Shadowed Paradise

by Blair Bancroft

  Claire pictured Slade’s hands on Jody’s naked chest, pumping air, his lips giving her the kiss of life. For Slade Whitlaw, Jody Stevens had come back from the dead. Claire ducked her head to hide a grin. Now that tragedy had been averted, they could all use a bit of comic relief, even if Slade and Jody were suffering from ultimate embarrassment.

  Brad looked his red-faced young cousin in the eye. “If you don’t mind a bit of advice from an old man like me, I’d go back to see Jody tomorrow—you’ll have to lose the relatives first—and ask her anyway. Even if she still can’t talk and turns beet red, I bet she’ll be nodding yes.”

  “Slade,” Claire added with conviction, “believe me, that girl adores you. And you’ve rescued her twice. What better recommendation could you have?”

  Phil, opening her mouth to agree, got out nothing more than, “Oomph!” as Garrett elbowed her in the ribs. An endorsement of Jody Stevens by Garrett or even Phil could send Slade running in the opposite direction, a combination of teenage rebellion and sheer Whitlaw cussedness.

  “Guess maybe I will,” Slade mumbled, attacking his third six-inch sub.

  “Lose the relatives, huh?” said Garrett dryly. “I know a hint when I hear it.” He paused for a deep breath. Even politicians were sometimes at a loss for the appropriate word. “Before we go—since nearly the whole family is here—Phil and I would like to tell you that we’re getting married. Right away. We decided life’s too short to wait.” Garrett paused, obviously waiting for the storm to follow.

  Slade regarding his prospective stepmother with nothing worse than mild interest. He polished off the last bite of his third sub, licked his fingers. “It’s fine with me,” he said to Phil, “as long as I don’t have to call you mom.”

  Phil shuddered. “Heaven forbid.”

  “Okay,” Slade said easily. “When’s the wedding?”

  Garrett looked at Phil, got nothing more than an infinitesimal shrug of her shoulders. “As soon we can arrange it,” Garrett said firmly.

  “Melanie’s gonna be pissed,” Slade declared, proving that nothing in life is easy. “I should probably take her snorkeling or something, maybe parasailing, while you guys do the deed.”

  “I want my children there.” There was a decided edge to Garrett’s statement.

  “I think maybe Slade’s . . .” Phil began.

  “Just go for it, Dad,” Slade interrupted. “I’ll do my damnedst to get her there, even if I have to hogtie her. I’ve been bigger than she is for five years now.”

  “Do I get to give the bride away?” Brad drawled.

  Claire gasped. Appalled silence enveloped them all, until Claire groaned, followed by what sounded remarkably like a chuckle. “I swear I don’t know how you lived this long, you abominable Russian cracker,” she declared.

  Phil bounced to her feet. “Clean-up time,” she announced and started clearing the debris from the coffee table.

  In a matter of minutes the remains of the impromptu meal were gone, the leftover drinks stored in the refrigerator. Garrett, Phil and Slade had been thanked with hearty handshakes from Brad, a hug and a kiss from Claire.

  Doug Chalmers paused in the kitchen door. “You were right, all down the line,” he said to Brad. “I sure as hell would like to know how you do it.”

  “I don’t know,” Brad said, lips curling into a wry grin. “It just happens that way sometimes. I can’t see my theory it was all the same person helped much in this case. If Lovell hadn’t decided to end it, I doubt we would have caught him. He’d still be out there, doing his thing, with none of us the wiser. We really didn’t have jackshit to give us a clue it was him.”

  “Decided to end it?” Doug repeated, his fingers clutching the edge of the screen door. “I was here for most of the questioning. I never heard a word about decided. Another one of your off-the-wall theories?”

  “I had that feeling too,” Claire added. “Jordan said . . . let me think . . . he said something about counting on the fact that Brad would come after him.”

  “At the other murders, at the mall, at the model,” Brad explained, “he got away clean, leaving us all with egg on our face. This time he attacked people he knew in a house where he was personally known. Nothing makes sense unless we figure he planned on getting caught. No,” Brad amended with certainty, “not caught. Killed. He planned on me killing him.”

