Caress Part Three (Arcadia Book 3) (9 page)

The SUV pulled up at the far end of the marina. Several
dozen boats were docked beside the ramshackle wooden piers. Most bobbed empty
on the water but a few were occupied by ‘liveaboards’ who made the boat basin
their year-round home. Even so, at this early hour, few people were to be seen.
The loudest sounds came from the squawk of sea gulls overhead and the hum of
traffic on the nearby parkway.

Beyond the marina was the dark green swathe of the Hudson
River with the New Jersey waterfront on the other side. The memory of how that
same view had looked from high atop the Arcadia made my throat tighten.

Was Lucas awake yet? Had he found my note? I couldn’t bear
to think of his reaction to it but I couldn’t avoid doing so either. He would
be hurt and angry. How long would it take him to put my disappearance together
with the fact that my father was still alive? What would his reaction be?

He might just wash his hands of me in disgust. But there was
also a possibility that he could reach out to his friend at the F.B.I. At the
thought that Lucas might still find a way to put himself at risk, a pressing
sense of urgency welled up in me.

As I got out of the vehicle, my legs shook and I felt more
than a little nauseous. Forcing myself to assume an expression that I hoped was
appropriate for the spoiled daughter of a world-class criminal, I turned to the
man at my side.

“Where is my father?” I demanded.

He pointed to a sleek white motor-yacht moored nearby. The
boat looked large enough to be ocean-going but not so oversized as to attract
unwanted attention. The lettering on its stern read
The Circe
. Below
that was the name of its home port:
Grand Cayman.

An enchantress who turned greedy men into swine, from an
island known as a haven for financial manipulators. What could be more apt?

If Lucas was right, my father had escaped through the marina
after faking his death in such spectacular fashion. While police were still
arriving at the scene of his supposed suicide, he had boarded a boat and
slipped out to sea.

I wondered if it had been on a boat like the one in front of
me, and if he had returned the same way.

If so, he was taking a chance that the pattern of his
movements could be detected.

Before that could happen, we had to go.

Just as I stepped onto the gleaming teak deck, my father
emerged from below. In that first unguarded moment, he looked shrewd and
calculating. But at the sight of me, the mask slipped back into place. He
transformed into a confident, relaxed man who was also a loving father. The
ease with which he did that made my skin crawl.

“Emma, my dear girl,” he said. “No trouble getting here, I
hope?”

If that was a reference to contact I might have had with
Lucas before leaving the apartment, I wanted to disabuse him of any such notion
at once.

“None at all,” I said brightly.

My father smiled. “I’m glad to hear it. Do you have everything
that you wanted to bring?”

As he spoke, he glanced at the man accompanying me. A look
passed between them that I couldn’t decipher. Silently, the man nodded. He headed
up the stairs toward the wheelhouse, leaving us alone.

Without waiting for a response from me, my father said, “Excellent.
Then we can be on our way.”

“To where?”

Given that I was supposed to be looking forward to my new
life, the question seemed safe enough. But the answer, whatever it might be,
didn’t interest me and not just because I assumed that it would be a lie. I was
too busy trying to puzzle out what had just happened.

What could I possibly have with me that my father would be
so interested in? Even to the extent that he wanted to confirm that I’d brought
it before we departed?

My mind flashed back to the moments in front of the Arcadia
when the guard went through my bag. He stopped when he found the music box. I
hadn’t thought anything of it at the time but now…

In my mind, I pictured the whirling ballerina and heard the
music that accompanied her.

Twinkle, twinkle, little star,

How I wonder what you are!

Up above the world so high,

Like a diamond in the sky.

A dark, terrifying suspicion began to stir in me. It grew
steadily with every breath I took.

My father’s actions in arranging to fake his own death
proved that he had anticipated the collapse of his investment fraud six months
before the end came. If he’d cared remotely about anyone other than himself, he
could have used that time to spare people at least some of their losses.

