Undeniable Proof

by B. J Daniels

  "My thoughts exactly."

  He shook his head and settled his gaze on her. "Look, if all I wanted was the disk, wouldn't I just kill you and go through your stuff? Apparently that's what the person who was shooting at you had planned." He raised a brow in question.

  "And they would have been very disappointed," she said. "I don't have any of my paintings with me."

  That got his attention. "Where are they?"

  She just looked at him and said nothing.

  His jaw muscle jumped, his eyes darkened.

  Clearly they had reached a stalemate. It was her turn to smile. "Who doesn't trust whom?"

  "You're starting to burn," he said, and cocked his head toward the sun beating down on them. "We need to get you back to the villa." But he didn't move. "Don't you want to hear my plan?"

  From his pleased expression? No. "What?" Her voice cracked. She had a bad feeling she knew exactly what he was about to suggest.

  "The way I see it, someone on this island knows who you are. They could be searching your apartment right now. Or maybe planning to wait until tonight to break in, kill you and search it."

  "That's crazy," she said, but rubbed her wrist, remembering last night by the pool and the gunshots only minutes before.

  "Is it crazy? If those bullets would have found their mark earlier, you'd be shark bait." He must have seen her surprise. "You think your body would ever be found?" He chuckled. "As far as everyone is concerned, you've disappeared. So the simplest thing is for your body to end up as fish food. No one would ever have to know what happened to you." He sounded as if he'd given this some thought. "You're in over your head, sweetheart. You've got one chance and that's me." He grinned wickedly at her.

  She didn't like his smugness. Nor was she sure Landry Jones's help was what she needed at all. She dug her heels in, even though the water was now washing around her thighs. "It sounds to me like you need mine since I'm the only one who knows where the painting is."

  "So we work together."

  There was no doubt in her mind that once he had the disk he would be long gone. "What's in it for me?" she asked.

  He blinked in surprise. "Excuse me? When I have the disk, I clear my name and put some major scumbags in prison. You, sweetheart, get to keep breathing."

  "I told you not to call me sweetheart." She felt his gaze go to the front of her wet T-shirt. More specifically to her breasts poking against the thin fabric of her bra and the wet fabric.

  She crossed her arms over her chest and he had the good grace to look sheepish as he raised his eyes to her face again.

  "I'm sorry. What did you say?" he asked, eyes hooded.

  She glared at him, knowing darn well he'd heard her.

  "So where are your paintings?" he asked.

  She gave him a like-I'm-just-going-to-tell-you look.

  "Fine. Want to take your chances without me, sweetheart? Up to you. I'll track down your paintings without you since I'm betting you'll be swimming with the sharks by midnight."

  "Stop calling me sweetheart and I'll consider your offer."

  He raised a brow. "My offer?"

  It was simple enough. Even if he was lying, he would keep her alive until they found the disk. If he was telling the truth, once she knew which painting Simon Renton had hid the disk in all she had to do was find it first and get it to the police…

  His gaze lazily caressed her face, a grin tugging at his lips. He had a pretty great mouth on him, too, she noticed. "First, let's discuss my cover. I'm your boyfriend."

  "No way."

  He didn't seem to hear her. "I got a ride out to the island to meet you here." He reached into the boat and brought out a duffel bag reminding her of Blossom's duffel. "We're lovers just having a nice vacation."

  His grin made her stomach flip-flop. "I told you the painting isn't on the island."

  "I'd like to make sure myself. I'm from Missouri, you know, the Show Me State?"

  So that's why they were going back to the villa. "Whatever. Don't believe me. What about the person who wants me dead?"

  "I'll take care of that, as well."

  She eyed him. "Like you did Zeke?" She saw at once that she'd hit a sore spot.

  "Zeke was my friend. I don't know what the hell happened, what made him do what he did." Landry's eyes darkened. "But do me a favor, don't bring him up unless you want to make me mad, okay, sweet—" He caught himself. "Okay?"