  “Yes, I think you’re right,” Claire said, vividly recalling those final moments on the roof. “Basically, Jordan was a very civilized person. I think something must have happened to make him realize what he had become.”

  “Diane maybe,” Brad said. “Killing her might have shocked him back to reality. I suppose we’ll never know.”

  In what seemed an odd switch of subject Doug Chalmers said, “My wife left me last year for a nine-to-five type, took the kids with her. I’ve discovered I rather like this wild country of yours. I’ve applied for a transfer to the local office and I’ve already talked to the boss about you, Brad. We’d like you to consult for us. What about it?”

  Brad gave Claire and a wide-eyed Jamie a long look before he shook his head. “Sorry, Chalmers, the timing’s poor.”

  “Aw, Brad,” Jamie objected.

  “Don’t be silly,” Claire exclaimed. “This is what you do, you’re good at it.” And, dear God, she meant it. When had the government ceased to be the enemy?

  Doug flashed a smile. Rather than an ending, his handshake with Brad promised new beginnings. He wasn’t prepared, however, for the hug and kiss on the cheek from Claire, or the feel of small arms around his hips, a head resting against his stomach.

  “Goodnight, Jamie,” he said, squeezing the boy’s shoulder. “I’m glad this isn’t goodbye. You’re a tough one, James Langdon. Someday maybe you’ll end up working for us too.”

  Claire shut her eyes, hung on, as the irony of it set off a wave of pain. And then . . . it was gone. Old grief and anguish dissolved into new beginnings.

  She was free at last.

  Claire crawled into bed that night, thinking she might sleep forever. Then again, she might not sleep a wink. She was going to replay every word, every gesture, every thought, every mistake of the last eight hours until the sun rose, bright and shining, on another gorgeous day in paradise. With a scowl, she muttered a word that rarely passed her lips.

  From the door to the walk-in closet Brad eyed his wife with considerable misgiving. There had never been a question of sending Jamie back to his grandmother, so they could enjoy a few more days of privacy. Hell, he was probably going to have trouble prying Claire away from the kid long enough to take the cruise he was going to surprise her with in lieu of the interrupted honeymoon. Maybe in a month or two when they felt more like partying.

  Or maybe not at all. She’d married him for protection. And damn near not got it. It had been a close run thing. Jody, Jamie . . . Claire. He’d promised to protect them, and nearly lost all three in one afternoon.

  And then . . . he’d seen Claire’s eyes right after Lovell jumped. Right after he, Bradley Whitlaw Blue, stood there and let Lovell jump. Claire’s horror. Her comprehension. She knew he could have stopped it. That he’d let a man die. Did she think him a murderer? Would she turn away, now that he had finished his usefulness?

  And then there was Chalmers. Was Claire the reason the FBI agent had developed such a sudden interest in Florida? Was the show of friendship just that? A smokescreen to hide behind while he stole Brad’s wife?

  And Claire? What was she going to do now the killer was gone and Chalmers was all buddy-buddy? Wearily, heavily, Brad lowered himself to the bed. Shoulders slumped, head hanging, he tried to organize the words that had to be said.

  Claire took a deep breath, let it out in a long, silent sigh. She had been hoping enough had been said, but it seemed the ugliness wasn’t quite over.

  “I could have shot him in the leg,” Brad said. “Had him down in a matter of seconds. I guess you know that.”

  She had guessed what was bot
hering him, but was surprised to discover he believed she didn’t understand. “It was the right decision,” Claire assured him.

  “You really think so?”

  “Yes. You’re a good man, Brad Blue. Beneath that macho manliness beats a compassionate heart.”

  “I missed the call on Jamie . . . and Jody.”

  “Not really. He didn’t bother Jamie. Your only mistake—and it was a very understandable one—was not remembering that Jody is no longer a child.”

  “She came within seconds of dying. If you hadn’t . . .”

  “But I did.”

  He couldn’t accept it. Not yet. “Is Chalmers coming to Florida because of you?”

  “Good God, no!” Claire almost shouted. “For a smart man, how can you be so stupid? Doug Chalmers is top on the list of the feds I asked you to protect me from.”

