The Ultimate Romantic Suspense Set (8 romantic suspense novels from 8 bestselling authors for 99c)

by Lee Taylor

  "I didn't think you'd get away," he says. "Who's staying with your mom?"

  "My father's there."

  His eyes widen. "You didn't want to stick around for the reunion?"

  I slide my hand into his warm one. "They still love each other. I'm sure it'll be fine. How about you? Your leg okay?"

  He swings me off my feet and twirls me around. "You're looking at the 2014 Grungy Caterpillar Electrodance champ. Is there anything my leg can't do?"

  "Uhhmmm . . . I'm glad you got it back. Where was it?"

  "Police impounded it. We had to adjust some of the padding, but I took off as soon as I could."

  "You're not exhausted? Jetlag?"

  "Not when I'm around you." He pumps a bicep. "Let's take a rowboat."

  He must not notice how stiff I am, or he's trying to be exuberant. I love him too much to hurt him. If I can convince him I'm not the one for him, maybe he'll get over me faster once the truth comes out. I blow into my hands while watching Zach unlock the gate of the boat club.

  After dragging out a small rowboat, he lowers the boat into the water and hoists me on board before stepping in. It's a tiny one with two oarlocks, perfect for working out his arms.

  I peer into the dark water. There's only a sliver of moon tonight, but the water seems calm. "Are you sure it's not dangerous?"

  He starts to row and progresses at a steady speed toward the center of the lake. "For a girl who spent the past few days on a deserted island, this is nothing. Besides, you're safe with me."

  I sit at the stern on a bench facing him. His muscles bulge powerfully under his long-sleeved t-shirt and, true to Zach form, he's wearing cargo shorts with the zip-off legs, his carbon fiber rod exposed. When he notices me staring, he pulls the pant legs from his pocket and reattaches them. "Don't want my legs to freeze."

  He's wearing his signature grin and tosses his head every so often when the breeze blows his hair in his face. The ultimate beach-blond fun guy except he's sitting here with me, the woman who killed his mother.

  The boat slows at the center of the lake as Zach draws the oars out of the water. We drift under the faint moonlight.

  "Come here, sweetie." He holds out his arms. Too eagerly, I cuddle into his chest, stealing one last moment with him. It's still warm from all his rowing. We kiss slowly as the boat rocks gently. A tear trails down my cheek at the thought we could be separated by tomorrow. I hold onto him tighter, wishing time would stop.

  I sigh deeply. It's time to talk. "When we first met, did you know who my father was?"

  He brushes my cheek with his thumb. "No. How about you? When did you find out about my mother?"

  "After I met your dad and he told me to stay away from you."

  Zach's muscles tense. "Why didn't you tell me?"

  "I was afraid. Then I thought you didn't know." I scoot from his embrace and look over the edge into the dark water. "How come you told me your mother died of a heart condition?"

  "I wanted to see how long it would take for you to trust me enough to tell me." He braces himself with his elbows on his knees. "After you showed me the spot where your father jumped, I went on the internet and did some searching. Since you tried to mislead me, I decided to use the story my dad and aunt told me growing up."

  He sounds angry. I meet his gaze and he doesn't blink. What if he knows I'm the killer? Is he waiting for me to spill? A million apologies would not be enough.

  Zach presses my arm. "Hey you, don't get all quiet on me. You asked me earlier if I could forgive the killer."

  I swallow hard and nod. This is it. Could he possibly forgive me? Love me enough?

  "God says to forgive, but it isn't easy. My mother didn't deserve to die so young. I'll be honest with you; I'm not sure I can."

  His words dump a bucket of ice water over my head, and I can't stop my lips from quivering. "I understand."

  "It'll be okay. Whether it's your father or uncle, it's not your fault. We'll have closure soon, and then our entire future is in front of us." He replaces the oars in the water and rows slowly.

  He doesn't think it's me. My relief is mixed with dread as sweat curls on my upper lip. Zach might have a future, but it's not going to be with me. Even if I get off because of my age, I'll carry the guilt forever. He's had so much tragedy in his life, he doesn't need me around to ruin what's left. I love him so much, I have to let him go, to find happiness somewhere else.

