Evil Secrets Trilogy Boxed Set

by Vickie McKeehan

  “Hey, sleepyhead, we were getting worried about you.”

  “Hey. What happened to all the gear?”

  She gave him a quizzical look and noticed his hair was damp and pulled back in that stubby ponytail that made him look like a seventeenth century pirate, standing on the deck of his ship rather than a software geek. “Everything’s at the house. I’d have been back sooner, but we’ve been scrubbing the house clean. The floors are absolutely filthy and every piece of furniture has at least seven layers of dust in spite of the dust covers. We all started sneezing the minute we set foot inside.”

  “How? How did you move the gear?”

  The quizzical look turned almost comical. She smiled up at the serious look on his face. “We’re resourceful. Now are you staying on the boat or are you coming with me? Since I’ve got the dinghy, if I leave, you’ll have to swim in and it’s farther than it looks.”

  Sensing a challenge, he stated flatly, “I haven’t finished breakfast yet. You wouldn’t want me to leave on an empty stomach, would you? And I have to get the stuff in my room. Come on up here, Baylee.” He motioned to her with his index finger that he wanted her to climb out of the motor boat and join him on deck. “Keep me company while I finish those cinnamon rolls you left for me. And thanks for breakfast.”

  She knew he was up to something. She could see it in his eyes. But she didn’t really care because since waking up that morning, knowing they were in Catalina, knowing they had put some miles between the baby and Connor―it felt good to be on the water, sitting outside in a motorboat looking up at Dylan, relaxed without a care in the world.

  With a cloudless June sky overhead, the harbor around her coming alive with people, the island’s birds chirping a song to summer, the air itself seemed to stir with energy, maybe even optimism. It felt good to say silly things, kid around with each other, and be normal for a change. Baylee felt almost giddy, like a kid again.

  For the first time in months, she felt hopeful.

  Wishing it could stay like this forever, she decided to join him. Stretching her arm up to reach the side ladder on the Sea Warrior, she struggled to grab hold of the lowest rung. Sometimes it was hell being short, she thought, as she finally managed to latch on and pull herself up, climbing toward the top.

  Halfway up though, all at once, she saw Dylan’s arm snake out and pluck her off the ladder as if she weighed no more than one of the island’s orange garibaldi dangling on a hook.

  “God, you look good this morning,” he called out, as he plopped her down on the deck.

  His arms immediately found her waist. His mouth connected with hers like a fierce magnetic pull. Their tongues touched, drawing hers into a playful rhythm. Their bodies hummed with pent up need. When they came up for air, he sucked in a deep breath. A blitz of images flickered through his mind. Baylee holding Sarah; Baylee feeding her. It was broad daylight. He tamped his lust down a notch, deciding to keep the mood teasing. He backed her up against the railing, leaning into her; body pressed against body, his arms still circled around her tiny waist.

  She smelled like flowers, jasmine maybe, or lavender, he wasn’t sure which. Whatever it was kicked the lust up again. It was all he could do to pack it back down. “Now spill it, woman, how did you and Kit move all that gear by yourselves?”

  “You don’t intend to let this go, do you? We’re not helpless, Dylan. We have our resources. Besides, Kit’s an Amazon with superhuman strength. Haven’t you seen her in action? And I might be small but I have strong muscles.” Despite his lock on her, she flexed an arm. “Then there’s Sarah; she carried most of the heavy stuff.”

  “So that’s the way it’s gonna be, is it? How about if I kiss it out of you? How would that be, hmm?” He kissed her forehead, her nose, each corner of her mouth and then zeroed in on those moist lips again. He lowered his head. She tasted like wind and sea.

  Baylee’s lips parted, anticipating his skilled moves. She dropped into the kiss. Longing nipped at her belly. She held on tighter. On tiptoes, she floated upward as their bodies bumped.

  What was supposed to be a quick morning kiss soon built to red-hot want. They stood tasting, sampling, nipping as hunger began to race through both of them. The tongue tag went on and on, creating streams of white hot light that warmed her from the inside out.

