Dark Water (13 page)

Still Sarah hesitated. “Tony, I haven't had time to tell you, but Aunt Lorett will be here sometime tomorrow.”

“Good. It's about time we met.”

Relieved that he'd taken the addition of another houseguest so well, Sarah began to relax. She looked back at Moira.

“I'd like to come, but only if you can handle another guest. There's no way I would go off and leave Aunt Lorett when she's just arrived.”

“Of course,” Moira said. “I'd be happy to have her. At my house, there's always room for one more at the table.”

“Then we'll say yes for now, and if she's delayed in some way, we'll call and let you know,” Tony said.

“Perfect,” Moira said.

She finished her coffee quickly and said her goodbyes, leaving Tony and Sarah alone.

“Are you upset with me for inviting my aunt without asking you first?”

“No. There's nothing you can do that will make me upset with you, unless it's putting yourself at risk.”

“I won't do that,” she promised.

“Good,” Tony said. “Because I need to know you're going to be in my life. Not just now, but after this is over, understand?”

Sarah nodded, but she didn't really understand and was too weary to ask. Was he talking about friendship, or something more?

“You know when you tried to get me to go to bed a while ago?” she asked.

“Yes?”

“I think I'm ready.”

He grinned. “Want me to tuck you in?”

“What I want and what's going to happen are two different things,” Sarah said. “So thank you again for saving my life and good night.”

“You're welcome, and good night to you, too,” Tony said.

It wasn't until she was gone that what she'd said hit him. She hadn't said she didn't want him, she'd just said she wasn't going to give in to her desires—yet. Happier than he'd been in days, he grinned and tossed another log on the fire, then picked up the book he'd been trying to read for two days. It was about the power of positive thinking, but he figured he hadn't read far enough. If his thoughts had any power, he would be making love to Sarah.

 

The killer paced angrily, cursing bad aim and fate. Were it not for a kiss, Sarah would be dead and this mess would be over. Now the police were all over the place, and it would be next to impossible to get close to her again.

Well, fine. It would happen when it would happen. Fate wouldn't take everything away now—not when so many sacrifices had been made and so much loss had been suffered, of that the killer was certain.

If one thing had become clear over the years, it was that there was always a tomorrow to make things right.

 

Sarah went to sleep quickly, but her sleep wasn't sound. She kept hearing the rifle shot and then herself screaming as she fell downward beneath Tony's body. But instead of moving past the horror, it kept playing over and over in her mind, like a bad movie stuck on rewind. Tossing and turning, she became wrapped up in her covers, which exacerbated the nightmare. Finally, as the gunshot sounded yet again within her mind, she screamed, only this time she screamed aloud. The sound startled her, and she awoke with a fright and sat straight up in bed. Seconds later, Tony was in her room, half-naked and wild-eyed, brandishing the switchblade that had shocked Sarah before. He had the appearance of an overgrown teenager, ready to rumble.

“I'm sorry! I'm sorry!” she cried, and was out of the bed and running to him before she thought. “It was a dream, only a dream.”

“God almighty!” Tony cried, and released the knife blade. It slid back into its sheath as he sagged against the doorjamb. “You scared the hell out of me.”

Sarah stifled a grin. His thick, dark hair was mussed, and if she wasn't mistaken, his sweats were on backward.

“I know, and I'm sorry, really I am.”

Tony looked at her and glared.

“Are you laughing?”

She bit the inside of her mouth and shook her head.

“You are, you little wretch,” he muttered. “I'd like to know what's so damned funny about all this.”

“Uh…well…your hair is sort of mussed, and you've got your pants on backward…and, I think, inside out.”

He looked down at the tag on the front of his sweats. Damn. She was right.

“It's your fault,” he muttered.

“I know,” Sarah said, and then fell over on the bed backward, laughing as she'd never laughed before. In those moments, all the heartache and pain of the past few days fell away. She rolled onto her side, still laughing aloud, and saw the look on his face, which sent her into another fit of hysteria. Grabbing a pillow, she clamped it over her head, trying to stifle the sounds of her mirth.

“Sarah…”

The warning in his voice came through the stuffing of the pillow but did nothing to dampen her laughter.

“That's enough, damn it.”

She bit her lip and peeked out from beneath the pillow, still chuckling. He looked like one of Aunt Lorett's roosters that had just had its tail feathers clipped. He didn't know whether to laugh along with her or make her sorry. Suddenly she knew that he'd opted for the latter.

“Think it's funny, do you?” he said, and stuck his thumbs in the waistband of his sweats and pushed downward. Not much, but just enough to taunt.

Sarah tossed the pillow aside and sat up in bed.

