From what seemed to be very far away she heard voices. She had to signal them, had to make them hear her. She tried to scream, but her throat was dry, so very dry. With the last of her strength, she heaved a can of copper polish at the metal wall. It clattered noisily to the floor. She repeated the gesture again and again, for once grateful to Kingsley for the absurdly large order.
“Over here,” someone shouted from nearby.
She heard footsteps, then Michael. “Madre de Dios,” he said, swearing impatiently. “Get it open. Molly, it’s okay. We’ll have you out in just a minute.”
She could hear more curses, the jangle of keys, then finally the lock being tried. She struggled to her feet, but immediately sagged back down. The door was flung wide and Michael caught her just before she hit the floor.
She looked into his worried eyes and murmured, “What the hell took you so long?” And then she fainted.
When she came to, she was in a hospital bed, hooked up to an IV, a strange doctor hovering over her and Michael lurking watchfully in the background.
“It was Kingsley,” she whispered, even though it hurt her parched throat to speak.
“I know. We got him. Mendoza finally confessed everything about the kickback scheme. While he was spilling his guts last night, one of the caterers came out and told him two of his knives were missing. I guess they didn’t want to be blamed. They said you’d been snooping around in the kitchen. We looked for you, but both you and Kingsley had left the party. I swear to God the last eighteen hours have taken a dozen years off my life thinking he had you. We couldn’t find Kingsley, even though we put out an all points bulletin. The Miami Beach police thought they spotted his car over there. Then we got a call from Bal Harbor. The Hollywood cops finally stopped him about forty minutes ago. When I realized you weren’t with him, I nearly lost it. We tore the condo apart looking for you. It was Liza who suggested the shed because of what you all had found there earlier.”
Because she couldn’t deal with the emotions she thought she saw in his eyes, she said, “Brian?”
“He’s right outside. I’ll get him.”
Barely a minute later, her son burst through the door and threw himself into her arms. His thin chest was heaving with sobs. Michael laid a hand on Brian’s head, gently smoothing the light-brown hair that was damp with perspiration and tears.
Michael’s gaze, though, was on Molly. “I have things I have to take care of at headquarters,” he said quietly. “And you and Brian need some time alone.”
Molly bit back her own cry of need and nodded.
He hesitated, his expression uncertain. “I could hang around if you need me.”
She shook her head, not trusting herself to speak, not trusting herself not to beg him to stay now that his official duties were over.
“I’ll be back when we have this all sorted out, okay?” The sunglasses went on then, but not before she caught the vulnerability that was all too evident in his eyes. He turned away.
Michael had taken several slow steps, when Molly called to him. “You are coming back?”
He nodded. “As soon as I can get here.”
After he’d gone Liza took up his place beside Molly’s bed. With Brian in her arms she fell asleep. When she awoke, Liza was still there and Brian was still sound asleep and clinging to Molly’s hand.
For the first time since Molly had known her, Liza looked as if she were at a loss for words. “You want something to drink?” she asked finally.
“No, but you look as if you could use something.” Molly touched her shoulder. “Are you okay?”
Liza finally met her gaze, tears streaking down her face. “It’s funny. You two are the closest thing to family I have. When we realized you were missing, I wanted to trade places with you. I was so terrified of what would happen.” Her voice trailed off and she glanced at Brian.
Molly shuddered and stroked his hair. “I know. Me, too. It’s the only thing that kept me going,” she whispered, looking down at her son.
They sat quietly for several minutes before Liza murmured, “You’re falling in love with the hunk, aren’t you?”
Molly managed a grim smile. “If I had to put a label on what I’m feeling, I’d say I’m falling in love with the possibility of falling in love again. Michael possesses certain traits, a certain strength and sensitivity, that would make it easy to love him. He also has a few that drive me nuts.”
“The man is hot, Molly. Why don’t you sleep with him? That ought to clarify things.”
“Or confuse them more than ever.”
“How does he feel?”
“I don’t know. Bianca’s still in his life. I can’t deny her existence. I can’t wish her away.”
“What does he say?”