  She nodded.

  They stood glaring at each other for a long moment, the water rising around them. Then he said, "Can we go meet your island mates now, darlin' ?" Before she could protest, he added, "I can't call you Willa. I have to call you something and we are lovers." That wicked grin again.

  She wanted to wipe it off his face. But instead, she stalked past him. He grabbed her arm and spun her around to face him.

  "You should let me go first. Just in case we run into one of your neighbors, the one with the gun," he said with a lift of his brow. "If that's all right with you, darlin'."

  Chapter Nine

  Willa groaned as she stared at his arrogant backside. She was sure she heard him chuckle and hated him all the more as she followed him through the trees and underbrush.

  It was cool in the trees. She felt flushed. From the sun. From being around this impossible man. But if this stupid disk would get her life back, she would find it. What choice did she have but let Landry Jones accompany her? He knew which painting the disk was hidden in. She didn't. At least not yet.

  The quiet in the trees unnerved her. Was the person who'd shot at her waiting nearby, planning to finish the job this time? More to the point, would Landry Jones save her again?

  "Are you really?" she asked as she quickened her step so she was right behind his broad back.

  "Am I really what?"

  "From Missouri?"

  He glanced over his shoulder at her. "Yeah." A bird squawked off to their right, making them both jump. "Gotta ask you, why'd you pick this island of all the damned islands? Ten Thousand Islands and you pick this one."

  "What's wrong with it?"

  "Are you serious? Can't you feel it? The place gives me the creeps. What horrible thing hasn't happened here? Only you would pick a haunted damned island to hide out on."

  "You don't really believe the island is haunted," she said, scoffing at such foolishness.

  He glanced around uneasily. "Bad things have happened here, darlin'. Maybe you can't sense it, but I can. And you know what they say about places like this…"

  "No," she said, telling herself he was just trying to scare her. "What do they say?"

  "Bad things will happen again. Evil attracts evil. It's a known fact."

  He wasn't serious. The next thing she knew he'd be out burying a jar behind the villa. "You're a strange guy, Landry."

  He turned to look at her and grinned. "You don't know the half of it."

  And that's what worried her.

  Landry slowed at they reached the rear of the villa. He could hear voices and music playing. His stomach growled as he caught the scent of barbecue.

  "Looks like we made it back just in time," he said over his shoulder.

  Odell looked up in surprise as Landry came through the archway into the courtyard. Odell and Henri were sitting together in a pair of old metal lawn chairs outside his apartment. There was a bottle of wine on a small table between them, two mismatched plastic glasses and a deck of cards.

  "Nice pool," Landry whispered to Willa.

  Her gaze went to the dark water, then Odell. He had turned and was watching them with interest. Too much interest.

  Clearly the two of them had interrupted something because Henri looked surprised to see them and maybe a little suspicious. Landry had seen the redhead and the devil child arrive this morning by boat. Thanks to Willa, he now had their names. If only he could have easily found out what they were doing on the island.

  But he was more interested in Odell. Everything about the man worried him. Especially Odell's
obvious interest in Willa.

  "I made it," Landry said cheerfully, and put his arm around Willa, pulling her close. She nudged him.

  "Look who surprised me," she said, as if trying to match his cheerfulness. She looked scared and wary as well, of her villa mates.

  "You go swimming?" Odell asked, lifting a brow as he took in their wet clothing.

  Landry grinned and pulled Willa closer. "I was so glad to see her I didn't even give her a chance to take off her clothes." He chuckled and let his gaze move appreciatively over her. That at least he didn't have to pretend. She had a great body and wet clothing left nothing to the imagination. "We really should get out of these clothes, darlin'."

  Henri laughed. "My kind of man."

  Odell turned his attention back to the redhead.

  As Landry led Willa past the two, he saw that they had been playing poker. Strip poker from the little they were both wearing—and the pile of clothing beside the table.

  Odell was down to his shorts. Henri was wearing a string bikini.