  A tornado of pain tears inside me, raging through my wounded soul. I twist the ring he gave me, knowing the time has come.

  "Is Krista still waiting for you?"

  He stares at me, his eyebrows creased. "Where's this coming from? Are you jealous?"

  "She still loves you. I can tell." A jagged pain tears my gut as the claws of regret disembowel me. I can barely breathe with the weight on my heart. "She wears your ring."

  Zach slaps the oars on the water. "My father bought the ring and I didn't ask for it back when I broke the engagement. What's this really about?"

  "Doesn't matter. You guys have a nice future together." I remove the ring and hold it with my thumb and forefinger.

  Zach raises the oars and pulls them in. "Is it Cliff? He texted me, asking me to congratulate him. I thought it was another one of his sick jokes but looking at you now, I'm not so sure."

  His words suck the air from my lungs, burning my throat. I clutch my neck and shake my head.

  "No, Zach. You don't know me at all. I gave you my heart. I've never given it to anyone else. But--" I catch myself as ice threads through my veins. Has Cliff sent him the pictures?

  It's now or never. He doubts my love, and he won't forgive me once he finds out I'm the killer. With every bone in my body crumbling in despair, I press the ring into his hand. "You deserve a better woman, one you can trust."

  His face contorts, and he holds the ring in front of my face. "This was my mother's ring."

  Tears stream down my cheeks and my entire body shakes. "I'm not the right woman for you."

  He stares at the ring for a moment and stuffs it into his pocket. "This is how you want it to end?"

  "Yes, I'm sorry." I settle back onto the bench near his feet, a hollow feeling where my heart used to be. Mama always said a quick cut is better than a long bleeding wound.

  His face stern, he lowers the oars into the water. "Don't expect me to give you another chance."

  The oars slash through the water, and he's grunting and pushing off, his thighs tense, as if he can't get me to shore fast enough. We bump into the boat ramp, and Zach straddles the side of the boat, holding it steady.

  "Go, Vera. Get out."

  I dash up the ramp and don't look back.

  ***

  My mother's house is across the parkway from the lake. The streetlights are far apart, but I don't care. If someone kills me, they'd be doing me a favor, putting me out of my misery. When I reach my block, my legs give out, bringing me to my knees as the finality of the breakup hits me.

  My phone sounds with a received text message. I stop at the corner and unfreeze the screen. It reads, "Good decision."

  I don't recognize the number. Who could be taunting me?

  Quickly glancing around, I break into a run and am breathless by the time I sprint up my driveway. My father's rental car is still there. I unlock the front door and slam it shut once I'm inside the house. Emily is standing at the entranceway, her eyes wide open.

  "Tia," she says. "I heard footsteps and I'm scared."

  I drop to my knees and hug her. "That was me. I was running up the driveway. You're supposed to be asleep."

  "I heard voices in Lola's room."

  "Lola has a friend with her, someone to make sure her heart stays good." Taking her hand, I lead her to the kitchen. "Want some buko pandan?"

  "Yeah!" she squeals and sits at the table.

  I spoon up the leftover dessert and warm a glass of milk for her. What the heck? My heart is destroyed, and I might as well give myself a big portion, too.

 
; The kitchen door swings open and my parents step in. My mother is bright-eyed and rosy-cheeked. Joy lights her face. She looks radiant, considering she just recovered from a heart attack. My father has his arm around her and kisses her lightly before pulling out a chair for her.

  "Vera, Emily," my mother says as she sits, "I have my life back. I'm so happy. Emily, this is your grandpa. Call him Lolo."

  "Wow!" Emily jumps from her chair, almost knocking the plate off the table. "Did you make Lola's heart better? Will it ever break again?"

  They're all smiling and hugging. I draw back to the refrigerator and put out portions for my parents, too. No one wants to see my sour face or wonder why my life is shattered. If only I could have a heart attack and die instantly.

  After kissing Emily and my parents, I retire to my room and drop to my knees, clutching my chest. Sweat beads my forehead and I can't catch my breath. What am I going to do tomorrow? How can I live without Zach?

