“No offense taken,” she told him.
Mark smiled at her and went on. “Colleen was supposed to get in one of those little golf carts and come to my bungalow. It’s not a big island! She told Lacy that was where she was going, so when she didn’t show, I started getting worried. I went to the tiki bar, but she wasn’t there, so then I went to her room, but she didn’t answer. I went back to my place, then back to the hotel, but I still couldn’t find her. I got really worried then, and I told people something was wrong, something had happened. At first no one paid any attention to me. Jerks like Bert thought it was funny, that she had found a photographer or someone important to mess around with. But they didn’t know Colleen. She would never do that to me, and especially not to her family. I’m telling you, she walked out of her room at the hotel and disappeared. Like into thin air. Except no one really disappears into thin air.”
“No, they don’t,” Luke assured him, frowning. He turned to Ted Trenton then. “Ted, this is important. I’m sorry to bring up something so painful, but this is really disturbing me. Bill told me about Maria’s connection to the Church of the Real People, and I need to know. Who else knows about your wife?”
Ted was startled and looked at his son, who had the grace to look embarrassed.
“I’m sorry,” Luke said, “but, like I just said, this is important. We’ve been speaking frankly here, and we’re going to have to trust each other all the way. Who else knows about Maria?”
“I didn’t,” Chloe said, looking at Ted.
He looked abashed and uncomfortable. “Well, Chloe, I knew about what had happened to you, and…I didn’t want to bring up such a painful memory for you,” he said. “And…frankly, it’s something I almost forget sometime. Maria’s so happy now that it’s as if none of this ever happened. As far as people knowing…we never talk about it. Do people know? Yes, sure…Alice Copeland at Immigration knows, of course. She helped us. Maria didn’t have any papers, but Alice understood. She’s seen it before, children stolen or bought, then smuggled into the U.S. She knew what to do to make things legal.”
“So, was Maria smuggled out of the country by this man?” Luke asked.
“She told me that she came in a small plane, so I assume it was someone’s private jet,” Ted explained.
“I don’t mean to downplay what happened to Maria, but what does this have to do with Colleen?” Mark asked.
“I’m not sure,” Luke admitted. “My question is, do the people on the island—people with the agency—know about Maria?”
“It wasn’t a deep dark secret,” Ted said. “But did I specifically tell anyone about it? No.”
“So…Maria just appeared here one day, and no one ever asked you about her?” Luke asked.
“Sure, when you’re with someone new…people say, hey, cool, where did you meet, how’s it going, that kind of thing,” Ted said. “But no one gives you the third degree on who you’re dating, unless it’s your father or mother—and my folks have been dead for years. I had to explain to my children, and that was all. I didn’t owe an explanation to anyone else.”
“And nothing about Maria was in the papers? Were you ever afraid someone would come after her?” Luke asked.
“Nothing was written in the papers. We handled everything very quietly. Maria didn’t know enough about the man she’d escaped—or where she’d been kept—for us to find him or bring charges, and Maria was afraid he’d come after her again, besides. So, I believe that, as far as that man knows, she just disappeared on the streets of Miami.”
“But you don’t really know that, do you?” Luke asked.
“Well, no,” Ted said uncertainly.
“But as friendly as we look,” Bill said firmly, “we’re not stupid. Dad and I both keep legally registered Smith & Wesson revolvers and you may not have met her yet, but Maria has a Belgian shepherd up there named Amanda who was trained as a police dog. And we’re kind of on the isolated side of life down here anyway.”
“And you should know, I have a registered Colt .45,” Mark said. “The thing is, having a gun doesn’t do a damn thing for you when you can’t see the enemy. I’ve taken a boat around that island every day since Colleen disappeared. I’ve beaten my way through the undergrowth and been in every single room. I can’t find anything—anything at all. There’s no answer to where she is.”
“The answer is that she’s no longer on the island,” Luke said. “Someone got her off the island in a boat. Someone who knew what he—or she—was doing. Either she was kid napped or she’s dead. I’m not trying to be harsh, just truthful.”
“I pray she’s alive—I just don’t believe she is,” Mark said. “I need to know the truth, and so do her parents. What ever it is.”
“Her body hasn’t washed up, but I’m afraid that doesn’t mean a lot. A killer who was familiar with the area would know how far to go out so he could sink a body for good. And to make sure he kept the body far away from any dive spots,” Luke said.
“That’s not actually an easy task around here, you know,” Chloe pointed out.
Luke nodded his agreement. “That’s why I think we need to look not only for someone with ties to the agency, but to the area, as well. We’re looking for a Florida native, or someone who has lived here long enough to really know the waters surrounding the Keys.”
“I take a dive boat out several times a weekend and sometimes during the week,” Bill said. “I’ve never gone out without thinking about Colleen, without looking for her.”
“Well, here’s a fact—if the ocean has her, we may never find her. But that doesn’t mean we can’t find out the truth. And we will,” Luke said.
“How?” Mark asked bleakly. “When?”
