by Vicki Hinze
Minutes later, Keith came back with a cup of coffee and held a cell phone out to Max. “It’s Elizabeth Powell,” he said. “She wants to speak with you.”
Max put the cell phone to his ear. “Hello.”
“I’ll be over in a bit.”
“Excuse me?” Elizabeth Powell? Judge Powell’s wife. Candace’s and Gabby’s friend.
“You’ve got a meeting at nine o’clock, remember?”
He stared at Gabby’s face, still and unmasked. She’d never looked so vulnerable before. Or so soft. That vise in his chest hitched a notch, squeezed tighter. “How did you know I had a meeting?” he asked Elizabeth.
“Mayor Faulkner mentioned it at the Silver Spoon Café this morning. Everyone’s converging there to see who needs what. Hurricane Darla apparently tore down half of Carnel Cove and most of the county.”
“So you’re coming to stay with Gabby while I’m gone?” Could he do that? Leave her here with Elizabeth? What if Gabby started mumbling, talking out of her head again? Conlee would have Max’s ass for the security clearance violation. She couldn’t get anything other than an aspirin without getting clearance and having an Intel agent present to make sure she didn’t breach national security or violate the integrity of any classified material while being treated.
Why are you worried? When she was delirious, she stayed in her cover. She didn’t recall SDU or Conlee or anything other than her cover.
“Someone has to be with her, and obviously it can’t be you or Candace. I’m electing me,” Elizabeth said. “I’ll be there in an hour. That’ll give you plenty of time to get to the mayor’s office by nine.”
Before he could decide whether to protest or be relieved, the phone went dead. He passed it back to Dr. Burke, who cast him a sympathetic look.
“Getting a taste of the way the ladies of Carnel Cove operate, I see.”
Max grunted. “Are they all like that?”
“The ones in her circle are.” He nodded toward Gabby. “A piece of advice from a man who’s been there. Don’t fight them. When they close ranks, just stay out of their way. If you have trouble remembering what will get your ass in a jam or keep it out of one, just get ‘Yes, dear’ etched into your glasses to remind you what to do. It’ll make your life a lot easier.”
“Sounds pretty one-sided.”
“Yeah, it does. It’s hell on the ego, to tell you the truth. At least, it is at first. Then you realize there isn’t one woman among them who isn’t worth it.” Keith pulled his stethoscope out of the black bag. “The thing is, you can fight one of them and win a few. But when they close ranks, no man stands a chance.”
He checked Gabby’s blood pressure, pulse, heart rate, and respiration, and then backed away from the bed. “So far so good.” He looked up at Max. “She’s survived the injection. Now we just have to see whether or not the vaccine is going to do her any good.”
“Is she stable enough to leave her with Elizabeth? I have a meeting—with FEMA.”
“No promises on what’s coming, but for now, yes.” Keith smiled to relieve some of Max’s worry. “Gabby’s the only newcomer. The rest of the ladies of Carnel Cove have been close friends for years. You can trust any of them. But Elizabeth in particular.”
“Why?”
“She mothers everyone she meets, whether they want it or not. Even me, which is amazing because of the divorce.”
“I’d think that would have all of them shutting you out.” Didn’t it usually?
“It would, but Candace and I are still close. That keeps me in Elizabeth’s good graces.”
“Thanks for the tips.” There was an extra message buried there, and Max picked up on it but didn’t go into it with Keith. “Will Gabby get her memory back?”
“I don’t know,” Keith admitted. “Right now, she’s stable. What the next five minutes or hours will bring is a mystery to us both. This is the best I can do for you, buddy.”
“I’ll take it.” She was alive.
Keith grabbed his bag and then walked toward the door. “I have to get back to Candace. If she wakes up and I’m not there—”
“She’ll be afraid,” Max finished for him.
“Actually, I was going to say, she’ll bitch me out. But you’re right. She’ll bitch because she’s afraid.” He shrugged. “Though, of course, the tortures of hell couldn’t get her to admit it.”
Max nodded, connecting with Keith Burke, man to man. “Strong women are that way.”
“Yeah, they are.” He grabbed the doorknob. “If you need me, call.”
