Murder on Treasure Island (Peyton Brooks' Series Book 7)

by M. L. Hamilton

  And right on cue -- heaping platefuls of guilt. “Just a few weeks.” Peyton straightened her napkin. “Actually, we’re sort of living together right now.”

  When Alice didn’t immediately answer, Peyton glanced up at her. She was studying Peyton closely.

  “You’re not talking, Mama.”

  “He seems dangerous.”

  “Well, he’s a cop.”

  “Do you think this is a good idea, Peyton? With everything that’s happened?”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “You’ve had a terrible trauma. Maybe you’re rushing things a little too quick?”

  “Are you opposed to Marco because he isn’t Jake, or for another reason?”

  Alice drew a deep breath and held it, then slowly exhaled. “I’m opposed to Marco because he’s a cop.”

  “Daddy was a cop.”

  “And I lost him.”

  Peyton reached over and covered her mother’s hand. “I know, but he makes me happy, Mama. He makes me feel secure. I love him.”

  Alice studied her a moment in silence, then she covered Peyton’s hand with her free one. “Then you have my full support, darlin’. I want you to be happy.”

  * * *

  Marco sat so he could watch the door. He played with the box in his pocket and shifted anxiously. He hoped he wasn’t making a huge mistake, but it didn’t feel that way. It felt right. Still, this was such a departure for him, he was surprised he’d come to this decision so quickly.

  The door opened and Abe stepped inside, followed by Jake. It was hard to miss Abe with his wild dreadlocks and even wilder clothing. Today he wore a canary yellow shirt with what looked like freakin’ canaries on it. He had red leather pants on and Marco could swear, purple boots with the pointiest toes he’d ever seen. The man was definitely a peacock, and behind him, Jake looked like a mud hen.

  Abe spotted him immediately and angled to his table. “You should have come with us, Angel, it was like dying and going to heaven!” He punctuated the last with putting both hands over his heart. “And with your pretty face there to look at, I would have been ready to meet my maker.”

  Marco shook his head wryly. “That good, huh?”

  “Fantastic,” said Jake, reaching for a chair.

  Abe didn’t sit, but stood, looking around. “This place is so butch. I’ll bet there are lots of men here all the time.”

  “Sit down,” said Marco, sliding out a chair with his foot. “You’re not picking up anyone today.”

  Abe sank into the chair. “You’re right. After seeing you again, I can’t look at another man.”

  Marco drew a breath for patience, reaching for his beer.

  Abe leaned over Jake and grabbed a drink menu off the table, flipping it open. “What’s good?”

  “The beer.”

  Abe made a face as he scanned the drinks. “I want an Irish coffee.”

  A waitress came over and Abe ordered his coffee, while Jake got beer. Then Jake focused on Marco. “What’s up?”

  Marco fingered the velvet box in his pocket again. “Okay, just listen for a minute and don’t go all Ryder on me.”

  Jake frowned. “What does that mean?”

  “I want your advice, but I don’t want your smug shit.”

  Abe and Jake exchanged a look. “That’s not a very polite way to ask for advice, Angel. And why would you ask Jake?” He placed a hand on Jake’s shoulder. “No offense.”

  Jake shrugged. “None taken.”

  “And not ask me?”

  “You’re here, aren’t you?” Marco said by way of explanation. Damn he was regretting this already. Why didn’t he just go to Vinnie? Because Vinnie was no better at this stuff than he was. “Look, I just realized that I haven’t actually taken Peyton on a real date and I’m not sure where to take her.”

  The waitress returned with their drinks, settling them on the table. Abe studied his with a frown, while Jake eyed Marco.

  “I thought it’d be green,” said Abe, disappointedly.

  Okay, so he wasn’t going to be a damn bit of help.

  “A date?” said Jake.

  “Yeah.”

  “You’ve been on dates before.”

  Marco chewed on his inner lip, but didn’t answer.

  Jake’s frown deepened. “You have, haven’t you?”

  Abe looked up from his drink. “Angel?”

