Stone suspected Mavis would love an opportunity to pin Baldwyn’s hat to the wall, as she had the last Neanderthal, who had antagonized her. One flick of the wrist was all it had taken. He prayed Mavis never got angry with him.
Mavis tested the letter opener’s balance. “Whatever he’s selling, he is the most obnoxious man I’ve ever met.”
“Perhaps he’s an insurance agent.”
She snorted. “Baldwyn made that Franklin fellow seem pleasant.” Stone winced at the memory of the pompous politician who had had the temerity to solicit a donation after admitting to a pedophile relationship. The wanna-be-major had been lucky to get out of the office with his jewels intact.
“If he’s that obnoxious, I’m surprised I don’t have to help you bury the body.” They both laughed. “Seriously, I hope you told him to peddle his wares elsewhere.” Stone crumbled the paper and tossed it into the wastebasket.
A smug look of satisfaction softened her expression. “I most certainly did.”
“Good.”
Mavis selected a pile of papers. “The letters you need to sign are on top. The rest are contracts that should to be looked over.”
He nodded as he took the stack into the adjoining office he and Link shared, though they rarely were in Valdez at the same time. Stone placed the stack on his half of the L-shaped desk, then opened the Venetian blinds, which had come with the building, then he settled into his worn burgundy leather chair, opened the top drawer of his desk and put on his gold-rimmed reading glasses. Eventually, the dull legal language of the documents consumed his attention and all thoughts of Ariel Danner dispersed. Periodically, the phone rang and Mavis ran interference. Occasionally, he heard the fax run and someone enter the outer office, but, as always, Mavis kept all the distractions at bay and allowed him to focus on the paperwork.
As he signed the last contract, his stomach rumbled. He thumped the stack into a tidy pile, and then glanced at his wristwatch. It confirmed that he’d missed both lunch and dinner. He got up and stretched, then took the finished work into the outer office. Mavis was already gone. Whistling tunelessly, he placed the pile on the center of her immaculate desk.
His stomach growled. Fish and chips would be good. He’d pick some up on the way to Dolly. With that in mind, Stone locked up and went out into the humid evening. Lord, but the sea smelled good. One of these years, perhaps he and Link would divide their business interests so that he could focus on the Valdez assets and let Link take care of their Fairbanks property. Then, he could live near the ocean.
He started his Jeep and headed down Hazlet Avenue. Horns honked. He glanced in his rearview mirror and saw a dark mid-sized car execute a U-turn. Dumb tourists didn’t think they needed to obey common sense traffic laws.
After eating, he stopped for groceries. By the time he turned off South Harbor Drive, the sun was dipping below the horizon, the gulls were roosting for the night, and squadrons of mosquitoes buzzed out in search of unsuspecting prey.
Stone hefted the full bag of food and locked his Cherokee. As he got out, a black Taurus cruised slowly past. He turned his attention to the marina and his first glimpse of Dolly. As always, her beauty struck him to the core of his being. Ariel affected him in much the same way. No, he must focus on Dolly. He squinted at her. Even though she was fifty-two, she was perfect in every way. It looked like she’d gained some water weight over the last week though. He frowned. He’d have to check that out.
He started toward her. This weekend, he’d give her a good oiling and polish her brass. If he got time, he’d take her out, but first he needed to pump her bilges. She needed to do what she’d been built for – cruising. Her twin V-8’s needed to be run so they wouldn’t rust and he needed to taste the salt and the freedom of the sea.
Stone began whistling row-row-row your boat and his stride lengthened. When he was beside Dolly, he grasped her brass railing and vaulted onto her weathered teak sun deck. As always, a sense of well being surged through him the moment his sneakers touched her.
With a sigh, he unlocked Dolly’s hatch, stowed the groceries and then popped open a can of hard lemonade. The citrus flavor was perfect after a hard day of reading. He stretched his back until his vertebrae popped, and then took a second swallow.
Umm, it tasted just like Ariel.
Stone stiffened.
Why couldn’t he get Ariel Danner off his mind? Memories of Marishka had never invaded Dolly’s hallowed galley. Why did his infatuation follow him to his sanctuary?