“Now, Tony, you can't blame me. It's not like—”

“Oh, I don't blame you at all, sweet thing. In fact, I want to thank you for calling this to my attention. Just give me a minute and I'll put them to rights.”

He pushed his thumbs a little farther down, grinning as her eyes widened and her mouth dropped.

“Are you going to do what I think you're going to do?” Sarah muttered.

“What do you think I'm going to do?” he asked.

“Take off your pants.”

“I was thinking along those lines,” he said. “Want to help?”

She sat there for a moment, thinking about how close she'd come to dying tonight and how much she wanted this to happen. She got out of bed.

“Silk.”

His heart skipped a beat. “Yeah?”

“Turn out the lights.”

The room went dark. For a couple of moments no one moved. Then Sarah heard the snap of elastic and knew that Tony had shed his sweats. Shivering in anticipation, she crawled backward onto the bed.

“So, show me how you came by the name Silk.”

“I thought you'd never ask.”

Sarah held her breath as she felt the mattress give beneath his weight. Then his hands were on her body, lifting her nightgown over her head, then pressing her against the mattress.

“Oh…I—”

“Don't talk,” he whispered. “Let me love you, Sarah. Just close your eyes and feel.”

Just feel? She could do that.

Anthony DeMarco had earned his nickname honestly. The skill and speed with which he brought Sarah to the verge of insanity were frightening. One moment she was savoring the touch of his mouth on her body, and then she felt the tip of his tongue between her breasts. That was her last cognizant thought.

The next minutes of Sarah's life were lived in what could only be called heat. Her body was a tool, a part of the whole that would create the perfect pleasure, and Silk DeMarco knew how to turn it on. He brought her to the point of climax and then let her down three separate times before he included himself into the act.

Every muscle in Sarah's body was trembling when he levered himself above her and then eased himself in. The sigh that came out of her mouth was somewhere between joy and a groan of disbelief that the pleasure was soon to be over.

The tight warmth of Sarah's body was almost more than Tony could bear. He gritted his teeth as he started to move. When Sarah wrapped her arms and her legs around him and pulled him closer, he knew he was lost. This woman wasn't someone he could take and then walk away from later. He increased the tempo, and Sarah took it all and wanted more.

Muscle pounded upon muscle, hammering one against the other in sweat-slicked ecstasy until the passion had wound so tightly between them that an explosion was imminent.

Suddenly Sarah stiffened and then started to moan. Tony felt her body tightening around him, pulling at his willpower until he started to break. Just as he was afraid he would not outlast her after all, she suddenly shattered, crying out his name as the climax racked her body.

At that point Tony buried his face against the curve of her neck and followed her down. It was, for him, both life-affirming and frightening. Making love to Sarah Whitman had proved one thing to him that he wasn't sure she could face.

He was falling in love, but he was pretty sure that, for her, it was just mind-blowing sex. He rolled over, taking her with him so that his weight was no longer on her body, then held her close. It was terrifying, knowing that, for the first time in his life, he was falling in love with a woman who might never love him back.

S
arah lay in Tony's arms, listening to the even breathing of his sleep and wondering where she went from here. Years ago, she'd promised herself never to be vulnerable to a man again, and yet, in the middle of a life-threatening experience, she'd done just that. What the hell was she thinking? Then she sighed. That was just the problem. It hadn't been thought that had gotten Silk DeMarco in bed with her, it had been reaction. Trouble was, she couldn't find it in herself to be sorry. The intensity of making love with him had been frightening, but she would do it again in a heartbeat, just to feel the tenderness and the power.

“Ah, Silk,” she said softly. “What have I done?”

He didn't hear her, and it was just as well, because there was nothing he could have said to change what had already happened.

Sometime close to daybreak, she slipped out of his arms and into the shower, letting the warm fingers of the water wash away any lingering regrets. She'd made love to Silk DeMarco. So be it. She might even do it again, but it still wouldn't change what she'd come to do.

 

When Tony woke up alone, he knew what Sarah had done. Last night had been magic, but in the light of day, she was already pulling back from the intimacy. Instead of letting it get him down, he shrugged off the disappointment. No way was this going to be the end of anything between them. If he had his way, it was only the beginning.

He got out of bed and went across the hall to his room, quickly showering and dressing with care. Today was going to be, as his daddy used to say, an ass-kicker. The private investigator would be arriving around two. The armed security guards and the bodyguards would be there late afternoon, and Sarah's aunt sometime after that. Also, there was the dinner party at Moira Blake's house tonight, and while there was a part of him that wanted to keep Sarah completely under wraps until this mess was cleaned up, he knew it would be good for her to get out and mingle with some nice, ordinary people, instead of looking for guilt in every face that she saw.