That he had not done so was bad enough but could the truth
actually be far worse? Could he have known all along that what he was doing
wasn’t sustainable? Had he begun laying the groundwork for his escape from
justice years sooner? As far back as when I was sixteen and he gave me the
music box?

He’d admitted to having me watched. Was the real purpose of
that to be certain that I still had the gift he had given his “star”?

The one person misguided enough to remain loyal to him
despite everything he had done?

The person whom the authorities believed knew where the
millions of dollars still missing from what he had stolen could be found? They
were wrong but was that so only because of my own failure to realize how I’d
been used?

A shiver of horror went through me. If my suspicion was
correct, once he had possession of the box and whatever it contained, what
further use would my father have for me?

I was nothing but a liability to him. The faithless daughter
who had become involved with the man he blamed for all his misfortunes. The
foolish girl who had served her purpose and was now only a threat to him.

I could just give him the box and hope that he would let me
go. But the odds of him doing so were not good. I was the one person who could
tell the authorities definitively that John Whittaker was still alive. Besides,
once in possession of whatever the box held, he would have the resources he
needed to go after Lucas. No matter what, I couldn’t let that happen.

“Is something wrong?” my father asked, staring at me.
“You’re very pale.”

From some reservoir of courage deep inside me, I managed a wan
smile. “It’s a little choppy this morning.”

He frowned. “You were never subject to sea sickness.”

Whatever else he was, John Whittaker was an excellent judge
of people. Nothing else explained how readily he had been able to manipulate so
many including me. How long would it take him to suspect that I had figured out
the real reason why I was there?

I glanced around quickly. The SUV still idled nearby, the
driver watching us. The other man, who had come on board with me, was moving
toward the wheelhouse. A third man was already there, standing behind the
controls. I had to wonder how many other guards were present.

Could I make it back onto the dock, elude the driver and all
the others, and escape? And do it with the music box because there was no way
that I would put whatever it contained, and the power to be derived from that,
in my father’s hands.

Clutching my bag, I said, “Don’t worry about me, I’ll be
fine.” What I meant was
go away, leave me alone on deck for just a minute,
that’s all I’ll need
but he didn’t budge. Instead his frown deepened.

“Something is wrong,” my father said.

I could see him weighing the likelihood that the daughter he
considered to be an easy mark might be something more. Before he could come to
the inevitable conclusion, I turned toward the opening in the railing.

I was preparing to take my chances and run but before I got
more than a step, a voice rang out.

“Emma!”

My heart leaped even as dread slammed into me so hard that
it was all I could do to keep standing.

Lucas!

Not safe back at the apartment as I’d gone to such great
lengths to assure. Instead, he was racing down the jetty straight toward me.
Either he hadn’t noticed the armed men or he had no thought for his own safety.
Whatever the case, he was hurtling into deadly danger.

“No!” I screamed. “Go back!

The driver was getting out of the SUV. I saw the weapon in
his hand and screamed again, “Stop!”

Lucas didn’t even slow down. On the contrary, he picked up
even more speed and hurtled straight into the man, taking him to the ground.
They struggled, locked in a fight for the gun.

Terror roared through me. I tried to run, to get to Lucas. But
my father grabbed hold of me, dragging me back from the railing.

“You told Phelps!” he shouted. His eyes were wide, dark,
filled with a twisted, mad rage. Spittle sprayed from his mouth. “Damn you!”

His fist lashed out, directly at my face. I only just
managed to dodge the blow that would have sent me reeling. Even so, its impact
was immense.

My father had never struck me, had never indicated by word
or deed that he was capable of such an act. I should have been stunned but all
I could feel was relief.

By showing himself for who he truly was, he destroyed any
lingering thread of loyalty that still bound me to him. In its place was stark clarity.
Nothing mattered except getting to Lucas.

Without hesitation, I swung my bag hard. The heavy bottom
where the music box lay caught my father square in the chest. He gasped and
lurched backward.

