Evil Secrets Trilogy Boxed Set

by Vickie McKeehan

  So far it was working. The baby kept trying to reach the ball, one little scoot at a time, and then up on all fours. Obviously, she hadn’t yet gotten the hang of putting the whole motion together. But it wasn’t for lack of trying.

  Dylan glanced up, saw Baylee standing there in her little shorts and top, and sucked in a breath. She met his gaze. Dylan moved to scoop up Sarah, but Baylee shook her head and joined them on the grass. “It’s beautiful here, peaceful. I like watching you with Sarah. You’re good with her, Dylan.”

  “She’s a joy to be around. So are you.” He put Sarah back down on the grass.

  Their eyes remained steady as they stared at each other, until finally Sarah squealed in delight as the ball rolled to her, breaking the trance.

  “Anyone ready for lunch?” Baylee asked, lightheartedly.

  “I could eat,” Dylan said casually, trying to forget the punch to the gut he seemed to constantly feel around her.

  “You can always eat.” As she took off for the house, over her shoulder she offered, “I’m thinking thick grilled ham and cheese Paninis with lots of yummy cheese. Okay with you?”

  With that itch in his belly, he watched her stroll back to the house. “You’re making my mouth water.”

  Just before she stepped inside the kitchen, Baylee grinned to herself, knowing neither one of them was discussing food.

  She dragged Sarah’s high chair outside on the patio so the three of them could eat and watch the boat traffic come and go in the harbor. While she set the table and put out the food, she noticed Dylan had booted up his laptop. The intense look on his face told her something was wrong. He had already mentioned Connor’s visit to Gloria. What now?

  When she saw his face tighten yet again, she couldn’t help it, she asked, “Okay, spill it, Dylan.”

  “Just another e-mail from our mysterious friend, giving us an update on Connor.”

  Dylan read the e-mail aloud, “Connor’s on the prowl. Wherever you are, lay low. Remember don’t use any credit cards for purchases. They can be tracked. Use cash only for everything. Don’t make any slip-ups.”

  “Oh. I’m glad I didn’t buy anything this morning. He really seems like he cares, this guy, this stranger, whoever he is. The question is why?”

  “I don’t know. But we’re going to do exactly as he suggests and not use a single ATM or credit card transaction that can be traced back to either one of us.”

  Baylee noticed Dylan’s thoughtful look and how he stared longingly at the water.

  “Why don’t you go surfing, Dylan? It’ll relieve some of that stress. The water here is crystal clear. There isn’t much of a wave to speak of, but you can go swimming. It’s high time you enjoyed all the benefits the Island has to offer.”

  “I’m enjoying the best benefit of all.” He shot her a wicked grin. “Let’s all go down and sit on the beach.”

  When he leaned over in front of Sarah, he added, “What do you say, Gidget?”

  “Sarah says it’s a deal.”

  “What about Sarah’s afternoon nap?” If anyone had suggested to him two weeks ago that he’d be concerned with anyone’s nap but his own, he’d have laughed in their face. But now, he looked over at the baby sitting in her high chair. Funny how he’d done a complete one eighty in such a short amount of time. And no wonder. These two were his world now. But how would he ever convince Baylee of that?

  “She’ll sleep no matter where we are, at the beach or in the stroller. The important thing is you follow your own advice and try to relax, enjoy the time here. Who knows what the future holds for any of us?”

  As he watched the sea breeze ruffle her hair, he realized truer words were never spoken. They needed to take advantage of the now. He moved to her then, sat beside her at the table, took her hand in his, brought it to his lips. “I’m crazy about you.”

  “You’re just caught up in all this. It’s easy to get drawn in, Dylan.”

  “Why do you do that? Why do you refuse to see what’s happening between us when you know it’s true?”

  “I’m not saying I don’t feel something. But it’s a little soon, don’t you think? I have Sarah to think about. I can’t just…”

  “Fall for a player. I got that, Baylee. But this is different. I’m different. The sooner you see it, the better off we’ll both be.” He stood up in a huff and started cleaning off the table, carrying the dishes back inside.

