Here Comes Trouble

by Leslie Kelly

  Sabrina couldn’t stop tears from welling up in her eyes. Allie meant it. She really, truly planned to stay here.

  “I want you to be happy. But this is my life, and it’s about time I start taking responsibility for it.”

  A sharp knock sounded on the front door, but before either of them reached to answer it, Allie whispered, “Sabrina, it’s not your fault. None of this was your fault. I don’t blame you and you need to stop blaming yourself.”

  Then she stepped away, opened the door and invited the police chief into the house. Offering Sabrina one more gentle, Madonna-like smile, she led the man into the living room where Mortimer and Max waited.

  Sabrina stood there, staring at the group in the other room, wondering how her world could have changed so completely in the past ten minutes. Everything she’d thought she knew about how she’d be spending the next few years had just dissipated like a fine mist under the morning sun. When she left here to return to her real life, she’d be losing her sister, and her niece or nephew.

  And Max.

  IT DIDN’T TAKE Tom King long to realize someone else was watching the Stuttgardt house. And it wasn’t the chief or one of his officers. Tom knew everyone in Trouble, and the young man with the black hair who’d been parked on the edge of town staring up at the house wasn’t a local.

  He was after something. Something that belonged to Tom.

  The money.

  “Oh, no, you don’t,” he muttered as once again he drove by the parked car, sitting in the same spot at eight o’clock that night as it had been at eight this morning. Like a predator.

  If the old man hadn’t been found—and wasn’t the town whispering about what’n hell he’d been up to with those evil old Feeney sisters for two days—he’d have suspected this stranger of being involved in the disappearance.

  But Potts was home again, the house had been full of people coming and going all evening, and still the stranger waited. Probably hoping he’d be able to sneak up there under cover of darkness. Just like Tom was doing.

  He couldn’t stand this. The longer those people lived in that house, the more likely it was that one of them would find something—a clue, even the money itself. The thought that he’d gone through all of this for nothing was unbearable. Just bumping into the grandson today at Tootie’s had made him damn near start blubbering out a confession.

  The ring of his cellular phone quickly distracted him from his dark thoughts. He recognized the number right away and answered. “I can’t get in. There’s too much going on.”

  “It’s all right. Wait until Saturday.”

  He quickly thought about it. “The Founders’ Day Festival?”

  “Yes. They’ll all be at the festival, the house’ll be empty, and you can search then.”

  Sounded like a good idea. “You’re sure they’ll be there?”

  “Mortimer Potts and his family are getting an award for the way they’ve helped the town. They’ll be there.”

  “Okay, then,” Tom said, relieved to avoid any nighttime hunting tonight. But that didn’t mean his competitor would.

  Which gave him an idea. “That fella I told you about is still there, waiting for his chance. But I think I know a way to fix him.” He revealed his idea.

  “That’ll work. Keep me posted—you know I’ll back you up.”

  “You might be hearing about some more activity going on up at that house tonight.”

  Disconnecting the call, Tom sat back in his seat, watching quietly, prepared for a long vigil. When the dark-haired man made his move, Tom would be ready. He just wondered how the stranger was going to like a stay in the Trouble city jail.

  THOUGH HE TRIED, Max couldn’t talk his grandfather into pressing charges against the Feeney sisters. Mortimer had bent so far backward trying to convince the police chief he’d been a willing participant in their weird games, even Max had begun to believe it.

  He really wished he hadn’t been there for the details, particularly when Mortimer started talking about how much he liked that newfangled Viagra stuff—not that he’d needed it at first. Even as he thought it, though, he couldn’t help again hoping he’d be like the old man when he was that age. Loving and living and causing a fuss, with a woman on each arm.

  No, just one woman.

  Yeah. He was very much afraid there was just one woman. Just one he’d ever want. From now until the day he died.

  He didn’t quite know how, when or why, but he’d fallen in love with Sabrina. Maybe it was that moment when she’d taken off her seat belt on the plane, putting her trust in him to keep her safe. Or earlier—the moment she’d shown up at the carousel.

