Key West

by Stella Cameron

  “The brandy’s good,” she said, looking into her glass. “I think it tastes better as it gets warmer or something. You think that’s it?”

  It tastes better the more you drink of it. “That could be it. I bet you had real pale hair when you were a kid.”

  Her eyes were wide, her pupils dilated. “When I was a kid? Mmm—pale. White. Billy was the colorful one. I was the colorless one. That’s what people used to say.” She giggled. “I’m glad because it made her happy. She lives in the world. I live in my head. That makes me happy.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me. Are you sure you don’t want to go to sleep now?”

  “Sure,” she said, frowning. “I couldn’t sleep yet. I want to talk.”

  Okay, so she wanted to talk, Chris thought. “I went out to the airport today. And to Stock Island. Asked a lot of questions. I’ve been to the police station and talked to a few people. I tried to find out what they’re thinking about Edward’s death.”

  Sonnie raised her shoulders. Chris couldn’t stop himself from looking at them. Smooth. And her arms were so slender. He’d like to pass his palms up and down, up and down, and settle her on her back, and cover her mouth with his, and…

  “What did they say about Edward?”

  “Oh, they didn’t say a whole lot. They got the tissue samples back. I found that out from my friend at the desk. Intravenous shots of local anesthetic. Procaine and lidocaine. A lot of it. Caused cardiac arrest.”

  She was quiet at that.

  “But the police aren’t killing themselves to do much about it. I suppose they’ll get to it. They talked about his being a druggie. Don’t ask me why. And don’t ask me if they think he was a contortionist who gave himself shots in the backs of his arms, shots almost guaranteed to kill him.”

  “Ena’s still shut up in her house. I didn’t see her all day. She’s taking this hard.”

  “Yeah. Sonnie, you met the plane, didn’t you?” Catching her off guard might work. It was worth a try.

  “Met the plane?”

  “The one Frank was supposed to come in on.”

  She licked the rim of her glass and said, “I don’t remember.” She had to tell him the truth about the phone call. “I lied about who called me tonight. You won’t believe me but I’m going to tell you anyway. It was Frank, not Romano. It was so strange. I got sick afterward. He said all the things he said the other time. When it happened.”

  The back of Chris’s neck prickled. He didn’t respond. Better to let her continue.

  “He said I was going to have to meet him at the airport in the Volvo. The Volvo was wrecked.” She raised her eyes. “But you know that. He told me I had to be ready to go there in a hurry because he needed my help. Just like before. He got angry with me.”

  Chris flexed muscles in his jaw. “How come?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe because I was too shocked to say the right things.”

  “What would the right things be?”

  “Whatever he wanted me to say, of course.” The brandy might be making itself felt.

  “Did he frighten you?”

  “Frank likes to frighten me.” Sonnie covered her mouth and shook her head. She whispered, “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”

  “How did you mean it then?”

  She pressed her lips together and averted her face. “What am I supposed to do? I told Romano and all he wants to do is get me what he calls ‘help.’ If I’ve lost my mind, I know it—I didn’t think that was the way it was supposed to be. I don’t even dare call the cops. I know I won’t find a single person who’ll take me seriously. Can you even imagine how that feels?”

  “I think so.” Time to come at this from another direction. “You did go to the airport. That first time—when Frank had called you and told you to be there.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “After the plane landed, you had a conversation with Romano, didn’t you?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t remember.”

  “Why?”

  “I can’t.”

  “Can’t? Or don’t want to?”

  “Can‘t.”

  The anger was something he’d learned to press for during interrogation. He didn’t like doing this to Sonnie.

  “You got in your car and drove. You drove faster and faster.”

  She threw back the covers and pulled up her right foot. “It still hurts,” he said, remorseful. “I should get you some ice.”

  “It jammed under the gas pedal. I was lucky it didn’t stop me from being thrown out on the sand.”

  Chris looked at: her sharply. “I thought you didn’t remember.”

