by Carol McPhee
"You want to turn out the light or shall I lean across you and get it?"
She hesitated only a few seconds before she reached up and switched off the lamp, then wiggled back under the bedclothes. As much as she didn't want him here, his presence gave her heat no fire could match.
In their continuity and strength, her nightmares had given her many sleepless nights. She'd told the truth when she said she only had one per night. The same bad dream often plagued her from midnight to sunup, forcing her to relive the horror of Penny's scream. Sometimes she stayed up all night, afraid of the torment if she slackened her guard.
Lori finally accepted that Rand was not going to give in and leave. The wiser course now begged for relaxation and sleep. She quieted and closed her eyes listening intently—for what she didn't know. The thought of him being near her in the chair set her nerves to tingling. Each tiny thrill carried a wish for more of the strange sensations and more disclosure of what was going on in his mind and in his body. She didn't expect him to remain true to his word, yet he made no aggressive move against her. She almost wanted him to do so. Hell, she did want him to, if only a gentle peck to show she attracted him. After a while she gave up pining. Completely soothed in peace and quiet, she fell into a sound sleep.
With daybreak's light spearing through a slit in the curtain, Lori stirred, but lingered in her own private world, afloat on a pink fluffy cloud somewhere between heaven and earth. Only the eventual heat of the sun's rays coaxed her from the serenity. As she opened her eyes, her fingertips slowly marched to the spot beside her, half-afraid of what they might touch. They touched empty space. Her dreamlike state vanished. She turned over.
Lori remembered Rand saying he'd only stay until she'd gone to sleep. Apparently, he was a man of his word. He wasn't in the bed and not in the chair either. The only proof he'd been there at all was in the blanket he'd draped over the chair's arm. Though knowing he could be trusted pleased her, she couldn't help thinking she'd missed out on something extraordinary. Just like she missed out on living life to its fullest the past year. For the first time, she believed she'd made the right choice in coming to the lodge. Her excitement at the discovery banished her sense of hopelessness; her gloom, so much a part of her psyche, retreated into the shadows.
She turned up the thermostat to take the chill off the room, then opened the refrigerator door. Cartons of milk and juice stared out at her in an unappetizing taunt. She needed an infusion of hot coffee or a swim to bring her to life. Peeking between the curtains of the side window, she saw no sign of life coming from Rand's chalet.
Other guests strolled across the lawn headed for the pool house. A swim might be the way to spark life into her flagging appetite, too. She donned her turquoise bikini and matching robe. After filling her tote bag with fresh clothes, she walked down the path and through the underground tunnel to the main yard. She was about to climb the steps to the spa when she chanced a brief glance to where the Destiny berthed. Her foot froze on the first step. The yacht was gone. A lodge employee came down the stairs at her moment of shock.
"Excuse me, did you see the big white yacht leave this morning?” Lori asked.
"Yes. It left an hour ago."
"It must have been difficult for the two men to back it out."
"There were several men on board yelling directions to the captain. Is there a problem?"
"No. I planned to start a painting of the boat today. Ah ... Do you know if it will be back?"
"No, ma'am, I don't."
"What about the storm heading this way?"
"Oh, the hurricane turned eastward, missing us by a country mile. If you're going for a swim in the pool, the temperature is great, and it looks like you'll have the full use of it. Most of those inside are using the exercise equipment."
"Thanks.” Her enthusiasm for an energetic swim gone, Lori had to force herself into the building. Disgusted at how her mood depended on Rand's presence, she shed her robe, showered, then dove into the aquamarine water. The urge to drown her depressed state took over. Face down she viciously attacked with churning laps. Last night's memories had to be erased from her mind.
By the time her arms tired, Lori had convinced herself that the men on Rand's boat were the ones she'd seen him with in the dining room. And if they were Malcolm Warner's friends they weren't good news. She stripped, then soaped herself in the shower and let the hot spray pelt her body. Why would Rand keep company with those shady characters? Her leg felt better for the exercise, but her mind had become seriously muddled. After stowing her swimsuit in the zipped pocket of her totebag, she wrapped a towel around herself and entered the sauna. As her head leaned against the wood-slatted wall, visions of Rand's face appeared beneath her closed eyes.
