Half Moon Bay

by Meryl Sawyer

  “In where?”

  “Into protective custody.”

  “Why? Dexxter Foxx thinks I’m dead.”

  “Maybe he bought it, and maybe not. We’re close to making a case on him, but we need your testimony to cinch it.”

  “The Bureau knew where I was all along, didn’t they?”

  “Yes. When Dr. Burroughs requested bioengineered skin from DermaGraft, the company notified us. The technology is still experimental. They monitor its use. We checked and found Clive Burroughs was doing reconstructive surgery on an accident victim.” The agent shrugged. “We figured you were as safe here as anywhere.”

  A dead federal marshal and two other murders could be attributed to Dexxter Foxx. She should have known the FBI would relentlessly pursue the one woman who could link him with the crimes.

  “How did you find me?”

  “Through the Miami office. They tried—unsuccessfully—to ID the other accident victim. One of our agents looked into the accident and discovered you. We were going to take you to a safe house again and start over. Instead, we took the precaution of altering the records. Prints, dental charts, vital stats. You are now Rochelle Ralston. Just don’t forget your mother’s maiden name was Merriman.”

  Scary. After pretending to be Shelly, now she was Shelly as far as the world was concerned.

  “Come on. We’re outta here.”

  “Wait. Think about this. If I suddenly disappear, isn’t Dexxter going to smell a rat? We’re so close to Mexico. He could run, and you’d never get him.”

  He hesitated. “I was told to bring you in.”

  In a split second she made a decision that she hoped wouldn’t cost her life. But in her mind she heard Matt calling her back from the near death. She loved him with all her heart, and she had no intention of leaving him.

  She had looked directly into Dexxter’s eyes, behaving like a bad girl. Okay, her version of one. The wimp hadn’t shown a flicker of recognition. If anyone suspected the truth, it was Irene. They had never known each other well. Irene had been too busy prancing around, trying in vain to get Dexxter’s attention, to notice a disfigured woman glued to her computer terminal.

  “I’m not coming with you. Your protection stinks.”

  “We had a leak, but it’s been fixed.”

  “Why didn’t you warn me that he was coming? They’ve been here for at least two days.”

  The guy shook his head. “Irene Hanson made the arrangements. We didn’t have Irene under surveillance. When Dexxter disappeared, it took us a while to locate him.”

  “Great. Another few hours and I might have been murdered in my sleep.”

  “I don’t think so. We had our profiler work on this case. She says Dexxter has a personality disorder. He believes he’s handsome and invincible. But he’s not brave enough to kill anyone himself.”

  “Handsome, Dexxter? Now, that’s a stretch.” He was short and average-looking, not terrible, but nothing like Matt. “I’ve always wondered what Irene saw in him.”

  “They’ve been together since they were kids. We haven’t studied her too closely because until now Dexxter hadn’t shown much interest in her.”

  “They’re engaged.”

  “Really? That’ll throw the profiler for a loop. According to her, Dexxter doesn’t have relationships with women. He uses prostitutes. He may not realize it, but he does this because he doesn’t want to be turned down by a woman.”

  “Irene will never turn him down. I swear, she behaved like a lovesick puppy the whole time I worked for him. If he paid any attention to a woman in the office, Irene saw that she was fired. There was even a rumor that she pushed one woman down a flight of stairs just because she worked late one night with Dexxter.”

  “He’s suddenly decided to marry Irene. It doesn’t fit the profile.”

  “Coming to kill me doesn’t fit either. He had the whistle-blowers in Asia taken care of, didn’t he?” Scott nodded thoughtfully, and she continued. “He had someone fire-bomb the house where I was living. It doesn’t make sense that he would come here and take care of me personally.”

  “Something else is going on, but what?”

  “I’ll try to find out.”

  “No, stay away from him. It’s too dangerous. We’ve been feeding him false information, so he doesn’t realize how close we are to arresting him.”

  “Hurry up. When you need me to testify, I’ll be here.”

