Deadly Intentions, page 3
Lisa leaned against the hood of the car. She’d been waiting for two hours. Finally, the man she’d plowed over at the door limped down the steps to her. She’d already been questioned by the police, but the guy—he said his name was Brian Knight—told her he wanted to talk to her after the police left. The cab driver had left ages ago, and Lisa admired the play of muscles in Brian’s shoulders and arms. Jesus, he was definitely well-built. She wanted to reach out and touch. She tore her gaze away. He was trouble with a capital T.
Brian threw his bag into the backseat of her car as if he had a right to. “I need a ride,” he said before he shut the door and climbed into the front passenger seat. “The house is a crime scene. I can’t stay here tonight.”
“You’re taking an awful lot of liberties,” Lisa said, as she settled behind the wheel.
He leaned his head against the headrest. “I’m bushed.”
Lisa could see that. “What happened?”
“Afghanistan.”
“I’m sorry. About your friend, too.”
He nodded.
The least she could do was give a soldier a ride. “Where to?” she asked.
“The Ocean Wave Motel near—”
“I know where it is.” The rooms had always been cheap. It was where teens rented by the hour when they wanted to get in the sack with their boyfriends. Couldn’t do anything on the island without getting caught. A motel was the last place she needed to be with this man. At a stop light she studied him. His eyes were closed. His face was as strong as the rest of him. She wondered about his hands. What they could do to a woman’s body. He was a SEAL, after all. Strong . . .
He cleared his throat.
Caught ogling, Lisa tore her gaze away and blushed. She needed to get rid of him quickly. Ben didn’t even begin to turn her on—not like this.
Lisa was still shaken. “You need a bed before you keel right over. Got family in the area?”
“Just my grandfather.”
“He’s away. So who’s staying with you?”
“Harriet was going to stock the fridge with everything I needed,” he said quietly, looking out the side window.
“Who’s going to stay with you now?”
“No one.”
Lisa blew out a breath. “Typical man.”
“What happened when you arrived?” he asked.
“Weren’t you listening when I told the police?”
“Tell me again,” he insisted.
“Harriet didn’t answer the door when I rang the bell so I let myself in. She’d given me the key but forgot to give me the code to the security system. Since her car was there I called out when I went in. The alarm wasn’t on. The light was on in the kitchen, so I went looking for her there.” Lisa shuddered. “That’s when I found her. I don’t know why this stuff keeps happening to me.”
“What stuff?”
“Somebody tried to kill me last year. It’s a long story.”
“I’ve got time.”
Lisa shook her head. “It’s got nothing to do with this.”
“Tell me anyway,” Brian insisted again.
Lisa weighed whether she could trust him. “This bowl has been in my family for nearly four hundred years. It’s now missing. After befriending me, a couple of thieves held a friend of mine and me hostage in return for the bowl.”
Actually, there were two bowls, the original bowl her family owned and the one they purchased in the 1800s. Her family found the second one, but not the original. More info than Brian needed to know. The one they were able to find was now in a college museum. Thank goodness she and her friend escaped the thieves before the bowl was traded.
“So they traded you for the bowl?”
“The bowl is still missing. But we were able to get away. In the end, the thieves turned on each other. The one who befriended me wouldn’t let the other one kill me.”
“Seems to me, in the end he did the right thing.”
Lisa shrugged. “That’s one way of looking at it. But that’s old news.” Lisa wasn’t going to divulge that she suspected his grandfather now had the golden bowl. Wouldn’t his grandfather have told the family that he’d purchased a valuable antique? One thing for sure. She was sticking to Brian like glue.
“The experience must have been terrifying for you,” he said with more understanding than Lisa expected.
Lisa nodded. “The worst.”
She drove in front of the motel wondering why someone with his obvious means didn’t choose a more upscale place to stay. “How long are you going to stay here?”
“I’m not sure. Probably until the police allow me to move into my grandfather’s place.”
Lisa reached for the door handle. “I’ll get your bag for you.”
“Let me check in first.”
When he went inside, Lisa started to follow him, but her cell phone rang. It was Jackie. Her first impulse was to ignore it. But the news of the murder might have reached the island.
Lisa pressed the talk button.
“Hey, girl. I’ve been trying to reach you.”
“What’s up?” Lisa asked. “I don’t have time for the psychic today.”
“That’s the last thing on my mind. I just need to work a couple days next week.”
Lisa stifled a groan. “Everything’s covered right now.”
“You’ve got to have something,” Jackie said with a desperate voice. “Didn’t you say something about a new contract?”
“I’m working that house.”
“Lisa, I need to work a couple days. I’ve got bills to pay. Keep me in mind if anything comes up, okay?”
“Don’t worry.” Feeling guilty, Lisa hung up. There was a time Lisa wasn’t quite reliable either and was desperate for money, but when she did show up, she always did her job well. Her employers always got their money’s worth. The problem with Jackie was she rarely showed up for work and she did a piss-poor job when she did.
A month ago, Lisa had teamed her up with another of her employees. When Lisa had stopped by to check on things, Jackie had already left, leaving the other employee to do most of the work. The woman was running behind and had to make it to another house. Lisa had sent her to the next job while she finished up there.