  He couldn’t be sure. And since he had never been in love before, he probably shouldn’t have been sure that the emotion he felt for her was love. But he knew.

  “So what are you going to do about it?” he asked himself late that night as he walked out the back door and down the steps. Sabrina was in the tent…by herself. As if knowing the two of them would want to be alone, Allie had offered to sleep in the house, in case Mortimer needed anything and Max couldn’t hear him from up on the third floor.

  Lifting the flap, he stuck his head inside. “Knock, knock.”

  He expected a laughing invitation, or at least a smile of welcome. But he didn’t see Sabrina at all. The inside of the tent was shadowy—made cool and comfortable by the generator-operated air-conditioning unit. But all except one of the lights running off that generator were turned off.

  His eyes quickly adjusting, he looked around, finally seeing a curled-up mound under the covers of one of the plush down mattresses. “Sabrina?”

  A sniff was her only response.

  Concerned now, he walked to her, crouching beside the bed, tugging the covers away. She was curled on her side, her hands clenched together, tucked under her chin. Her lovely face was stained with tears and her eyes red.

  “What, honey, what is it?” He looked around, checking every shadowy corner of the massive, billowy structure. “Did someone hurt you?”

  “I’m fine. But Allie…”

  “Is something wrong with her?”

  “She wants to stay here, Max. With your grandfather, who offered her a job. To live in Trouble and raise her baby here.”

  “Wow.” Without another word, he crawled in beside her, sliding one arm under her shoulders so she could curl up against his chest. Sabrina wasn’t a tiny woman, but she felt incredibly vulnerable in his arms, particularly because of the way her body was shaking as if chilled, though the tent was quite comfortable.

  “I’m sorry. I know you feel responsible for her.”

  “She’s my family. She and the baby are my only family now.” Burrowing her face into his neck, she added, “I know it’s Allie’s baby, but I also felt like it was mine. And I wanted it, Max. I wanted them both in my life.”

  He ran his hand across her back, a comforting stroke, wondering if she would possibly believe him if he told her he knew how it felt. To want that—a family, a child. No, her situation was nothing like his, and yet, like him she was mourning something she’d thought she was going to have that had suddenly been taken away.

  He understood her pain, would have taken it into himself if he could. Instead, he settled for trying to let her know she was not alone. “Have I ever told you why I got married?”

  She shook her head, smearing the moisture of her tears on his neck. “No, you haven’t.”

  So he did. Speaking slowly at first, he told her everything. How he’d grown up wanting to be just like his father. Had joined the military at twenty-one, right out of college and immediately applied for the Pilot Training Program. Two years later he’d met Teresa, and then came the supposed pregnancy. He remained stoic as he told Sabrina about how he’d chosen to let go of his dream and withdraw his application to be a military pilot so he could be a father—of a child that had never even existed.

  “There was never any baby?” she asked, sitting up in the bed and staring at him,
her eyes wide with disbelief and compassion.

  “No,” he admitted. “She lied. Heard I’d be coming into a lot of money at twenty-five and figured she’d marry some of it. I didn’t know until after we split up. I’d thought she had a miscarriage while I was stationed overseas.”

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, lifting her hand to his face. She stroked his cheek, and he turned to place a kiss on her palm. “I’m so sorry that happened to you, Max. That you had to give up your dream—” Her voice broke. “That you were used in that way.”

  “I didn’t tell you to try to play for the sympathy vote. I just wanted you to know.”

  Because of what she was going through now. And because of what Max hoped would happen between them in the future.

  No, he wasn’t ready to tell her all his secrets. Some things were too ugly—too dark and humiliating—and he didn’t want to let her know how weak and stupid he’d once been. How much of a mess he’d made of his life.

  But this he could share with her.

  “Did you—Was there any chance of you getting back into the Pilot Training Program?”

  He shook his head. “Nah. By the time I walked in on Teresa and her, um, friend, I’d already been discharged.”