  “I could get a court order and have you held in the protection program as a material witness.”

  “You could, but if you guys are smart, you’ll see that I’m right. Don’t tip your hand now. Let me handle Dexx.”

  He studied her a moment, then said, “You’re going to have to explain the dog. That’s how they located you.”

  She gave herself a mental pat on the back. A producer looking for an “unusual” dog had been very suspicious. “I’ll make up something.”

  He made her memorize his phone number, then reluctantly left. She decided the simplest explanation about Jiggs would be the best. Less to trip up on. She manufactured a smile and walked back to the group.

  “What took so long?” Kyle asked.

  “I answered the chief’s questions over the telephone.”

  “Let’s sit down,” Trevor said, making shooing motions with his hands. “Clive has made Coquilles Saint-jacques. They’re no good if they’re overdone.”

  Matt pulled out a chair for her, and she sat down, still smiling like the village idiot. Dexxter grabbed the seat next to her. Irene had to clear her throat twice before he stood up and pulled out the chair for her.

  The scalding look Irene threw her would have made the devil shudder, but she had more on her mind than a jealous woman. She had to convince Dexx that she really was Rochelle Ralston.

  Kyle and Bubbles sat opposite her, laughing and joking. Trevor helped Clive serve the first course, oysters on the half-shell, then they sat down. She didn’t know how to begin, but Kyle saved her by asking a question.

  “Were you able to help the police chief?”

  Everyone was eating the oysters, but their eyes were on her—especially Matt’s. She should be more worried about Dexxter, but Matt was the one who knew her best. He might detect something the others couldn’t and know she was lying. If he gave her away, no telling what Dexx would do.

  “I’m afraid I wasn’t much help. A few details have come back to me, but not much.”

  She forced herself to look Dexx in the eye. It wasn’t suspicion she saw, but something more like lust. From the tight set of Irene’s thin lips, it was evident she noticed it too.

  “Like what details?” Bubbles wanted to know.

  “We don’t want to bore Dexx and Irene—”

  “We’re not bored,” Irene assured her. “While you were on the phone, they told us all about the crash and Clive’s remarkable work when half your face was sheared off in that horrible accident.”

  “What did the police chief have to say?” Kyle asked again.

  She leaned forward slightly as if this was just so intriguing. “It seems the woman had information on some important case. They wanted to know if she had told me anything.”

  “Had she?” Clive asked.

  “No, she hardly said a thing. She didn’t even tell me her name.”

  “Now, let me get this straight. She was in your car, not the diesel truck, the way we originally thought.”

  She didn’t like the challenging tone in Matt’s voice. Dexx was slurping down the oysters as if he were listening only to be polite. Irene’s eye had a gleam of something she didn’t care to examine too closely.

  “That’s right. Somewhere north of Miami I stopped at a gas station. She asked for a ride—”

  “You should never pick up hitchhikers,” Dexx said, leaning a little too close to her as he spoke.

  Irene chimed in, “Anything can happen.”

  She gazed at Trevor because she knew he would understand. “The woman had a little dog in her
arms. The two of them looked so pathetic. Half the dog’s ear was missing, and the woman had this horrid birthmark on her face. She said she’d been traveling for days and wanted to know if I would give her a ride to Miami.”

  The sympathy in Trevor’s eyes was unmistakable. He would have seen the beauty in The Beast. Had they met under different circumstances, they still would have been friends.

  “I thought she was homeless. I said to myself: There but for the grace of God go I.”

  “Oh, Shelly, that’s, like, so sweet.”

  She smiled at Bubbles but didn’t venture a glance in Matt’s direction. Was something in her voice giving her away?

  “Did you talk to her?” Kyle asked.

  “It’s all pretty vague. I didn’t remember any of it until the last day or so.”

  Clive asked, “Why didn’t you go to the police?”

  “What good would it have done?” Trevor asked. “The woman was already dead. Shelly didn’t recall anything helpful.”

