Eyes of Fire (10 page)

And maybe she'd taken so many knocks in life that she'd grown to expect a few now and then.

Still, Liam had a strange honesty about him, at least where she was concerned, and she felt that if nothing else, at least she was playing the game with a full deck of cards. In that particular sense, she was getting more from him than he was getting from her.

She shivered suddenly, fiercely. No one could ever know the whole truth. No one. Partly it just hurt too damned badly. She couldn't bear to have the scar ripped open.

Not for Liam. Not for anyone.

“Samantha knows something,” Liam insisted.

“She knows how to dive, and she knows the ship exists somewhere, and that's about it,” Jerry insisted.

“You're wrong. She lived with her father. She listened to him day in and day out. She knows something.”

“She doesn't even like to talk about the
Beldona.
” Jerry hesitated, then shook her head. “Don't you understand? She loved her father. He died because of that damn ship.”

“He disappeared.”

“He's dead.”

“How do you know?”

“I don't know, I—I just don't believe he would ever have left his daughter intentionally.”

Liam leaned over her. “You're alive,” he said softly.

She shook her head, moistening her lips. “Justin Carlyle has to be dead. And you can't blame Sam for not wanting to talk about the ship.”

“That's why she needs some gentle encouragement.”

“Well, I've been encouraging her just as gently as I can,” Jerry said. She rose, anxious to get away from him to recover her calm. She left him on the porch and walked on into the cottage. She headed straight for the bath, took off her makeup with petroleum jelly, then washed her face with cold cream. She'd performed the same acts religiously for years and believed with good reason that the very simplicity of her regime had kept her skin young and supple all these years.

She never told anyone quite how many.

She slipped into the slinky red nightgown hanging on the door hook. For a moment she studied her face in the mirror and wondered how she'd managed to make such a mess of things. Wondering wouldn't help. She'd already done it.

She left the bedroom. Liam was already in bed, in his boxers, staring up at the ceiling, his hands folded behind his head. He was in excellent shape—she had to hand him that.

She slid in beside him, her back to him.

“Tired?” he asked her.

“Mmm.”

“Lounging around can be exhausting.”

“The sun is hot. I spent the day at the pool.”

“You're going to have to dive. Soon,” he told her.

“All right, soon.”

“You don't understand the stakes,” he told her.

“No,” she said quietly, “
you
don't understand the stakes.”

She felt his hands on her shoulders, then his lips against her nape.

She didn't want him, but she didn't stop him. There had been too many men in her life. She stared at the wall in the darkness, felt his hands on her hips, heard his grunts. So much for romance. Liam had some mean appetites, and his idea of foreplay was a tap on a shoulder. Yet he was good to her, in his way….

Once upon a time there had been a good man in her life. One who cared, who laughed, who gave her flowers, who let her see the world through new eyes. But that had been long ago, when
things
had seemed important. Having things, going places, living the good life. She'd seen too late that one fresh flower could be worth a dozen diamonds, that one crooked smile could light up the world when the dazzle of gold failed.

She'd come so close to finding what was good again, only to have it grabbed from her hands. She'd come to know that love was precious, but life itself could be the grandest prize.

She felt silent tears forming in her eyes, sliding damply to her cheeks. Liam would never notice.

And even if he did, she wondered if he would care.

 

Jem had just settled down on the sofa when he heard a soft tapping at the door. For a moment he froze.

Already!
he thought.
Already, already, already. The danger was coming already.

Then he told himself it was unlikely that danger would knock on the door, and he rose, walking to the door, pausing just behind and to the side of it. He hesitated, but the caller on the other side apparently realized that he was standing there silently.

“Jem, it's Adam.”

Jem opened the door, letting Adam O'Connor in. He grinned, shaking his head as he studied his old friend. “I still can't get over the fact that you're here. Of course, I'm damned glad, even if I have no idea what the hell is going on.”

“Is she sleeping?” Adam asked, inclining his head toward the bedroom.

Jem shrugged. “I guess.”

Adam walked in. He'd changed into swim trunks, a short-sleeved shirt and deck shoes.

“You can take the sofa,” Jem offered, realizing that Adam had come to stay despite the fact that he had asked Jem to watch Sam. Jem wasn't insulted. Adam wasn't doubting his ability to keep Sam safe. In fact, Adam probably wasn't sure exactly why he was there himself.

