by Diana Palmer
“Looks that way,” Marcus said, his voice even and cold. He came down the steps with the pistol still in his hand. “Was he the only one?” he asked the Berber.
“Yes. We searched thoroughly. Are you all right?”
Marcus laughed hollowly. “Apparently.” He gave the taller man a curious appraisal. “Who the hell are you guys?”
“Friends of Mr. Smith,” the Berber told him with a grin. “And that’s all you need to know. We were barely in time to bluff the crew Miss Deluca had hired and tell her they had a prior engagement and sent us to replace them. Luckily she swallowed it. Dunagan said to tell you that he’s found an ‘associate’ of Mr. Deluca’s who’s willing to spill his guts in exchange for immunity. His name’s Fred Warner.”
“Fred!” Roxanne exclaimed. “The weasley little coward…!”
“Sticks and stones, Miss Deluca,” the Berber said. “Let’s go.”
“What about him?” Marcus asked, nodding toward the shack.
“Bahamian police are already on the way. They were looking for the guy in Nassau, but we figured Miss Deluca here had him waiting for you in a secluded place. So we came along for the ride.”
“Thanks for the backup,” Marcus told them.
“Our pleasure. Now, we’d better get going.”
Barney, Barb and Dunagan had supper together that night, after statements had been given to the police and the body of the contract killer had been tucked away in the local morgue. The man, like Deluca’s other hired gun, had a rap sheet as long as a towel. Deluca had been picked up in Miami on federal racketeering charges stemming from statements made by his banker, Fred Warner. Roxanne Deluca was arrested for conspiracy to commit murder. Once jurisdiction was established, the two of them could expect a lengthy stay in jail.
They’d invited Marcus to eat with them, so they could fill him in on everything that had happened about Deluca. Even Barb hadn’t protested. She was so lonely for Delia that she’d given up her vendetta against the man who’d wronged her. Marcus hadn’t completely regained his memory, but he felt more optimistic that he would, despite all the unsettling business of the day. Bits and pieces of the past were fitting themselves into place with each passing hour. He noticed that Barney and Barb were positively morose. Dunagan was manfully trying to keep the conversation going all by himself.
“You two look like the world just ended,” Marcus commented.
“Personal problems,” Barney replied.
“We all have them,” Marcus said heavily.
“It’s a good thing you’re a dead shot,” Dunagan said. “Because John was in a wreck and we didn’t even know what was going down until you were halfway to the island with Roxanne.”
Marcus smiled, having heard that from the Berber. “Your guys showed up, at least, but they couldn’t go ashore with us without arousing Roxanne’s suspicions. But I always carry a hide gun. Old habits die hard.” He scowled. “How did I know that?”
“Looks like your memory’s trying to reboot,” Dunagan said, grinning.
“I wouldn’t mind. It’s like living in the dark.” He stared at Barney curiously. “It’s odd how much your sister-in-law looks like you,” he said out of the blue.
“That’s because she’s actually my daughter,” Barney said miserably.
Barb took a big swallow of her drink. “And my daughter, too,” she added. She gave Marcus a wry glance. “It’s almost funny. I was so determined to keep her away from you, because I thought you’d wreck her life. And Barney and I did it all by ourselves.”
Marcus frowned. “What do you mean, keep her away from me?”
Barney was trying to give Barb hand signals but she was already three sheets to the wind and she wasn’t looking at him.
“She was going around with you while Barney and I were in Miami,” she said heavily. “She thought the sun rose and set on you. I didn’t know how far things had gone until…ouch!”
She rubbed her shin, where Barney had kicked it. He gave her a hard look, which she finally interpreted. Marcus had lost his memory and they’d said not to tell him a lot about the past. It could be dangerous.
“Don’t mind me,” Barb said, trying to backtrack. She laughed inanely. “I’m drunk. I think we’d better go, Barney. I need some sleep.”
“Me, too,” Barney agreed. “Good to see you all in one piece, Marcus,” he said.
“And thanks for the help,” Dunagan added, rising.
“We won’t forget.”