  Sinking deeper, the heat speared up to brilliant orange flame. Caught up, she felt like her feet left the deck. She was flying, as if her entire body rose higher, higher in his arms. Suddenly she was aware they were both moving. She realized she’d left the ground for real.

  Dylan carried her down the steps going below deck.

  “Where are we going?” she moaned huskily.

  “I got my test results via text. Everything checked out. What’s your stance on morning sex?” he asked as his mouth moved to nibble that tender spot along her throat before moving to her ear, before coming back to her mouth in a fierce persuasion.

  “I’m all for it. Everyone knows morning sex is the best.”

  “Mmmm, my kind of woman,” he whispered, as he stood in the middle of the salon with her hugged up against his chest. “I want you, Baylee. But if you aren’t ready for this, tell me now, and I’ll put you down right here, right now, and we won’t go any further.”

  She wrapped her arms tighter, nuzzled his neck. “I want you, Dylan.”

  “Thank God,” he growled, and swept her into the stateroom. He laid her down on the bed and went down on top of her.

  He sought her mouth. Their tongues sampled then greedily devoured. He began to shed her clothes. When her top flew off, Baylee sought flesh too. She wrestled to get his T-shirt over his head. When it finally sailed through the air, her fingers roamed over bare chest, appreciating the feel of his athletic shoulders.

  His fingers expertly worked to get rid of the bra. The bra went flying. They tumbled over one another until Baylee straddled him. His hands reached up to take advantage of her perfect, supple breasts, her pebbled, rosy tips.

  He reared up to lave and taste, lingering over the swell of one breast all the way to the nipple and back again. He suckled one, then the other, nibbling each peak into his mouth until they hardened.

  “Baylee, you taste so sweet.”

  Her hands fisted in his hair, guiding him, nudging him back to her breasts then further down toward the searing heat.

  He tugged at her shorts and found her bare-assed underneath. His fingers went wild, plunging into her moist hot center. She bucked. They rolled again. He came out on top. His fingers probed, toyed, played. As she climbed, he watched her eyes change from glaze to dark, then flicker with pleasure as it built slowly, layer by layer.

  His mouth connected with hers, took in her short breathy groans.

  The orgasm rocked through her, sending her body into waves of little quivers and quakes. As soon as the tremors played out, he began to move down the length of her, tasting every curve of nipple and ridge again, savoring every touch of smooth skin. He leisurely, deliberately laved his way past her navel, past her flat stomach, past a landing-strip-patch of feathery light hair, hair that proved without doubt she was a natural blond.

  His tongue dipped to play at her moist core.

  Baylee wanted to thrust, propel him further toward the satin heat. Her hips moved to the beat of his tongue as he feasted until she came in a burst of dazzling colored rockets.

  He trailed back up her body, tasting skin, licking his way until he got to her mouth. He nipped her lower lip before sucking her tongue.

  Coming out of her satiated state, surrender came easily, sweetly. She began to move beneath him. At some point he rolled to his back, retrieved a foil packet from somewhere, and sheathed on a condom.

  Eyes closed, Baylee missed the weight of his body on hers. Lazily she tried to lift her head. She opened her eyes in time to see him settle between her legs. She felt his lips on hers again then hot moist tongue. He slipped a finger in between her folds, began to stroke again, working her to another fast
quake.

  But just before she came again, he knelt between her thighs, eased gently into her. She wrapped her legs around him and began to move again, plunging him deeper, driving him further. He fought against greedy release, fought for control, fought to hold back. But when her rhythm increased, he quickened his thrusts. When he saw her eyes change, he simply let himself go, dropping into the depths of the blissful wave.

  She traced a finger along his spine as she lay there, content as a puppy lapping cream, with him still inside. If there were anything that could have made this morning more perfect, she couldn’t think of what it might be.

  He let out a sigh and pressed his lips to hers. Reluctant to move, he rested his forehead on hers. “That was incredible. You’re such a little thing. I must be crushing you.”

  “You’re fine. No, more than fine. You’re amazing. After such a long drought I had four. Fabulous four.” She threw her arms out wide in celebration.

