by Desiree Holt
“Annemarie Schaefer’s parents were dead. That was the truth. But her mother had been married twice and she had a stepbrother. Gregg Rowley. He lives in a little town in Maine about a mile from where she had her accident. Avery thinks she was on her way to his house when it happened.”
“So she was going to see her stepbrother? So what?”
“Avery sent one of her agents up there to interview his neighbors.”
Blake scowled. “Why not him? Couldn’t you get the truth from him? Besides which, I’m not sure there’s anything to get.”
“They didn’t find him, but they found people to talk to.” She made a face. “Although the reports are that they were very reluctant to say anything. I guess they protect their own, no matter what.”
He could hardly stand the concern in her eyes. “Can you please just spit it all out? Give it to me straight. What’s the deal?”
“It seems Gregg Rowley has been in love with Annemarie since they were teenagers, when her father married his mother. The marriage only lasted a couple of years but they kept in touch with each other. As they grew older, according to friends of his, the love grew into an obsession, at least on his side of the equation.”
“I swear she never mentioned him.”
“Which is a little strange, since he was the only family she had and the only person she was close to. God only knows what she told him about you, but we’re pretty sure he’s the one behind all this. That he believes you cheated Annemarie in some fashion and that’s why she left you so suddenly and ran home to him. That maybe you’re even responsible somehow for her death—”
“Wait just a minute.” He slammed his hand on the table. This was enough. “I’m not responsible for anything. I didn’t steal anyone’s material and I didn’t abuse Annemarie’s dedication to me. This guy is totally nuts. Certifiable.”
Sam nodded. “We all agree on that point. But—”
“But what?”
“We think he sees himself as some sort of avenging angel on her behalf,” she explained. “The people who know him in that little town in Maine, the ones willing to speak to us, said he’d been in love with her for years but apparently hadn’t told her. One man said Rowley had told him Annemarie was coming home. That she’d called and needed to come be with him.”
“She never even mentioned him.” Blake shook his head. “I never heard of him until now.”
“It’s obvious he’s heard of you,” Sam pointed out, “and what he heard was nothing good. He wants to make you pay.”
“But how? For what?” He was totally lost here. “I haven’t done a damn thing.”
“Everyone Vigilance spoke to, when they finally opened up to them, emphasized how obsessed he was with her. Bragged about her job with you and told them she was on her way to being a famous writer herself.”
Blake shook his head. “She had no interest in that. She said how much she loved what she did.” But even as he said the words, he wondered if he’d missed something, some clues along the way.
“But you don’t know what she might have told him, or hidden from you. Right?”
He rubbed his hands over his face as if trying to wipe away this whole mess. “I guess. It’s just hard for me to imagine because she wasn’t like that at all.”
“They also hinted at the fact Rowley might be a little unhinged. More than one person told our people he was very reclusive and antisocial.”
“And nobody knows where he is now?”
“Uh-uh. He claimed her body,” Sam went on, “and buried her next to her parents. After that he went off the grid. Completely.” She paused. “And get this. His job before this was in cyber engineering. He designed and wrote software for security systems for computer businesses.”
“So hacking into my laptop or phone or anything else would be no problem for him.” Now he really did feel like throwing up.
“Right. Or into the airline manifests or hotel registration software. Or anything else.”
Blake closed his eyes and dropped his head into his hands. This was a nightmare and he could not seem to wake up from it. As he sat there, the cell phone in his pocket chimed. He almost hated to pull it out and look at it, but he placed it in the center of the table.
Unknown caller.
“It’s him.” He swallowed back the bitter taste surging in his mouth.
“Let’s see what he has to say today.” Sam hit accept, and a new text filled the screen.
You can’t always undo what I’ve done. I know what you did. In just a few days your career will be over forever.
“Jesus.” Blake dropped his head into his hand. “I think I’m about to lose it, Sam.”
“No, you’re not. You’re stronger than this. I know you are. We’ll get through this and beat him at his game.”
“He’s already killed someone,” he reminded her. “How many more will he get to before this is over?”
“None, because we’re going to take precautions, now that we know what we’re dealing with.”
“An obsessed maniac,” he ground out.
She nodded. “We’ll be prepared. Avery’s flying two extra Vigilance agents up here for the book signing to help out.”
“If he sees them he’ll know we’re on to him,” Blake pointed out.
“They’ll never recognize them. I promise you.” She grabbed the cell. “Meanwhile, I’m going to deactivate this one and set up a new one.” She smiled at him. “We haven’t even gone through half of them yet, Blake. We’re in good shape.”
“We have to keep our guard up between now and the book signing,” Blake reminded her.
“You leave that to me and to Vigilance. We’ve got a lock on it.”
* * * *
Gregg Rowley sat in his hotel room doing his best to tamp down his frustration. Again they’d given him the slip, but he was getting used to it. He’d stopped using up his energy in useless rages and unproductive searches. Instead he’d thought to give them a little something to keep them on their toes in Cleveland, but they’d checked in with the store a day earlier than usual and managed to fix things.