Jem knew, but he sure wasn't going to try to tell Adam.

“No, no. I'll be fine on the chair.”

Jem tossed him a pillow. “You really think Sam's still in danger? I mean, this guy must know you're looking after her now.”

“Someone wants her, at almost any price. Someone who thinks she knows something.”

“About what?”

“The
Beldona.
”

“Damned old shipwreck! What could she know about it?”

“Where it is, for one thing.”

“There could be more?”

“I think there's got to be more,” Adam said.

Jem cocked his head, watching Adam. “You know, I'm damned glad to see you. I was sorry when you left. I thought you and Sam both lost something really good. But I'll tell you bluntly, I can't quite figure out how the hell you managed to come back at just the right time.”

“I didn't manage to come back at the right time,” Adam said flatly, lifting his hands, palms up, to Jem. “Sam's father disappeared, then that researcher out of Massachusetts she was involved with.”

“Hank,” Jem said softly. But he wasn't going to be sidetracked. He and Sam and Yancy had been friends for too long. They were family. “So how'd you happen to be back here tonight?”

“That I was here at exactly the right time—luck,” Adam said grimly. “That I'm on the island now…well, I'm after the
Beldona,
as well, I guess. I'm working privately. Following in the footsteps of other divers who've been after the ship. And there are several people on the island now who are also working for people interested in the
Beldona.
”

“First things first,” Jem said. “Who are you working for?”

Adam stared him in the eyes, but hesitated. “Jem, I'm not in a position to tell you that yet. If it becomes necessary, I will tell you. That's a promise.”

“All right, then what the hell is happening on the island?” Jem demanded.

Again Adam hesitated.

“Adam, you've gotta give me something,” Jem insisted.

Adam grinned suddenly. “Frankly, I don't quite know where the hell to start!”

“We've got a long night ahead of us,” Jem said, crossing his muscled ebony arms over his chest.

Adam smiled and took a seat in one of the big Victorian chairs. He folded his hands behind his head and settled back. “Yeah, I guess we do. Does she keep any brandy around?”

“I imagine,” Jem said.

“Well, go get it. I'll do my best to start at the beginning. And I'll tell you what I can.”

T
he promised rain started very early, at about five o'clock in the morning.

Adam awoke when the rain began.

He sat in the chair where he had slept, listening to it pound against the roof of Sam's cottage. Then he tried to move. He winced, feeling a dozen cricks in the back of his neck. He stretched, then rose, walking awkwardly around the room, glad that Jem wasn't awake yet. Chairs were just not the way to go.

He moved silently down the hallway, slipping into Sam's room.

She was sleeping. Soundly, or so it seemed.

She was curled on her side, hands folded prayer fashion before her, her profile against the pillow, her hair splayed out like wild tongues of fire upon it. She had fantastic hair. So deep a red. It matched her so completely.

The covers were mostly over her. Not completely. One long leg lay exposed all the way up to the thigh. So what? he taunted himself.

He'd rescued her stark naked. Held her naked in his arms.

It had been a mistake to come here, God knew. A mistake to come back. He'd left, Hank had come, and now…

No, it hadn't been a mistake. She might have been killed last night.

Or taken. But where?

He didn't know yet.

By whom?

He couldn't answer that one, either, even though he had a few suspicions.

For what reason?

Well, he had no guaranteed answer to that one, either, but he would damned well be willing to bet that someone wanted to find the
Beldona
badly enough to kill.

It seemed, however, that someone must have found it already. Someone who'd caused the disappearance of anyone else who came anywhere near it.

No, it hadn't been a mistake to come. He had to be here. And he had to find the answers.

It was, however, a mistake to stand here, watching her sleep. It caused knots inside of him. It caused…

He muttered an expletive beneath his breath and turned away, starting down the hallway. Jem woke when he returned to the living room, and started to rise from the sofa.

Adam brought a finger to his lips. “I'm out of here,” he murmured.

“It's pouring.”

“I know. I'll dry.”

Jem grinned.

“Stay with her?”

“You bet.”

“I'm going to wash up, then I'll be at the main house, studying in Justin's library.”

 

The rain came in buckets.

It was pleasant, Jim Santino thought. He'd slept deeply, in absolute comfort.