“I think the killer will strike again during the shoot. The same photographers will be here, the same staff. Most of the models will be the same, too. And once the shoot starts, I have a legitimate reason to spend time on the island and explore. And then I can find out exactly where everyone was at the time Colleen disappeared. As long as no one else knows that I’m not Jack Smith, designer.”
“Believe me, I’m the last man to do anything to prevent you from learning the truth,” Mark assured him.
“We’ll keep it quiet, I swear. I won’t say a word to anyone else, not even Maria,” Ted swore.
“Me, neither,” Bill promised.
“In the meantime…?” Mark asked.
“Keep working and keep looking. The sea can hide terrible secrets—but sometimes she’ll cast them back with the tide,” Luke said.
Silence fell. Chloe realized she had barely said a word, but she was both afraid and grateful. She had meant to pry, to investigate, to learn all she could. Maybe she hadn’t realized the danger she was putting herself in until now. She was glad to be among this company, and knew that nothing would keep her away from the shoot, but she felt better being fore warned to be extremely careful.
And then she glanced toward the docks.
It was dark, and the lights from the pool area didn’t reach that far, but the moon and stars shone down, casting just enough light to show her the woman in white.
Colleen Rodriguez.
She was standing there, staring at Chloe, and she seemed to be more clearly defined this time. She was wearing what looked to be a floaty silk dress, and she was barefoot, and wet. Her long hair was very dark, almost blue-black in the night. The look she turned on Chloe was imploring. Then she turned to look toward Mark, and there was a sadness about her that was so real, it seemed to reach across the distance between them and physically touch Chloe with its power.
Her mouth went dry.
Mark rose, drawing her eye. “All right. I’m heading back.”
Chloe opened her mouth to speak, to point out Colleen’s presence. But then she looked back and saw that Colleen was gone.
The others rose, as well, but when Chloe tried to follow suit, she found she could barely stand.
Luke took her arm, frowning at her. “Are you all r
ight?” he asked.
“Fine,” she managed to say. But she knew she wasn’t.
Inside, she was a mess.
Was she going crazy, or was there more in the world than met the eye, something she was fighting and denying, but that might be…
Necessary?
“Too much beer?” Mark asked jokingly, then gave her a kiss on the cheek.
She gave herself a mental shake, smiled and kissed his cheek in turn.
“Good night, then,” Ted said. The men shook hands, as if sealing some kind of pact. Then Ted and Bill followed Mark’s lead and kissed Chloe on the cheek, and started home. Chloe’s and Luke’s rooms were just behind the pool, down by the waterfall.
“I’ll see you inside…and make sure you keep your door locked,” Luke told her.
I don’t think you can lock a door against a ghost, she thought.
But she wasn’t afraid of the ghost anymore. She was sure Colleen intended her no harm.
“Thank you,” was all she said.
He walked her to her door, waiting while she got out her key.
He didn’t kiss her cheek, or even offer her a handshake.
“Good night,” she told him.
“Lock the door,” he said.
She went into her room. And she locked the door.
Luke had just showered off the chlorine when he heard the knock at his door. He quickly wrapped a towel around his waist and hurried out to answer it, concerned that someone was there now, when everyone should have been in bed.
It was Chloe. Her hair was damp and roughly towel dried, and she was wearing one of the white cotton robes provided in the rooms.
Fear streamed through him, but split-second logic took over and assured him that she was fine—she was standing right in front of him, for heaven’s sake.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, sounding colder than he’d intended.
“I didn’t realize I was a caged beast,” she replied, clearly surprised by his tone. “I couldn’t sleep. My mind is racing.”
“I see. So you thought you’d keep me awake?” he asked.
“Am I bothering you?”
Bothering him? Hell, yes, he thought, disturbing his compartmentalized mind. No, he admitted, the way she was bothering him had nothing to do with his mind. But all he said was, “No. Come in.”
He stepped aside, and she headed straight for the minibar. “Can I get you something?” she asked him. “We could have rum and Coke. Or in my case, since I’m the heavy one, rum and Diet Coke.”
“You? Heavy?” he asked. She was at least five-nine and couldn’t have possibly weighed more than a hundred and thirty-five.
“In the Bryson crowd, I’m an Amazon,” she told him, sounding completely unconcerned.
“In the Bryson crowd, a string bean would look heavy,” he replied.
She grinned. “So what will it be?”
“All right. I’ll have a rum and Coke,” he said, eyeing her closely. She seemed restless. With her green eyes and fluid way of moving, she looked catlike to the extreme.
He sat on the bed, still watching her carefully.
Chloe took out the tiny rum bottles and the soda, shrugged, drank a bit from each can, then added the rum.
She handed him his can and toasted, “Cheers!” Then she took a long sip.
“Cheers,” he murmured.
She sat across from him on the second bed, staring at him, and he found himself staring back, fascinated by the planes and angles of her face, her defined brows, deep auburn lashes and full lips.
He lifted his drink. “So?”
She shook her head, watching him with those cool, assessing eyes.
“Is there something you don’t like about me?” she finally asked.
“No,” he told her. “I like you. I more than like you.”
She offered him a crooked smile. “You’ve never come on to me.”
