She smiled. “I can see him doing this.”
Jake nodded.
“I keep asking, but now most people avoid me. Dan Blair comes around—thinks he can buy me out on the cheap and I won’t notice or care. And Will across the street—I don’t suspect him. He’s good people. That’s one of the reasons I’m burying this in his backyard. He was messed up with drugs a while back, but since he got clean, he gardens when he’s feeling stress. If he needs to work off energy, he moves whole beds around in his yard. Damndest thing I ever saw. His yard’s a sight to behold.
“I’m going to plant this box under a rose bush, but no telling what you found when you dug it up. If for some reason Will finds it first, I trust him almost as much as I trust you and Jake Solomon. Almost.
“Ground’s sandy here, though, so the digging isn’t too hard. I’ll send you a letter with instructions as soon as I have coordinates. Oh, hell. I guess you got it, since you’re reading this.”
“Crap.”
Jake took her hand in both of his while she blinked away more tears. She wouldn’t cry again.
She cocked her head. “Do you think Randy’s killer became friendly enough with him here to realize how close he and Will were? If so, the location of Randy’s murder could have been chosen to cast suspicion on Will.”
Jake shrugged. “Or perhaps the killer didn’t like Will. Or planned to buy him out if he developed legal problems. Or the nearness could be coincidence.”
She sighed. “Too many questions.”
“The buckles came in the mail last week with no return address, postmarked from Denver. None of the Compass Points lived in Denver. I don’t know anyone there. I left a message for Solomon to call me, but I haven’t heard from him. That was last week, the day I received them.
“Why didn’t you talk to him?”
“I was unreachable. That’s all you need to know. It was business.”
“Bullshit. You knew if he left a message for you it was urgent.”
“Unreachable, Taylor. On a job in a country where I was not welcome and did not enter legally. And working in an area with no electricity or cell towers. Unreachable. Randy knew the situation. He left a message; I called as soon as I could.”
She had no argument to present to his words. It no longer mattered for Randy that no one was available for him when he needed them. Yet he seemed fine with fighting his battle alone. Anything she said would be futile, so she continued reading.
“The buckles must have come from the killer, and he must have the belts, too. Maybe the belts and buckles are why he’s killing us. That doesn’t make any sense to me, but I cut my belt apart and removed the stone in case he wants it intact. I put what was left in here.
“Lapis lazuli is a pretty stone, but it’s not pricey. I’ve looked for people wearing it, but I haven’t seen any. In the shop, three tables from the back on the left hand side, look under an old sail. You’ll find some blue and white mugs. A piece of my belt and the stone are in there. You can keep them close to you.”
“The watch.” Tears rolled out before she could stop them. Jake wiped them away as she blinked. “I’m okay now.”
“This morning I found the shirt hanging on the front doorknob. I don’t know if it’s a threat, a warning, or if somebody just forgot it. I do know I feel a need to get this in the ground without waiting any longer.”
“I wonder how the old fox was able to bury the box without his killer knowing?” Jake massaged his neck. “He may have suspected someone and kept tabs on him.”
“But not been sure enough to leave a name here. Or any hint that I see.” Taylor riffled back through the pages.
“Finish reading. Think about it overnight and let your subconscious work on it.”
“That’s about all, Taylor. If you’re reading this and the police haven’t discovered who killed me, you need to talk to Jake Solomon. If he’s alive. He’s the one person who understands what’s going on. He’s also the one person you can trust absolutely with anything on this earth. And he’s the person the killer will target next. Here’s his phone number and address.”
“That’s the main number at Compass Points. It’s on the card I gave you.” Jake stared straight ahead.
He seemed to be operating on autopilot, having as difficult time as she was dealing with Randy’s letter.
“Tell Jake I said to steer a straight course and keep his eyes on the horizon. And when he finds the motherfucker who killed me, not to bother with restraint.
“All my love always,
Uncle Randy”
Taylor held the last page to her chest. “My love back.”
A muscle in Jake’s jaw worked. “No restraint, buddy. None at all.”
Taylor stood up to return the pages to the envelope and put everything back into the ammo can. Jake stared at the door, looking at a past she couldn’t see. It was her turn to offer comfort. She turned to him, bringing his head to her shoulder. His arms went around her waist, and she rocked him with the barest of motion.
Peace filled her. Randy had trusted this man—as it turned out, with his life. They gambled, and Randy lost. But he hadn’t lost his trust. She ran her fingers through Jake’s hair. Her own was coarse and curly. His, silky and straight. She closed her eyes, enjoying the pleasure he brought.
Maybe she was attracted to him because he was safe—by twenty years or so. Not that age was an issue. The man was a hunk. And that was before she looked deeper. She liked the part of him that had nothing to do with how he looked.
Or maybe her attraction was because his voice reminded her of Mark. Jake’s was deeper but held the same accent. Beyond that, they weren’t too much alike. Mark had been impatient with himself and everyone else. Jake’s patience went on and on. Physically, they weren’t alike at all. Mark had been shorter, swarthy, muscled. Jake’s lean frame had plenty of muscles, but they weren’t as obvious as Mark’s had been.
