by Lisa Jackson
He grinned. “People believe what they see. You’re safer if they think I’m your lover and I’m only interested in ravishing your body.”
She hoped he didn’t see her shiver at the thought.
“At least he has steak,” Landry said. “So where is your other island mate? Blossom?”
“She’s a teenage film and TV star,” Willa said.
“Really?” He sounded interested. “I hope she’s coming to the barbecue.”
“I’m sure you do.”
He shook his head. “I only have eyes for you, darlin’. Anyway, I’m more interested in who was shooting at you earlier than I am in a movie star.”
Right.
* * *
SHE WENT into the tiny kitchen and got everything she needed for the s’mores. She could hear Landry in the tub. She tried not to imagine him naked.
When she had everything together, she heard the water shut off. A few moments later he came out wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. She looked away. Just not quick enough. Something burned in his gaze. Desire?
She felt her cheeks flush at the heat of his gaze and turned away for fear he might see the same in her eyes. She caught her reflection again in the antique mirror hanging on the living room wall and saw that she looked…happy. Or at least excited. Both were dangerous.
Suddenly Landry appeared in the mirror as he stepped up behind her. He slipped his arm around her neck from behind. She froze. His hand hovered for a moment then touched the collar of her shirt as he moved closer until his body was warm against hers. She felt his breath on her neck, the soft touch of his lips making the tiny hairs lift and her skin ripple with gooseflesh.
She held her breath as he straightened her collar, his fingers brushing over the skin below her collarbone.
“There,” he said meeting her gaze in the mirror. “That looks better.”
He held her gaze for a moment longer then returned to the bedroom and without closing the door, dressed in shorts and a T-shirt and his deck shoes. “Ready?”
She felt bereft at the loss of his touch. She dropped her gaze, not wanting him to see what he was doing to her but afraid he knew only too well. Why hadn’t she fessed up to her lack of sexual experience? It was certainly nothing to be ashamed of. Was she afraid he would take advantage of it? Or because from the way he’d acted she feared he wouldn’t?
* * *
“SO YOU’RE BLOSSOM,” Landry said a few minutes later when they joined the other residents down by the pool where Odell had pulled up several tables and some chairs and had a grill going. Loud obnoxious music blared from Blossom’s room across the pool.
Blossom gave Landry a bored look from eyes rimmed in charcoal. She appeared drugged as she slouched in one of the lawn chairs and pouted behind a wall of kinky dyed-black hair. She wore the same black outfit she had on earlier. Willa wondered if everything the girl owned was black.
“Her agent forced her to come here for some down-time,” Henri said, and chuckled as she lifted her glass of wine in a toast. “There are worse places to be. I’ve just never found them.” She laughed and downed her wine.
Odell reached for the wine bottle and quickly refilled her glass, then turned to offer some to Willa and Landry.
“You wouldn’t have a beer, would you?” Landry asked.
“In the cooler,” Henri said. “I always like to be prepared. Bloody Marys in the morning.”
Landry popped the top on a beer and offered it to Willa. She shook her head and held up her drink of preference. “I brought bottled water, thanks.”
“Bottled water,” Landry said. “That’s my girl.”
She ignored him and took a sip of her water to cool herself down. What was Landry up to? She was having trouble believing this was about finding whoever had shot at her earlier today. She suspected there was a whole lot more to it.
“This is really nice of you,” Landry said as Odell cooked the steaks. “We hate to eat all your food.”
“I have the supply boat coming back tomorrow. This island might be isolated, but there isn’t any reason not to be civilized,” he said, and looked over at Willa.
Henri finished off the wine and went to get another bottle, weaving as she walked back to her apartment. Blossom continued to sulk in her lawn chair.
Willa tried to imagine which of the three could shoot at her, let alone put a huge rattlesnake in her bathtub.
“She’s getting over a broken heart,” Odell said, watching Henri stumble into her apartment.