  “Oh, I figured you were still in…”

  He continued. “Being an Air Force pilot would have required ten years’ service, but once I withdrew, I only owed a total of four. By the time I met Teresa, I’d already done two. Finished my last year after we got married, then headed home to try to make my marriage work. Try to have another baby to make up for the one I thought we’d lost.” He laughed humorlessly. “Surprised her by coming home a day early. She was surprised all right. But not as much as me.”

  Sabrina muttered a foul curse under her breath, which made him laugh for real this time. “Thanks for the indignation on my behalf.”

  “I’d like to rip her lips off.”

  “Violent. I like that in a woman.”

  She settled back against him, the curves of her body fitting naturally to him, her head tucked against his neck, one leg lifted over his thighs. Dropping her hand onto his chest, she trailed her fingers down. Lower. Until she reached the waistband of his jeans and tugged his cotton T-shirt out of it so she could touch his bare stomach.

  The touch tingled. Burned. Flared.

  Rolling her onto her back, he slid one leg between hers before covering her mouth in a deep, hungry kiss. Sabrina wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his hips and ground into him in welcome. She was hungry and hot, but not desperate like they’d started out yesterday. This was slow and lazy.

  Which was exactly the way he wanted to make love to her.

  “I’ve been wanting you since the minute we left the airport yesterday,” he mumbled as he moved his mouth lower to kiss her jaw, then the delicate skin of her throat.

  “That long? I wanted you as soon as we got off the plane.”

  He chuckled softly, his cheek brushing her skin. Beneath him Sabrina shivered.

  “Your face is rough.”

  “Sorry. Didn’t have time to shave today.”

  She ran her fingers through his hair. “I like it.” When he nuzzled lower, until his lips met the cleavage revealed by her low-cut top and his chin scraped against the top curves of her breasts, she added, “I love it.”

  Wriggling out of the top, she tossed it aside, rolling sinuously across the satin fabric of the bed. Her blond hair spilled around her face, bright and soft against a turquoise-colored pillow, which matched her eyes.

  He looked down at her, admiring everything, from the fine line of her collarbone—which he tasted—to the taut, rosy tip of her breast—which he licked.

  “Max…”

  “I’m busy, Sabrina,” he whispered as he continued working his way down her body, brushing his lips down over her belly, dipping his tongue into her navel.

  She writhed. “Please.”

  He ignored her, watching in delight as a rosy glow of warmth washed over Sabrina’s pale body. Wanting to see more of her, he unbuttoned her pants, pushing them off with her help. She wore just a tiny pair of panties like the ones she’d had on yesterday, but yellow. And he suddenly remembered what he’d wanted to do to her through those panties yesterday.

  Shimmying down, he scraped his teeth along the elastic barely extending above her soft curls. She arched toward him, silent, both asking for what she wanted and giving him permission to give it to her.

  Not that he was asking. And not that he’d have waited for her to say yes.

  Blowing on the silky fabric, he shifted her legs farther apart. Her panties were damp and he breathed in, inhaling the musky scent of her arousal combined with the perfume of her skin.

  “Please, Max, taste me,” she moaned as she writhed against the silk bed, obviously liking the feel of it on her body.

  He brushed his lips across the dampness even as he moved his hands to her thighs, slowly sliding them up each one so he could hold her still. Exactly where he wanted her.

  “More,” she ordered, sounding frustrated, trying to arch toward him.

  She couldn’t. He had her pinned in place, vulnerable, the want rolling off her until it made her shake. Finally, when he heard the choppy desperation of her breathing, he lowered his mouth over her, wetting the silky fabric even more with his tongue just as he’d imagined doing yesterday in the cockpit.

  She moaned. Sighed.

  But he wanted nothing separating his mouth from that sweet spot. He wanted to see her—much closer than he’d seen her yesterday. Make her come against his tongue, her legs shaking, her body heaving against the satin sheets, completely out of control.

  Tugging her panties off, he licked her delicate skin, right above her pelvis. She tried arching again, and this time, because he wanted her even closer, he allowed it. Her curls brushed his chin, then his lips, and without any warning, he opened his mouth on her and slid his tongue deep.