Love.
Damn.
Stone poured the rest of the drink down the drain, then stomped off to check Dolly’s bilges.
Chapter 19
Ariel locked the front door then double-checked the latches on the windows. Entering the living room, she stepped over Tempest, who was sprawled on the carpet reading a magazine. Mozart rolled one eye toward her before he resumed preening his feathers.
The scene seemed peaceful and normal, yet it was an illusion. For the past five years nothing had ever truly been serene, though many days had held the appearance of tranquility. It seemed like by the time she felt comfortable with an alias and new life, circumstances forced them to run.
Ariel drew the thick curtains to block out the seemingly perpetual sunshine, then leaned her forehead against the room-darkening brocade and thought about might-have-beens. If only the authorities had proved Peter was a murderer. Ariel closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, she knew in her heart that he had assassinated her father because he wanted her mother. She wondered when she’d ever accept the fact that justice had a price and that Peter Baldwyn had enough money to bribe the Pope, or at least enough to get away with executing her mother after she realized what a monster her second husband was and asked for a divorce.
She and Tempest should have run for their lives and never agreed to testify… if they’d disappeared when Peter was playing the grieving husband, he would never have known what they’d seen and they might have been able to live their lives in peace instead of on the run.
But they’d wanted justice and had believed truth and justice would win. How naïve they’d been.
She perched on the chair and looked around the room. Despite the cheap thrift shop look, it felt like home. That was something she hadn’t experienced since her father had died. Perhaps it was time to hang up the calla lily painting.
Or not.
They couldn’t stay in a place with so few escape routes.
Ariel shook her head. Actually, it was good they had to leave. Stone O’Banyon made her feel things in ways she’d never felt before, but there was no future there. Stone loved Dolly. She was an idiot to dream of a man who was involved with someone else. The bitter taste reminded her that if she tried to break Stone’s bond with Dolly, she would be no better than Peter. The man had never led her to believe that his intentions were anything but neighborly. The only time he’d acted differently was the one kiss, which had been filled with burning ardor… the one he’d given her shortly after he’d returned from Valdez and Dolly. If nothing else illustrated his passion for his girlfriend, that kiss had.
Ariel traced her lips with the tip of her tongue.
“Sherry, you don’t look so good. Are you still hurting from the rifle range?”
She gently touched her bruised shoulder and gave a slight nod. “What are you reading?”
“A quiz on how you know if your guy is the right one. I think Link is my right guy.”
Ariel wanted to laugh at her innocent sincerity, but knew that at that age, she’d had an immense crush on the hunk who lived down the street and if anyone had told her he’d never be interested in a chubby, brainy girl, she wouldn’t have believed them any more than her sister would believe that a grown man would be interested in a kid. At least a grown man wouldn’t be, unless he was a pervert and since the trip to the refuge, she was certain neither Stone or Link were pedophiles. “Want to study Spanish?”
Tempest wrinkled her nose, but dutifully put aside her
magazine. “Do you think we’ll be able to get rid of our accents with enough practice?”
“I hope so. You'd think we'd sound Southern or something, but when I listen to the tapes I make of my pronunciation, I think I sound French.” She shrugged. "It must be because of all the summers we spent there."
“Or maybe just because we speak French and it's sorta close to Spanish." Tempest brightened and added, "What if we got a fake Pyrenees address on our passports? That’d explain why we speak Spanish with a French accent.” She frowned. “Wouldn’t it?”
Ariel smiled. “That could actually work.”
Tempest’s head bobbed up and down so fast that a pink lock bounced in her eyes. “Don’t forget that I’ve got dual citizenship. Instead of continuing to follow Mama’s nationality, maybe we should try using that.”
“We’ll think about it.”
Tempest studied her. “Even if we did, it’d still mean another move.” Her nose wrinkled. “Link really is the right guy for me, but he’s old. What’ll happen if he dies of old age or marries some other chick because he gets tired of waiting for me to come back?”