“Willie tells me you’re writing a book,” Landry said, sipping at his beer and watching Odell cook the steaks.
“Did she?” Odell looked over at her. “I’m still at that stage where I’m not completely sure what I want to write about.”
“I thought you were doing it on this place,” Landry said. “Cape Diablo and the Villa Santiago. It’s definitely creepy enough. So what is your theory?”
“My theory?” Odell asked.
“On what happened to Andres and…” Landry looked to Willa.
“Medina,” she provided.
“Medina and the other two kids?”
Odell looked uncomfortable as he glanced at Willa. “I think they were murdered here, their bodies disposed of on the property.”
Willa shivered, remembering the night before when Odell had buried something on the property.
“Could this place be any creepier?” Henri asked, returning with another bottle of wine. She handed it to Landry, smiling suggestively as she said, “Be a love and open that for me, will ya?”
Landry returned Henri’s smile and took the corkscrew from her and slowly opened the bottle while Henri watched, as if in fascination. Willa found herself watching, as well. His movements were skilled, his hands large and nicely shaped, the backs tanned from the sun, his fingers working the cork slowly, gently, patiently from the bottle.
He would be that kind of lover, Willa thought, then looked away, shocked by the very idea.
“Odell tells us you’re here because of a broken heart?” Landry said to the redhead.
Henri nodded. “He turned out to be a real bastard.”
“All men are bastards,” Landry said. “It’s only the degree of bastard that separates us.” He shot a look at Willa. “Isn’t that right, darlin’?”
“Absolutely,” she said. “And if anyone knows, it’s you, sweetheart.”
He grinned meeting her gaze. “You can see why I love her.”
Henri laughed and took the glass of wine Landry gave her before stumbling into her lawn chair again. Blossom hadn’t moved but she did seem to be watching everything. Just as Willa had seen her apparently listening to everything the evening before.
The steaks ready, Odell handed everyone a plate. “It’s not fancy,” he said when he gave Willa hers. “Steak and salad. That’s as fancy as we get out here in the middle of nowhere. Kind of like out West. Montana, Wyoming, the Dakotas. Not that I’ve ever been there.” He smiled at her.
She took the plate, her fingers trembling. She hadn’t told him she was from South Dakota, had she? Or was he just making small talk?
She glanced at Landry.
If he’d heard, he gave no indication. He was busy cutting his steak. He took a bite. “Great steaks, Odell. You’ll have to give me your marinade recipe.”
Odell smiled and said, “Thanks,” but Willa could see that he didn’t like Landry. Not that she could blame him.
Henri didn’t eat much of her dinner but was all over the s’mores. She was letting Landry make her another one when Odell touched Willa’s shoulder and motioned her toward the open door of his apartment.
“Would you mind helping me a minute?” he asked quietly.
Landry and Henri didn’t seem to notice. Blossom was watching them with apparent disinterest.
“Sure,” Willa said, and stepped into his apartment.
He moved to the back where there was a small kitchenette. The moment she joined him, he turned to face her. �
��How long have you known him?”
Willa blinked, not sure at first who he was talking about.
“Tim,” Odell said. “How long have you known him?”
“Not that long,” she admitted. “Why?”
“I just have a bad feeling about him,” Odell said. “I know it sounds silly. But he feels…dangerous.”
She couldn’t have agreed more. “Dangerous?” she repeated, just for something to say.
Odell grasped her forearm. “Don’t trust him. I’m serious. I don’t think he’s right for you.” He took his hand back quickly as if he realized he was overstepping his bounds. “I’m sorry. It isn’t any of my business. You’re obviously attracted to him. Maybe I’m all wrong about him.”
“No,” she said, and quickly added, “I appreciate your concern. I’ll be careful.”
“You just don’t seem like the type of woman who would go for that kind of man. You know, the crude, aggressive type.” Was that how Odell saw Landry? “He isn’t the one who hurt you, is he?”