  “I was waiting to see if I remembered more.” She might have jumped in a little too quickly. There was a distinct quaver in her voice. “But I don’t think there’s much more to remember. The woman said she was exhausted. She got in the backseat and went to sleep.”

  “Why didn’t you let her off in Miami?” Matt asked.

  She ventured a look at him and lifted her shoulders in a perplexed shrug. “I have absolutely no idea.”

  “Maybe the woman, like, told you this awesome secret. That’s why you brought her to Key West with you.”

  Oh, no, Bubbles, please.

  “One day you’ll remember everything about the accident.” Irene’s voice was just a shade too calculating.

  How stupid could she be? She’d painted herself into a corner.

  *See Unforgettable.

  Chapter 26

  Somehow, she made it through dinner. The scallops Clive had prepared were nothing short of a work of art, but she had to force herself to eat them. In her lame attempt to explain why she had Jiggs, she’d made her plight even worse. She had given Dexxter every reason to believe she might recall something that could be dangerous to him.

  Not that Dexxter acted as if it bothered him. He kept flirting with her and ignoring Irene. All through the meal and the fabulous mango crème brûlé that was Clive’s specialty, Matt had been quiet. He chatted with others, seldom talking to her.

  But he wasn’t himself.

  She suspected that he hadn’t bought her story about Jiggs. She tried to think how to handle the situation. It was difficult to concentrate with everyone talking to her and Dexxter tracking her every move with his reptilian eyes.

  “We really must go,” Irene said when the group had finished their coffee.

  Dexxter opened his mouth to protest, but the look Irene shot at him would have buckled steel. Everyone else stood to leave and complimented Clive and Trevor on the meal.

  “It was great meeting all of you,” Dexxter said, but his eyes were on her. “I’m looking forward to getting to know you better.”

  What she was looking forward to was seeing him in handcuffs.

  They left with Kyle, who was house-sitting next door to Half Moon Bay. Bubbles wandered off. She went into the kitchen to help clean up.

  “Run along,” Clive said. “We’ve got this handled.”

  She turned, expecting to find Matt at her elbow, the way he’d been all evening. He was nowhere in sight. Something was wrong, and she dreaded finding out what it was.

  She had told so many lies.

  If Matt confronted her, she was half tempted to tell him the truth. But Dexxter was right there on the island. She refused to jeopardize the people who had helped her—especially Matt.

  Until tonight, when she was faced with leaving him, she hadn’t allowed herself to admit that she had fallen head over heels in love with him. She’d led an insular life, and now, having found such a wonderful man, she didn’t want anything to happen to him.

  She’d rather die herself.

  Walking out to the terrace, she saw Matt standing down by the water, where he liked to go. She slowed her pace, reluctant to face him, yet knowing she had no other choice. Putting it off wasn’t going to make it any easier. She walked across the grass and left her thongs beside Matt’s shoes.

  “When are you going to tell me what’s going on?” he asked as she stopped beside him. His eyes were sharp and assessing; unbridled anger punctuated every word.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You know exactly what I’m talking about. I saw how you acted when you were in the hospital. You cried when we brought you Jiggs. Don’t expect me to believe that bullshit about him being someone else’s dog.”

  He put his hands lightly on her waist, then let them drift upward. Through the sheer dress, she felt his warm fingers skimming her rib cage. When he reached her breasts, he cradled them, one in each hand, and squeezed gently.

  “This isn’t Clive’s work. He told me so. These babies are the real thing.” He leaned a little closer until they were almost nose to nose and said, “Who are you? Why in hell are you pretending to be Shelly?”

  Torn by conflicting emotions, she hesitated. You can’t tell him, cautioned an inner voice. Get away from him before you drag him into this.

  She turned and sprinted across the sand, hit the grass full speed, and kept going without stopping for her shoes. Scott Phillips had given her an emergency number. If she called him now, he could get her out of here tonight.

  She reached the terrace. Matt thundered up behind her. His powerful hands grabbed her shoulders and whirled her around, bringing her flush against the muscular length of him.