Marcus shrugged. “It’s been my year to play Good Samaritan. Back in the spring, I helped bag a guy who kidnapped Tippy Moore. Remember her, the supermodel who became a movie star?” he recalled with a smile. “She married an old friend of mine, Cash Grier. He’s a police chief in a small town in Texas.” He paused, shocked. Those memories had come back without any work at all.
“Jacobsville,” Barb informed him. “That’s where Delia and I are from.”
Marcus was very still. Jacobsville. Small town. Texas. Cash Grier. Tippy’s kidnapping. He remembered! He’d visited Tippy in the hospital in New York. He’d been in the hospital in Nassau with a concussion. Delia had been down the hall. He’d gone in to see her without knowing why. She’d looked so familiar to him. She’d been pregnant…
“Good night,” Barney called as he and Dunagan shepherded a weaving Barb out the door.
Marcus waved, but he barely heard them. His mind was going full tilt. Delia had been pregnant. She’d saved his life. She’d lost her baby. Her baby.
He signed the tab—no big deal, because he owned the hotel—and went up to his office. Smith glanced at him with subdued concern.
“I heard what happened,” he said. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there. It was all I could do to get the guys together and send them after you. They were working on a job for a friend of mine, in the area. It was a lucky break for me, because I couldn’t find Dunagan or Barney and I had no idea what was going on.”
Marcus waved away the apology. “Tell me about Delia,” he said curtly.
Smith hesitated.
“Barney’s wife said I was going around with her.”
Smith grimaced. “Well, yes.”
Marcus stilled. “Smith—she was pregnant. Was it…mine?”
Smith’s eyes closed and opened. “Yes,” he said huskily.
Marcus sat down behind his desk. The baby was the key that opened the lock. He had sudden, sharp flashes of memory. Delia, laughing up at him with the wind blowing through her blond hair as he drove her in the convertible. Delia, in his arms, loving him with unbridled passion despite her utter innocence. Delia, looking at him as if he were some sort of hero when he saved her from Fred. Delia, with tears in her eyes, understanding that he didn’t remember her or know about the baby. Delia, walking away from him with her heart breaking…
“Dear God, I let her go!” he burst out. “She was pregnant. She lost the baby, lost me, lost everything. I told her she wasn’t my kind of woman, that she could never appeal to me. I actually said that to her. And then, I just let her walk away, without a word! She must have been devastated!”
“Boss, you didn’t know who she was,” Smith said gently. “She understood.”
He put his face in his hands and groaned in utter anguish. “She lost our baby, saving my life,” he whispered. “She fell!”
Smith didn’t know what to say. He said nothing.
Marcus continued, “She ran right into that little weasel and knocked the gun out of his hand. He was going to kill me. She saved my life and what did I do? I acted as if I couldn’t have cared less about her! I was convinced that I’d never have gotten mixed up with some plain little small-town woman from Texas. I was looking for the mystery woman in my past, for someone beautiful and rich and sophisticated. Delia was standing right in front of me, and I treated her like a stranger. What an idiot I was!” He moved to the balcony and opened the sliding glass doors to let the wind in. He stood there, shattered, vulnerable, hating himself.
“She wen
t home, didn’t she?” he asked belatedly.
“Yes,” Smith replied.
“And why not? I suppose she thought I’d never get my memory back. I know I looked at her as if she couldn’t have interested me any less. She’d been hurt, she’d lost the baby, she’d lost me…” Marcus’s eyes were tormented. “No wonder she looked at me as if I were killing her, when I walked into her hospital room.” His eyes closed and he fought tears. “After all she’d been through, I turned my back on her, too.”
“You didn’t know,” Smith said again.
“I should have known,” Marcus said heavily. He pushed back his unruly hair with a big hand. “I lit up like a rocket whenever she came near me. I ached to hold her when she was close to me. Even that didn’t register.”
“You were hurt, too.”
“Not enough,” he said icily. “Everything I got, I damned well deserved. There was going to be a baby,” he added, and the pain almost doubled him over. “A baby, Smith. My baby. She…lost it.”