She’d decided her attraction had nothing to do with either of those things. Quite simply, she liked Jake as a woman likes a man. She enjoyed him. She wanted to spend time with him. To be with him.
The scent of his shampoo filled her senses. Sandalwood. As she savored his scent, Jake shifted in the chair and pulled her to his lap.
His hands cupped her face. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known.”
“I—”
“No backtalk.” He bent his head and kissed her.
Heat exploded. No, nothing like Mark. All Jake. She kissed him back and reveled when his arms tightened. He tasted of the sea and of strength.
He shifted again, moving one hand to cup her breast. She tangled her hands in his hair to get closer, but he wasn’t close enough.
“Hang on.” She pushed off his lap and drew her Happy shirt over her head.
Jake pulled her down and unhooked her bra. His lips followed his fingers moving a strap down her arm and left a smoldering trail in their wake.
She shrugged her bra to the floor. Jake’s shirt followed.
Without his shirt to cover them, his muscles were distinct. The man worked out. A long scar ran from beneath the right side of his collarbone to the area underneath his right arm.
She traced it. “What happened?”
“I lived. Despite the machete.” He cupped her breasts. “I like these better.”
Every light in the room was on, but she didn’t care. A shiver ran up her spine.
“You’re cold.” He pulled the bedspread down. “Get in bed.”
Her shiver had nothing to do with being cold. After pulling off her shoes and socks, she slid in, not needing him to ask her twice.
He turned off the light by her head, the overhead light, and the one on the other nightstand before toeing off his shoes and joining her. The lights in the vanity area and bathroom still shone and created twilight on this side of the room.
Jake slid down and took her left breast in his mouth. His warm breath burned as much as his tongue on her nipple. Flames erupted where his f
ingers slid over her skin.
She hadn’t been with a man in a long time. And never on fire like this. Not even with Mark. Jake left her breast and returned his lips to her mouth. She ran her hands over his body. Hard, muscled flesh met her fingers. She reached for his belt, loosened it, and moved her hands to the button on his shorts.
His hand covered hers. “Not yet.” He kissed her again.
Her mind spun. In her experience, no man had ever said not yet.
He moved his hand, splaying it over her stomach. “You’re so tiny. I don’t want to hurt you.”
She almost didn’t believe what she heard. “You’re not going to hurt me. I want you.”
Jake’s gentle kiss rocked her world. He brought his head up and looked at her. “God help me, I want you, too.”
The primal growl of his words pulsed deep inside her. She pushed his shoulder, tilting him to his back, and straddled his stomach. When she bent to kiss him, her nipples brushed his chest.
His quick intake of breath matched her own as an electric charge passed through her. She worked her way down his belly guided by her tongue. His skin, hot and smooth, covered taut muscles. He was as well-toned as men half his age. Better than most. Her fingers slipped under his waistband, freed the button—she needed skin-to-skin contact, top to bottom—and reached for the zipper.
Jake grabbed her wrist. “Wait.”
Taylor traced the outline of his belly button with a fingernail.
He pulled out his wallet and produced a condom. “You want to do the honors?”
She opened the black foil and slipped the condom over Jake’s very erect penis.
Jake put the wrapper on the nightstand with his wallet before turning her on her back and pulling the covers over them. He took over with her where she left off with him, unbuttoning her jeans and working them down and off her legs. His shorts brushed her feet when he removed them. The jingle of keys or change created a muted melody.
His hands slid under her ass, kneading, as he kissed his way up. His breath came hot and heavy on her thighs and her back arched.
“Oh, God, Jake. If you don’t hurry up, I’m gonna die here.”
“Savor the moment.” His tongue moved to the top of her bikinis while his fingers stayed on her thighs.
She couldn’t stay still.
Her panties slid past her knees, slipping over one foot, then the other.
Like he did when he removed her jeans, he kissed his way back up, this time moving on top of her. She moaned at finally getting the full body contact she craved. Her arms circled his neck, bringing his lips to hers.
His deep kiss brought her to a peak, and she pressed against him. Impossibly, his kiss went deeper. The world around her ceased to exist. All she knew was Jake. He surrounded her. She spread her legs wider, and he pushed inside.
Exquisite. She moved. Slowly. Never wanting this pleasure to end. Then Jake moved. And their motions became one.
Holy. God. In. Heaven.
Her mind spun out of control. Flashes of color. Vivid red. Neon green. Sparkling blue. She wanted them all. A noise.
What was that sound? Thunder. No . . . her. Or Jake. Or both.
Without warning, her world exploded. And kept exploding. She held onto Jake, not wanting even a whisper of air to come between them.
His body grew rigid. She could barely breathe, but that was all right. Her fingers curved and her nails sunk into his flesh.
“Taylor…Taylor.” He drew out the last syllable as he came.
They clung to each other, two shipwrecked sailors hanging onto life on a sea of sweaty sheets. Their ragged breathing overpowered the constant swoosh of the air conditioner.