  “Don’t even think of running away from me, babe.”

  She’d seen that look in his eyes before and knew exactly what it meant. He backed her up against one of the limestone pillars, supporting the lattice overhang that shaded the terrace. The stone was cold and hard against her back, his body hot and unyielding against her front side.

  “You have a way of getting to me even when I’m pissed at you big-time.” He pressed a burgeoning erection against her, just in case she misunderstood. “Then my brain goes below my belt.”

  “Surprise, surprise.”

  “Don’t tell me, whoever you are, that you’re not hot for me.”

  She struggled to get away, but his body was too strong. In a way, it was exciting to be trapped like this. Savoring the heat rising from his chest and the pounding of his heart against hers, she waited.

  He captured one breast with his hand and tested the nipple with his thumb. “See? You can’t help yourself.”

  There was no use denying it. The needs of her body, so long denied, eagerly responded to him. It had been that way from the first. Now that she had experienced the height of sensual pleasure, her body yearned for him all the time.

  “Even without knowing your name, I want you so much I hate myself.”

  He kneed her legs apart and settled his erection between her thighs. Moist heat seeped into her loins, and she couldn’t resist arching her hips just a little to get closer.

  He lowered his head, his lips seeking hers. There was nothing artistic about the bruising kiss. With a savage thrust of his tongue, he was inside her mouth. She couldn’t help curling her own tongue around his as she clung to his shoulders.

  He cupped her bottom in his hands, moving her up and down against the iron heat of his sex. The silky fabric of the dress slid back and forth in a way that was even more erotic than if they had been undressed.

  Any second he was going to take her, standing up on the terrace. She wrenched her head away from the wildly carnal kiss. “L-let’s go inside.”

  His answer was to hoist up her dress and yank down her panty hose. The sheer nylons ripped apart before they cleared her thighs.

  “What’s, like, going on out there?” Bubbles called from inside the house.

  “Mind your own damn business,” Matt snarled.

  “Well, I, like never
…” Bubble’s voice trailed off.

  “My room is closest,” she managed to gasp as Matt kissed the sensitive curve of her neck just below her ear.

  “I won’t make it.”

  His voice was a low rasp with a slight tremor to it. She believed him; she was remarkably close to an orgasm herself, considering he’d just kissed her once.

  He unzipped his trousers, freeing himself with a low moan and shoving the trousers to his knees. Protruding from a dark tuft of hair, his stiff erection jutted outward. He guided it forward, probing at the delicate folds between her legs, searching for the right spot. She clung to his shoulders as the velvet-smooth tip of his sex found its target.

  His breath coming in heavy, uneven pants, he grabbed her buttocks with both hands and buried himself to the hilt. “Aw, hell, there’s nothing better than being inside you. Nothing.”

  She could tell he was angry with himself, but she couldn’t stop being just a little proud. She loved this man and couldn’t resist him even when he was making love to her out of anger. It was only fair that she have the same power over him.

  He’d filled her completely, stretching her until she was positive she would rip apart. He began to move, pummeling her with hard, demanding thrusts.

  “Yes, yes,” she heard herself moan softly.

  He pounded away, lancing her body with pleasure each time he drove into her. Seconds later, a series of small contractions became one overpowering sensation. The orgasm lasted and lasted as her own body shattered around her with unimaginable pleasure.

  She opened her eyes, not realizing she had squeezed them shut. He was still working, his face a mask of pain. Then his whole body convulsed. He let out a curse that could have been heard in Key West. And stopped.

  He released her and she sagged against the cool pillar. With as much dignity as she could muster, she removed the torn panty hose and straightened her dress. She hurried to her room and locked the door.

  Somehow Bingo and Jiggs had gotten in and were on her bed, sleeping. “Change your clothes and make that call,” she said out loud.

  An angry fist pounded on the door. Bingo and Jiggs jumped off the bed and raced for the bathroom. She didn’t have to ask who it was.