  As Willa and Landry passed them, Landry took a good look at the full swell of Henri's breasts in the tiny bikini top.

  Willa elbowed him even harder this time and smiled as he rewarded her with a satisfyingly painful grunt. She slipped out from under his arm and ran up the stairs ahead of him. At the top, she turned to look back and caught him admiring her butt. She glared at him.

  He shook his head and laughed as he charged up the stairs and pinned her against the wall, leaning down to kiss her neck and whisper, "You can't have it both ways, darlin'."

  "Well, we know what those two are going to be doing the rest of the day," Henri said, loud enough for them to hear.

  "You should change and join us," Odell said. "Don't worry, I have enough steaks for everyone."

  Landry didn't like what he heard in the man's invitation. Odell sounded upset. Because he was jealous? Or because the last thing Odell wanted was anyone in Willa's room tonight?

  Willa was trying desperately to ignore Landry. It was more than difficult given that he was nibbling on her neck and sending tingles through her body. She tried to shove him away, but he was much stronger and he seemed to be enjoying what he was doing. Unfortunately her body was reacting. She felt her nipples harden.

  Landry pulled back to look down at her chest then grinned as he met her eyes. "Glad to see you're getting into your role."

  She would have hit him if he hadn't had her pinned against the wall with his body. "You really are despicable," she hissed so only he could hear.

  His grin broadened. He bent again to tease her throat with kisses and suddenly froze. She turned her head in the direction he was looking and saw Alma Garcia. The woman stood as if poleaxed, staring in horror at Landry just feet from them.

  She said something in Spanish, then quickly crossed herself.

  Willa gripped Landry's arm, frightened by the crazed look in the older woman's eyes. Willa could feel Odell and Henri watching the scene from below, as if spellbound.

  Landry said something to Alma also in Spanish. The woman drew back, her hand going to her throat, tears welling in her eyes and spilling down her cheeks. Then she turned and practically ran, her antique gown rustling as she disappeared through the arch at the end of the walk.

  "What was that about?" Willa whispered on an expelled breath.

  "Welcome to the looney bin," Odell called up.

  "Wow, that was scary," Henri said. "What did she say to you?"

  "Mistaken identity," Landry said with a laugh and drew Willa down the walkway to the door of the apartment, keeping his hand firmly on her arm.

  She fumbled out the key and the moment the door opened, Landry pushed her inside and closed the door after them.

  "What the hell was that?" he whispered, even though no one could hear them.

  "You tell me."

  He looked pale and she felt a tremor go through him as he held on to her arm.

  "She called me her amour, her love, then asked me what I was doing back here. Did you see the look in her eyes?"

  Willa nodded. "Don't ever do that again."

  He stared at her. "What?"

  "That," she snapped, pointing back toward the balcony.

  His eyes narrowed. "I thought I made it clear. Whoever is trying to kill you needs to believe we're lovers."

  "Bull. Wouldn't it be more effective to tell them you're my brother the cop? Or even better, the FBI?"

  He smiled. "We should have thought of that before we told them we were lovers."

  She daggered a look at him, wondering if she could hate him any more.

  "That old woman—she lives here?" he asked, obviously more shaken by that than any look Willa could fire at him.

  "Her name is Alma Garcia. She used to be the nanny here." Willa shivered from her wet clothing. She sighed and told him a shortened version of the story that Odell had told her. "I think Odell is writing a book about the disappearance of the family. But I also found a recent newspaper about…us. Complete with photos." She went to the table and picked up the newspaper and handed it to him, watching him as he stared at his photograph.

  "How'd you get this?"

  She squirmed a little. "I took it from Odell's room."

  Landry looked up at her. "He's going to realize it's missing."

  She shook her head. "He offered me the rest of the newspaper. So I took it. I'm just afraid he recognized me."

  "Neither of us looks like this now," he said.