  Marco drummed his fingers on the table, then reached for his beer and downed it. “Let’s just say my dating experience has been a little more economical.”

  “He means hook-ups,” offered Abe.

  “Yeah, I got that,” said Jake. “Okay, well the traditional date is usually dinner and a movie.”

  Marco shook his head. “I could have come up with dinner and a movie myself,” he grumbled. “I figured you’d have all these romantic ideas.” He shuddered at the word.

  “Oh, well, for romance, you need fine dining,” said Abe. “Why not the Top of the Mark? You can see the whole City from there.”

  “No, Devan took her there.”

  “Right. Okay, not the Top of the Mark. For romance, I like this little French restaurant, Chez Spencer on 14th. What could be more romantic than French?”

  Marco nodded. “That’s not bad.”

  “And I’d bring her flowers. You’ve got to get her flowers. Then what about a horse carriage ride? Oh my God, that would be so romantic.”

  Marco wasn’t sure about horses. Peyton would probably want to adopt the damn thing, but it would be the perfect place to…

  “Hold on a minute,” said Jake.

  Marco’s eyes cut to him.

  “You aren’t thinking what I think you’re thinking?”

  Marco sighed. Definitely a mistake asking Jake. “How would I know what you’re thinking, Ryder?”

  ‘Well, I know what you’re thinking. We had this conversation just yesterday and you told me Peyton wasn’t at the same place as you.”

  “I know, but I was wrong. We talked about it.”

  “You and Peyton talked about it?”

  “Yeah, and I misread her.”

  “So now you jump to this? What are you thinking?”

  Abe was watching the volley between them. “What is he thinking?”

  “I’m thinking that I asked you to help me, not lecture me…”

  “Yeah, but think, Adonis. It’s been what? Two weeks?”

  Marco clenched his jaw. Cho was right. Jake could be such an uptight preacher sometimes.

  “What is he thinking?” asked Abe again, then he went still. His eyes widened. “Oh my God, are you serious?”

  Marco exhaled. “Yeah, I’m serious.”

  Abe clapped his hands. “Oh my God.”

  “It’s been two weeks, Adonis. You’re rushing things.”

  “It’s been eight years, Ryder. You want to know what I’m thinking. I’m thinking she’s the best thing that ever happened to me. I’m thinking that I’m happier now than I’ve ever been in my whole damn life. And I’m thinking that when you know something is right, you don’t wait or attach preconceived timetables to it. You just act on instinct and you grab whatever bit of happiness there is and you hold on to it. I’m thinking that I almost lost her two weeks ago, but I was given a second chance and if there’s anything I know in this world, I know that I want her in my life for how ever long we have, and I know that there’s no one else who will ever make me feel this way again.”

  Abe’s eyes filled with tears and he waved his hand before his face.

  Jake tilted back his head. “Damn, Adonis. I’ve never heard you string that many words together before.”

  Marco slumped in his chair. “I know. I’m exhausted.”

  Jake smiled. “Okay, if you’re damned and determined to do this, first of all, you’ve gotta have a ring.”

  Marco reached into his pocket and pulled out the box, setting it on the table. He pulled back the lid.

  Their eyes widened.

  “Shit,” said
Jake. “That must have cost you a fortune.”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  Abe gave Marco a wondrous look. “If she won’t marry you, I will. That is gorgeous and fits her perfectly.”

  Marco stared down at the two interwoven bands of white gold inlaid with diamonds, culminating in a larger, low set diamond in the center. It was beautiful and reminded him of Peyton. Simple, yet intricate. Unpretentious, yet shining.

  “Next, you need to get her out of San Francisco. Take her to Napa for the weekend. Stay at a little bed and breakfast.”

  “Oh, that’s good,” said Abe. “The Napa Inn is perfect. It’s this beautiful blue Victorian. She’d love it.”

  Jake pointed at Abe.

  “We can’t leave the City now. Not with this case.”

  “Talk to Defino,” said Jake. “You deserve a night off. The entire precinct is on this case. You can at least take one night for yourselves.”

