by Meryl Sawyer
They’d decided to pretend the CD had been among the group of disks Ryan had taken from Hayley’s loft. Otherwise, they would have to admit they’d broken into her parents’ home and found the info on the hard drive. This was the only way to reveal the information while protecting Ryan.
Warily, she watched him consider what she’d just said. His jaw tightened and she could almost feel the sudden tension in his body. For an instant, she thought he was going to grab her and shake some sense into her. Fierce determination filled every cell in her body. He could be as persuasive as he wanted, as demanding—as anything—but she’d made up her mind.
She noticed him shudder as he drew in a sharp breath and hunched his shoulders forward. “You know, Hayley, you’re onto something. There’s no way to prove when that CD was made. A hacker could have altered it.”
Now she leaned closer to him. “Exactly. Chad would claim I took stationery from his office when we were engaged. I used it to create the disk and make it appear legitimate.”
“You’re probably right. Unless the authorities have your mother’s hard drive checked by an expert, they won’t know the document is real.”
“While I’m returning to my usual routine, couldn’t you get the police to examine my mother’s computer?” she asked.
“It’s not that easy. A regular technician used by most police departments to examine criminals’ computers isn’t skilled enough to find this file.”
“What should we do?” The minute she uttered the word we Hayley regretted it. This was her problem—not his. He’d already jeopardized his career for her. She couldn’t let him take another risk. “I’m not hiding. I’m going to find out who’s behind this.”
He rubbed his injured shoulder for a moment. “What do you intend to do?”
“Go to Surf’s Up as if I don’t know a thing. Plant a bug in Trent’s office—”
“Where would you get the bug?”
“Online from the SpyShoppe.”
“Spare me! Too much television. Too much Internet.” Ryan threw both hands into the air, palms up. “If you could get something on Trent—and that’s a big ‘if’ because devices sold on the Internet are notoriously unreliable—what would you do with the info?”
“Take it to the authorities. Hopefully, he’ll implicate the others involved.”
He turned to her; even in the shadowy light she read the skepticism in his expression. “You would have obtained it illegally and it couldn’t be used in court.”
A sourness flared in the pit of her stomach. Had she been thinking, she would have realized this. She had no idea what she was going to do, but she refused to hide. A thought hit her. “You must know where I could buy reliable equipment.”
His eyes were so assessing that it made her uneasy. “I do, but it still won’t solve the evidence problem.”
“I feel like I’m stuck in quicksand. I want to know who exactly is behind this and why. Then I’ll know what to do.”
“I understand,” he replied.
“I can’t help thinking that it’s more than the money motivating someone.”
“Why?”
She could feel her throat closing up, and quickly said, “A hunch. That’s all.”
“Has to be two people at least,” he responded. “Bennett didn’t stand to gain anything by denying there was a trust—”
Hayley shot to her feet. “Oh, my God. I have an idea. Let’s contact Sylvia Morrow, the secretary in Chad’s office who notarized the trust. She could back up what you found in the computer’s trash.”
“I thought of that but I assumed she was in on this or she would have come forward.”
“True,” she agreed. Hayley had only met Sylvia a few times when she’d been in the office with Chad. She didn’t have a feel for the older woman.
Ryan reached up and took Hayley’s hand, then gently pulled her down beside him again, closer this time. “Do you know how a bug works?”
“Sort of.” This near him, she couldn’t ignore the heat of his body, the masculine planes of his chest under the T-shirt. “It picks up conversations and they’re recorded…somewhere.”
“So where would you hide the recorder?” he asked, unaware of the effect he had on her.
“I don’t know. Nearby. In the bushes behind the shop.”
“Great, so kids could come along and grab it.”
“It’s not much of a plan,” she admitted. “But I’m not going to hide. Garver said it could be months before the estate was settled. At that point, no one will have a reason to kill me—if that actually is the reason. I refuse to wait—hiding like I’m the criminal—until the probate is completed. I’m not going to do it.” She knew she sounded petulant but couldn’t help it. She’d made up her mind. Nothing her aunt or anyone said would change it.