Had he known the reputation of those men? It appeared more than likely. Associating with the man she recognized made them all an unsavory lot. She tried to think back to what she had read and heard about him, but all she could remember was that he owned a number of clubs in Halifax and had been implicated in the drug scene.
His beady stare and frequent sneer had always left her cold when she passed him in the courthouse halls, but she never understood why. She'd ignored the wink he invariably sent her way. Fashionably dressed with coal black hair slicked back, his demeanor had been one of ultra confidence. And rightly so. He managed to get out of any trouble he was in, well defended by the sleazy lawyers he hired. She'd never paid attention to the exact charges and now wished she had so she could have some idea of what he might be doing here.
Lori soaked in the hot dampness. If the Destiny has left for good, I'll have to settle for the little excitement I had. There's no point remembering the negatives of knowing Rand. It was all like a dream that had beat the stuffing out of at least one nightmare.
Once back at the chalet, Lori breakfasted on cornflakes and toast and pondered how to fill her day. She glanced out the window at Rand's chalet. The cleaning brigade hadn't appeared yet, and she wondered if the interior might provide an insight into his plans.
She nonchalantly encircled the small building and stealthily crept onto the veranda. The open drapes invited her for a full view inside. She cupped her eyes against the large picture window and peeked in.
"Looking for something?"
Caught in the act. Standing at the foot of the steps was the man who had introduced Rand to Mr. Warner's group. He wasn't smiling.
"Hello.” She tried to keep her voice level, though her insides shook like Jell-O. “I was curious to see if all of the chalets are furnished the same way."
"You're going to peep into them all?"
"Well, no, but—"
"I'd suggest your snooping might not be appreciated by the people staying in them."
"Well, this guy has gone, so it's not going to bother him. I'm not snooping, I'm simply checking out the decor.” Lori backed against the railing.
"He'll be back."
"He will?” Her heart picked up its beat. “His boat is gone."
"Boats have a way of returning to port.” The man's tight lips curled to a mocking half-smile.
She was glad she hadn't spied into the cottage on the other side of hers. “Are you staying at the chalet next to mine?” she asked.
"No. I stayed in the lodge last night, but I'm leaving shortly. I've accomplished what I came for.” Hands scrunched in his pockets, wide toothy grin plastered across his face, he seemed pleased he'd caught her being nosy. She couldn't wait to see the last of him and his snide, grating voice. Maybe he'd be gone before the men returned so he couldn't snitch on her. He looked as sneaky as she felt. It was time for a quick retreat. “Well, I'll be on my way. Lovely day for a drive along the coast."
Her observer grunted something unintelligible, but Lori was too shaky to stick around and have him repeat it. His steely glare lanced through her back as he watched her leave. Her normally stiff leg, loosened by her swim, allowed her to make fast tracks back to her base. Once inside, she rested against the close
d door, panting as though she'd been in a race.
Perhaps Rand was gone only temporarily. She put aside the fact he hadn't mentioned his trip—there had been no reason to, they weren't in a relationship—and concentrated on what she would do with the rest of the morning. Her brusque comment about it being a good day for a drive sounded like a plan. Since she intended to include birds in her paintings, she pulled out her binoculars to take with her.
Lori paused at end of the cul-de-sac drive, then turned her car east along the shore highway. Bounded by coves and inlets, the Marine Drive coastline gave a varying change of scene from high banks to sweeps of sea-level shore. Several times she stopped and got out to breathe in the salt-laden breeze blowing gently in from the water. The low cresting waves, with their frothy fingers stretched upward, made for a picturesque seascape and she wished she'd brought her canvas and paints. But this was only a scouting trip.
At each place she stopped, she studied the flights of seagulls and terns as they swooped and screeched in the azure sky. The morning passed quickly and when hunger gnawed, she made the decision to turn back.