Lisa’s solid reputation, based on her employees doing a good job, ensured she’d get return calls and referrals. She didn’t want anybody saying her company did shoddy work. She hoped Jackie wasn’t holding her breath.
Brian limped to the car and got in. “Drive around the building,” he said. “My room’s on the left side.”
Lisa drove there, parked in front of the appropriate unit, and took his bag inside.
“Can I get you anything before I go?” Lisa asked.
“I’ll rest for a few minutes, then I’m going to rent a car.” He eased himself onto the edge of one of the beds.
“You can’t drive in your condition. Why don’t you contact someone in your family?”
“My grandfather’s in Africa and my mother’s on her fifth honeymoon.”
“Where’s your father?” Lisa asked.
“Died a few years ago.”
“I’m sorry.” Sometimes she thought family was a curse, but when she considered the predicament Brian was in without one, that he was hurt and completely on his own without anyone to help him or care, having a huge family was a blessing. Even if they often got on her nerves. Half the island would have shown up if Lisa was in trouble. But there had to be somebody who cared about Brian.
“You got any brothers or sisters?”
“Half brothers and half sisters. From my mother’s second and third marriages. We aren’t close.”
“They’re still kinfolk. Where are they?”
“California, New York, Chicago.”
“Do they know you’re hurt?”
“A couple of them visited me in the hospital. They knew Harriet was going to help me.”
“If I had sent my family away, they would’ve stayed anyway. What kind of family are you from?”
“Every family isn’t like yours, Lisa.”
“Hmph.” Lisa realized she grew up in a closed community where everybody was in your business, and that every place wasn’t like that. New York certainly wasn’t.
“You said your grandfather is in Africa?”
“He’s on a humanitarian mission there. He won’t be back for another six months.”
“Does he even know you’re hurt?”
“I haven’t told him.”
“If I was hurt and didn’t tell my parents or grandparents, they’d be fighting mad. You should call your mother.”
He gave her an indulgent smile and disappeared into the bathroom.
Lisa pulled the covers back on the nearest bed and checked to make sure the sheets were fresh and clean before she set his bag on a luggage rack. She was surprised the place even had one.
“I only need to rest an hour,” he said when he came out of the bathroom. “Then I’ll be good as new.” He sprawled himself out on the bed with a weary groan.
In your dreams, Lisa thought.
He closed his eyes and fell asleep immediately.
Lisa was indecisive. For reasons Lisa didn’t understand, she didn’t want to leave him. He was a soldier, had fought for their country and came back wounded. It wasn’t right that he was all alone. That there wasn’t someone to help him. Get him a meal or pick up medicine for him. He was obviously in pain, although he didn’t complain. Didn’t even take anything to dull the pain. If Lisa was hurting, she’d be screaming from the rooftop.
The room was surprisingly clean. Outside was a patio with a couple chairs. Lisa went out on the tiny patio to make a few phone calls.
By the time she finished, nearly forty minutes had gone by. Three people had called wanting someone to clean their homes next week. She’d also called her workers about their schedules for the next day.
Harriet’s murder saddened Lisa, that someone would come into that house and murder that poor woman over some inanimate object. Maybe if the family were able to get the bowl and lend it out to museums, as they’d done with the other one, people would stop searching for it. These senseless deaths could stop once and for all.
She also wondered if the bowl was still in the house or if the murderer had gotten it. Would she have to search in an entirely new direction?
Lisa went back into the room to check on Brian. He was still sleeping soundly. His face was completely transformed when all the barriers were down. Softer somehow, as if he’d released some of the tension the world threw at him, including the venture that brought him back injured. Would he have nightmares? His stress level must be horrendous, she reflected, because when he was awake, his expression was intense.
Lisa studied him. He was handsome. Walnut brown, as if he spent a lot of time in the sun. She recalled his unreadable dark eyes. They were unnerving in a way. She liked to guess what people were thinking when they were talking to her. Someone had said the eyes were the windows to the soul. Did his absence of emotion mean he lacked a soul?
A faint scar on his chin drew her gaze. Lisa shivered. It didn’t detract from his fine features—strong features.
She almost lifted a hand, almost moved forward to trace the scar. Something about him pulled at the heartstrings. She stepped back. She could not deny that she was attracted. Wanted to reach out to him. She always reacted to the ones who needed her. This time she’d keep her distance. She was doing a good deed. Nothing more.
Was this the man the psychic had referred to? Not hardly. Maybe she could help Brian. In the absence of family he needed someone. He was going to be laid up for the next month healing from his injuries.
I see a man. A tall man. Very soon, he’ll play a significant role in your life. You can trust him. He’s different from the other men in your acquaintance. He’s never met anyone like you. Both of you will be moved by your experience together, Magdelena had said.
Lisa was a fool to even consider that crazy woman’s ramblings. Maybe she would help him, but he would never be the man in her life.
Lisa took Brian’s room key and went across the street for food. When she returned, he was coming out of the bathroom.
“Lunch,” she said, setting the bag on the table.