The doorbell was ringing as he came downstairs, but Sarah was already at the door before he could stop her. Luckily it was the deputy, returning the desk calendar and not some gunman waiting to finish off what he'd failed to accomplish last night.

“Miss Whitman, Sheriff Gallagher asked me to give this to you,” the deputy said.

Sarah smiled as the deputy tipped his hat.

“Thank you. Would you care for a cup of coffee?”

He hesitated, then nodded quickly. “That would be great, but I'll need to take it to go, if you don't mind. I've got a cup in the cruiser.”

“Sure,” Sarah said. “When you find it, I'll be in the kitchen. I'm sure you remember the way from last night.”

He headed for the car as Sarah closed the door on the chill. When she turned around, Tony was standing at the foot of the stairs.

“Let me answer the door from now on, okay?”

It hadn't occurred to her that something as simple as answering a door could be dangerous. Then she thought of last night and how close she'd come to dying.

“You're right. I just didn't think. The deputy is coming back. Will you bring him to the kitchen? I have some muffins I need to take out of the oven.”

Tony held out his arms. “Yes, I'll do that, but not before I get a morning hug.”

Sarah hesitated, then let him hold her, but she didn't return the embrace.

“You can play cold with me, woman,” he said softly. “But I know what lies beneath, so don't think I buy the act.”

“I'm not playing games. I just don't want the muffins to burn.”

“Say it for yourself, Sarah, but not for me. I don't believe you.” Before she could argue further, he turned her toward the kitchen and gave her a gentle push. “So, Betty Crocker, go tend your muffins, but I'll bet they won't be as tasty as you.”

She felt herself flush and made a dash for the kitchen, retrieving the muffins before they burned, all the while mumbling beneath her breath about smart-ass men who were too good-looking for their own welfare.

 

Tiny Bartlett waved one hand in the air to dry her nails as she dialed the phone with the other. Moira's dinner party was tonight, and she was looking forward to the event, especially after she'd learned that Moira had invited both Tony DeMarco and Sarah Whitman. The fact that Lorett Boudreaux was coming was just icing on the cake.

Annabeth Harold was at work when the phone rang on her desk. She hit Save on the keyboard of her computer and picked up the phone.

“Hello. Dewey, Dewey and Cline, how may I help you?”

“Annabeth, it's me, Tiny. Are you busy?”

Annabeth smiled. Tiny Bartlett had no concept of what it meant to work.

“I'm always busy when I'm at work, but I can talk a moment. What's up?”

“What are you wearing to Moira's dinner party tonight?”

Annabeth rolled her eyes, resisting the urge to snort. It was such an unladylike gesture, although it would pretty much express how she felt. Wear? Why did it matter what she wore?

“Oh, I don't know. Why?”

“Girl…you want to look your best. Silk DeMarco is going to be there.”

“Tiny, I try not to think about such things often, but I am, at the least, fifteen years older than he is, maybe more. It can't possibly matter what he thinks about me.”

Tiny gasped. “It always matters, Annabeth. Why don't you wear the burgandy pantsuit? You know, the one you wore last month when we went to dinner in Portland?”

Annabeth frowned, trying to remember if it was even clean.

“Maybe…if it's not at the cleaners.”

“Goody,” Tiny said. “So, have you talked to Marcia?”

“No, I was out last night,” she said.

“Out? Where did you go?”

Annabeth's frown deepened. “Nowhere special. I was just out running errands and the like.”

“Oh, well, I would have thought you'd done all that before dark.”

“I don't see how,” Annabeth said dryly. “I work until five, and at this time of year, it's already getting dark by the time I leave.” Then she chuckled. “I swear, Tiny, you have no idea how the real world operates, do you?”

Tiny's lower lip slid forward, but luckily Annabeth couldn't see. Tiny hated being reminded that she was privileged. She so desperately needed to be “one of the girls.”

“I'm sorry,” she said. “I didn't think. Of course, you're right. I'll be glad when spring comes, won't you?”

“Well, we have yet to have winter, but yes, I do prefer the warmer days. Now I need to get back to work, so I'll see you tonight, all right?”

Tiny beamed. “Yes. Tonight. We'll see you tonight.”

She hung up the phone and ran into the library, where her husband, Charles, was at the computer.

“Charlie, don't forget we're having dinner at Moira's tonight.”

“I won't,” he muttered, without looking up.

Tiny stared at him for a bit, trying to find the daredevil boy she'd married, but for the life of her, she couldn't see him a bit. Then Charles looked up and caught the wistful expression on Tiny's face, and he grinned.

At that point Tiny sighed. There he was, lurking behind all the responsibilities. She didn't want to think that she'd wasted her one act of defiance by marrying a man like her father.