One last cove enticed her to drive down a narrow dirt road. She stopped when she saw heavy rutted tire tracks giving evidence of the way being too difficult for the average car. From the highway, the sheltered beach had looked like a prime spot to set up her easel. She could easily imagine how peaceful it would be to spend a day here painting, with nothing to distract her. But she wanted a closer look and started to walk the remaining short distance. As she did so, her gaze wandered across the ocean swells, then stopped with a jolt. The Destiny lay at anchor. Rand's Zodiac was in the process of being lowered. A small gasp left her lips as a feeling of impending doom clamped tight to her chest.
Without waiting to see who got into the craft, she ran to the car and backed up the incline to a level spot hidden amongst the trees. Curious, she parked, left the vehicle, and slipped part way down the bank, hiding in dense brush overlooking the beach. Flat on her belly, she raised her elbows and balanced her binoculars.
She watched the Zodiac reach shore. Rand and the other three men disembarked. She couldn't hear the words spoken, but with the waving of Mr. Warner's arms, they were obviously discussing the site. When they glanced in her direction, she ducked and stayed motionless, scarcely daring to breathe.
How would she explain her sneaky actions if she were discovered? Somehow, she thought she'd get little help from Rand. Come to think of it, she'd only become sneaky after making his acquaintance. Lori saw her dragon slayer in a much clearer light now. She'd learned growing up in the city that one was defined by the company they kept, and Rand was not in good company. Therefore, it stood to reason she wasn't either when she was with him. His lack of good sense seemed to be rubbing off on her.
In a few minutes she peeked up again. No one looked in her direction. Seemingly satisfied, the men climbed back into the Zodiac and motored toward the yacht. Lori retraced her steps to her car, her mind filled with questions.
Once back at the lodge, she called her friend, Sam. With his experience in criminal lifestyles, she knew the prison guard would have some kind of answer for her. “This may be nothing, Sam, but their actions are fishy. Rand and those guys were definitely not fishing."
Sam chuckled, then turned serious. “Lori, have you heard of the Coastal Watch Program?"
"Isn't that where anyone seeing strange activity along the Canadian coast is supposed to phone in the information?"
"Yes. To the RCMP. I think you should do that."
"You know how I feel about the police. I don't want to get involved with them."
"If you don't report your suspicions, you're condoning the selling of drugs to young people."
"I know."
"From what you told me, this sounds like the men are spotting a place to unload a drug shipment. I'll bet they have four-wheeled vehicles scheduled to pick up the drugs, and your yachtsman is in up to his neck as a go-between. Have you been on his boat?"
"Yes ... It did have a lot of electronic gear on board.” She thought about the chart and remembered noticing at the time how nervous Rand seemed about her seeing the map. The memory of the dark shadow crossing his face made her shudder even now. Her heart skipped a beat. “Sam?"
"Yes?"
"I saw a nautical chart on board and it had circles and arrows."
"Make the call, Lori. I can tell you if Malcolm Warner is involved, they aren't planning a picnic. Be careful, he's a killer. Report what you've seen, then get out of there."
"Okay, okay. I know you're right. But I don't want to get tracked down."
"You could call from a payphone and not give your name. Wait a minute. I'll look up the number."
Lori tapped her fingertips against the bedside table. There were many guests at the resort. If she disguised her voice and made the conversation short, surely it would be safe enough to call from the payphone near the spa.
As soon as Sam gave her the number, she thanked him begrudgingly. Needing change, she exchanged a five-dollar bill for coins at the gift shop. By the time she reached the phone booth, the coins were slick with sweat. She was taking a big gamble, not only in the possibility of being wrong, but in sacrificing a chance to develop a relationship with the most interesting hunk of maleness she'd met in a long time.
Lori lifted the receiver and dialed.
Five
Stationed at the helm—both hands on the wheel in the rough seas—Rand kept the Destiny on course. George answered the yacht's ship-to-shore phone and passed the receiver to Rand. “It's for you—Headquarters."