With a grateful look, he eased himself into the chair and dug in.
“Don’t you have to take some medicine?” she asked.
“Later.”
“But . . .”
“I need a clear head.”
“Listen, I don’t want you to get infected and end up in the hospital on my watch. Give me those meds. Let me see what you need to take.”
She read the humor in those expressionless eyes and realized they weren’t so mysterious after all.
“Are you one of those nagging women?” he asked.
“Probably.”
He nodded toward the luggage rack. “They’re in my bag.”
5
An hour away in Williamsburg, Nicholas Doyle felt his life was as perfect as it could get. He owned a beautiful spacious home. His brother Corey lived in a smaller house on the property. Nicholas had money to spare. And he had a suitable wife. Who could ask for more?
He glanced up from his papers to look outside and relish the few minutes he had to himself. His secretary was due any moment.
Huge multipaned windows took up most of one wall. He loved his home, but most of all he loved his office, which was on his enormous estate just a short stroll from the house.
Tall evergreens between the house and office afforded him some privacy. He gazed at them now, thinking to give the gardener instructions to add some colorful flowers for the summer. He saw movement, then cursed.
His wife, Deana, was headed to his sanctuary. He plastered a smile on his face and anticipated the insipid reason she would give him to breach his lair. No matter what, there were always small sacrifices, he thought.
“Good morning, dear,” he said, standing to greet her. She wore black slacks with a tasteful blue silk blouse. Her skin was soft and flawless.
“Oh, Nicholas. I wanted to check with you to make sure you’re available for the polo match Saturday afternoon.”
He clicked an icon on his computer screen and his calendar appeared. “It’s on my schedule.”
“Oh, good. As you’re the largest benefactor for the charity event, they want to make sure you make an appearance. Many people want to properly thank you, darling. Especially me.” She leaned up on tiptoe to kiss him. He wrapped his arms around her slim body and pulled her tightly against him, giving himself up to losing a few minutes to indulge her. “Thank you, darling,” she said after their lips parted.
“You’re welcome.” He tapped her on the end of her cute little button nose. “But you didn’t have to make the trip out here. You could have called my secretary. Lana has my schedule.”
Her eyes hardened as much as someone’s as sweet as hers could.
She was perfect for him, he thought. Smooth, aristocratic features. Belonged to the proper organizations. Their marriage made it easier for him to fit in with the elite, mostly old-money crowd. And she didn’t ask a lot of annoying questions. After all, she was glad to rope a man with money. Her parents’ old money had run out years ago. They’d been living on fumes before he came along. Of course he owned her parents’ house now. But he let them live there as if it were their own. He didn’t want it. Their estate was less than half the size of his.
As the old saying went, “new rich was better than no rich.”
“I missed you at breakfast,” Deana said. “You left early this morning. Do you think—” she started hopefully.
“I’ll see you at dinner,” he interrupted before she could ask to have lunch with him. “I’m expecting an important phone call.” He flashed her a smile as hers faltered. But he glanced pointedly at his watch.
“I’ll see you at dinner, then,” she said.
Unfortunately at that moment, his secretary entered. “Traffic was a bitch. Nicholas, I’m so sorry I’m late.... Oh, hello, Deana.”
His wife ignored her, the longing expression replaced with pique. She gave him a last baleful glance before she left.
Nicholas returned to his seat behind his desk. He regarded Lana’s tight short red skirt with matching jacket, and equally tight white blouse. She tugged off her jacket and dropped it on his desk. Rounding the other side, she sat on the edge, right in front of him.
In typical Lana style, she leaned forward to give him an up-close-and-personal view of her breasts—the ones he’d paid for. The deep V of her blouse left nothing to the imagination. He’d never marry a woman like her.
“I don’t know how you do it. She still doesn’t suspect us,” Lana said, and gave him a hot goodmorning kiss. When she came up for air her arms, still linked around his neck, slid down his arms, pausing to feel the muscles beneath. “You know I can dedicate every day and every night of my life to you.”
“You forgot one important detail,” Nicholas informed her pointedly.
“What’s that?”
“I’m married.”
She ran a delicate hand over his chest. Nick sucked in a breath. She was a passable enough secretary, but Nick kept her around because she gave him the delights his wife wouldn’t dream of performing.
She ran her tongue over her lips. “I bet if she found out about us, she’d leave in a heartbeat and you’d be free.”
“I bet I’d convince her to stay.”
“Little miss society lady would never stay if she knew we were making out like hot teens practically every day.”
“We’re much better than that, my dear. And you’re right. She’d never tolerate your working here under those conditions. And as much as I value your immense and varied talents, I’d have to let you go.” Heck, women like Lana were a dime a dozen. Did she really think he’d leave his wife for a bought-and-paid-for whore?
“Get my brother on the phone and then call my wife. Tell her I was able to rearrange my schedule. I’ll see her at noon for lunch.” He dismissed her and focused on his work. After a brief pause, her heels clicked across the room. He wasn’t about to let his secretary entertain the notion that he thought more of her than he did his wife—no matter how much she flaunted her assets or how great she was in and out of bed. Sometimes he had to put Lana in her place.