  While she rubbed the foot, she showed the smooth underside of her leg all the way up to the lace edging on her white panties. “I don’t remember. They must have told me.”

  “Didn’t I read that they avoid telling amnesiacs any details they want them to remember for themselves?”

  “I don’t know what you read.”

  “Frank frightened you a lot, didn’t he?” It was a shot in the dark, but that was all he had—shots in the dark.

  She didn’t answer him. With her head bowed, she played with strands of hair. From time to time she paused and smoothed two fingers up and down her cheek.

  “Tell me all about it,” he asked her. “I’m only here for you. I don’t have one thing I owe anyone else.”

  “You don’t owe me,” she said quietly. “I’ve asked too much of you.”

  “Was your husband abusive?”

  She shook her head almost violently.

  The admission that they’d tolerated abuse often shamed women—or men. “Did he hit you sometimes?”

  Gripping the glass in both hands, she emptied it and held it out for more. He didn’t want to refuse, but rather than pour more, he gave her a little from his own glass.

  So he wouldn’t push that any more for now, but he thought he had his answer. “When you left the airport, you drove along South Roosevelt. At Bertha, you missed your turn and hit the wall. That curved wall. Smathers Beach is right there. That would be the driver’s side of your car.”

  “No.” She shut her eyes. “No, I don’t know.”

  “You were told some of this. You said you were.”

  “But I’ve forgotten now.”

  He could push a woman until she broke. He ought to know, he’d…

  She covered her eyes with one hand and took the glass to her lips with the other.

  “The report said you were going too fast. Gathering speed rapidly.”

  “Don’t remember.”

  “Then you hit that wall. The car caught on fire and they thought you were still inside. You were thrown a long way and you landed on rocks on the beach. They couldn’t see you there at first.”

  “I won’t listen to you.” The hand that had covered her eyes went to her stomach. She spread wide her fingers and pressed them to her.

  Thinking about the baby. He detested himself. “You weren’t wearing a seat belt. Why wouldn’t you? Especially at such a time.”

  She pointed at him with a shaking forefinger. “You stop it right now. Who told you to do this to me?”

  Damn, damn. He took her glass, and she didn’t try to stop him. “You’re wonderful, know that?” If he could smile he would. He couldn’t. “Υοu’ve got guts. I do believe you, Sonnie. There’s so little we have to work with, but so much out there to find. Patience and luck—and Sonnie’s brand of guts. That’s what we need.”

  She rested her forehead on her knees. “Thank you. It’s…You feel so helpless when you’re afraid you won’t be believed. And when you can understand why people wouldn’t believe you.”

  Chris stroked the back of her hair.

  He trailed his hand over her back, across her shoulder.

  The nightie gaped at the neck. He looked elsewhere, but not before he’d seen what made it difficult to keep his pants zipped.

  “I’m going to bed,” he said abruptly, and stood up. “We�
��ve got a lot to get done tomorrow. Or a lot to get started on. Call if you need me.”

  He left the room without looking back.

  A cold shower didn’t calm him down, or shock his body into submission. By the time he slid, naked, between the sheets, he pulsed in every vein. Heat tormented him and he threw the sheet off. He quickly thought better of that and covered himself.

  The moment had come when he’d been convinced that Sonnie’s missing husband was a violent man. Why else would she so often use the word scared or frightened when she spoke of him? And when her hand had gone to her face, he could have sworn she was remembering blows.

  If the bastard showed up, God help him if he ever set another finger on her.

  Sure, and what could another man do about it if the woman suffered in silence and didn’t come to him for help?

  Sonnie and another man? Even if he was her husband? Chris doubted he was completely sane himself tonight. He turned off the light. With his eyes closed, holding his breath, he listened. No, he couldn’t hear her heart beating. Now who was losing it? He felt her heartbeat. That was it. He placed a hand on his own chest and could swear there was an echoing beat to his own. A lighter beat. Hers.