Jake gathered her to him and rolled to his side. She lay snuggled in the crook of his arm, protected. From here she could rule the world if need be. Her eyelashes fluttered against her cheeks.
And Mark Vitulli’s face flashed in her mind, his cocky grin and smiling eyes. He gave her a thumbs-up. Her eyes flew open.
Jake rubbed her shoulder. “What?”
In that way Jake and Mark were alike—neither would let her slide. She might as well get it over with. “I need to tell you something.”
“Shoot. As long as it’s not in the family of this-has-been-good-but.”
She snuggled closer. “Not in that family.”
Jake kissed her hair.
“One of my classmates at the Academy was Mark Vitulli. He majored in engineering. Very smart. Everyone liked him.”
“You included.”
“Myself included. Junior year, our friendship changed. We became more than friends. More than friends with benefits. We fell in love. Mark grew up in Brooklyn.”
Jake raised up on his elbow and searched her face. “That’s how you recognized my accent.”
“Funny how the ear remembers the little things. Anyway, I told you Mark was smart—number three in our class. I wasn’t in his league in the brains department.”
“I like your brain just fine.” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her palm.
She pushed it against his face. “Good. It’s the only one I have. Anyway, our class had one hundred sixty-eight cadets. My number was eighteen.”
“Not a slouch, but you missed the top ten percent.”
Since Jake understood the top ten part, the next part came easier. “Not long before graduation, Mark went windsurfing. A freak accident—a strong gust from an approaching storm—caught the sail and flipped him. The shallow water didn’t give him enough room to maneuver. The fall broke his neck. By the time those on shore reached him, he was dead.”
As she spoke, Jake’s face went from interest to . . . nothing. He might have been staring at a wall by the time she finished.
He leaned back just a little too much. “I’m sorry you lost him.”
“It was a hard time.” Her mind churned trying to comprehend what had caused Jake’s shift. “I’m not in love with him, or anything like that, but he’ll always be a part of me.”
“I understand.” But instead of looking at her, he focused on picking at the sheet he’d pulled up almost to his armpits.
Surely he wasn’t upset she’d once been in love with another man. Taylor lifted her head. When she finished what she had to say, she’d ask what had turned him off. “I wanted to tell you the story because I want you to know who I am. A couple of weeks later, the dean told me my official class ranking had moved up to number seventeen. I became one of the privileged few, but only because Mark died.”
“A series of trade-offs.” He glanced up and back down.
She had to get all of this out. “I busted my ass because I owed him. I still do. Mark lost everything. I could never forgive myself if I screwed up.”
“Everybody screws up at one time or another. Even Mark.” Jake turned to the side of the bed and reached to the foot for his clothes.
She touched his back. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing.” He pulled on his briefs and stood to put on his shorts. “Go on. Finish.”
She frowned at Jake’s dressing. “Mark died. As a result, I received prime duty assignments. I got my pick of graduate schools. High-profile cutters. Sure I screwed up early on. But I feel his weight on my shoulders every day. If I mess up, it means he died in vain and I’ve wasted the benefits I gained from his death. It means I’m not worthy of everything he lost. It means my actions dishonor the Coast Guard. And Mark. I couldn’t handle that.”
Jake sat on the edge of the bed. Another quarter inch, and his butt would’ve landed on the floor. Nothing, my ass.
His stiff back leaned forward while he put on his shoes. “Mark’s death had nothing to do with the Coast Guard, Taylor. He put himself at risk by not knowing the depth of the water, or respecting an approaching storm. He should have checked on both before he got on his board. He knew the dangers.”
“No.”
“If you hadn’t performed well, you wouldn’t be looking at captain. You’d be counting the days until yo
u could put in your retirement letter. So don’t give me any crap about it being about Mark Vitulli.”
His words stung. Taylor wasn’t sure what to say. She stared at her hands. When she looked up, Jake was buttoning his shirt. She couldn’t be angry at him. What he said was true, only she just now realized it.
“I never thought about it in that way. It did start out being about Mark. I kept telling myself it continued because of him. I tried to be perfect because then I didn’t have to think about anything but Coast Guard. I still screw up, but I try to fix it when I do. If Mark had lived, I wouldn’t be in the position I am. Nor would I be the same Taylor. Like you wouldn’t be the same Jake without your experiences.”
Jake stayed silent. A muscle in his jaw jumped around.
She pulled the sheet loose, wrapping it around her as she stood. Enough was enough. “What’s the matter? Why are you pulling away?”
Instead of sparkling green eyes, deep green sad ones looked back at her. “I’m not the man you think I am, Taylor.”
Her brows pulled together. “I don’t understand.”
“I know you don’t.”
“Are you going to tell me more?”
He marched to the bathroom. “I’m going to show you.”
He wasn’t gone for five seconds. When he came out, he carried a chair to the vanity, stood on it, and reached to the corner of the ceiling.
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
Anger rolled off him in waves as he passed her. His energy became a physical presence. He moved the table out from in front of the door and stood on the chair he’d sat in earlier. He removed two things from the damn smoke detector he’d stared at all night and came back to her.
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