Ariel blinked. “What makes you think there’s only one Mr. Right for you?” Tempest held up her magazine. “Maybe they’re wrong.”
“Can’t you admit that you don’t want to move, either?”
When had she ever said she wanted to leave? “It doesn’t matter what I want or don’t want, I think we’ll have to.”
“You sure?”
Ariel nodded.
Tempest studied her for several moments. “That’s what you tell yourself and me, but is it really true or are you just afraid to feel comfortable?” She leaned closer. “I think you know that Stone is the guy for you and you’re scared ‘cause he’s big and dark, like Father. I think we’re safe here and that you’re just running because you’re used to it and you’re afraid Uncle Stone will turn out like Father. Well, he’s nothing like him and never will be.”
Whoa! “What do you want us to do? Stay here? Wait until Peter tracks us down? Then what? Do you expect me to negotiate a truce with him?”
“Shoot him.”
Ariel shook her head. “Deadly confrontation is against my principles.”
“You’re just chicken.” She was a healer, not a murderer, something as different from Peter as night and day. Tempest kicked the carpet. “I'd hoped you’d fall in love with Uncle Stone, so we could live here happily ever after.”
“Life isn’t a fairytale. Furthermore, if I cared about Stone, it would make leaving harder, because we’d need to leave him behind.” Though she refused to admit it to anyone else, it was going to hurt to leave him behind worse than the cousins she’d already had to separate from. “Loving someone makes more problems than it solves.”
“Like Mama and your dad and how he never showed her how to pay bills and stuff?”
“That’s one example.” Though hardly the one she would have chosen.
“How come Mama never figured out about Father?”
Ariel shrugged. “Peter is a good con-man. He seduced her when she was vulnerable. If I'd fallen for a felon, married him and had a child with him, I think I'd have a hard time believing what he was really like, too.”
Tempest pushed her pink mop out of her eyes. “Can anyone ever really, truly know someone else?”
“I wish I knew.”
Tempest appeared deep in thought. “Do you think Benji is okay?”
Ariel licked her lips and wished Tempest hadn’t brought up their stepbrother. “I hope so. I wish he’d come with us, but-“ She shrugged. “He’s as stubborn as Peter.” And had refused to believe them, when they’d told him what they’d seen. Benji had been angry at them for testifying against his father. Possibly even angrier, than Peter, if that was possible.
“He always thought Father was perfect. I bet’cha he turns out just like him.”
“I hope you’re wrong.”
“Benji always acts unsympathetic. Is that cause of Father or because he's a boy?"
Who knew? “Years ago, I thought I was immortal.” Ariel sighed. “Things change when you grow up and realize you aren’t the center of the universe and people aren’t perfect.”
“So you don’t think I’m weird.” Ariel smiled and shook her head. Tempest stared at her. “Father really screwed a lot of kids out of a really good pediatrician when he forced you to hide.”
Ariel tousled Tempest’s wild pink and black spikes. Loving people hurt, particularly when it was necessary to do something for their own safety, which they didn’t want – like sending Mozart to Elizabeth or turning one’s back on their feelings for someone like Stone, who obviously loved his longtime girlfriend.
What would her life have been like if Peter had not obsessed over her mother? Ariel shivered. She would not consider the possibility of a future with Stone O’Banyon. Doing so would only lead to temptation and she would be no better than Peter Baldwyn.
Chapter 20
Stone sat back on his heels and stretched the kinks out of his aching back. The sun blazing down on Dolly’s newly oiled deck made the shine look a mile deep. Satisfaction simmered warm and satisfying.
“Hello Dolly O,” said an accented tenor with a demanding tone.
Stone looked over the gunwale. A stranger’s dark gaze appraised him. Unlike the Marina’s regulars or the clients, who tracked him down here, this stranger was immaculately dressed in a black three-piece-suit and wingtips. His scarlet power-tie sparkled against his immaculate white shirt. There wasn’t even a glossy black hair out of place.
He could only imagine what his own hair was doing. He glanced at his ratty T-shirt that had been white a zillion washings ago to his scruffy jeans and bare feet, the traditional outfit he wore when in residence. Stone wiped his palms on his Levi’s. “Are you lost?”
