by Carol McPhee
"It's time to go to dinner,” Malcolm said. “Did you ask Miss Wheeler to join us?"
Rand wished he could say she had refused and change the smirk facing him to a frown. “Lori told me she'd meet us there."
"Good! Even with the scar she's very attractive. I'd like to get to know her."
As his fury fast arose, Rand fought the impulse to deck Warner and instead, calmly met the other man's wistful gaze.
"If you just met her, as you said, Rand, there can't be any strong emotional attachment yet,” Malcolm taunted. “Am I right?” The drug dealer's probe dared Rand to dispute him.
Rand looked for an answer that would placate Malcolm, but still keep Lori safe. If there was one, it didn't come to mind. Much could be learned by placing Lori on the inside track in hope she might learn something they didn't know and relay the information to him. Yet it would be hazardous, especially in her fragile emotional state. Damn. He had to make a choice and make it immediately so as to confirm his willingness to be part of the criminal action.
The choice was clear, although sacrificing Lori came with a price. If they were to bring a scheme developed for months to a successful conclusion, he would have to put her in harm's way and damn well make sure he would be there to keep an eye on her safety.
"She's fair game, Malcolm. There's nothing established between us. Lori's not my type. She's been through a rough time, and it's made her too touchy for my liking.” He hoped he'd given Warner reason to tread lightly with her.
"I'm sure I can bring her around. I treat a lady with the utmost regard. Now let's get over to the dining room."
"You go on ahead. I have a few things to talk over with George."
"All right. See you shortly."
As Rand watched his nemesis shove off in the canoe, his hands balled into fists.
George nudged his elbow. “What's up? You're as white as the Destiny."
"I don't like the new snag in our plans. It feels like I've tossed Lori to the wolves and I don't think she can handle it.” He quickly explained the option he'd taken and though George agreed with his motives, it didn't soothe his anxiety. There were many things that could go wrong.
"Would you like to come for dinner, too?” Rand asked. “I could use a bit of support."
George shook his head. “I don't think it's safe to leave the Destiny unguarded; they may try to bug the yacht. I'll stay here. Could you get the kitchen to send me some decent food? I'd appreciate something besides eating out of a can. How about another steak?"
"Looks like your ritzy living quarters are going to your head. I'll see what I can do."
Rand made his way to the dining room, hoping to find Lori waiting at the door. When the Zodiac's motor had been reluctant to start, it meant wasting valuable moments before reaching the dock. His wish was in vain.
The sound of male laughter rumbled across the crowded room. Recognizing the low-pitched laugh, he looked toward the sound. Lori already sat with Warner. These continual complications that involved her made it impossible to form a definite game plan; he'd have to wing it once more. Warner's apparent interest in Lori was not only unexpected, but also incredible.
From earlier investigation, Rand knew the man was attracted to flashy women who hovered in the shadowy world of big bucks and fancy cars. Not to minimize Lori's looks, she just didn't fit the model. Obviously he wanted more than her womanly charms. The smuggler would use whatever he had that appealed to women to get what he wanted. And he'd want a lot.
Rand knew the downside of involvement with him. Lori's tendency to say what she thought wouldn't sit well, but probably infuriate the scum. With Warner's hidden agenda, it didn't take much intelligence to figure out Lori's life could be in danger.
Rand wished he hadn't set her up to get so close to his assignment. Jeez, with her smarts and quick observation, I wouldn't put it past her to look on this dinner as a way to get information for Sergeant McCormick. He knew she didn't have the experience to plan her moves as in chess; she'd be flying blind without a clue of Rand's manipulation, or Warner's either, for that matter. She should have had enough sense to wait for him before dealing with the lowlife. He winced. That was what she considered him to be.
He inhaled a deep fortifying breath, then strode to the table. As he approached, he saw the desolation in Lori's eyes. She looked downright uncomfortable, yet when she glanced up, her expression didn't change. Why didn't she appreciate her rescuer had arrived?