  Baylee sat there looking at her daughter. “Men are complicated creatures, Sarah. The sooner you realize that, the easier life will be.”

  In order to lessen the chance they were being followed or tracked, Jake and Kit had taken the ferry from Catalina into Santa Barbara instead of docking at San Pedro. As they stood on the deck, Jake’s arm went around Kit and he said, “We’re playing the percentages. If by some chance Connor gets wind we were in Catalina, I’m hoping he’ll think it was just for an overnight jaunt. The Sea Warrior left in the middle of the night so there’s not much chance he picked up on that.”

  “This is all so clandestine. I hope Baylee and Dylan remember to keep a low profile. I’m not even sure I should use my cell to call her anymore. What if Connor is keeping tabs on Baylee through me?” Even as Kit said the words from the ferry railing, she scanned the dock for any sign of a Boyd lurking about. “I won’t kid you, Jake; I’m worried about Baylee. After talking to Gloria, that man isn’t going to give up.”

  “Sick perverts rarely do. And something tells me the guy’s getting more desperate by the day.”

  After spending the afternoon at the beach, Dylan and Baylee came back and fixed supper together, thankfully back on solid ground again. Neither dared bringing up the earlier strained conversation about their “feelings.”

  As she bathed Sarah and got her ready for bed, Baylee reasoned that two people couldn’t spend as much time together as she and Dylan had been doing lately without bumping heads every so often. It wasn’t normal to think they could agree on everything, least of all how they felt about each other.

  So what if she hadn’t been honest? She knew she was falling for the guy. But it wouldn’t do for him to know that. She might be rusty at the game, but she hadn’t forgotten the rules. When all this was over, she was headed to Gloria’s beach bungalow in San Madrid. He would pick up his game in Pacific Palisades as if they’d never shared this time together. End of story, Baylee thought, as she prepared to put an exhausted Sarah to bed.

  Later that evening, settled at the dining room table with Dylan’s laptop, heads huddled together in fierce concentration, they tried to come up with a website design for Baylee’s jewelry business.

  “Baylee’s Beads, catchy title. I like that. What’s your favorite color?”

  “Soft blue, I guess.”

  “Of course, the aquamarine eyes,” he said, as he let his fingers fly, tapping keystrokes in rapid fire succession.

  “What?”

  “Your eyes are the first thing I noticed that night at the hospital. They’re almost the color of turquoise, only bluer, softer. Beautiful color. Since the goal is to get orders online, we’ll make it easy to navigate, easy to sort through the catalog by category, bracelets, necklaces, earrings. Anything else?”

  “Rings.”

  “Right. Got it.” He hit the keyboard a couple of more times, and voila, her catalog appeared.

  She sat back and inspected the screen. This was her first foray into owning a legitimate website. “You are amazing.”

  “That I am. Marvelous, actually. Glad you finally took note.”

  “And conceited of course. Did I mention over-inflated ego?”

  “Let’s not get carried away. My sensibilities might get bruised.”

  “You have no sensibilities,” she said lightly.

  With that, he drew her onto his lap, nuzzled her ear, then her neck. “I bet I can find each and every one of your sensibilities in a matter of minutes. Want me to prove it?”

  She nuzzled back. “Mmmm, let me show you. Besides, I need to pa
y my web designer. It seems he did all this incredible work getting me online.”

  She picked up his hand and led him to the stairs. As he followed her down the hall to the bedroom, Dylan let her take the initiative. She seemed to thrill at taking the lead. When they got to the bed, she pushed him back and began to undress him. She pulled his T-shirt over his head and tossed it aside. She began to work the zipper on his shorts. When he was down to his underwear, he reached to undress her, but she pulled back just far enough and said, “I’ll do it while you watch.”

  He liked that idea. As she began to move, to dance without music, he watched as she slowly, seductively started removing her top. She then ran her hands down her own body until she fingered the waistband of her shorts, began to shimmy out of them. By the time her hands moved to unsnap the bra, she had his mouth going dry. She slithered out of her panties. That was it for him. He’d used up all the patience he had. He reached for her. She pushed him further back on the bed, straddling him. She brought her lips down on his and whispered, “I want you, Dylan. I want you inside me. Now.”