  My cell phone chimes with an incoming text. "It's Zach. Are you home safe?"

  Warmth fills me. He cares. I fumble to text back. "Yes, thanks for checking. I wish things could be different. I'm sorry."

  I wait, my heart pounding. Instead, a message rolls in from the number I don't recognize. "It's the hunting knife, stupid."

  The blood drains from my head. Is he saying the murder weapon is Dex's knife? The one he stole from my father?

  Another message arrives. "You say blue eyes, I say brown. I know who did it. Meet me if you want to know for sure."

  The creeps crawl over my scalp like freaky spider feet. Someone saw the murder and wants to meet me.

  Outside, I hear my parents send Emily back to bed. An eerie feeling prickles the hairs on my arms. I peek through the shades. Who left my window open? I shut it and pull a sweater over my blouse, but the shivers attack and I can't get warm.

  Is this blackmail? But then, the blackmailer has to let me know what he or she knows. I'm not rich enough to pay. Could it still be my father? Maybe Louie's protecting him. Maybe I saw more than I knew.

  The box of files from Dr. Apodaca's office is in my closet. I spread my childish drawings on the bed, looking for clues. The drawings are dated and slipped into plastic sheet protectors with the doctor's notes from each session. My hands jittering, I pull out a picture of a pair of blue eyes under a dark line. It's a crayon drawing but the eyes jolt me as if they could kill. My breath coming in jagged pants, I turn it over and pull out the doctor's notes.

  Subject is obsessed with scary blue eyes. She says the eyes talk. "I'm watching you. I'll always watch you." Subject may have seen Lillian Spencer dead with her eyes wide open.

  I read the text message again. "You say blue eyes, I say brown."

  I push aside the picture and look for brown eyes. None. The last drawing shows a man with bulging blue eyes scowling under dark eyebrows joined in the middle. He's wearing some sort of cape.

  Another note reads: Subject says, "Don't play with knives, or your mommy will get hurt."

  My phone jingles. I startle and knock the box off the bed. Papers and files scatter.

  A text message arrives. "Bring the box of drawings to the Golden Gate Bridge."

  Who is watching me? Again, the eerie feeling creeps up my spine. I check the corners of the ceiling. No cameras. The top of my dresser is full of makeup and perfume bottles. I swipe everything off. Nothing. My mother left my cheerleading pompons and pennant on the wall. I rip them off. My chest is heaving, and I'm tearing posters off the wall and emptying books from my bookshelf. My nursing school textbooks slide to the floor, and then I spot it.

  A blue teddy bear. Bing-Bing!

  His stuffing is exposed, with flecks of dried blood, and a camera lens is fixed in the center of his belly. I tear out the video camera and pull the plug.

  Seconds later, I hear my mother's door open.

  "Vera, are you okay?" my father says from the hallway.

  "Uh . . . yes. I fell off the bed."

  "Get some sleep, and we'll talk tomorrow. Your mother and I have something important to tell you."

  "Yes, Papa." I block the door with my back and switch off the light. "I'm sorry I woke you."

  "It's okay, your mother is asleep. If you don't mind, I'll stay a bit longer to make sure she's okay."

  "Stay all night and every night. Don't ever leave her again." I beg as I slide to the floor.

  "I'll never leave," he replies. "We've lost so much time together. I want each moment to count."

  "I love you, Papa. Goodnight." It's hard to sound normal, but it works because I hear his footsteps shuffle back to my mother's room and the door shutting with a click. I wonder if they talked about what he saw--me holding the knife and Tito Louie running to get help. Or was he running because . . .?

  Tito Louie has brown eyes.

  The phone jangles again. With trembling fingers, I unlock the screen and read, "Bring the bear. No police, or I won't tell you what I saw."

  Someone did see. And he or she is nearby. Who could it be? Didn't Zach say his father was still in the area? Who else is old enough to have witnessed the murder?

  A wild thought slams me. What if it's Tito Louie and he's going to jump after confessing?

  I have to stop him. I love him. I can't let him go like Papa did.