White teeth flashed across the tanned face, and mirrored sunglasses reflected back Stone’s laid-back image. “I pass by and see you take break." Stone eyed the stranger with a wariness, which he had previously felt as a child confronting a coiled rattlesnake. The dapper man studied him with the avid interest of a predator surveying his prey. Who was the guy? Satan come to bargain for his soul? “I see boat last week and admire.”
Stone’s nerves went on full alert. “Thanks.” The guy gazed at him as if memorizing his face. “The Dolly O isn’t for sale.” And neither was he. The man chuckled, but it sounded so false that Stone stood up straighter. Despite the fact that he felt he'd met the man before, he sensed this stranger could have the best deal in the world for him, but if it meant having to work with the man, he doubted any amount of money would make a contract worthwhile.
With fluid movements, the stranger leaped aboard Dolly and advanced across the newly oiled deck.
Stone held up his hand. “Stop right there.” The man smiled at him as if he’d said ‘welcome aboard’ Stone gritted his teeth and pointed to the deck. “You’re ruining the finish.”
The congenial smile didn’t falter as he thrust out his hand. “Peter Baldwin.”
The name sounded familiar, but he still couldn’t place him with any of their clients. Worse, up close, Stone was certain he'd seen the man before. But until he could verify when and where, he wasn’t going to be any more civil than necessary, so he put his hands in the back pockets of his Levi’s. “You’re ruining your shoes and my deck. Please disembark.”
The man didn’t spare a glance at his footwear. Instead, he put his hand inside his perfectly tailored jacket and removed something. “I look runaways.” He thrust a photo toward him. “You see?”
If looking at the stupid paper would get rid of the obnoxious man, he’d look at it. Still seething over the footprints in his perfect finish, Stone pretended to seriously study the photo of a skinny girl, who was giving the camera a big gape-toothed, squint-eyed smile. The kid’s pale blond hair was pulled back into pigtails, which were dominated by huge blue bows. He handed the photo back. “I don’t see many kids in my business. Not too
many around this part of the Marina, either. Sorry. Now, how about getting-”
The man thrust a different 5 x7 at him. This portrait had been done in a studio and the kid was at least ten years older. Her hair lay in soft curls around her plump shoulders. Her eyes were blue as Marishka’s and there was something oddly familiar about her smile. Was his conniving ex up to another scam? “Still haven’t seen her.” He thrust the portrait at Baldwyn
A perfectly manicured hand pushed the photo back at him. “Not one. Two. Miss for five year. You look again.” He pointed to the portrait. “That Sherrill. She child doctor.” He held up the original photo. “This Sabrina, my daughter.” The Arabic accent was as phony as the story.
“Your kid’s doctor kidnapped her?” Against his better judgment, Stone found himself getting interested in the man’s situation.
“They runaway.”
Stone nodded. “Why?”
“I need to find.”
Suddenly he recalled how disgusted Mavis had been with the man who’d been pestering her. “You came by Linkstone earlier this week.” Finally being able to recall where he’d heard the name seemed to disconcert the man. “Look, I don’t know why you’re trying to make me feel sorry for you, but all you’ve managed to do is piss me off by coming abroad uninvited and ruining my deck.” Stone glared at his reflection in Baldwyn’s sunglasses. He wanted to toss the man into the harbor and be done with it, but to do so would necessitate touching the man. “Disembark now and either send me a proposal for whatever business deal you’re really after or if you’re selling something, talk to my office manager.”
“No business. No leave.”
Stone’s hands clenched at his sides.
“You at Deadhorse with woman and girl-child.”
“So?” Stone went on red alert. Overhead, a gull cried. He shrugged and smiled. “I was with my partner, Link, too.”
“Maybe same.” Baldwyn fluttered the photos.
“I doubt it.” Dolly rocked back and forth, as if contemplating throwing their unwanted guest overboard. Baldwyn sidestepped to keep his balance and grabbed for a line. He dropped a photo.
Fatal Attractions Page 19