Of course, the fact that Sukee had arrived somewhere around two o'clock had added to that comfort. He hadn't been expecting her; she made no bones about the fact that she was a woman with her own mind, a woman of the world. She'd been with O'Connor when he'd last seen her.

But apparently, Jim thought with amusement, that hadn't quite worked out. O'Connor was interested in their hostess, it seemed. Not a bad idea. She'd intrigued Jim, the more so the more he saw of her. He grinned. Maybe it was just the challenge that made her so darned appealing. He was a good-looking guy himself, young, in good shape. And if that wasn't enough, he was as rich as Midas—as long as he remained red-blooded, heterosexual and loyal to his father, that was. Not a bad bargain. His father could buy him anything he wanted in life, and so far, Dad had bought him quite a bit. Things—and people.

It was amazing. Lots of people were for sale.

Like Sukee.

Not that she would ever admit it.

Sukee was something—just no challenge. She left nothing to the imagination. Nothing whatsoever.

But as the rain continued to pour down outside his cottage, Jim was glad of the musky warmth of her body next to his. She was insatiable. And she would do damn near anything.

Anything at all.

With that in mind, he turned toward her. She was slim and sensual, a small package, but a good one. He ran his finger down her back, rounded his hand over her tight buttocks. She moved nicely at his touch.

Sukee stretched and yawned, her back still to him. She turned then, her small hand reaching straight for his aroused sex organ in a no-nonsense fashion.

“Mmm. Not bad,” she murmured.

“I am accustomed to a bit more enthusiasm than that,” he told her.

She rolled on top of him, resting her hands on his chest and her chin on her hands as she stared into his eyes. “That's because you're a deviant and you're hearing whatever you've paid some poor whore to say.”

He laughed, unoffended. “And you're not a well-paid whore?”

She crawled against him, straddling his hips, rubbing her sex against his.

“I'm a whole lot more than that. A whole hell of a lot more.” She leaned against him. Licked his lips. Rose again, staring into his eyes. “And you know it.” She smiled, feeling the growth of his arousal. “Just think, we ought to be out on those Steps today, sniffing around every move made by everyone. Of course, I know where you'd like to be sniffing,” she murmured.

He laced his fingers behind his head, amused. “Cleaner scent than what I'm accustomed to,” he told her.

“Personally, I think you like dirt,” Sukee told him.

“Every boy likes to play in the dirt,” he told her. “But then, you know, come mealtime, he usually likes to clean up.”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Sukee told him. She leaned down again, pressing her lips to his, running her tongue over them. “And maybe that redheaded fantasy of yours is doing just what I'm doing, and more, with O'Connor.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“With all the same body parts.”

“More or less the same,” he said flatly. “I don't imagine hers have been quite so widely used.”

Sukee laughed; he thought, though, that he might have struck a nerve.

“That was nasty,” she told him.

“Sorry.”

“It's all right. I like nasty. I even like your red-haired fantasy. We could make it a threesome.”

He cocked his head. “Actually, I think you like my red-haired fantasy's gray-eyed macho man.”

“Okay, we can make it a foursome,” Sukee said.

“Over their dead bodies,” Jim said.

Sukee shrugged. “That can probably be arranged,” she said. She arched her back, stretching against him, using him like a post against which to sleekly rub her body. Just like a cat.

“You're all mouth, Sukee,” he told her.

“That can be arranged, too,” she whispered. She pouted suddenly. “Tomorrow, the Steps. Diving with all the little darlings, searching out their secrets. But today, stud, it's breakfast in bed.”

“Ooh. Feed me, baby.”

Sukee smiled. And obliged.

At noon the rain was still falling. And they were still lying in bed.

And no matter how damned good—or bad—Sukee was, he still found himself wondering if Samantha Carlyle and the newly arrived Adam O'Connor were shacked up out of the rain, as well.

There were things he needed to know about O'Connor.

Easy enough. He knew the right people to ask to find out just about anything. Anything at all.

Even if he'd finally found a fantasy he couldn't quite fulfill, Jim determined, it was good being who he was.

He'd almost had her, he told himself. Almost. And besides, like Sukee was so fond of saying…

Things could be arranged.

 

Sam had been sure that she was never going to sleep. And yet she did. Very deeply.