“Thanks.” Max shut the door behind Keith. As the lock slipped into place, a thought struck him that nearly bent him double. Elizabeth was coming over!
The dead Global Warrior in the garage.
Racing to the garage, he grabbed a shovel, and then rushed to the wooded area on the far east of the cove, near the point that was a public park.
Downed trees and scattered debris littered the area and objects floated in the water, some clinging to the white sandy shore. An ice chest. A life jacket. A six-pack of Miller beer. A refrigerator. Someone’s photo album. An oar.
Judging by the variety of the debris, Hurricane Darla had done serious storm damage. He found a muddy spot of rain-soaked ground among a clump of ancient oaks. The tree limbs were still draped with moss, though the high winds had stripped the leaves from the twisted wisteria vines choking their trunks. Storm damage could be bizarre. The tornadoes spawned in the feeder bands of the hurricane saw to that. He checked the perimeter, assuring himself he was alone, and then dug a shallow grave. In minutes, the high humidity and sweltering heat had him in a decent sweat and swearing that August in Carnel Cove should be declared unfit for humans.
When the grave was ready, he left the shovel seated in the wet dirt, rushed back to the house, and then slung Jaris Adahan’s body over his shoulder.
The dead weight stayed put like a sack of rocks.
Keeping out a sharp eye, Max saw no one on the way back to the grave. He buried Adahan, marked the grave with a shiny penny so Housekeeping could find it easily, and then returned to the house. He then checked on Gabby.
She was turned away from him, but sleeping. He watched her shoulder rise and fall with each breath. Sure that she was stable, he felt it was okay to leave her, though he’d prefer to stay by her side. Elizabeth would be here any second and he had to get to the mayor’s office.
Showered, shaved, and changed into green Dockers and a tan shirt, he again found himself standing beside Gabby’s bed, looking down on her. She lay sleeping peacefully, her hair tumbling half over her face and onto her pillow. Soft and vulnerable and strong and … and … he willed it away, but it wouldn’t go.
This feeling was new to him. One minute he was fine. The next minute she’d invaded his thoughts. How had she done that?
He had cared about her long before coming to Carnel Cove to kill her. Still, this was different. It went beyond caring. This was love.
Man, did his timing suck. Who else would fall in love with a woman he had been ordered to kill? God help him, he was a covert operative for the most dangerous, most secret and elite antiterrorist unit in the entire United States of America, and he was also the worst idiot and biggest fool ever born.
Maxwell Grayson, who had always depended only on himself, who believed in nothing and no one other than himself, who had never connected to anyone and liked his life that way, had fallen in love.
With a woman marked for certain death.
As if he needed that reminder. He dragged a hand through his hair, felt the tension building between his shoulders. Maybe he should just shoot himself and end his misery.
The doorbell rang.
Shuffling, he went to answer it. A pretty woman about forty-five years old stood outside the entry on the landing, dressed in blue slacks and a sleeveless silk top. Her hair was gold and hung down to her shoulders, her eyes huge, and she had a gentle look about her that put a man at ease. “Morning.”
&nbs
p; “Hello, Max. I’m Elizabeth Powell.” She smiled and extended her hand. When Max shook it, she added, “I’m so glad you’re real, after all, and not a figment of Gabby’s imagination. It’s about time you came home.”
Max didn’t know what to say to that or what to make of her or her reprimand, and he supposed it showed. The woman laughed at him. “Relax.” She walked in, dumped her purse on a chair in the entryway, and then walked toward Gabby’s room, talking to him back over her shoulder. “The ladies of Carnel Cove have few secrets from each other and millions from the rest of the world. I know all about you. You’re safe.”
Max’s stomach was flopping like a beached fish. What the hell did she mean, she knew all about him? Had Gabby broken her cover and confided the truth to these women? She couldn’t have—wouldn’t have. She knew the costs, and she wasn’t some mistake-prone rookie. Gabby was a seasoned covert operative with a history in Special Operations; she had more cover than real life. No way would she have told them. “Who are the ladies?”