“Not much, at least not on that subject.”
The knock on the door startled them both. Liza grinned. “I think that’s your answer now.”
“Has it been that long?”
“I suspect he was in a hurry. I’ll let him in and let myself out. Is there anything you need from home?”
Molly ran shaky fingers through her hair trying to sort out the tangles. She suddenly regretted not being able to take a shower, change into something besides this frumpy hospital gown, and put on makeup. How had she let the time slip away when she’d known Michael was coming back? Maybe she’d just been telling herself that this meeting wasn’t significant, even though the thumping of her heart right now felt like a drum in a Sousa march.
“You look good,” Michael said from across the room, when Liza had gone taking the still sleepy Brian with her.
A near-hysterical giggle climbed in Molly’s throat, but she managed to swallow it.
“Your color’s better.”
“It usually is, when every drop of blood hasn’t drained out of my face,” she said wryly. “I’ve never been so terrified in my life.”
He rocked back on his heels, hands in his pockets as if he wasn’t sure what else to do with them. “Me, too.”
“Because I was an innocent bystander who almost got killed? Afraid you’d slipped up in your duty, Detective?”
His lips twitched at her deliberate ploy. “No, Mrs. DeWitt, because you’re you and for better or worse you’ve gotten under my skin.”
“Sounds like an allergy.”
He dared a step closer, looked around, and chose a chair about as far from her as he could get and still be in the same room. Molly shook her head, very much aware of his confusion. “You don’t have to stay. I’m fine and you wouldn’t be responsible even if I weren’t.”
“I feel responsible and…”
When he didn’t go on, she prodded, “And?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know what the hell to do about this. First of all, there’s…”
Molly ignored the sting of tears and snapped, “Bianca. For crying out loud, you can say her name. I’m not that fragile.”
He nodded slowly, his eyes troubled. “Yes, there is Bianca. On top of that, I’m not such a good bet when it comes to anything serious. I learned that being married. Being a cop and marriage just don’t mix.”
“You’ve taken an amazing leap of faith here. I thought we were talking about maybe having a date. You’re worried about what happens after the wedding.”
“Dates have a way of leading to marriage before you know what’s happened.”
“Not when you have two rational, thoughtful, very cautious people involved.”
That drew a genuine smile that put sparks into his brown eyes. “Cautious, huh? You, too?”
“Damn right. I’m in no rush for any kind of commitment.”
He nodded again. “So, you’re willing to risk a date or two?”
“If anything happens to change your living arrangements, yes. But that’s y
our decision, Detective. I’m not asking you to and I’m not making any promises after that.”
“Fair enough.” He stood up then and started toward the door. “I’ll be in touch.”
Molly clutched the flat hospital pillow so hard all the stuffing was squashed into one end. She managed a wobbly smile. “You do that.”
“You’ll be okay tonight?”
“Fine.” Just go! Go before I make an absolute fool of myself, she thought desperately.
Before she realized what he intended, though, he was across the room, apparently propelled by the same barrage of contradictory feelings that had her off-balance. He cupped her chin and tilted her head until their gazes clashed. He leaned down then until his lips brushed tenderly across hers. That faint, tentative whisper of a touch was filled with so much longing, so much purely sensual promise, that it left Molly weak.
“See you,” he said.
“Yeah. See you.” Her tone was so determinedly casual she could have been saying good-bye to the exterminator.
He was shaking his head. “No, no, sweetheart. When I say I’ll see you, I mean it.”
“Of course you will,” she said jauntily. “If you’re going to let Brian play soccer on your team, we’re bound to run into each other.”
“You talk way too much,” he said, his mouth covering hers again. This time there was nothing sweet and tender about the kiss. This time the sensation was far more primal, filled with wicked heat and dangerous passion.
This time, when Michael walked away, Molly knew he’d be back. She believed in that much, at least.
* * * * *
ISBN-13: 9781488058523
Island Storms
First published as Hot Property in 1992 by Dell Publishing. This edition published in 2019.
Copyright © 1992 by Sherryl Woods
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