Shit!
Not that he expected it to be a big deal. So there was a mix-up in his signing date. People might be angry for a moment but they’d still buy his books and tell everyone how wonderful he was. He’d just wanted yet another opportunity to embarrass the selfish, people-using asshole. Too bad Morgan had managed to shortstop it. When Rowley had gone by the store to check on the situation, expecting big signs that the event was cancelled, he’d been shocked to find out it was still on and that the media would be covering it.
He hadn’t wanted to ask too many questions and draw unwanted attention to himself, but damn! This jackass must live under a four-leaf clover. Tomorrow night he’d put on yet another of his disguises and check out how the signing actually turned out. Maybe, just to keep them on their toes, he’d leave yet another note on the windshield of their rental car. Just to make sure they knew he still had eyes on them.
But he was saving most of his energy for Tampa. The thought of what he had planned excited him almost as much as good sex. He had done all his research and had everything planned down to the last detail. He’d leave Cleveland right after the signing—and holy crap! What if Morgan and his bodyguard bitch took a late plane again, too? Good thing he had a number of disguises with him, just in case. He’d been able to make sure he was never seen twice as the same person.
He opened his laptop and stared at the picture of Annemarie that was his wallpaper. With great tenderness, he ran his fingers over the screen, stroking her cheeks and running his fingertip over her lips. The last time he’d touched her she’d been so cold, taken far too soon by death. He had been so thrilled when she called him out of the blue, crying, saying she couldn’t take it any longer. She’d spent four years waiting for recognition of her work and it was apparen
t it would never happen. She wanted to come home to him and asked if he would help her.
He never got the chance. He should have told her not to drive in that horrific storm, but she had been determined to come to him at once. And he had waited so long for her to turn to him, to understand and accept his love, to want to be with him, he’d just agreed to let her drive in the pouring rain.
Now he’d never be able to hold her soft body next to his. To make love to her the way he’d dreamed about for so long. To build a life with her and help her achieve the success she so richly deserved. He’d had so many plans for them now all gone in seconds. The least he could do for her was to carry on her plans and expose Morgan for the fraud and user he was.
He cracked open a beer from the minibar and took a healthy swallow. He wouldn’t waste his time chasing after them today. Tomorrow he’d hit the book signing, just because, but then it was off to Tampa and the big event. He could hardly wait.
* * * *
After consulting with both Avery and Henry, Sam and Blake had done what they could to minimize damage from the false cancellation. Blake had personally called the host of the local talk show and asked if they could slot him five or ten minutes the next morning. He didn’t remember why he wasn’t already booked on it but they were delighted to have him, especially as the rumors of the fake cancellation were circulating in the entertainment community. Then he invited one of the reviewers from the local newspaper to lunch.
“I warn you, I give a fair review,” the man had told him.
“Understood. I just want a chance to chat with you.”
Henry had overnighted a large envelope of promotional material that included copies of his stock photo. Sam had driven him to the store so he could meet the manager, apologize again, and sign the pictures and posters that the store could use in future promotions.
By that time the two agents from Vigilance—Mike Pérez and Justin DeLuca—had arrived and the four had dinner together. Blake liked the two men immediately. Like Sam, they were friendly but always alert, casual but aware of everything around them. In jeans and sweaters, they could have been any two guys having dinner. By nine o’clock Blake was ready to call it a night. The day had exhausted him emotionally and he needed down time to get himself ready for the next day.
“I’d invite you to join us for a drink, Sam,” Mike said as they finished dinner, “but I know you want eyes on your client at all times.”
Blake looked at him through narrowed eyes, trying to decide if the man was being sarcastic, funny, or snotty. He finally decided they were just acknowledging the situation any of them would be in—stick with the client at all times. When they reached their rooms, he excused himself to take a shower. He wasn’t sure if what he was feeling was the emotional grime from tension or not but he stood under the hot water for a long time. When he finished, he toweled himself off and climbed into the bed he and Sam were sharing, stark naked.
He heard sounds from the other bedroom so he lay there, waiting, not sure if she’d be in the mood for anything more than just spooning their bodies together. When this tour was over he was going to get Sam alone somewhere and lay everything on the table. This thing between them, in his mind, had substance to it. Strength. Emotion. He was sure he felt the same thing from Sam. Getting her to admit it was the next step.
Sure there were a lot of challenges in his life—his writing and touring schedule, her assignments for Vigilance which could last anywhere from weeks to months. He’d come to realize, though, that he could handle anything as long as he had Sam with him. But then came the big question: What did she really feel for him, now, all these years later?
He was still batting it all around in his mind when Sam crawled into bed with him, also naked. He didn’t say a word, didn’t ask, just rolled so he could pull her body to his and take her mouth in a scorching, hungry kiss. Her lips were so soft and her mouth, when he slid his tongue into it, tasted faintly of her toothpaste. Threading his fingers through the soft strands of her hair, he fed on her, licking every inch of her inner surface, sweeping his tongue across hers before easing it back and coasting it over her lips.