He seemed to sense her need for reassurance. He slipped his arm around her shoulders and drew her flush against the solid wall of his chest. His arm was warm and strong. She inhaled the clean, fresh scent of soap. He must have showered after they’d come home.
Being in his arms felt so right that she snuggled closer. For a fleeting second she remembered the way he’d rejected her yesterday, but then the thought evaporated. She needed to feel connected to someone. Even if Ryan was only a friend, it didn’t matter. She’d always put a distance between herself and others. Oh, she had friends, but Lindsey had been her only close friend other than Aunt Meg.
Aunt Meg was family. She’d been programmed to love Hayley because Hayley was her sister’s child. Lindsey had become a close friend because she had confided in Hayley—drawn her into her life. Maybe that was what had been wrong with her relationship with Chad, Hayley reflected. They’d been engaged but somehow they’d never been truly close.
Now she needed a friend, someone who would understand what she was up against. Ryan’s sheer size was comforting in a way that she hadn’t expected. She knew he didn’t agree with her plan, but at least he listened to her, discussed things. Unlike Chad, who was a man who wanted an audience, she realized.
“I can help you,” Ryan said. “What you need is a professional bug that can be picked up far away—not in the bushes nearby—and will record on a CD, not a tape that has to be changed all the time.”
“Is that how it’s done?” she asked, realizing she knew little about high-tech surveillance.
“Yes. I can get a chip for any phone, even a cell phone.”
“Great.” She gave him half a hug with her one arm before the light dawned. He was volunteering to help her. She couldn’t allow him to do anything more to put his career at risk.
“You’ve done enough for me. I can’t let you get into trouble. If you just tell me where to go and what to get—”
“It’s too technical. I’ll take care of it.” The concern she detected in his eyes startled her. “I’ve decided to resign. I can’t get into trouble for helping you.”
She gasped, alarm coursing through her. “You did? Why?”
His arm still around her, Ryan rested his head against the back of the sofa and stared up at the ceiling. In the shadowy darkness, she couldn’t read his expression. Oh, God, she didn’t want to be responsible for ending his career. Then she recalled the way he’d acted last night. She didn’t mean that much to him. Something else had to be going on that she didn’t understand.
“It’s complicated,” he finally said, lowering his head and looking into her eyes again. “I haven’t been on track with the Bureau’s program for some time now. Even before I reinjured my shoulder, I didn’t like the way career advancement means moving to another city when you get a promotion.”
There seemed to be some unspoken yet intangible link between them. She didn’t dare speak and break the spell. It occurred to Hayley that she knew very little about him. Maybe she was foolish to trust him. The thought vanished before it could settle in her brain.
“When I return to work in two weeks, I expect to be promoted and sent to Quantico, where the main office has a world-cl
ass computer forensics team. That would mean leaving my father. I can’t. He won’t be around forever. I want to share what time we have left.”
“I understand,” Hayley replied in a whispery voice that she hardly recognized. “When my parents died, I would have moved to San Francisco, but I couldn’t leave Aunt Meg.” She had the feeling there might be more to his story than he was telling her, but now didn’t seem to be the time to question him.
Ryan silently gazed down at her. His look was so galvanizing it sent a tremor through her. His grip on her tightened as his attitude became more serious. “My priorities have changed. I’m going to help you through this, then I’ll reevaluate…things.”
He pulled her closer, both arms around her now. Her cheek rested against his T-shirt and she could feel the firmness of his torso, the powerful beat of his heart. She circled her arm around his waist, feeling protected and desired.
Desired? Was she imagining it? After the way she’d misjudged him last night, Hayley couldn’t be sure. His appeal was devastating but maybe he just wanted to comfort her. She was just plain stupid to allow herself to imagine this to be something it wasn’t.