Elizabeth paused, turned back to look at him, and smiled. “I’m sorry, Max. When I checked on Candace, David Erickson told me Keith was here. I assumed he had warned you about us.” The light above her head, showered down on her skin, and the glint in her eye said she knew that’s exactly what Keith Burke had done. “The ladies are Gabby, Candace, Miranda, Paige, and me, of course. You’ll meet them soon enough.” Elizabeth wrinkled her nose. “Sissy Blake—you’ll meet her husband, Carl, this morning—would like to be one of us, but that’s not going to happen.”
He couldn’t resist. “Why not?”
“Character. Simply put, she’s materialistic. All show and no substance.” She wrinkled her nose. “The ladies of Carnel Cove do substance.”
“Ah.” Surprising. They were all wealthy women, and Candace supposedly had been some kind of trophy wife for Keith, though he sure as hell didn’t react to her as if she were a trophy. They might be divorced, but he was still crazy about her and totally devoted to her.
“Oh, I forgot Darlene Coulter,” Elizabeth said on second thought.
Coulter was a familiar name to Max. “Sheriff Coulter’s wife?”
Elizabeth nodded. “Have you met Jackson already?”
“I will this morning at the meeting with Carl Blake and the mayor.”
“You’ll like him,” she predicted. “Jackson is a decent man.”
Were Blake and the mayor decent, too? Max waited, but she didn’t elaborate. “You’re sure you’ll be all right with her?” He checked his watch and nodded toward Gabby’s door.
“Of course. Keith’s filled me in.”
Now why didn’t that surprise Max? Hell, everyone in the Cove would know everything he did before dusk. He’d forgotten about the fishbowl atmosphere of small towns.
“Don’t you really want to know if Gabby will be all right with me?”
Shrewd and beautiful and yet still gentle. “Yes, actually, I do,” he admitted.
That earned him another smile. “She will.”
He believed her. “I’ll get going, then.”
Elizabeth hiked a sharp brow. “Without kissing your wife good-bye?” She folded her arms over her chest. “For goodness’ sake, Max, I realize you’ve been gone a long time and you’re out of practice at being a husband, but remember that women need these little things. William Powell and I were married twenty-five years and he never, not once, left home without kissing me good-bye.”
“Sorry.” Max apologized before asking himself why. He felt as if he’d been tested and judged and he’d landed somewhere on the list between spider and snake.
“Go on, then. I’ll wait here.” She tapped her crossed arms the way he’d seen a lot of mothers do—his own excepted, of course.
He went into the bedroom and placed a chaste kiss to Gabby’s cool forehead. Her temperature was down. That had to be good enough, didn’t it? He needed her and her memories—now! This husband business wasn’t as easy as it looked from the outside. And he had a sinking feeling these Carnel Cove ladies had a thousand of those little rules. They’d see straight through him in no time.
Elizabeth walked with him to the door. “Before you go, I need to say something to you.”
“What?” On edge, he paused near a six-foot potted palm.
“I know what happened at the lab. Candace called me first. I told her to call Gabby.” She lowered her gaze to the floor, paused, then forced herself to look back into his eyes. “I also know Candace and Gabby are trying to prove William was murdered.”
Definitely classified. He couldn’t respond.
“It’s okay,” she said. “You don’t have to say anything. I understand. I just want you to know that you have nothing to fear from me. When Gabby needs my help, she’s going to get it. It’s that simple.”
“No questions asked?” He put it to the test. Conlee had said that Candace had let Gabby have access to the lab, no questions asked. Was it a policy among the ladies?
“She’ll tell us what she wants us to know,” Elizabeth said without hesitating.
Gabby very well could have told Conlee the truth, not that Max could dare to count on it.
“Elizabeth? Is that you?”
Gabby. They both looked toward the hallway to her bedroom, and Max let Elizabeth get there first. He hovered near the door, wanting to see them interact. See if Gabby felt safe.
“Thank God,” Gabby said. “Grab me a gown out of the third dresser drawer, will you?”
“Naked, Gabby?” Elizabeth walked over to the dresser, slid out the drawer, and held up two possibles. “If it’s because you’re sick, fine. If you’re naked because you’ve been up making love all night, I don’t want to hear it.”
“So abstinence doesn’t agree with you?”
“Sex without William doesn’t agree with me.” She lifted the two gowns. “Left or right?”
“Left.” Gabby chose the crisp white cotton one. “It looks cooler.”