  He rolled to his back, bringing her with him. Still buried inside her, with his arms locked around her, he pushed her hair out of her face so he could see her eyes clearly. “You have the most incredible shade of eyes, the color of the ocean. Promise me something.”

  “What?”

  “You won’t ever again believe I couldn’t be attracted to you. You are beautiful.”

  “Oh, Dylan. You say the sweetest things.”

  “Now,” he prodded, “tell me how you and Kit got all that stuff into the dinghy by yourselves.”

  She giggled, still high on afterglow. “We did it the old-fashioned way. Catalina has all manner of people you can hire to transport your stuff to shore. Kit and I simply got online, found a company who specializes in unloading a boat, picked up the phone, and paid someone to show up with a big boat of their own, load up our stuff, and cart it to the house in one trip. We didn’t want you to have to spend half a day by yourself lugging all that crap around after having such a difficult night.”

  “Aww, that’s sweet.” He started moving his hands up and down her slim body, exploring things he’d missed earlier in their haste to make love. Then with his teeth, he tugged lightly on her lower lip. “That must mean between the two of us we should still have enough energy left to go another round.” Smoothly, skillfully, he rolled on top of her again and began to feast on her mouth.

  It took Dylan and Baylee another two hours before they finally made it to the Spanish-style two-story villa, tucked up against the harbor. Like two randy teenagers coming in from a date, reluctant to say goodnight, they snuck up to the porch and stood at the front door, locked up in each other. Neither wanted to end one of the best mornings they’d had in some time.

  From the living room, Kit thought she heard someone on the porch. With Sarah poised on her hip, she went to the front door and threw it open. Still wrapped up in each other, Dylan and Baylee stood entwined in each other’s arms and didn’t even bother breaking apart.

  “What took you guys so long?” One look at their goofy faces and Kit had her answer.

  After all, Baylee had been gone for almost three hours.

  “What took you guys so long?” Kit repeated like a parrot, forcing them to look at her, but neither bothered to acknowledge her existence.

  “Ran into rough seas,” Dylan finally admitted without sparing Kit so much as a glance.

  “Almost a squall,” Baylee added, all innocent, standing there with her arms locked around Dylan as if she were under a vampire-like spell and couldn’t tear herself away.

  “Definitely bad weather,” Dylan persisted.

  Kit sighed. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky. Snapping her fingers with her free hand, Kit said without rancor, “Hey, snap out of it. We still have to put all this stuff away, like the groceries, unpack our clothes, finish cleaning this place up. I can’t even put Sarah down to crawl on the floor without giving it another swipe with the mop.”

  Mentioning Sarah finally had the desired effect. It got them both moving. Once they let go of each other, Baylee headed straight for Sarah, plucking her out of Kit’s arms. “Hey, angel-face, did you miss Mommy? Did you eat your cereal for Auntie Kit?”

  “Chowed down just like Dylan here does. Put cereal in front of her and it seems she’s just like this big guy with food.” Kit playfully tugged on Dylan’s shirt sleeve. “It was like watching Pepper zero in on his Dog Chow.”

  “Even though I resemble that remark, I’ll take it in the spirit it was given, and say, I’m glad Sarah’s taken to her cereal―like her Daddy,” Dylan boasted, lips curving into a wide grin.

  Kit looked him up and down with hands on her hips. “I could use some muscle to get things cleared out of the living room.” She rolled her eyes, then smiled. “Daddy. Those moving guys dumped the gear right here. I’ve checked out the bedrooms, all five of them. We can use the middle one upstairs as the staging area. If we store most of the stuff there until you guys get around to unpacking it, I think we can get most of this stuff out of the high traffic areas. Although, at some point we may have to cram some of it into one of the larger closets at least for now to get it out of the way. I checked the closets in this place, even the ones in the hallway. All five bedroom closets are filled to the brim with junk.”

  She turned her attention to Baylee, “I never realized your father was such a pack rat or the sentimental type. Take a gander in those closets and it doesn’t look like the man ever threw anything away.” Remembering the mess Jake and Dylan and Reese had found in Alana’s attic when they went looking, she added, “What was it with that generation about keeping everything they ever laid their hands on?”