Smith closed his eyes. He couldn’t bear to see the torment in that dark face. Marcus Carrera was one tough customer, but he was melting in front of Smith’s eyes.
“I’m sorry about that,” Smith said.
“She just found out that her sister was really her mother, and her brother-in-law was really her father,” Marcus added dully. “That, the baby, me…I guess she figured she didn’t have any reason to stay here. She probably felt as if we all sold her out.”
“She needs time,” Smith said wisely. “It’s a lot to have to adjust to.”
“Yeah.” Marcus moved back into the office, his manner distracted. “I’d like to just rush down to Texas and scoop her up and bring her right back here. But you’re right. She’s going to need time. So I’m going to give her a few months, to get over the worst of it. Meanwhile, I’ve just thought of a project that may help my case when I go after her.”
“Go…after her?”
Marcus smiled faintly. “Half a man can’t live, Smith,” he said simply. “Not for long, anyway. I’m going to marry her.”
Smith’s green eyes sparkled at the idea of his boss, a loner by nature, being so smitten with a woman.
Marcus gave his bodyguard a speaking glance. “You’ve never married, I guess?”
Smith shook his head, smiling. “I’m too picky.”
“There were rumors that you were crazy for Kip Tennison,” Marcus added.
“I was responsible for Kip and her son for several years, you know,” Smith told him. “I’m terribly fond of them both, but her heart always belonged to Cy Harden and I always knew it.”
“You didn’t stay with them.”
Smith chuckled. “Harden and I didn’t quite come to blows, but we’re too much alike to get along. Besides, since they had their second child, Kip’s given up most of her work for the Tennison corporation and she’s working as a vice president for Harden’s companies. It’s her former brother-in-law who’s in the line of fire now. I wasn’t needed.” He cleared his throat. “Harden never did take to Tiny. I think he had a secret lizard phobia.”
“Maybe it was an excuse to get rid of the competition,” Marcus chuckled.
Smith shrugged. “A man as good-looking and talented as I am would inspire jealousy in most men,” he said with a straight face.
Marcus grinned. “Just as well I got landed with you. When Delia comes back, you’re going to be needed more than ever. I expect to found a small dynasty down here,” he added, the smile fading to sadness as he thought of the child he’d lost before he even knew it existed. “Babies are nice. In fact,” he mused, breaking out of his somber mood as he turned, “I’ve got some nice blue and pink batik prints and a few fat quarters of whimsical fabric that would make the sweetest little quilt…”
He was gone before Smith had to hide his amused smile.
Chapter Thirteen
Delia had always loved Christmas. It was her favorite season. Jacobsville pulled out all the stops for the holiday season, beginning just at Thanksgiving, decorating everything in sight. There were garlands of pine and colored lights strung across the street that went around the town square, and every door had a wreath and a red bow. There were Christmas trees in almost every window, including one right next to the statue of Big John Jacobs. There were lighted reindeer, Santa Clauses and snowmen, and wreaths on the lawns of businesses and homes. In holiday dress, Jacobsville was absolutely without peer.
It was getting easier to look back, Delia thought, although she still grieved for Marcus and her baby. But she felt the pain grow dimmer as time passed. She missed Barb and Barney, as well. She hadn’t spoken to them, but she had sent Barb a card just a few days ago for Thanksgiving, and had one sent right back in return. By Christmas, she hoped, they might be speaking again and visiting. She’d never spent a Christmas without Barb and Barney that she could remember.
She was sorry she’d been so hard on them. It must have been difficult for them to have to give her up to Barb’s mother, and more difficult to keep the secret all the long years in between. They loved her. Of course they did, and she loved them. But they should have told her the truth years ago.