“It’s not because I don’t like you,” he assured her. “Are you coming on to me?”
“Aren’t you sharp, Mr. Smith,” she teased.
He hesitated. “It’s a tempting offer,” he said. Tempting…and agonizing. His drumming libido was battling ferociously with his mind.
“But not tempting enough?”
“It’s not you, it’s—”
She laughed. “Oh, good God, surely you can come up with a better line than that!”
“I sincerely doubt you’ve been turned down often—if ever,” he said, “so I’m not sure how you can be familiar with any lines.”
She looked away for a moment, then started to rise, her knees just a little wobbly. He half stood himself, catching her hand.
“It’s not a line, Chloe. I’m…damaged, I guess.”
She met his eyes. “And you don’t consider me—with all you know about me—to be completely broken?” she asked softly.
He smiled, shaking his head. “I think you’re incredibly strong. You took everything that went horribly wrong in your life and turned it around. You have a great relationship with your uncle, you have friends, good friends, you’ve kept most of your life. You’ve already been through hell, but you’re still determined to help out in a potentially dangerous situation because you’re convinced a girl didn’t just disappear. I’m not sure how bright that is—” he grinned to take the sting out of the words “—but I don’t like delicate string beans. I like a woman who can kick some ass. I like that very much.”
A soft flush darkened her features, the contrast turning her eyes greener. But she didn’t speak, only turned to leave.
He should have let her. But he couldn’t.
“Don’t you see, Chloe, I wasn’t as strong as you were. When things got tough, I left. Stuckey and Jimbo are the closest I have to real friends, and I usually talk blood and guts and murder to Stuckey, and bait and beer to Jimbo. I can put on a facade, convincingly be someone else when I need to be for a case, but I’m not really sure anymore of who I really am, who I want to be or where I’m going. I drift through life, waiting for the next interesting case, and if I’m not in the mood, I sail away somewhere.”
She stared at his hand, which still lay on her arm, then met his eyes again. “I came looking for sex, Luke,” she said bluntly. “I didn’t offer you a marriage proposal.”
“I do like you, Chloe,” he said.
“I like you, too. I see someone who refused to compromise, and who has dealt with way more in the past than I ever imagined. That’s not running away. And it doesn’t sound like a death wish, either. I guess I just thought that having sex with someone you like wasn’t a bad thing.”
He had to laugh. She sounded so earnest.
“I don’t do it often. In fact, I can’t even remember the last time—” She broke off, embarrassed. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to share that much.”
Later, he would blame it on her eyes.
At that moment, he blamed it on the fact that he was touching her, that she smelled so clean and sweet, fresh from the shower, that her skin beneath his hand was soft, and her very presence seemed to scream of heat and sensuality.
Maybe it was simply because somewhere along the way he lost the towel.
In his mind, the voice of reason was muted by the sudden smoke of desire, and he pulled her into his arms. He found her mouth, the lips he had admired, and found that they parted beneath his with liquid sexuality. When he kissed her, it was as if he breathed her vitality into himself. When he held her, he felt her fire and strength, everything that was vibrant and alive about her, flow into him. He cradled her face between his hands as he lingered over that first kiss, savoring it, but then the fusion between them turned hot and wet. He slid his hands inside her robe and down her torso, feeling the silk of her skin, the curve of her hip. Their lips never parted as she pressed her body flush against his. He gripped her harder, his hand running down the length of her back to the base of her spine and around her buttocks, pulling her still closer. Conscious thought fled. They fell onto his bed together, limbs tangling
, their embrace urgent, frenzied. Her breasts were full, her body so perfect that he gasped in sheer amazement. Somehow he forced his now-aching erection to be patient as he bathed her throat and collarbone with his kisses, savoring the hollows and rises, while he cupped her breast and felt a new surge of desire sweep through his body, leaving him shuddering in its wake. His mouth replaced his hand on her breast, then moved on to her ribs, her hip. He savored the sensation of her moving beneath him, with him. He felt her palms on his back, the whisper of her breath against his ear, and he groaned, moving lower against her, as if in this one night he was driven to know her completely. Her hands were a sweet torment against him, fingertips teasing with featherlight caresses, then stroking more boldly.
He feathered his own fingertips down over her abdomen and between her thighs, and he followed each caress with his lips and tongue. He felt her lips against his shoulder, the miraculous undulations of her body, and was aware of a thunder that was the beating of his heart. They rolled together, and then he was above her, thrusting into her at last, sinking into a tight and burning velvet heaven. He didn’t know how long the world rocked, aware only of the pulsating need between them, as beautiful as soaring above the world and as basic as the grinding of flesh against flesh. Bathed in a sheen of perspiration, he felt the explosion of his climax and was momentarily embarrassed, but was then gratified instead as he felt her buck beneath him, then shudder as her own orgasm carried her over the edge. They remained locked together as they came down from the pinnacle, until finally the thrumming of the air conditioner drowned out the thundering of his heart, and he eased off her, one arm still holding her close. For what seemed like a very long time they simply lay there together, and he was gratified that she, too, didn’t feel the need to speak right away.
The Killing Edge Page 14