Had she told Odell the same story she’d told Gator? Or had Odell gotten his information from Gator? She really had to try to remember who she was telling what to. Keeping track of her lies was exhausting.
“No, Tim’s not the one who was abusive to me,” she said.
Odell nodded, but he didn’t look like he believed it.
Henri called that they’d better get back out to the fire or all of the s’mores would be gone. She sounded drunk.
Without another word Odell returned to poolside. Willa glanced around his kitchen, peeked into the bedroom, then wandered back out. Was Odell really who he said he was and was his concern real? Or was there a gun with a silencer hidden somewhere in his apartment, a gunny sack that once held a poisonous snake? She couldn’t help but wonder if what Odell really wanted was Landry out of her life. But why?
Back outside, Willa found herself watching Landry. It wasn’t until she saw him talking to Blossom that she realized what he was up to.
He’d said they had to find out who was trying to kill her. She just assumed he meant to stop them. But now she realized that if one of these people was willing to kill her before they got the disk then Landry was thinking they already had the painting and the disk and they were just tying up loose ends.
“You all right, darlin’?” Landry asked.
She swore some times it felt as if he could read her mind. He kissed her neck and whispered, “You aren’t jealous, are you? I saw the way you were looking at me. If looks could kill.”
She groaned. She hated being so transparent.
He chuckled. “Let’s go somewhere private,” he said just loud enough for everyone to hear.
Willa felt her face flame as he pulled her to her feet.
“Thanks for dinner,” Landry said with a grin. “I know you’ll understand if Willie and I call it a night.”
Henri raised her wineglass in a silent salute.
Odell said nothing, his gaze on Willa. He’d been watching her all evening. And she would wager he knew she was from South Dakota. She shivered as she climbed the stairs ahead of Landry and wasn’t even surprised when he cupped her buttock on the way up and swept her into his arms as they both stumbled into her apartment.
It was what he said once they were inside that surprised her.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“Henri is as sober as I am,” Landry said as he locked the door behind them. “And if she’s getting over a heartbreak I’ll eat your underwear.”
Willa ignored that. “You think Henri is the one who shot at me, the one who put the snake in my bathtub?” she asked incredulously.
Landry was checking the apartment. For killers? Or snakes? “She could be just setting up Odell,” he said as he checked the bathroom. “You know, pretending she’s really drunk so he’ll make his move.” Landry shrugged. “She’s wasting her time, though. Odell’s not interested in her.” His gaze settled on Willa’s face. “He wants you.”
“Not in the way you think,” she said. “He let it slip tonight that he knows I’m from South Dakota. I never told him that. He must have gotten it from the newspaper articles, which means he knows who I am.”
“That doesn’t make him the shooter,” Landry said. “Come on. You saw what he buried behind the villa. The guy’s afraid of his shadow. He is no snake handler. No, trust me, the guy’s got the hots for you.”
“Do you always have to be so crude?”
He smiled as if he thought it was part of his charm. “Now, Blossom is something else. She looks like she could wrestle a snake. You ever see her in anything on TV or the big screen?”
Willa shook her head. “She acts like she’s bored but I saw her watching everyone.”
Landry nodded, eyeing her with what could have been respect. “So you were paying attention.” He glanced at his watch. “We should try to get some sleep.”
She glanced toward the bed.
“I’ll take the couch,” he said, as if reading her mind again.
“Fine,” she said, heading for the bedroom.
“Leave the door open,” he ordered.
She turned to look at him.
“In case someone tries to get you in the middle of the night,” he said, and grinned. “I’ll wake you when it’s time to go.”
Like she could sleep knowing he was in the next room, she thought after brushing her teeth, washing her face and applying a light night cream—her usual routine which she was determined to keep no matter how many killers were after her.
She had thought about changing into her longest nightshirt in the bathroom but since she and Landry would be leaving sometime in the middle of the night, she dressed in her darkest-colored jeans and shirt to be ready. Safer that way for everyone.