"Thanks.” Rand balanced his weight against the roll of the boat and clicked on the receiver. “Hello?"
"Rand. I have a call on line one,” the voice on the other end answered. “I think you're the one that's better able to take charge of it. Since you're working undercover in the area of the call, try and disguise your voice when I transfer you through."
"What's up, Dave?"
"I've got a woman on the phone who says she thinks there are suspicious things going on at Lochaber Haven. Can you take the transfer?"
Rand's stomach plummeted. The drug dealers, currently confined below because of the storm's lingering rough seas, wouldn't take kindly to him carrying out police work if they knew. Since they weren't within earshot, he'd risk handling the call from a spotter, prepared to hang up should any of the men be brave enough to come topside. “Patch her through."
It would probably turn out to be either a crank call or one from an anxious woman with too much time on her hands. He peered out to the deck and saw no one there. He'd make short work of this call.
"I can take it, but it has to be quick.” When he heard the click of the transfer, he kept his eyes on the wheelhouse door and lowered his voice to a raspy timbre. “Hello? This is Sergeant McCormick. I understand you have some concerns, Mrs..."
"I don't want to get involved,” a soft voice whispered. “I'd prefer not to give my name."
Keeping his new pitch steady, he answered, “Yes, ma'am, I understand.” Rand shook his head and rolled his eyes at George as the yacht heaved with the choppy waves. Hearing a muffled sigh, he strained his ears and waited for the woman to speak. He heard shallow breathing instead. “Ma'am? What did you want to tell me?"
The caller cleared her throat, then finally spoke. “There's a yacht called Destiny docked at Lochaber Haven."
Rand's mouth dropped; his hand tightened on the phone. “Please, go on.” How much did this person really know? Had he somehow made a serious slipup?
"I have suspicions about it."
"Suspicions?” Blood rushed to his head. His fake voice sharpened, losing the coaxing manner of his usual encouraging tone with informers. The faint voice on the other end was hauntingly familiar. Ocean-swept salt stung his dry lips.
"Five m-men are staying at the l-lodge. One of them is Malcolm Warner. Do you know who he is?"
"Yes,” Rand answered, “we know of him.” Rand shuf
fled his feet and leaned his elbow against the wall, bracing for support.
"I'm p-positive they are up to no good."
Rand's skin crawled in anticipation of what was to come. A cold sweat streaked across his forehead. He'd heard the stammer before somewhere. Lori's face loomed in his mind. Dammit! The delicate broken rhythm of the voice was the same as she'd used in court. He grinned at the irony of her call, mighty thankful he hadn't used his first name when he introduced himself. He should probably have picked one other than his own, Rand, for undercover work, but with several near misses when on a mission, he'd learned he responded better to his own name.
Rand kept his voice steady; Lori's willingness to help the RCMP intrigued him. “Please, will you tell me what makes you suspicious?” Shut up and listen, Rand. Coax her to talk with your silence.
Her breathing was labored now; he prayed she kept on the line. “These men went out on the Destiny and anchored up the coast at an isolated spot. They went ashore, stayed a few minutes looking around, then returned to the yacht."
"How do you know this?"
"I happened to be out for a drive and started to go down into that particular cove. I've read the newspaper reports about smuggling along our shores. I was curious. I hid in the bushes and watched."
Rand clenched his teeth. Lori had been lost in a dream world when he had sneaked from her chalet to meet his informer at dockside. Soon after he'd arrived there, Warner and his men had shown up wanting to hire him to pick up the cargo from the freighter. Exactly what Rand had wanted to happen but hadn't expected it so early in the game. Apparently the drug lord had found out the yacht scheduled for the pickup was missing. Rand's informer had been reliable and convinced Warner of the probability that the playboy would be more than willing to add excitement to his life by any means. Warner's decision to take a chance on him would put the law a step ahead for a change. Without a clue he was giving away his own game, Warner wanted to show him where the Destiny would land the shipment.