Elizabeth walked over to the bed. “I take it your answer is great sex.”
Gabby stretched up her arms to slip them through the holes Elizabeth held open for her. When her head cleared the fabric, she gave Elizabeth a wicked grin. “Fabulous, to-die-for sex.”
“You’re shameless.” Elizabeth tugged down the gown, then snagged a brush off the vanity. “You know, I really hate that about you. Even gloating you’re gorgeous.”
“Hey, I’ve done my time with abstinence, too.”
Elizabeth harrumphed, and began brushing Gabby’s hair. “Yes, too much. Make him stay closer to home, Gabby. You never know when the last time you see him is going to be the last time you see him.”
Gabby grabbed Elizabeth’s hand, stilled it, and looked up at her. “Am I going to die?”
“I don’t know.” Elizabeth frowned. “Keith’s doing all he can do. You’re doing a lot better than Candace. That’s all I know right now.”
“Is she …?”
“If she dies, she’ll have to take Keith with her. He’s not giving her up otherwise.”
Gabby seemed oddly comforted by that.
Max ducked his head into the room. “Elizabeth, can I bother you a second?”
“Sure.” She walked out into the hallway. “What?”
How did he explain without revealing too much? “There were some looters here yesterday. I’m not convinced they won’t be back.”
“Don’t worry, Max. I’ll protect Gabby.”
Why didn’t that make him feel better? He knew she would try, but she was a slender, small woman. A wife and mother and—
“I’m more capable than I look. William taught me to shoot to protect the children—judges are often threatened. I’m quite good at it. No one will hurt Gabby.”
Elizabeth was a devoted mother; the exact opposite of the kind he’d had. “Thank you.”
She forced herself to give him a smile. It was soft and gentle and bittersweet. “If you don’t leave now, you’re going to be late. Ronald—Mayor Faulkner—is a real
stickler about being tardy. His mother was the principal at the high school.”
Max turned toward the door, wondering exactly what secrets Gabby had shared with the ladies. It would be hard to imagine, but it was possible she had run into a situation where she’d either had to get their help or be canceled. She could have told them about everything short of SDU, though until coming to Carnel Cove and meeting Elizabeth himself, he would have denied that as a possibility.
His mind raced, playing out scenarios, and new worries piled onto the old. If Gabby had told the ladies anything classified or even hinted at SDU, Commander Conlee would have no choice but to cancel all of them, too.
And there was no way in hell Max could carry out those orders.
Mulling on the matter, he drove Gabby’s Jeep down to Main Street and pulled in at City Hall. Nine o’clock straight up. Mayor Faulkner and FEMA’s Stan Mullin would be waiting.
The parking lot was like an obstacle course. Trash and junk lay strewn by the storm. Huge old oaks and magnolias lay on the ground, their roots exposed to the sun. Opposite the far side of the parking lot, half in the street and half on the sandy beach, a forty-foot charter fishing boat, with the name Daddy’s Toy painted in purple on its hull, sat leaning on its side.
Pulling into an open slot, Max turned off the ignition. Something constructive had to come out of this meeting. Luck or a miracle, he’d take what he could get. He had a lot of vital questions, too few critical answers, and not much time.
Chapter Twenty-two
Max sat at the conference table inside the mayor’s office at City Hall and watched FEMA’s Stan Mullin and Mayor Faulkner jockey for position in a dialogue on spraying to control Hurricane Darla’s mosquito population. One thing was clear to Max—and obviously to Sheriff Coulter, gauging by his expression: The discussion would be about as productive as tits on a bull.
Just shy of seven feet tall and breezing through his fifties, Stan was clearly a basketball man back in his day, and he was still lanky and quick. Ronald Faulkner was younger, about thirty. The same age as Jackson Coulter, who sat on Max’s left—and at one time, judging by the trophies on his office wall, Faulkner had been an all-star football player. Now, his “fit” had gone to “flab”—too many political fund-raising dinners could do that to a man. Before the meeting, after learning Max was Gabby’s husband, Jackson had warned Max about Faulkner. “When you deal with him, cover your assets. He’s slick and crafty. First and foremost, he’s the mayor, and he’s always running for reelection. He never takes responsibility for anything that goes wrong.”