She tilted her head up so she could look directly into his eyes. In the shadows, his gaze roved over her face. The smoldering spark she saw in his eyes was startling. A ripple of excitement danced through her. There was no mistaking his intentions.
He cradled her face with a warm hand, sweeping away all her doubts and fears. His touch was almost unbearable in its tenderness and the surge of passion it released in Hayley. Her feelings for him were intensifying with every beat of her heart. Her whole body seemed to be filled with wanting—and waiting. Tonight he had to kiss her first.
His lips pressed against hers, then gently covered her mouth. His grip on her tightened as he pressed her flush against his chest. Her pulse quickened and a hot ache built inside her. The velvet warmth of his kiss became slightly moist as his tongue sought hers. She returned his kiss with reckless abandon. Her nipples tightened and her body did a slow burn.
Dizzy with excitement, she dug her fingers into the solid muscles of his neck, careful to avoid his injured shoulder. His lips slanting over hers, his tongue invaded her mouth and his grip on her tightened. Her senses reeled as if short-circuited.
He eased her backward, still kissing her, until they were stretched out on the sofa, his powerful body half-covering hers. A riptide of pure desire swept through her at the mind-blowing kiss. The magnitude of her own feelings stunned her. When had she ever wanted a man like this?
Never.
Until now, until Ryan Hollister. She arched her body upward so her breasts could revel in the warmth of his chest and her lower body could cradle his burgeoning arousal. Oh, my. Her body had been made for him.
His lips left hers, but hovered a scant inch above her mouth. His eyes were as hot as the molten sun. “You’re so damn sexy. It’s eating me alive.”
She touched his cheek, the emerging stubble rough against her fingertips. “Am I?”
“Damn right,” he replied, his voice suddenly hoarse.
She tried to smile but his lips were already on hers again—more possessive this time. Feverishly she kissed him, nibbling the tip of his tongue, then sucking on it. A groan came from deep in his throat; inwardly she smiled. His fingers slipped under her tank top and up her rib cage, stroking and caressing. His large hand fondled the fullness of her breast as his thumb circled her nipple. Her head spun with excitement and she quaked beneath him.
Some inner voice echoed in her brain: Slow down. You don’t know this man. Now isn’t the time for sex. Good advice, but who cared? She wanted Ryan—and she wanted him now!
The sweet spot between her legs throbbed and her toes curled into the sofa’s smooth leather. What was happening to her? In a distant part of her mind, Hayley realized she was out of control but she couldn’t help herself.
Ryan levered himself upward and shucked his T-shirt in one swift movement. In the pale light from the window, she saw the dense thatch of chest hair that arrowed downward in a vee then disappeared under the waistband of his shorts. What right did one man have to look so heart-stoppingly masculine, so handsome?
The lean muscles on his broad chest were ripped and his arms bulged slightly. A white welt of a scar marked his shoulder. An athlete’s body, complete with battle scars, she thought.
He had her tank top off before she realized she was helping him. The cool ocean breeze through the window swirled over her beaded breasts. Her nipples became hard as marbles. Heart reeling, she pulled him down on top of her again. She kissed him as if he were the only man she’d ever wanted to kiss.
Arms around his neck, she arched upward to feel his rough nest of curls against her sensitive breasts. Oh, yes, she thought as her nipples instantly responded to the coarse feel of his chest and the firmness of his arousal pressing into her.
She was so engrossed in the marvelous sensations that it took a few seconds to realize the buzzing sound wasn’t in her sex-crazed brain. Ryan’s telephone was ringing and vibrating at the same time near her thigh.
Ryan broke the kiss and jammed his hand into the side pocket of his cargo shorts. Breathing audibly, he told her. “It must be Ed. I have to take this.”
They disentangled their bodies as Ryan answered in a raspy voice that wouldn’t have fooled anyone. Hayley searched for her T-shirt and found it on the floor beside the sofa. Ryan’s conversation barely registered, but she knew he was telling Ed that the disk had turned out not to be important.