  “Oh, God,” she said, her voice high-pitched and desperate.

  She tried to move. He kept her in place. Dipping into her for taste after taste, he made thorough love to her, hearing by her cries when she was close to reaching her peak. Sucking her clit between his lips, he toyed with it, then finally let go of one of her legs. He needed to feel her wrapped around him—some part of him—so he plunged a finger into her tight channel.

  Her release washed over her until she shook—just as he’d hoped—and she cried out in satisfaction. While she was coming, he took a moment to rip off his clothes and sheathe himself. He was back between her legs before she’d even opened her eyes or started breathing normally again.

  “Sabrina?”

  “Uh-huh?”

  “Still with me?” he asked, laughter in his voice.

  She still didn’t look up. “Uh-huh.”

  “Good,” he said, sliding his cock into her.

  Her eyes flew open. “Oh, yeah. I’m with you.”

  “I’d hate to think you were somewhere else.” He eased farther, driving deeper. Sabrina arched up, taking more, until he was buried inside her. “We’re a good fit.”

  She tugged him close for a kiss. “We’re a perfect fit.”

  Proving that, she rocked up, and he rocked down. They slid and rolled, thrusting, stroking, on and on until their bodies were slick with sweat and the air thick with sex.

  Finally, when he couldn’t hold it back anymore, he gave himself over to the spasms of pleasure. Groaning, he drove into her one last time, feeling her squeeze them both into release.

  Rolling over onto his back, he took Sabrina with him, holding her on top of him, not letting her pull away. They remained that way, joined, for a long time, until the world started turning again and they were part of it. Passionate caresses segued into intimate strokes and the desperate raging of their hearts slowed into the relaxed comfort of a shared rhythm.

  “That was amazing,” she murmured, her breath tickling the hair on his chest. “I’ve never felt so—”


  Suddenly, Sabrina’s whole body jerked, growing stiff and tense. Immediately realizing something was wrong, Max pushed her toward the side of the tent and sat up, blocking her with his body. “What is it?”

  “Somebody was there,” she whispered, grabbing the sheets and drawing them around her naked body. “I just saw a shape standing there—not round enough to be Allie or tall enough to be Mortimer. Then the tent flap fell.”

  “Son of a bitch,” he muttered. Diving out of the bed for his clothes, he stopped moving only long enough to yank off the condom and yank on his jeans. “I’ll kill him.”

  He was out of the tent, pounding barefoot across the lawn toward the back of the house, within twenty seconds. Jeans zipped but not buttoned, bare chested and still wet and sweaty from the fabulous sex he and Sabrina had just enjoyed.

  The sex someone had watched them enjoying.

  But he couldn’t think of that. Could think of nothing except catching whoever it was the Feeney sisters had warned his grandfather about. And if it was Peter Prescott, so much the better. Because Max wanted to hurt the man.

  “Max,” Sabrina called in a loud whisper as she raced after him, the silk sheet the only thing covering her. “Don’t do anything crazy.”

  Crazy? He wasn’t going to do anything crazy. He was merely going to break the arms and legs of the bastard who’d been spying on him and Sabrina.

  Seeing a shadow climbing through a window of Mortimer’s office, he dashed up the steps. He ignored the shards of glass that dug into his bare feet—the bastard had smashed the porch light to disguise his break-in.

  Max dove into the intruder from a yard away, dragging him out of the window and onto the planked floor. He was solid, tall, but no match for the force of an enraged man tackling him by surprise.

  They rolled across the porch, Max immediately going for the arms to pin him. But the guy was wiry, quick, and he landed a glancing punch to Max’s shoulder.

  With three quick jabs to the dark-clothed, shadowy stranger’s face, Max quickly subdued him and knelt, one knee on his chest, pinning him like a bug stuck to a display board.

  Sabrina came up the steps. “Careful of the broken glass,” he ordered. She paused. “Max, the police are coming, I see the flashing lights coming up the road.”