  “If I talk to Defino, I’ll have to tell her what’s going on.”

  “Yeah. What do you think will happen when she sees that on Peyton’s finger?”

  Marco looked down at the ring. “What if she doesn’t say yes?” He reached out and closed the box.

  “You’re not talking about Defino anymore, right?” said Jake.

  Marco shook his head, unable to meet their eyes. He felt like he might be sick. His stomach was in knots. “What if you’re right and I’m rushing things?”

  Abe reached over and closed his hand on Marco’s. “You’ll know when the time is right, Angel. She’ll give you a sign. But Jake’s right. You two need to get away. Even if you decide it’s not the right time, she deserves a break.”

  Marco nodded, unable to speak.

  Jake leaned forward. “It’s always a risk, Adonis. I damn near puked when I asked Zoë, but you know what?”

  Marco met his eye.

  “I’d take that risk again.”

  * * *

  Genevieve sat on her couch, staring at the phone on her coffee table. He hadn’t called for the last two days. Every time someone else called, she felt her heart catch, but it hadn’t been him. He usually never missed a call. What was he doing? Was he killing again? Had he broken their deal? Should she go to the police and tell them what she’d done?

  She hugged herself and stared at the dark display. He was making her a wreck. Every time she left her apartment, she watched the faces around her, wondering if one of them was him, following her, observing everything she did. When she opened the door to her apartment at night, she had a bad few minutes, searching every inch of it, peeking in closets, behind shower curtains, under the bed, to make sure she was alone. She didn’t remember the last time she’d opened the blinds.

  She had to break it off. She had to pull away. She had to end this.

  But if she did, would he attack her? Would he kill her? Or would he go after her family?

  They were all in L.A., but that didn’t mean he couldn’t go after them. He did pretty much as he pleased and the police seemed unable to stop him. And then there was Jimmy. He knew of Jimmy. He’d seen Jimmy come into her building. She couldn’t stand it if anything happened to Jimmy and it was her fault.

  She started to reach for the phone. She’d call D’Angelo. She’d tell him everything and then he could decide what she should do. But as her fingers touched it, she pulled back. He’d tell Brooks and Brooks was just waiting for a reason to haul her in, to book her on something.

  She curled her fingers into her palm and closed her eyes. She’d lost weight and she wasn’t sleeping at night. She was so afraid all of the time. The only time she felt safe was when Jimmy came over, but she couldn’t risk it. She couldn’t risk him. He didn’t even understand what was going on.

  The phone rang and she jumped, her eyes flashing open. Jimmy’s name flickered on the screen.

  She grabbed it and answered the call. “Hello?”

  “Hey, how are you?”

  “Fine.” Her voice didn’t sound fine, but she was hoping he wouldn’t notice.

  “I thought maybe I’d come over...if you’re free.”

  Yes, she wanted to say. “No,” she answered instead. She had to break it off with him. She had to distance herself. If the Janitor came after her, she didn’t want Jimmy in the way. He would use Jimmy to punish her, but he might leave him alone if he thought she wasn’t interested anymore.

  “Okay.” He sounded hurt.

  “I’m not feeling well,” she added, even though every instinct told her she should make a clean break of it.

  “Really? What’s wrong?”

  “Stomach flu.”

  “I could bring you some soup.”

  “No.” Again she managed to add conviction to the word, but she hated herself for it. “I don’t think I can eat anything. I just need to sleep.”

  “Okay.” He sounded so disappointed. “Call me when you’re better.”

  Tell him you won’t. Tell him it’s over. “I’ll call you,” she said softly.

  CHAPTER 13

  Peyton woke and reached for Marco, but his side of the bed was empty. She sat up and looked around. The bathroom door was open and light spilled out. Pickles lay across the foot of the bed, so she gathered him into her arms and kissed his fuzzy head, then settled him on Marco’s pillow and threw back the covers, climbing out.

  She padded over to the bathroom and leaned on the doorjamb. He was brushing his teeth, wearing shorts and running shoes and nothing else. She admired the pull of muscles in his naked back.