  Baylee moved her hips. She flexed her muscles, continuing the dance, moving to an imaginary beat. She seemed determined to do the work. He took her lead, tried to hold back, waiting out her climax. The minute he felt her body start to tremble, he starting moving, began to build his own rhythm until a frenzied pace sent them both sailing through the glassy dune.

  CHAPTER 21 Book 2

  In the dream, they were twelve, spending the last lazy days of summer vacation on Catalina, playing on the beach, running carefree along the sand.

  With her long black hair flying loose in the sea breeze, Quinn as usual was out in front leading the pack, darting in and out of the waves, running at full throttle, her only speed. “Come on you guys, hurry up. We found it. It’s ours. We need to claim it and drag the thing up here before the Fallon brothers see it and try to capture it as theirs. It’s our ship.”

  Quinn had spotted the beat-up, old, wooden dinghy from the front deck of the house. She had taken off like a shot, encouraging Kit and Baylee at the top of her lungs to follow. They had been hot on her heels in pursuit ever since, trying to catch up with her to get a glimpse of Quinn’s find.

  “It wasn’t here yesterday. I’m sure of it,” Quinn yelled over her shoulder. “It must have washed ashore sometime during the night.”

  “It was that thunderstorm we had last night,” Kit reasoned, as she caught up with Quinn just as they reached the vessel.

  Out of breath, Baylee came up behind them. She looked down at the ten-foot rowboat with peeling green paint and rotten planking, listing badly at Quinn’s feet. The poor thing had seen better days at sea. But to Baylee and Kit and Quinn, the old boat held the promise of hours and hours of something to do besides listen to grownups bitch and moan about their lives, watch on the sidelines as they drank booze, smoked weed, and take hit after hit of blow.

  “Dad keeps some tools in the garage, paint too. We could fix that planking and repaint it.”

  “That’s the idea,” Quinn agreed. “But we need to pull it up to the house before someone else comes along and takes it. Like those Fallon boys. They’re always getting in our business. You never know when they’re out sneaking around, spying on us.”

  “They spy on us because Eric has a major crush on Kit.”

  “Bull. They spy on us ’cause they’re dirtbags,” Kit decided.

  “That too,” Baylee agreed. “But even when we get it back to the house, we’ll need to keep it out of sight until we can get it seaworthy.”

  “Good thinking,” Quinn said, as she reached down to grab hold of the bow. “You get the stern, Kit. Baylee and I will take the bow.”

  “Why do I always have to get one side all by myself?” Kit complained.

  “Because you’re a good head taller and stronger than both of us put together,” Quinn told her emphatically. “Quit whining. The sooner we get the boat up to the house, the sooner we can start work on it. A little elbow grease and we’ll get it back in the water inside of a week then christen it with a bottle of wine from William’s stash.”

  It wasn’t lost on either Kit or Baylee that it might take a lot more than elbow grease to make this broken-down tub seaworthy ever again. But neither girl felt like dampening Quinn’s enthusiasm.

  But just then, Kit let go of her side when she spotted Quinn’s mother walking toward them. It wasn’t quite eight o’clock in the morning and the way she walked gave Kit every indication that Ella was already plowed or maybe still high on the blow from the night before. Either one was enough of a reason to dread the woman’s sudden appearance.

  “Please tell me you are not bringing that disgusting piece of junk up to the house,” Ella screamed at the trio.

  With that, Quinn dropped her side as well, which caused what was left of the bow to bounce and land on Baylee’s foot.

  “Oww,” Baylee moaned. “I think I got a splinter.”

  “See, that’s the reason you do not need to be playing around with this broken-down piece of shit. Honestly, did it ever occur to any of you that you are girls, as in female? For chrissakes act like girls instead of like a bunch of heathens and grubby little boys. You should be playing dress-up or playing with dolls, maybe even getting into makeup, not out here on the beach with some nasty piece of garbage that floated in with the tide. How many times have I told you, Quinn, dirty and filthy is not an attractive feature?”