  “Oh.” Brad thought that one over, made one final fishing expedition into the unexplored jungle of his wife’s mind. “I almost didn’t make it in time today. I let you down.”

  “Never,” Claire asserted. She touched his lower lip with the tip of her index finger. “I was just looking for an excuse, you know. From the night we met I knew how it was going to be. I’d been so hurt, I was terrified of making a mistake, but I knew I had to have you. Everything else—the protection from the feds, from the killer—was just an excuse. You were going to protect me anyway, right? Telling myself, telling you, I needed a live-in bodyguard was just camouflage. I lusted after you . . . was madly in love with you. Any old excuse would have done.”

  The sparkle began to revive in Brad’s sky blue eyes. “I think”—he hesitated—“I think you actually mean it.”

  “Damn right I mean it. In fact . . .” Claire’s eyes danced. Incredibly, she’d almost forgotten . . .

  “Do you remember the night you first showed me Amber Run? The night you asked me to marry you? You were totally obnoxious, made some remark about barefoot and pregnant, or was it a shotgun wedding? At any rate, I went back on birth control pills the next day. Then . . . well, about a month later when it was time for a refill, I—uh—well, I didn’t get it. I didn’t want to admit it, not even to myself, but when I looked at that empty container and faced the fact that I didn’t really want a refill, I realized I was never, ever, going to let you get away. Even if I had to stoop to being vulgar, underhanded, unprofessional and”—Claire hung her head—“and cheap! And besides, it was your idea, so it’s all your fault.”

  “What’s my fault?” Brad asked, genuinely puzzled.

  “I’m pregnant.”

  “You’re what?”

  “You’ve heard of the condition, I presume?”

  “Oh, shit!” Brad had visions of Jordan Lovell scrambling up the spiral staircase after Claire, the knife gleaming in his hand.

  “Is it all right?” Claire inquired anxiously. “You did want children, didn’t you?”

  “Wha . . . oh, sorry.” Brad recovered swiftly. “Hell, yes,” he affirmed. “I was just thinking we almost had four casualties this afternoon instead of three.” He closed the door on the past, locked it, threw away the key.

  Let’s celebrate,” said Brad Blue to his wife of four days. With something close to a rebel yell, he swooped down on Claire with the intention of never letting go.

  She squirmed and wiggled, hit him on the back.

  “What the hell?” Brad growled, lifting his mouth from hers.

  “The doors are open,” Claire hissed. “Remember? Between our room and Jamie’s?”

  Brad rolled away with a groan, opened one hopeful eye. “He’s out like a light, Claire. Poor kid isn’t going to move before morning.”

  “He’ll probably have nightmares.”

  “I’m dying, woman.”

  “You’re the one who wanted a family.”

  “Shit!” But he said it very softly. “Tomorrow the damn doors stay closed.”

  “Well . . .” Claire hedged, but her lips were twitching.

  Chuckles rolled up from his diaphragm. Happy. He was happy. “It’s going to work, isn’t it, Mrs. Blue? This marriage is really going to work.”

  “Oh, yes, Big Blue,” she whispered, running her hand through his long, pale hair. “It’s really going to work.”

  ~ The End ~

  About the Author: Although Blair Bancroft is best known for her Regency romances, she loves to venture into new genres and has written romantic suspense, mystery, medieval romance, and futuristic, and is about to tackle her first steampunk. Please look for Paradise Burning, the sequel to Shadowed Paradise, which features that new addition to Amber Run, the “reclusive writer” (and sometime spy).

  In addition to making her backlist available online, Blair plans to upload some new works in the not-too-distant future. For a list of books currently available, please see below. Blair’s websites are www.blairbancroft.com and www.darynparke.com. Blair also invites you to visit her blog at http://mosaicmoments.blogspot.com/

  Blair’s books currently online:

  Lady Silence

  A Gamble on Love

  A Season for Love

  The Harem Bride

  The Temporary Earl

  The Courtesans’s Letters

  Steeplechase

  Tarleton’s Wife

  The Captive Heiress