As he did, a passing wake caused the boat to pitch. Caught
off-balance, he grabbed for the railing but his grip slipped. One foot left the
deck. He teetered, trying to straighten but the effort proved to be too much. His
face contorted. The full extent of his shock and fear were starkly evident. I
stared, witnessing the moment almost in slow motion, as he toppled over and
fell into the river.

In the next heartbeat, time resumed its normal flow. My
father surfaced, shouting for help. The man who had escorted me was already barreling
back down the stairs from the wheelhouse. He took in the situation with a
glance and yanked a gun from a shoulder holster. But instead of pointing it at
me, he focused on what he had to regard as a far greater threat, the pair still
struggling on the pier.

Terror roared through me. With it came the strength to do
what would otherwise have been impossible. I dropped my bag and leaped, landing
on his back with my arms and legs wrapped around him limpid-like.

He shouted and bucked hard, trying to shake me off. I hung
on in fierce desperation, just managing to grab the sleeve of his jacket and
yank upward as he fired. The shot echoed harmlessly across the marina. Shouting
obscenities, he whirled, slamming me against a wall. Pain shot down my spine
but I didn’t let go. I couldn’t, not while Lucas was still in danger.

Distantly, I heard the high-pitched claxons of police boats
coming fast up the river and the
whoop-whoop
of a helicopter overhead.
But all I was really aware of were the two men on the pier, one bloodied and
beaten into unconsciousness, the other staggering to his feet. The sun, rising
above the high towers of Manhattan, glinted off the gun in his hand.

Our eyes met across the narrow expanse of wood and water.
Without hesitation, he raised his arm, took aim, and fired.

“Who taught you to shoot?” I asked.

Lucas and I were lying in bed in the tower apartment of the
Arcadia. Beyond the high windows, the wide expanse of the sky held an
opalescent glow. It was one of those rare moments when the city seemed to pause
in the mad race of its life and become entirely beautiful and serene. The
impression was deceptive, of course, but I was more than content to enjoy it.

 My head rested on his bare chest, the steady beat of his
heart soothing away the last lingering effects of the tumultuous day. The
gentleness with which he held me made my eyes prick. He’d been like that ever
since he saw the bruises on my back and elsewhere. The darkly menacing look
that had flared in his eyes would stay with me forever.

For all that he was a sophisticated, refined man of the
twenty-first century, Lucas had a far more primal side, one that had come out
fully in those final few minutes at the marina before the authorities arrived to
take charge.

Even so, I was well aware that he had never lost control. The
man he shot suffered only a wound to his leg, enough to bring him down without
endangering me.

“Yuri did,” Lucas said. I heard his amusement. “He claimed
that I’d be glad someday and it turned out that he was right.” With a wry
chuckle, he added, “Now I really owe him.”

The prospect didn’t seem to worry him…much.

He shifted slightly and slipped a finger under my chin,
nudging my head up. As our eyes met, his expression turned somber. “If anything
had happened to you…” He broke off, his gaze so bleak that dismay twisted
through me.

Hastily, I said, “Nothing did, just a few bruises and they’ll
be gone soon. I’m fine. But you…”

I swallowed and touched the abrasion on his cheek. It was
just one of several that bore evidence to the savagery of the struggle he’d
waged to subdue the driver and get control of his gun.

 My voice shook as I said, “I couldn’t bear the thought of
you being endangered because of me. That’s why I left. I had to protect you.”

I feared he would scoff at the notion but instead he nodded
slowly. “I figured that out. Right about the time you jumped on that goon’s
back.” He frowned, suddenly stern. “That was a crazy thing to do, all of it.
You should have just told me about your father.”

“I wanted to,” I admitted. “But he had armed men at his beck
and call, and he’d made it clear that he blamed you for everything. I was
terrified that if you became involved, he wouldn’t hesitate to hurt you…or
worse.”

A tremor ran through me as I contemplated what could have
happened. Lucas must have felt it because his arms tightened around me.

“Hey,” he said tenderly, “it’s all right. Your father’s in
custody; he’s not going to be hurting anyone. And thanks to you, the people he
did harm will be getting at least some relief.”