  “This is a sight I could get used to every morning,” she said.

  He rinsed his mouth and replaced the toothbrush in the holder, then he turned and took a step toward her, lowering his head and capturing her mouth. She returned his kiss, sliding her hands across the defined planes of his chest.

  He pulled back and gave her a smile. “Morning, sweetheart.”

  Her eyes dropped to a scratch that bisected his chest. She ran her finger over it. “Did I do that last night when I woke up?”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “How can it not matter?”

  “Because it’s a scratch.” He placed his forehead against hers.

  “I’m so sorry, Marco.”

  He silenced her with his mouth.

  When he pulled away again, she took in his attire. “Are you going running?”

  “I won’t be gone long.”

  She felt a wash of panic, but she choked it down. “Can I come with you?”

  “Of course. Are you sure you’re ready?”

  She shrugged. “We’ll never know until we try. Just give me a few minutes.”

  “Okay.” He reached for the t-shirt he’d draped over the shower door and angled around her. “I’ll feed Pickles and take him out while you get ready.”

  She quickly pulled back her hair, brushed her teeth, and dressed in her running clothes, trying to still the frantic pounding of her heart. She made it as far as the door and stood waiting for him, while he finished up in the kitchen.

  He walked over to her and ran his hand along her jaw. “You sure about this?”

  “Yes,” she said, forcing the word out with more conviction than she felt.

  “We’ll only go as far as you want, okay?”

  “Yeah.”

  He pulled open the door and stepped out. Her eyes fell on the closet, where they both kept their guns, and she almost went to it, but she knew she had to face this without the false security of a weapon.

  He locked the door behind her and they stretched in the hallway before jogging down the stairs. Dark clouds covered the sky as they stepped into the parking lot. It looked like it might rain. Marco gave her one final look, then headed for the street. She followed him, wondering if a person ever died from her heart pounding too hard.

  As soon as they hit the sidewalk, he started jogging. She drew a deep breath and forced herself to follow. At first, it felt like she was running through quicksand. Her lungs screamed and blood rushed into
her head, but gradually, she let the repetitive motion lull her.

  They made one block, crossed the street, and started on another. She focused on the street ahead, silently counting the squares of pavement beneath her feet, calming herself with that internal litany.

  She had just convinced herself that she was all right when a car swerved up to the curb in front of Marco. Peyton stumbled to a stop, her heart slamming against her ribcage. The driver threw open the door and jumped out.

  Peyton’s hand automatically reached for a gun that wasn’t there and she threw herself back against a wrought iron fence fronting a house. Marco turned and looked at her.

  So did the driver.

  Peyton’s eyes focused on him to the exclusion of all else, paralyzed by panic. Black spots dotted her peripheral vision and cold sweat covered her body.

  “She okay?” asked the driver.

  “Yeah, she’s fine,” said Marco, moving toward her.

  She tried to slow her breathing, but it wasn’t working. Before Marco could get to her, she pushed away from the fence and started walking back toward his apartment, moving as fast as she could. It took everything she had not to start running again.

  She couldn’t do this. Damn it. She couldn’t even go for a damn run without freaking out.

  He didn’t say anything, just jogged to catch up to her. She couldn’t even look at him, she was so ashamed, so mortified, so sick to death of this crippling panic. And as she walked, the fear slowly leached into a feeling of rage.

  They made it back to the apartment and she ran up the stairs. He was right behind her, opening the door for her. She paced into the living room, curling her hands into fists, then she turned and moved against him, pinning him back against the wall as she savagely kissed him.

  He kissed her in return for a moment, but when she reached for his t-shirt to push it up, he caught her hands and held her off.

  “Peyton, stop!”

  “What’s the matter?” she said, but she realized she was breathing rapidly, her heart hammering forcefully against her ribs.

  “Sweetheart, you can’t fix this with sex.”

  She pulled out of his hold and paced the living room.

  “You need to talk to me. Please, Peyton, talk to me.”