She gave as good as she got, holding his head in place while she scraped her tongue over his teeth. When he turned her head to give himself a better angle, she moved with him and eased right into a kiss that asked everything of her.
Without another word, he eased her on to her back and began sprinkling kisses down the column of her neck, across the graceful line of her shoulder, pausing to place a hot kiss on the beating pulse in the hollow of her throat. She arched up to him, a silent offering, and he moved his mouth in a slow sweep across the top of each of her breasts, so plump and delicious. Taking one hard nipple into his mouth he sucked on it, grazing it lightly with his teeth before soothing it with his tongue. She scraped her fingernails down his back as a soft, low moan whispered from her mouth.
Her nipples were like sweet berries, so ripe and pebbled and so sensitive that each slide of his teeth and pull of his lips elicited another of those delectable moans. He moved his mouth down the gentle curve of her stomach, probing the indentation of her navel with the tip of his tongue. She tried to push her body up to his, making those same erotic little sounds. They were almost as hot as the touch of her skin and the feel of her beneath his hands and his mouth.
He took his time, letting himself taste every bit of her skin that he could reach, and by the time he reached her sex she was thrusting at him and trying to open her legs, to urge him to put some part of him inside her body.
But Blake was in no hurry. She was better than any tranquilizer, better than any fine aged brandy or cognac, and he wasn’t going to be rush. Finally shifting his body so he was between her legs, he placed a string up kisses up the inside of one thigh and down the other, just barely brushing his lips over her skin and following that with a string of gentle tiny nips.
On and on it went, always circling the heated place she wanted him, always rousing her a little more and a little more. By the time he reached the lips of her sex, rubbing his tongue along the damp, slick flesh and tracing the line of her slit with his tongue, she was writhing beneath him, moaning softly, begging.
“Please,” she hissed.
His laugh rumbled against her arching body. “Please what?”
“Please use your mouth on me,” she pleaded. “Your hands. Anything.”
“Like this?” He took the swollen bud of her clit in his teeth, tugging it just a little.
“Yes!”
“Or like this?” He licked the length of her slit before tracing the line of her opening with the tip of his tongue.
“Yes! Yes!” She was writhing, twisting back and forth now.
“How about this?” Opening her lips like petals with his thumbs, he thrust his tongue deep inside her hot, wet, delicious flesh.
“Yes!” she screamed, and came so suddenly and so hard he had to hold her tightly in place.
He worked her with his mouth, probing with his tongue, thrusting it in and out as her hot flesh spasmed around it. Her fingers gripped the hair on his head and hung on as if she were clutching a lifeline. He kept up his rhythm until the last of the spasms had subsided and she lay limp on the bed, still slightly out of breath.
“God! What are you doing to me?”
He chuckled. “Hopefully making you happy.”
She lay there a moment, the beat of the pulse at the hollow of her throat slowly subsiding. Then, without warning, she pushed herself to an upright position, and pushed him to his back.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“My turn,” she told him. “Or yours, depending on how you look at it.
She straddled him, the wet heat of her core imprinting itself on his thighs. As she leaned forward took his cock in her hands and ran her tongue over the sensitive head. His body jerked.
“Jesus, Sam.”
/>
“Not good?” She stared down at him.
“Too good,” he gasped. “I want to be inside you when I come.”
“Not yet. I haven’t had my fun yet. Turnabout’s fair play.”
With that she proceeded to drive him crazy, her soft tongue licking the length of him, her lips closing around him, her graceful fingers stroking him. There was no pattern to it, so he had no chance to prepare himself. He didn’t know which drove him crazier, her mouth of her hands or both of them together. He had to grit his teeth to maintain some measure of control. As much as he wanted to come in her mouth, tonight he wanted to be inside her hot, tight channel, her walls gripping him like a fist.
While he still had the strength to do it he lifted her from his body and settled her on her back. Rolling to his side, he reached in the drawer of the nightstand where he had hopefully stashed some condoms, grabbed one, and rolled it on. But when he went to position himself, Sam pushed him and reversed their positions.
“My turn,” she repeated.
Adjusting her position, she closed her fingers around his cock and guided it to her opening. He barely felt the tip of it enter her when she took a deep breath, threaded her fingers with his and lowered herself on his rock-hard shaft.
Jesus!
He sucked in a breath and tried to hold himself still, hanging on to the edge of the ledge as he was. And then Sam began to move, slowly at first then faster and then faster still. The moved as one, so perfectly in sync that Blake was awed. If an orgasm could be said to be perfection, this was it. Fingers threaded, her thighs bracketing his legs, she rode him as if it had all be choreographed.
He didn’t want it to end, wanted it to go on forever. But they were both reaching the point of no return.
“Look at me,” he ordered. “Look right into my eyes.”
Gazes locked, they climbed up and up that sensuous slope, breathing harder, clenching their muscles, her walls so tight around him they were like a wet fist. And then…they were there, coming together, so hard he knew nothing but the explosive force that gripped his body and the contractions that shook them over and over and over again. Sam fell forward, resting on his body, her head tucked into his neck.