She shrugged into the flimsy shirt, realizing the call had saved her. This was a mistake. She couldn’t get involved with a man right now. She wasn’t sure if what she was feeling was a reaction to a prolonged lack of sex, or had it been ignited by the danger of her situation?
Taking time, making sure was the best course of action. Don’t jump into anything, especially with a man still in love with his deceased wife. You won’t ever live up to the image he has in his mind, she reminded herself.
She stood up while Ryan was still talking. Now he was telling Ed that he expected to go to work for a private security firm as soon as his shoulder fully healed. The situation was awkward, to say the least, she thought.
The last thing she wanted was to face Ryan and acknowledge what had—almost—happened between them. Or take up where they’d left off.
Mumbling, “Good night,” she headed toward the bedroom she was using. Once inside, she locked the door. Hayley half expected Ryan to come to her room, but he didn’t. No doubt he’d come to his senses, too.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“WHAT THE FUCK happened?” The killer hated that word—fuck. It was so overused, but in this case it described the situation to a T. “How could that bitch still be alive?”
Asking the sun just peeking over the horizon was useless. Same for the ribbons of white clouds against the pale sky. Mother Nature had the answer to many questions, but not this one.
The killer squeezed out a furious growling sound. Shit happened. The woman who climbed into Hayley’s car looked exactly like Hayley. Didn’t she? Thinking back to that night, it was hard to be sure. It had been so dark, so shadowy.
Who wouldn’t have mistaken the woman—whoever she was—for Hayley? Fuck. Double fuck. The woman had gotten into Hayley’s car and put a key in the ignition. At that point there was no way to stop the explosion.
“Let it go,” the killer whispered, hatred flaming from every pore. “Forget about it. Move forward. Come up with a new idea.”
Don’t allow one lousy snafu to end the plan. This was merely a roadblock. The screeching wail of a siren, sounding like a cat in heat, filled the air. It reminded the killer of a more pressing problem. Now everyone from the media to the authorities was watching…investigating. Hayley’s return from the dead—nothing short of miraculous—intrigued everyone.
Welcome to the real world. It might be total bullshit, but the public loved a mystery, a conspiracy theory. They’d be ho
wling to see this case solved.
At this point, taking out Hayley wouldn’t be prudent. Prudent. What a word. The killer savored it. Some might have used smart instead, but not the killer. Thinking at a higher level had deceived even the cleverest of investigators. So far.
Who would have imagined Hayley was alive? Not one fucking person.
Who was the woman who died? Not that it mattered to the plan. But if she happened to be someone important, the authorities would bully everyone to solve this. Eventually, they might figure out what was really happening.
Do something to sidetrack them. But what?
The killer stared at the sky, now painted dazzling blue by the morning sun. A trio of gulls flew over, circling, cawing. An idea slowly began to form in the killer’s mind. There were obstacles—mere details—to be worked out, but this might be the answer. The killer considered various possibilities. What had to be done became crystal-clear and the killer was jazzed, wired.
Hayley Fordham didn’t have nine lives. She couldn’t escape death twice. She was as good as dead. So dead.
TRENT SAT ON THE DECK of the Beachcomber Café and sipped a cup of coffee, inhaling the bracing scent of the sea as he gazed out at Crystal Cove Beach while he waited for Laird McMasters. The gentle swells that broke on the sugar-fine sand became choppier whitecaps closer to the horizon. This wasn’t a good surfing beach, but it was a favorite of families.
Crystal Cove was one of the spots in Newport Beach that Trent liked best. No other beach boasted a café within a few feet of the surf. Fine dining could be found on the bay, but none right on the ocean like this. When you got right down to it, even foodies admitted you couldn’t beat Mother Nature’s beauty.
“Hey, dude. Been waiting long?” Laird appeared at Trent’s side.
“Not long.” Laird pulled out the chair opposite Trent, and Trent couldn’t help wondering—not for the first time—why Laird seemed so anxious to become a big name in the surf business. No one had ever seen him surf.