  Focusing on Dylan, without skipping a beat, she gave orders like a drill sergeant. “Start with the guest room further down the hall. We designated that as Sarah’s room. Then grab the bags with her clothes. Haul them upstairs like a good boy. Daddy.”

  “Yes, boss, right away, boss, anything you say, boss,” Dylan mocked, his eyes lighting with merriment. Picking up a bag, he heaved it up onto his shoulder before heading down the hallway toward the staircase.

  “Oh, stop it. You slept the day away and now it’s time you made yourself useful,” Kit yelled after him.

  “You sure are bossy without Jake around,” Dylan declared, jovially.

  At the mention of Jake her drill sergeant demeanor softened into a puddle of marshmallow crème. To Baylee she merely said, “He called after the meeting. St. John agreed to send any DNA sample from Connor to the lab. They have DNA from the crime scene, Baylee, and it doesn’t match Jake’s. He’s no longer a suspect. Yay for our side!” Kit did a little happy dance.

  “You mean if we can get Connor to take a DNA test, we could find out if he’s the one who killed Claire?” Dylan asked, picking up a box of groceries and heading into the kitchen.

  “Yep. Jake said there’s a ton of DNA.”

  “But that would just prove they had sex, not that he killed her,” Baylee pointed out.

  “Not if his DNA matches what’s under her fingernails. Claire fought her killer, put up quite a struggle. So there’s evidence from the fight.”

  Hearing that grisly detail sent chills up and down Baylee’s spine. Her face went white. Slowly, she dropped down on the sofa with the baby on her lap. It was Dylan who saw her face, set the box of supplies back down on the floor, and came over to kneel down in front of her. “What’s wrong?”

  “Tell him, Baylee. I already told Jake what you told me.” When Baylee looked horror-stricken, Kit added, “I’m sorry, but he needed to know what Connor said to you that night because it might be relevant to Claire’s murder, although I’m not sure he mentioned it to St. John this morning. But Dylan needs to know because he’s caught up in all of this.” Noting the concerned look she saw on Dylan’s face now, that seemed to be an understatement.

  “What are you not telling me? Something else happened with Connor, didn’t it?”

  She told him what she’d told Kit on the dock about Connor’s showing up at her apartment before she had left
L.A. “I took the threat seriously. It was more than just trying to scare me. You should’ve seen the look in his eyes. He was glassy-eyed, empty, like he wasn’t all there.”

  “My God, I thought maybe Jake was reaching, you know, just grasping at a last straw in Connor’s direction, that maybe that e-mail he received pointing to Connor was some kind of a joke, but… I understand now why you didn’t go to the cops. Look, I know this is overwhelming. I know you’re scared. But you have to try and relax while you’re here. You can’t keep up this stress level for long without it taking a toll health-wise. It isn’t good for your immune system or for Sarah’s, especially since you’re still breastfeeding. You need to work on putting this mess out of your mind while you’re here.”

  He kissed the top of her head and then leaned down to kiss Sarah’s. “I’ll do everything I can to keep him from getting to you and Sarah. I promise you that much here and now. You have my word. Whatever it takes.”

  “We all will, Baylee. That’s a given,” Kit assured her.

  “I know that. But has it escaped either one of you that if he suspects Sarah belongs to him, if he pushes that, he’d be forced to take that DNA test and bingo, Jake would have his proof. Or…it could…backfire completely and…” Her voice trailed off. She couldn’t even bring herself to say what she’d been thinking.

  Dylan did it for her. “A DNA test would prove paternity, prove once and for all Sarah’s his, and it would open up a huge can of worms for both of you, especially if the DNA came back showing he wasn’t the one who killed Claire. I get it, Baylee. You’d have everything out in the open about Sarah’s paternity, a custody battle on your hands, and he’d have unfettered access to this baby.”

  “Exactly,” Baylee huffed out. “And he’s an attorney with all kinds of power at his disposal. It’s too scary to even think about. Look at what Jessica did to Gloria.” She drew in a breath. “I’d have to leave; Dylan, take Sarah away and hide. Costa Rica here I come.”