She wondered if Marcus had gotten his memory back. She supposed not, because he hadn’t been in touch with her all these months. But, then, would he contact her? He’d looked at her without any spark of interest most of the time. He’d even told her that she could never appeal to him as that Deluca woman did. Anyway, it was probably just revenge and desire and nothing more on his part. It even made sense. He’d gotten mad at his fiancé, picked up Delia, seduced her and then felt guilty. It would explain why he hadn’t wanted her to contact him after their night together. Whatever had gone before, or whatever might have been, he was engaged. He might even be married by now. Certainly he might even welcome his loss of memory, because it would keep him from having to explain his lapse of fidelity with Delia to Roxanne Deluca.
She did write to Mr. Smith, however, in care of the Bow Tie, without putting her name or return address on the envelope. To her surprise, he wrote back immediately. She learned that there had been another attempt on Marcus’s life, but that some mercenaries who were friends of Smith had saved him. The perpetrators were now in custody, including a Miami mobster who’d planned it all—and Fred Warner was right in custody along with him. He cautioned her not to mention it to anyone. As if she knew anyone who’d even be interested, she mused. She was so grateful that Marcus was still alive and out of danger, even if he did marry that Deluca woman. Amazing, she thought, that he’d been targeted by the Miami mobster yet he was engaged to the same mobster’s daughter. It didn’t make sense.
Nevertheless, it had been a joy to know that Marcus wasn’t doing anything illegal, that he’d worked with the government to shut down the illegal operations. Sadly, it wouldn’t have mattered if he hadn’t been. She’d loved him so.
She hadn’t heard from Mr. Smith after that. It was as if there was a conspiracy to keep her in the dark. Perhaps he’d mentioned that he’d written her to Marcus, and Marcus hadn’t approved.
All her rationalizing didn’t keep Marcus out of her thoughts. She dreamed about him every night. When she put a quilt block together, she thought about him. When she taught a quilting class, she thought about him. Her life was empty in a way it never had been before. She felt as if she’d been cut in two. Even worse was the loss of her child. She’d loved babies all her life. She’d dreamed of having one of her own. Now she could hardly bear to look at baby clothing, or furniture, or even photos of her customers’ children and grandchildren. It was like a knife through her heart.
But she was adjusting. She felt far more mature than she had been. She was less unsure of herself, less nervous around people. She’d grown emotionally. She was certainly stronger than she’d ever been. But she missed Marcus. Oh, how she missed Marcus!
She was putting the final touches on the second shortened sleeve of a garment she was altering when she heard the bell go out front, whe
re she had her small office open to the public. Leaving the shirt on her sewing machine table, she walked to answer the door, smiling automatically as she opened it. It didn’t occur to her to wonder why the customer didn’t just walk in. Everybody else did.
But when she saw who her caller was, she was dumbfounded. She couldn’t even manage a single word of greeting.
Marcus was doing some hard looking of his own. She’d grown thin in the three months they’d been apart, he thought. She was finer-drawn, from the grief. But her green eyes were wide and surprised and brimming over with delight that she couldn’t hide. He relaxed, just a little.
“Mr. Carrera,” she greeted hesitantly.
“I know who you are, Delia,” he said quietly. “I know what happened. My memory came back. Fortunately it came back before Deluca’s second hit man took his best shot at me.”
She stared at him hungrily. “I’m so glad he missed,” she said softly.
He shrugged. “I guess you didn’t know exactly what was going on, did you?” He grimaced. “Can I come in?” he asked, glancing behind him uneasily. “I’ve never had so many people stare at me before. I feel like a lobster at a seafood restaurant.”
“Certainly,” she said belatedly, stepping aside to let him in. She paid great attention to closing the door behind him while she tried to get her wits back about her.
“I was just at the police department to see Cash Grier,” he explained.
“You know our police chief?” she asked, surprised.
“Yeah. One of the guys who kidnapped his wife Tippy, back in the winter worked for me at one time. I helped the feds put him away,” he added.
She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know why he was here. “Are you married now?” she asked, trying to sound nonchalant.
“Married?” he asked blankly.
“Roxanne Deluca said you were engaged to her.”
“She told me that when I lost my memory. Roxanne’s dad was setting me up for another hit,” he replied blandly. “I knew Roxanne, but we were never engaged. She wanted me to believe we were, so that she could lead me into a trap.”