  Landry was right. With his hair much longer and the designer stubble that was starting to be a close-cropped beard, he looked nothing like the clean-cut, clean-shaven cop in the photo. Now he looked more like a beach bum.

  Or a pirate.

  Is that why Alma thought she knew him? Hadn't Odell said that Alma's boss, Andres Santiago, was a modern-day pirate? Then others like him would have visited the island and apparently Alma had fallen for one of them. Fallen hard, given the way she'd looked at Landry with both love—and fear.

  But why fear? Did she think that her pirate had caused the deaths of Andres and Medina and their children? Did she live in fear that the killer would come back for her, as well?

  Or had Alma been afraid because as delusional as she might be, she'd seen a killer when she looked at Landry?

  Willa felt a chill as she met his eyes.

  "You should get a shower and change."

  She shook her head and crossed her arms over her chest again. "You're going to tell me what painting we're looking for first."

  Landry studied her, wondering what went on in that head of hers, suspecting he knew. "It's a blue sailboat bent in the wind with a red and white sail, small." He held his hands about eight inches apart, all the time watching her face. "It was marked for the art show but it wasn't there."

  Her smile could have cut glass. "That's why you came to my show. You were only after the painting. Until you couldn't find it. Then you were after me." She looked like she might want to scratch his eyes out. "Just tell me this. What would have happened if Zeke hadn't come along when he did? If I would have gotten into your car with you?"

  He didn't answer her. Instead, he glanced toward the bedroom. He could see her bed, a double all made up with pretty floral yellow-and-white sheets and a brightly colored spread of primary colors. It looked more than a little inviting since he hadn't had but a few fitful hours of sleep for the past seventy-two hours.

  But unfortunately sleep was the last thing he thought of when he looked at Willa St. Clair's bed—and that made that bed damned dangerous.

  Dragging his gaze away, he saw her easel, a painting on it. He stepped into the second room, glanced into the bathroom, then studied her artwork.

  The painting was of the villa but there was something about it that made his stomach knot. One wall was blood-red. At first he thought it was bougainvillea, but on closer inspection it appeared to be splattered with blood as if a massacre had happened here.

  He heard her step into the room, could
feel her watching him. The painting was haunting. He pulled his gaze away to look at her, surprised by the effect of her painting on him. but maybe even more surprised by her talent and the effect she had on him.

  "Well?"

  He frowned, having forgotten the question.

  "What did you plan to do to me the night of the art show?" she demanded, meeting his hooded gaze with a furious one of her own.

  "You know the answer," he said, waving it off. "I needed the disk." He hated the hurt he saw in her expression. "Darlin', I'm a cop. I was doing my job, just like I'm doing right now, whether you believe me or not."

  He looked at the painting again. It was like looking at a car wreck. You didn't want to look but you couldn't help yourself. "What the hell is this?" he asked, pointing at the red splatters on the wall.

  She seemed to pull her gaze away from him, focusing slowly on the painting. "I don't know. It's just what I see. I paint what I see in my…mind."

  He swore softly. "All your other stuff was nice sailboats, sunny days, warm turquoise water."

  "That was before I witnessed a murder."

  He sobered, softening as he looked at her. "I'm sorry you had to see that. Believe me it's given me a few nightmares, as well."

  A silence fell between them. Willa felt herself softening toward Landry and mentally slapped herself.

  "I know which painting you're talking about," she said after a moment. "But I don't know what happened to it."

  "What?"

  "I remember the painting. It was supposed to be in the show but I don't remember seeing it after the paintings went to the gallery."

  He swore again. "Was it possible Simon hid the painting somewhere in your studio? The police searched the place, right?"

  She nodded.

  "Freddy D.'s not in jail so he knows the disk hasn't turned up. So where the hell was it?" She could hear his frustration and his fear. "Did anyone else have access to your shop?"

  She shook her head. "Another artist who worked next door would sometimes watch the shop if I had to leave for a few minutes… But she wasn't in the shop between when Simon Renton came in and I packed the items for the show."