  “Neither are drugs or booze,” Quinn muttered.

  “What did you say to me, you little shit? That’s uncalled for. I’m the grownup here. You aren’t. You’ll do what I tell you when I tell you. Got it?” She turned to Kit then. “And for God’s sakes, Kit, look at you. Your mother would faint if she could see you now. You have grime all over your face and you’re all sweaty. You’re all three disgusting.”

  Baylee saw Quinn wince while at the same time watched Kit take a step back in retreat at the harsh words. She knew that look on Quinn’s face, the one that said, “I know I should have kept my mouth shut. But she makes me so mad, I can’t help it.”

  Baylee understood that completely.

  Ella’s words had slurred then, the words coming in slow motion as the dream began to fade. What had Ella Canyon been doing on the beach in Catalina? Why was she there? Why had she intruded on the trip in the first place and why had she come along to ruin their adventure?

  Dylan noticed Baylee tossing and turning in her sleep. When she started moaning, he leaned over and gently touched her arm. “Baylee, you’re dreaming. What’s wrong, baby?”

  She sat upright in bed so fast she bumped heads with Dylan. “Whoa there, it’s me, honey. It’s me, Dylan. Relax now.”

  “I was dreaming,” she squeaked out, sleepily. “We were kids, Quinn, Kit, and I.”

  “What was it about?”

  “I’m not sure exactly. Nothing really.” She rubbed her forehead, not sure if she understood why the dream had upset her.

  “Baylee.”

  “Just an incident from childhood. It’s nothing.” But she needed to talk to Quinn and Kit.

  “If it’s nothing, why did it upset you?”

  Even though sleep still muddled her thoughts, she managed to sputter out, “I’m not sure. But I remembered Quinn’s mother, Ella Canyon, was with us here in Catalina. I hadn’t remembered until now she made the trip over with us one summer.” She told him about the scene on the beach. “Why would I dream about Quinn’s mother? I haven’t seen her in years. For some reason it was unsettling.”

  To Dylan, it didn’t sound so bad. But he could tell she was upset by the way her entire body tensed. “I think you’re on high alert, so much that any little thing is worrisome. Let me see what I can do to take your mind off your troubles.”

  Despite her frame of mind, the snicker slipped out. “Oh, Dylan. You’re the best.”

  “I know. But you’re supposed to reserve praise for after,” he drawled, as he began to place kisses on her throat bef
ore moving to her mouth. “Luckily, I don’t need much incentive.”

  “So I’ve noticed.”

  They made love, and afterward, Baylee spent a restless night, so much so that around five-thirty, she finally crawled out of bed, leaving Dylan snoring softly into his clump of pillows. As quietly as she could, she crept out of the room and down the hall to Sarah’s room. Finding her daughter still sleeping, she headed downstairs to make a much-needed pot of coffee.

  As she made her way into the kitchen, she decided she could get used to this sleeping through the night thing. It’s a shame the dream had gotten in the way of enjoying it.

  She couldn’t figure out exactly what disturbed her about a dream when they were kids. There had been no violence, no argument, just the typical callous words from one of their parents. And for what? Ella had gotten offensive over an old dinghy.

  Why would Ella’s nastiness bother her after all these years?

  She hadn’t thought about Ella Canyon in years, and certainly not the brief time the three of them had spent on Catalina. The trips there that included her friends had always occurred during the summer. But if it weren’t the harsh words from Quinn’s mother that disturbed her, what was it? Had the scene actually taken place? Had Ella Canyon ever been on Catalina Island? And why did it matter?

  After putting the coffee on, Baylee picked up the phone to call Kit. She would have called Quinn but knew if she weren’t on duty at the hospital and had any downtime at all, she might not appreciate a call this early in the morning, especially about Ella. But one thing Baylee knew about Kit, you could always count on the woman being awake this early in the a.m.

  She dialed Kit’s number and waited for her to pick up.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “You don’t say hi anymore?”

  “Not when you call this early. What’s up, Baylee? Is it Connor?”

  “No. I have a question. Do you ever remember Ella Canyon coming with us to Catalina? It would have been in August, I think.”