Malcolm motioned Rand to the chair opposite Lori. However, he took the risk of irritating the drug lord and sat in another chair, where he could reach under the table and warn her if she got herself in too deep. He couldn't miss the vexation in the drug leader's eyes.
* * * *
Restlessly filling in the last few minutes before dinner, Lori had wandered around the gift shop, but her mind was on the forthcoming meal, not on purchasing Nova Scotia souvenirs. The closer her watch hands moved to six o'clock, the more upset her stomach became.
When she'd looked through the glass partition separating the boutique from the lobby and saw Mr. Warner enter the lodge, her hands turned to ice. Rand wasn't with him. Before she could duck behind a set of shelves, Mr. Warner, the epitome of a successful businessman dressed for a night on the town, spotted her. A spasm, caused by pent-up air, made her lungs feel like she'd been stabbed. She forced a smile in spite of the pain. He beamed in return and joined her in the tiny store.
"Good evening, Miss Wheeler. I'm Malcolm Warner."
She accepted his extended hand, hoping he didn't notice how cold her own was. It matched the chill running down her back.
"Hello, Mr. Warner. I'm pleased to meet you. Rand hasn't arrived, yet."
"Yes, I know ... I just left him on the boat."
Dammit, Rand. Why aren't you here? How could you leave me with this man?
"Why don't we go to a table? We can get acquainted before Rand shows up."
"The dining room looks full; we may have to wait in the lobby,” she said, hoping he'd be willing to stand here where she could look at the shelves instead of his fox-like smile.
"Nonsense. I seldom wait.” The tall, heavy-set figure closed in on her. He placed his arm on her back and ushered her to the dining room door. Along with needles pricking their way along her nerves from his touch, his forwardness constricted her throat. It took sheer willpower to prevent her body from stiffening, too. Once they reached the threshold, the pleasant greeting of the hostess helped quell her jitters. “Hello, Mr. Warner. The table you reserved is ready. Come this way, please."
Lori didn't miss the inviting look in the face of the pretty woman set to escort them. Her cat-like eyes silently asked, “Wouldn't you rather be with me tonight?” Mr. Warner scowled and a sudden frostiness nipped the air. Lori pretended nothing was out of the ordinary, yet she wondered about the relationship between the two.
The crowded room forced him to relinquish his hold, and they walked single file to a window table in a corner. Malcolm graciously held her chair and smiled when she eased into the chair. With the gleam present in his eyes, she figured something was afoot, but she couldn't tell what. His superiority irked her. His unruffled deportment and wide-eyed innocence reminded her of an owl about to pounce on an unwary mouse. This mouse was wary. She suspected she'd keep hearing Rand's words about people being tempted to use her revolving in her mind throughout the meal.
Perhaps, because of the forewarning, she got the impression within the first few seconds that this owl planned to charm her. He had the flair of a man who was confident in a woman's presence like Rand and could be simply offering his usual attentiveness. If so, maybe she should try and make use of his knack and find out what she could. Wouldn't Sergeant McCormick be impressed if she delivered more than just information about Rand?
There was no reason for Mr. Warner to be suspicious of her, even though they'd seen each other around the courthouse. She'd have to be exceedingly careful not to tip her hand. Proud of her reasoning, she rel
axed, determined to use whatever advantage popped up.
"This is a lovely dining room,” she purred, as she picked up her napkin.
"Yes, it's very pleasant."
"The hostess seemed to know you. Do you come here often?"
"Several times during the lodge's season."
Lori's mind quickly reviewed a fact she had read in Lochaber's brochure. The resort was open from June to late October. That allowed Malcolm a wide span of time to move his drugs into the area. There were no other lodgings nearby. She would bet the times he stayed here coordinated with each shipment. He must have been showing Rand the isolated cove to familiarize him with the location the Destiny should anchor to bring drugs ashore. Her irritation rose to the point she feared it might show, so she busied herself by fingering the folds of her napkin, then flattened it across her lap. “You must like it here, Mr. Warner. Do you make use of the workout room and pool?"