When she awoke, her room was filled with gray light. She lay in her bed, stretched and thought that the weathermen had been right on the money this time—it was definitely raining.

She rolled over, looked at her watch and saw that it was past noon. Startled, she crawled out of bed and quietly inched her way down the hall, curious to discover what was going on in her house.

Jem was in the living room, engrossed in a magazine. He looked up as she came down the hallway, and Sam was touched to realize that he was listening for every move that was made within the house. He meant to protect her.

“You must be bored silly, waiting around all day for me to wake up.”

“You did sleep in,” he commented dryly.

She grinned. “Sorry.” She wandered into the kitchen. It was noon, but it felt like morning. She needed coffee. High-test coffee. Sleeping late hadn't made her bound right out of bed. She felt as gray and misted-over as the day.

“You know,” she called to Jem, “it
is
noon. I'm probably quite safe now.” When the coffee was starting to brew, she came into the living room, walking over to where Jem sat on the sofa and looking down at him. “Jem, I'm sure it would be okay if you got on with your own life—”

She broke off, because he suddenly lifted a hand, pointing toward the door.

She stared. The knob was turning, being tested.

“Jem…”

He stood, lifted a finger to his lips and mouthed, “It's locked.” He motioned her to move out of the way. She did so, flattening herself against the wall as he strode to the door and flung it open.

He stood dead still. His shoulders slumped.

“Jem?” she whispered.

He shook his head. “No one there. I could have sworn I saw…” He shrugged again. “I'm going out.”

“In this rain?”

“It's a trickle now.”

“Jem, don't—”

But he was already gone.

 

Yancy sat in front of the fireplace in the bar. The fire was blazing beautifully. The rain hadn't actually made the day cold, but the fire took the dampness away.

Adam had lit it for her when he'd come in this morning. Despite the fact that the majority of the guests would sleep in and have something to eat in their own cottages, Yancy had been down early to set out the buffet. Breakfast in the main house happened even if the staff were the only people on the island.

Jacques had come down to cook, then retired. Adam had built the fire, gone for coffee and an egg sandwich and disappeared into Justin Carlyle's old office.

Lots of guests liked the office. Justin had collected all sorts of books about the ocean, books on shipwrecks, diving, wind patterns, geography, natural phenomena, the Devil's Triangle and more. He kept a beautiful antique globe in his office, and deep comfortable leather chairs. It was a natural enough place for guests to go.

The fire snapped and crackled. She suddenly had the strange feeling that someone was behind her. For a moment she froze, feeling as if the damp, gray mist of the stormy day held something mysterious. As if sodden ghosts could rise from the sea and swirl into the dampness of the day to face her there in the bar. She jumped up defensively, turning around.

She was alone.

Uneasy, she left the room. The registration area and parlor were joined to the dining area and bar by symmetrical doors. She passed through the dining area and down the opposite hall, toward the door to Justin's office.

Adam O'Connor was there, his handsome dark head bent over a journal. He heard her, though, and looked up. “Hi, Yancy.”

“Hi. Need anything?”

He shook his head. “I'm fine.” He leaned back. “Have you seen any other guests this morning?”

“Avery Smith had coffee, then left.”

“Bad weather for an elderly gentleman,” Adam commented.

Yancy shrugged, then heard Lillie calling her name from upstairs. Lillie had stayed over because of the dinner party. She'd been happy to play with the baby all morning, since she couldn't get into the cottages to clean with everyone sleeping in.

“Why don't you get some coffee and join me for a while?” Adam suggested.

“I…” Yancy hesitated. Not this morning. Lillie must be calling her because she needed a break from baby Brian.

And something more than he was telling them had brought Adam here, Yancy thought. She didn't understand it yet, but she was certain Adam was going to want an explanation for Brian as soon as he knew of the child's existence.

She bit her lip.

He would see Brian eventually. She would just put that moment off as long as she could. She wasn't emotionally prepared to explain Brian to him this morning.

“Maybe I'll join you soon,” she said. “I've got a few things to see to upstairs.”

“Okay.”

She turned to leave, then paused and told him honestly, “It's really good to see you again, Adam.”

He smiled. “Thanks, Yancy. Thanks a lot. It's good to see you, too.”

She nodded. There was more to say, but it wasn't time yet. She smiled, waved and left him to the journal.