane. At least now I know who to call to make sure you stay out of trouble.” Jesse blew on the hot coffee and took a couple swigs before setting the mug on the table.
“Ma’am.” Jesse’s dark eyes cut deep into her heart, a warning she understood—don’t mess with my boy. Then he gave Sam a friendly slap on the shoulder. “Watch your back.”
Sam followed Jesse and locked the door behind him. Irritation steeped the standoff on opposite sides of the room. Marcie dumped her coffee out and listened to the gurgling idle of Jesse’s car. Tension burned in the silence, magnified by her soft breath and the intensity of Sam’s mutinous glare.
What a childish game. But Sam caved first, with a heavy sigh. He walked right up to her and rested his palms on her shoulders, sliding them down her slender arms, a gentle caress, and then he leaned his forehead against hers. “Don’t get so pissed off. Jesse’s put his neck on the line.”
She touched the tobacco-colored, two-day growth shadowing his face. On any other man, it would look disheveled, but not Sam. It only accentuated his full lips, which looked like they were made for kissing a woman and knew how to do it right. He was a stretch. The top of her head only reached his chin. His blue eyes darkened as he slid both hands to her waist.
“He loves you, and he’s trying to protect you from being hurt by me,” Marcie said.
He framed her face, combing his fingers through her long, wavy hair. “He pisses you off.”
“Yes, but I respect him. And, in an odd way, he gives me peace, knowing he’s one person watching your back.”
Boy, did he look good; that wavy, sandy blond hair, those magnetic blue eyes that sparkled when they connected with her, not to mention his well-defined shoulders, strong, solid. A girl could really lean into him. She wrapped her arms around his neck as if he was the only steady thing that could anchor her.
“Your heart’s pounding—I can feel it.” He pressed his hand against her heart. She blinked when he leaned in. So close now, his warm breath teased her.
“Ah, I…” She couldn’t speak, not from fear but because she was spellbound by this fiery tug of attraction and something more—a rightness, as if they were meant to be together.
She made the move unconsciously, or did they both move? Their lips touched, brushed lightly, as his feathered across hers. His hand slid like magic under her shirt, caressing her bare skin, shifting up, skimming her navel to tease her slender curves. It was an unchoreographed play from a storybook. The dance of his fingers lifted and glided under the swell of her breast.
“Sam, what’s happening?” She trailed off, a pathetic attempt to get him to stop, which no doubt was exactly what she didn’t want him to do.
“I want to see all of you and this amazing body of yours.” His breath whispered across her wanting lips.
Her breath caught, quaked and escaped. “Don’t stop.” The sensuous words tumbled out; filled with desire. She covered his cheeks with her palms, feeling the close connection and sensing the gaze of his hard bedroom eyes. She opened herself completely to him.
He slipped the shirt over her head and then let his gaze
run over her naked body. He trailed his hands up from her waist and cupped her breasts. Her breath caught, held, and then released when her knees started to weaken. He lifted her in his arms as if she weighed nothing and carried her to the side of the bed, kneeling over her.
“The light,” she said.
“It can stay on. I want to see all of you.”
He pulled off his shirt and shed the rest of his clothes. His hands were hard as iron one moment, then soft as cotton the next. She wrapped her slender legs around his waist. Maybe it was his passion, his skill, that had her opening herself willingly to him. No, the truth was, she wanted all he’d offer. She balanced in between bits and pieces of tortuous sensation as he trailed tender nips down her shoulder, over her plump, full breast, trapping and gentling her nipple between his teeth. Pleasure rushed into her so fast she nearly panicked. This was trust, an absolute surrender that she knew, on some level, she’d given to no other.
“Oh, Sam, Sam.” She said it with a moan as he drove himself into her, pressing her thighs wide. Fast and hurried, he took on a desperate pace as he rocked within her, leading her to a place hovering on the edge of some sheer rock face, becoming her choice to let go and glory in the abyss. He pushed deeper. Their tongues entwined, retreated, touched and teased. It was fevered and fast, flesh against flesh, nothing pretty and dainty, when she sobbed his name. She tightened, building up, higher, faster, and shattering the veil-thin wall separating her from him. But it was his hoarse shout, followed by a fiery magic, that bound them together.
Chapter Thirteen
Danger Deception Devotion The Firsts Page 79