  He’d feel so much better if she were with him.

  That brought him a smile and some relief. At least he still had some sense of humor left. A man didn’t have to be real smart to figure out that he’d feel better with a woman in his arms—in his bed—especially if he’d been fantasizing about just that from the night they met.

  “Chris?”

  Now he couldn’t breathe if he wanted to. Be strong. He kept his mouth shut and shut his eyes.

  “Chris?”

  What if something had happened? “Hmm? What is it, Sonnie?”

  “Um, I…Can I come in?”

  No. “Sure. What’s the problem?”

  “Well, I wanted to talk some more.”

  He stared toward her in the half light from the upper hall. That statement was a lie. She didn’t want to talk. “Okay. Give me a minute to get decent and we’ll go downstairs.”

  “Couldn’t we talk here?” She stood beside him, looking down. “Would it be all right if I got into bed with you?”

  Fate could be a joker, Chris decided. “Are you sure you ought to do that?” And he would soon be up for sainthood.

  “If you don’t want to talk, I won’t keep you awake. I’ll be very still and quiet.” A long, expelled breath sounded loud. “I’m tired, too, but I just don’t want to be alone. You could move over a bit, and I’ll lie on the very edge.”

  Safe in the dark, he rolled his eyes. But he obediently moved to the far side of the bed. She slipped in, barely moving the mattress, and did as she’d promised.

  “There’s more safe room than that,” he said. “You’ll fall off there.”

  She bumped a couple of times, but didn’t move perceptibly closer to him.

  He put a hand behind his head and stared at the ceiling. One piece of cotton the thickness of a tissue was all that separated her skin from his.

  Gritting his teeth, he tried to will his penis into retreat. He rolled his hips slightly to the right, just in case she fell instantly asleep and got too close.

  “Are you asleep?” she whispered.

  Chris didn’t answer.

  “Asleep,” she whispered. “You should sleep. You’re good, Chris Talon, a good man.”

  Would she feel the way his heart had speeded up?

  She sighed and turned on her side, the side that let her face him, he thought.

  Some time passed. She must have fallen asleep herself. Her hand settling on his chest made him doubt she was other than very much awake. There was a sound and he knew she’d moved again. He became convinced she was looking at him and kept his eyes shut.

  The backs of her fingers connected with his jaw, and touched his neck. More bumpy action on the mattress followed. She’d shifted closer, and he’d bet his life she was watching him.

  When she rubbed her flattened hand over his chest and passed the tip of a forefinger back and forth over first one, then his other nipple, he felt winded. His thighs hardened, and his buttocks. The tension in those muscles raised him higher from the bed—all of him.

  Her touch on his stomach was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. Devoid of any demand. The gentle touch of a woman drawing strength and prepared to give it back. She tended him, soothed him. She cared about him.

  Delusions. A place between soft sheets with a sweet woman who was everything he’d probably dreamed about, when he dreamed about having someone who would be that “helpmate” he’d been told to look for a long time ago.

  He was naked. Sonnie hardly dared shift for fear of what she might touch.

  His skin, the hair on his skin, aroused her. And she was wrong to be here—to be here touching him, taking advantage of his kindness. Billy had told the truth: he was gorgeous, and Sonnie wasn’t the type of woman he would want. But could a woman be blamed for taking the chance to be with him, even for a little while?

  His arm was behind his head. The faint light that seeped from the hall showed the sharp line of his profile and neck. Against the white pillow, the muscles in his shoulder and upper arm were flexed. She wanted to feel those muscles, and touch the skin on the inner side of his hipbones—to rest a hand on his thigh. Most of all, she wanted to put her head on his shoulder and lie against him. If she could do that without his waking up and making her move away, well then, she’d sleep.

  Her hand was warm, and he didn’t jump when she tucked her fingers beneath the covers and, oh so cautiously, rubbed his hip. The skin on the inside, at the edge of his belly, was smooth, but the slightest reaching brought her into contact with hair again, hair with the changed, coarse texture of pubic hair.