“I'm going to get my hair done,” she said.

Charlie checked out her appearance. It was perfect, as always.

“You already look good,” he said.

Tiny beamed and threw her arms around Charles Bartlett's neck.

“I do love you, Charlie Bartlett.”

He pulled her down on his lap and kissed her thoroughly, just to remind himself that there was more to life than business.

Tiny was giggling as she left him to his work, unaware that Charles Bartlett's expression had turned into a frown. He didn't want to go to Moira Blake's, but turning her down was not an option. She and Tiny were best friends, so that was that. However, sitting down to dinner with Silk DeMarco was the last thing he wanted to do. They'd come from the same side of town, and while they'd both done well for themselves, Charles did not like to be reminded of his past. There were too many skeletons in that closet for him to ever want them disturbed.

 

It was two minutes past two when the doorbell rang again, and Tony was already moving toward it. He'd seen the old car coming up the driveway and recognized it from before.

“Maury, you made good time,” Tony said, as the tiny, stoop-shouldered man walked into the foyer.

“Drove all night,” Maury said, eyeing the house and the furnishings; then he looked at Tony and grinned. “Nice digs, Silk.”

At that point Sarah came into the room. Maury looked past Tony to the woman and added, “Nice view, too.”

“Ease up, Maury, she's not only off-limits, she's out of your league.”

Sarah resisted the urge to shudder. The man wasn't at all what she'd expected. His manner was almost disrespectful, and his appearance was absolutely disgusting.

Tony saw the look on Sarah's face and knew what she was thinking. Truthfully, he'd thought the same thing the first time they'd been introduced, but Maury Overstreet was a genius at what he did, and because of that trait alone, Tony used him and nobody else.

Maury grinned at Sarah, then shrugged. “Can't blame a man for trying, now can you, doll?”

Sarah's eyebrows arched halfway to her hairline.

“Doll? Doll?” She looked at Tony. “Where did you find him?
The Twilight Zone?
”

Maury slapped his leg and laughed out loud.

“Damn, Silk…I'm thinking this one might be more than you can handle.”

“You let me worry about that,” Tony said. “Just be nice, you hear? She's had a week of hell and doesn't deserve any more grief.”

Almost immediately, the too-familiar leer on the little man's face disappeared.

“I'm real sorry, lady,” he said. “Didn't mean no disrespect.”

“None taken,” Sarah said, and then looked to Tony. “There's fresh coffee. Do you want—”

“Thank you, Sarah, but you do not wait on me, understand?”

“I've got to do something or go nuts,” Sarah said. “Understand? So do you want coffee or not?”

Tony grinned. “Absolutely, and while you're at it, bring a couple of those apple cinnamon muffins you made this morning. Maury has a sweet tooth.”

Maury's beady eyes narrowed thoughtfully as he looked from Sarah to Tony. He started grinning at Tony as Sarah left the room.

“She's cooking for you an' everything, huh?”

Tony pointed a finger in Maury's face. “Don't start with me, Maury. Hang your coat on the hall tree and then follow me. I'll give you everything we know.”

Suddenly Maury was all business. He took off his coat and began fidgeting with the collar of his business suit, which was almost thirty years old and a midnight-blue polyester, as he followed Tony into the library.

By the time Sarah came in with a tray of coffee and muffins, the little man was in his shirtsleeves and taking notes as efficiently as the most proficient secretary.

“Have a seat,” Tony said, and then handed Sarah's cup of coffee to her. “Maury has some questions he needs to ask.”

Sarah nodded.

“I know you were a kid when this all went down,” Maury said. “Still, kids always know more than they think, okay?”

“Okay,” Sarah said.

“First…I need to know that you didn't bring none of this with you. You got any baggage back in New Orleans that you ain't mentioned?”

Sarah stared at the man as if he'd just lost his mind.

“Excuse me?”

Tony resisted the urge to laugh. “He's just covering all the bases, honey. What he means is, did you have trouble in New Orleans previous to coming here? Was someone hassling you there?”

“Absolutely not,” Sarah said, indignation rich in her voice. “I'm a responsible person, Mr. Overstreet. I own a successful business. I pay my taxes and go to church every Sunday.”

“Yeah…so did John Gotti…didn't mean he was no saint,” Maury said.

Sarah hid a smile. She was beginning to see what Tony saw in the fellow. He was as persistent as a bulldog, even if his delivery left something to be desired.

“Okay, point taken,” she said. “And I'm sorry. Ask anything. I will answer as truthfully and honestly as I know how.”

Maury took a bite of one of the muffins as he made a couple of notes, then looked up at Sarah, swallowed and groaned.

“Man alive, lady, you sure can cook. You say you run a restaurant?”