"Call me, Malcolm, please. No, I'm afraid I prefer to vegetate on my downtime."
"Do you always come with other associates ... Malcolm?” She noticed a sudden shift in his position as he focused on the other diners. Her questions made him edgy—time to draw back. She wasn't a professional at interrogating, and therefore, her inexperience called for caution.
"I'm sorry.” She paused and smiled as sweetly as she could. “I shouldn't pry, but I noticed they seemed to hang on every word you said when I saw you at dinner last night.” What a joke. The only thing that impressed her was his luck at staying out of prison.
"The men work for me."
His self-indulgence in being here as one of the elite grated on her nerves. Her desire to see him behind bars soared. The results of his actions were detrimental to others and strengthened her conviction that she should help the sergeant more than originally planned.
"I thought your men would be dining with us, too, when Rand mentioned your invitation.” She stared directly into eyes that narrowed to slits, then, after a brief inspection, no doubt questioning her sudden interest, changed to a mischievous gleam.
"I sent them down the coast to attend to business matters so I could be rid of them. They'll be back shortly.” He reached over and touched her arm. “I was wondering if you might want to take a drive later. There's going to be a full moon, and I know of a small cove that would fascinate you."
"I don't think so, but thank you for asking.” Did he find this brash technique worked well with other women? The nerve of his assumption that she'd want to go anywhere with him; she could barely keep from gagging. Under no circumstances would she permit herself to be alone with this man. Where is Rand? She would appreciate even his luckless hide's appearance to turn the conversation in a direction that wasn't such a blatant attempt at playing with her. This creep disgusted her, and although she wanted to press for more information, the thought he might take her curiosity as real interest in him stopped her. She straightened the silverware at her place setting to keep her hands from showing her annoyance.
"How long have you known Rand?” he asked
Her brows lifted. “I met him yesterday. Why?"
"He seems to like to keep his activities secret. I wondered if you knew more about him than I do. He told me you were his guest last evening on board his boat."
She doubted Rand told anyone anything about her. He was too closed-mouthed. “We spent the evening playing chess."
"Did he give you a tour of the Destiny?"
"As a matter-of-fact, he did."
"And in those luxurious surroundings, you just played chess?” Her frown challenged Warner not to make an issue of her claim. He took the warning and smiled calmly. “I don't suppose you saw any charts lying around?"
Lori shook her head and played dumb. Of course there were charts, and one had been in the bedroom, but she wouldn't broadcast that news. She identified a faint glimmer of disbelief in his face. Had he been baiting her? Her uneasiness mounted.
"What do you think of our captain?"
By now, tuned like a coiled spring, Lori decided she'd better be honest with her answers or risk suspicion and defeat her purpose.
"I think he has more money than sense.” Her blunt statement extracted a laugh from Malcolm, loud enough that it carried across the room. She hadn't said it to be funny. She truly felt it was pathetic that a man like Rand, with so much to offer, should get involved with crime. Malcolm reached over and placed his hand on top of hers as it rested on the table. She wanted to draw it away, but didn't want to upset him. However, when his fingers began to massage the back of it, she had all she could do to keep her face blank. The strain became almost unbearable, as if an infectious disease was working its insidious destruction of her flesh. She need not have worried; a cure was on the way.
When Rand walked in, Malcolm stiffened and removed his hand. Lori blew out a sigh of relief, but recognized the challenge of handling her situation delicately. The electricity Rand generated simply by coming toward her blurred her thought processes, temporarily depositing Malcolm and her worries into the background.
Up to now, Rand had been patient with her peculiar way of pushing him away, and why not—they hadn't known each other long. But when he spied her in Malcolm's company, holding hands, his quick, stiff strides and unsmiling face warned of his displeasure. As far as she was concerned his reproachful bearing was unwarranted. He had no claim on her. Her reluctance to have dinner with the gang's leader forgotten, Rand's gall offended her.