  Only with great effort did she keep still long enough to get over wanting to pull away. His thigh shocked her. So hard it didn’t give at all, the muscles felt massive and absolutely rigid.

  Her breasts stung. They were tender, and that tender, constricted sensation found its way between her legs. She had no right, but she wished, so desperately, that he would make love to her.

  Remembering to breathe, she drew closer. Inch by inch she brought her body close enough to touch his. Her thighs rested against his buttock. Sonnie gritted her teeth. Ecstasy must be like this. Did such things have to be forbidden to be so exquisite?

  Waiting for Chris to set her firmly back where she belonged—if he didn’t make her leave altogether—Sonnie lowered her head to his shoulder.

  He didn’t wake up.

  She put an arm over him and settled herself close at his side.

  Time passed. Her neck was at an awkward angle. Wiggling to get more comfortable, she turned to lie partly on top of him, with her cheek on his chest and her breasts flattened to his ribs.

  Repeatedly she drove her teeth into her bottom lip. The moment should never stop, this moment. Drawing herself higher, she settled her face into the hollow of his shoulder, close to his jaw, embraced his still body, and put her knee on his belly.

  She panted lightly and couldn’t stop, and couldn’t listen to the reason that warned her to leave him at once.

  The calf of her raised leg was where it should never be. The base of his penis pressed against skin and bone.

  She gasped. He was erect.

  But she only clutched him harder. Clutched him, kissed his jaw, raised her face until she could press her lips to his cheek. “Sonnie,” he said quietly. “For God’s sake, Sonnie. What…Why are you doing this?”

  Twenty-two

  Sonnie rolled away from him, and he prepared to grab for his shorts and go after her.

  She didn’t leave the bed. Rather, she turned on her other side and put as much distance between them as possible.

  Chris looked at her back, at the tumble of hair and pale shoulder picked out by faint light from the hallway. “Come back here,” he said.

  “I’m sorry,” she told him. “I only wanted
to get as close to you as I could. I wanted to feel you because you’re alive and strong. I shouldn’t have done that.”

  “I want you back where you were. Because you’re alive and strong and I want you as close as I can get you.” He settled on his side, too, where he could see any move she made.

  “You think I’m disgusting.”

  He snorted. “Oh, I surely do, darlin’. Disgustin’. May every man be cursed with a woman as disgustin’ as you are. This world would be a peaceful place filled with happy men.”

  That didn’t buy him any answer. “Why would you expect me to think you’re disgusting?”

  “Υou know. I don’t have to tell you.”

  “ I’m afraid you do.”

  Her elbow angled up and she gathered her hair on top of her head. He’d forgotten just how special small, intimate moments could be, the kind of moments a man and woman shared when they weren’t studying every move.

  “I’m not the kind of woman who cheats.”

  “You think I haven’t figured out how honorable you are?”

  She rested the back of her hand on her temple. “Some of the things I’ve thought—and done—aren’t very honorable.”

  He wanted to hear her tell him about the things she’d thought. “Υοu don’t have a thing to feel guilty about.” Sometimes you had to be patient and hope you’d be told what you’d like to hear—eventually.

  “You don’t know what goes through my mind. My madwoman’s mind.”

  “You aren’t crazy.” He rose to an elbow and propped his head on his hand. “Don’t say that about yourself.” Strange how a time like this could feel better than any other time he remembered.

  “I…When I got in this bed I…I had notions I have no right to have.”

  He was a weak man. “You want to share those notions? So I can make you feel better about them?”

  “I’ll tell you. Just so you understand you’ve got to be careful around me because I get wild ideas. As long as you don’t let me go anywhere with those ideas, I won’t make a fool of myself, or put you in a difficult position.”

  Come on. Come on. Spill it all, sweetheart.

  “I mean, I’ve got to stop it. It’s not right and I know it, but it keeps happening.”