I nodded, overwhelming glad that was true. I’d handed the
music box over to Sean Feeney shortly after Lucas introduced us, while we were
all still standing on the pier surrounded by swarming police and F.B.I. agents.
My father had been fished out of the water and was in the back of a police van.
The men he’d hired to protect him were also in custody. It truly was over.

Feeney had called a short time ago to let us know what the
music box contained. The FBI gemology experts didn’t yet know the exact value
of the diamonds they’d found inside it but their best estimate was in the
hundred million dollar range.

I spared a thought for what had been in my possession all
the time that I’d been struggling to feed myself and keep a roof over my head,
then let it go. The past was past. It was the present and the future beyond
that I cared about.

“From now on,” Lucas said, “we’re going to talk. You and me.
About everything. No more keeping anything back, all right?”

“Absolutely,” I assured him. He felt so good against me, so
big and strong…
Hmmm
, and so hard. I wiggled closer.

“I mean it,” he said. “It’s all well and good that we’re so compatible,
uh, physically but… Stop that.”

“Stop what?” I asked innocently. My hand slipped a little
farther, grasping the long, hard shaft of his cock. I loved how he felt, like hot
velvet over steel. With one finger, I traced the path of a vein before swirling
around his tip.

“You know what. I’m trying to make a point here.”

“Go right ahead. Don’t mind me.”

Lucas made a strangled sound deep in his throat. It might
have been a laugh but it sounded more like a groan. “You’re making that a
little hard.”

Well, heck, if he was going to feed me a line like that-- I
raised a brow. “A little? I’d say it’s way more than that but let me check.”

I was about to slip under the covers when he stopped me with
a gentle touch. “Seriously,” he said, “we have to talk.”

I stilled. “What about?”

He took a breath, let it out slowly, and asked, “Well, for
starters, the repairs on my loft are completed. Will you move in there with me?”

So soon? We’d hardly been together any time at all and he
wanted us to live together? That was a huge step, one that I would have
expected to ponder carefully before committing myself.

But nothing with Lucas was remotely what I could have
anticipated. He filled my life with surprises, hope, and above all, joy. With
him, everything seemed possible.

Besides, the plain truth was that I couldn’t deny the man
anything.

Softly, I said, “Yes, I will.”

The look that spread across his face--surprise, delight, and
above all, tender passion--sent heat spiraling through me. In that instant, I
knew that I wanted to see that look for the rest of my life.

“I love you, Lucas,” I said. “And I always will.”

He blinked hard against the sudden sheen of tears in his
eyes. While I still marveled at how deeply this strong, powerful man felt for
me, he said, “I love you, Emma. More than I ever thought it was possible to
love anyone. You’ve transformed my life. I want to share yours forever.”

“Forever,” I echoed, feeling the resonance of how right that
was to the very core of my being.

Around us, shadows deepened in the apartment that still
guarded its secrets so well. I spared just a moment to think of all that remained
to be discovered there.

Then Lucas’ hands moved over me, drawing me closer. His
mouth took mine, his taste, his breath, filling me, and I thought only of him.

Return
to the Arcadia

Where
seduction rules

Coming
in 2016

POSSESS

Ruthless Wall Street financier, Chase Hollis isn’t happy when he’s
recruited to babysit Yuri Volkov’s newly discovered American daughter, Marisol Silva.
Especially not when the understudy-turned-star of the dance company that is
about to set Broadway on fire turns out to be the one woman who can get under
his skin and the only one he wants in his bed. Sparks fly as this strong-willed
pair struggle to reconcile conflicting desires while evading the traps being
laid for them by both Yuri and his enemies.

Meanwhile, stunned to be living in the Arcadia’s legendary tower
apartment, Marisol meets Emma and Caroline, and is drawn into the mystery of
the movie star and the senator. As Lucas and Emma plan their wedding, and
Caroline hunts a killer who has evaded detection for decades, Marisol and Chase
discover that opposites really do attract with the most deliciously erotic
results.

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