Seven
The unspoken rivalry not only surprised Lori, but also left her bewildered. She'd worn the only dress she'd brought, since this appearance was by invitation. She'd expected casual wear would be the order of the day at the resort, but wanting to indulge herself at least once by dressing up, she'd packed her black dress with matching low-heeled suede shoes and a small change purse. Maybe the gold leaf-shaped earrings set it off; she'd forgotten the necklace that went with the set. The vee neckline showed only a hint of cleavage, and she liked the way the dress nipped tightly to her waist then flowed in a light swing at her knees. She should have worn jeans and a simple shirt.
Lori was repulsed by Malcolm's overly friendly manner and disgruntled by Rand's guarded approach. Aware of the damage the drug trade causes society, she wanted to see both of them handed over to Sergeant McCormick. After all, part of her job had been to sign papers sending convicted criminals to prison. Surely, seeing them both incarcerated would only be a further extension of her duties. Lori wondered if it would be possible to help pull off such an outlandish idea. Besides, to see the end of the pair's illegal ventures would be more satisfying than withering away under her burden of guilt. The question was, how?
The task would call for ingenuity to outwit her seasoned companions. Was she up to it? She had to be for her involvement to bring back the zest for life she'd once had and renew faith in herself. Her stomach muscles tightened with excitement rather than worry. The two men were already at loggerheads, judging by the way Rand ignored Malcolm's choice of seating at the table. Perhaps she could play them against each other and learn more. Lori leaned back in her chair. The heat of the challenge warmed her cheeks.
"Was everything all right on the boat, Rand?” Lori asked innocently, raising one brow. “You left in a hurry.” She saw his breath quicken; his face flushed.
Malcolm's wrinkled forehead pinpointed his curiosity at the man across from him. “Did my visit to your yacht worry you, Rand?"
Rand scowled at Lori, then switched to a half smile in recognition of Warner's question. “I had things to check out with George before we go to sea tomorrow."
"Are you leaving?” Lori asked. Her hands fidgeted in her lap. If he were going away, there would be no chance after tonight to get information, and there'd be little she could do to see him and Malcolm put away. Sweat trickled up from her palms. Rand took his time with his answer, making her feel like she was threaded on a crossbow, ready to spring.
"Since George made a few minor repairs, we want to take the boat out fo
r a trial run."
"Oh.” She relaxed.
Rand's sudden grin caught her off-guard. She reddened. Her obvious interest must have flattered him. Why not? It was genuine. “Would you like to come with us?"
The words flowed from his mouth, smooth as honey dripping from a spoon. She was stunned.
Lori wiped her damp hands on her napkin so she wouldn't appear overly eager. “I'd like to go. Thanks. Maybe I could take a canvas and paint a scene while you and George work."
Rand nodded and she grinned at his satisfied wink. She didn't look at Malcolm; she sensed the strain in his silence.
The waitress poured ice water into their glasses, then dealt out the menus. Lori remained quiet as her mind raced at full throttle. In spite of the underhandedness of her plan, she looked forward to spending time with Rand—just to achieve her goal, of course. Her new challenges would temporarily free her from Penny's haunting memory.
Although leery of Malcolm, his interest in her could provide a rare opportunity to pick up details that Sergeant McCormick couldn't access. She had to figure out how to maintain a safe distance from Malcolm and still learn something. She wasn't afraid of Rand and felt encouraged by his continued presence. But how would Rand and Malcolm react if they soon saw through her deceit? She didn't plan on hanging around long enough to find out, once she passed over whatever knowledge she collected. Their arrest wouldn't demand her appearance and, since the Coastal Watch Program assured anonymity, neither would their trial.
Lori watched as Rand studied her face. His gaze moved over every inch of her complexion, coming to rest on her lips. Embarrassed by his inspection, she forced herself to look at Malcolm, wondering if he had an objection to her going with Rand for the day, although it was none of his business.