The living room light was out when she came from the bathroom. She couldn’t see Landry on the couch but she knew he was there. Just as she knew his eyes were on her.
She slipped between the covers and turned out the light, pitching the apartment into darkness. He’d indicated that he didn’t make love to virgins, and he was convinced she was one. She should have felt safe. But she feared it wasn’t Landry Jones’s willpower she had to worry about.
When she closed her eyes, she saw him grinning down at her as his lips moved closer and closer until he was kissing her again.
* * *
LANDRY HEARD her moan in her sleep and tiptoed to the bedroom door. A shaft of moonlight cut through a crack in the curtains and fell over the rounded curves beneath the thin sheet.
Watching her sleep, he had a hard time getting enough breath. The woman had no idea just how irresistible she was. Or how much danger she was in. She was determined that she could take care of herself. He shook his head at that foolish notion.
So far he hadn’t seen T or Worm. He figured they could be underground until all this blew over since both had been made when they’d killed the two police officers at the safe house and let Willa St. Clair get away.
Suddenly he felt as if someone had knocked the air out of him. He stumbled from her bedroom doorway, the words echoing in his head.
Let her get away.
He swore. Of course that’s what Freddy D. had ordered T and Worm to do. Let her get away so she could lead them to the disk. Freddy D. was too smart to use muscle like T and Worm to go after Willa St. Clair. He’d put someone with more finesse on her if he really wanted to catch her.
Someone like Landry himself.
He stepped to the window. Odell’s light was on in his apartment. The poolside area where they’d had the barbecue was empty, bottles and glasses still on the tables, but no sign of Henri. Or Blossom.
Was it possible he was being played? His heart beat a little faster. Was it the only reason he was still alive? Still free?
He felt like a puppet. Someone was pulling his strings. He thought about Zeke trying to kill him at the gallery. It hadn’t made any sense. It still didn’t. Unless he and Zeke had both been set up that night. If Zeke thought Lan
dry was the dirty cop, thought he was lying about having the painting and the disk, thought maybe he’d turned and was either taking the disk to Freddy D. or selling it to Freddy D.’s enemies.
Closing the blind, Landry went back to the couch, his mind whirling. The disk would be worth a small fortune if sold to the right people. If Zeke thought that Landry really had turned….
Landry knew he’d rather believe that than believe his friend had been the dirty cop.
The front door and the windows were all locked. He was a light sleeper. He’d hear anyone who tried to enter the apartment. He told himself that Willa was safe.
Lying down on the couch, he closed his eyes, trying to slow down his thoughts. Simon had gotten the disk from a reliable source. It would have valuable information about Freddy D.’s organization. But it would also have a list of who worked for him—including any cops.
Landry had to find that disk. Not just to prove his own innocence but to prove Zeke’s. Zeke and Simon couldn’t have died for nothing. If there was a dirty cop in Freddy’s D.’s organization, it couldn’t have been Zeke.
Music started to play overhead. He could hear the soft scuff of feet. Someone was dancing. The old woman. Alma Garcia. She’d said something else that Landry hadn’t told Willa, something that had shaken him.
She’d asked him if he’d come back to kill her.
He must have slept some. The music was no longer playing. Nor could he hear anyone dancing. Getting up, he checked outside. It was still dark, the moon high.
No lights shone in Odell’s apartment. Opening the door, Landry glanced below the balcony. Nor were any lights burning in Henri’s or Blossom’s apartments.
Not that one or all them might not be wide-awake. Would Freddy D. trust just one person with going after Willa and the disk? Even if that one person was Landry Jones? Landry didn’t think so. If he were Freddy D., he would have sent a backup.
He stepped back into the apartment, quietly closing the door, and tiptoed into Willa’s room, aware that Henri’s and Blossom’s smaller apartments were just below and the floor creaked.
“Ready?” he whispered next to Willa’s ear. She smelled heavenly. His lips brushed her skin. Soft.