  The digital voice recorder I use for nursing certification classes is in the storage box under my bed. I slide it out and find fresh batteries in my nightstand. After stuffing the drawings and files into the box, I pull on my shoes and a jacket, and crack open the door. Everything is quiet, and the lights are off in my mother's room.

  I text. "Okay, no police. I'll meet you at the Golden Gate Bridge."

  Chapter 31

  My Toyota's parked in the street, so I don't have to open the garage door and disturb everyone. I put my bear in the box of papers and step into the hallway. Should I ask Papa to come with me?

  I should have spoken to him when he was awake. But Mama was so happy and they were all lovey-dovey. They could even be sleeping together.

  I can't bother them. Mama would ask too many questions and not let us go, so I sneak out of the house and get in my car. It starts after a few cranks, and I enter Golden Gate Bridge into the GPS unit.

  My heart is thudding faster than a rice cooker on steam, wondering who I'm about to meet: Tito Louie, Zach's father, Aunt Addy, or someone else who worked at the winery.

  Taking a heavy breath, I stare at my phone. Zach's picture grins at me when I select his name. Whatever I discover on that bridge, I want him to know, to hear from me first. I call him, but when his phone starts ringing, I chicken out. What if he won't pick up or worse, hang up on me?

  Dropping the phone, I turn on the voice recorder and clip it inside the center of my bra. I have enough memory for hundreds of hours.

  "Zach, I need to tell you the truth." I take several breaths, feeling like I'm about to walk off a cliff. "I might have killed your mother."

  I put the transmission on drive and pull from the curb.

  "I'm going to the Golden Gate Bridge to meet someone who saw what happened. My memories are returning. There was a knife, one with a white and brown streaked handle. It looks a lot like the knife Dex stole from my father. I was holding the knife and it was bloody. I remember my uncle yelling for me to drop it. I don't remember anything else until my father took me to the bridge. He kept telling me it wasn't real, that she wasn't dead, that it was a dream, and that I couldn't tell anyone."

  I check the rear view mirror to see if I'm being followed. The flow of traffic is sparse on the freeway. I'm not sure if I'm imagining it or not, but a set of headlights weaves in and out, always behind me. I speed up.

  Wiping the tears from my face, I speak into the recorder, "I'm not going to make any excuses for myself. Something must have happened. Maybe I snapped, or it was an accident. But now you know why I had to break up with you. I want you to have a happy life, deal with the grief and move on."

  I gag on my words, un
able to speak, so I drive, staring straight in front of me, miles and miles, until my sobs subside.

  All lanes lead toward the toll booths, and its hard to concentrate on the merges. I can't tell if the same set of headlights is still trailing me or not. My chest aches, but I have to continue talking.

  "I respect you and don't want to ever lie to you again. So I have to tell you even if it hurts. Cliff has a picture of me with him in the shower." A horn blares and I swerve, the tires clattering on the dots between the lanes. I slow at the tollgate and wait for my electronic toll unit to click. I have to concentrate with all the lane changes and people cutting me off.

  "I was showering and he walked in. I didn't invite him, but I didn't fight him off. I was wrong to let him touch me, but it didn't go any further. I didn't have sex with him, and I don't want him. Maybe you don't believe me, but I wish I'd never slept around, that I'd saved myself for you. But it's too late now."

  I'm driving like a robot. The GPS unit specifies the lane changes and I follow automatically. My tires drone over metallic grates, and traffic slows over the rumble strips. Fortunately, no one is trailing me since I'm driving so erratically they'd rear end me if they tried.

  Picturing Zach listening to my recording makes my throat swell with such longing I almost choke. I have to leave him a positive parting note.

  "Zach, I want you to have a wonderful life. You deserve it. I'll always remember those few days we spent on the island as the best I ever had. You were so good to me, a dream come true. I love you so much. I'll always love you and I'll remember you fondly, treasure every moment we had."

  My chest aches and my heart splinters into a thousand pieces. I turn on the windshield wipers before realizing it's tears blurring my vision.

  Traffic is light through the Mission District at this time of night. I get off at the last stop before the bridge and turn into the small parking lot near the plaza. It is empty of the usual tour buses and taxicabs.