Quid Pro Quo:
PUSHED TO THE LIMIT
Patricia Rosemoor
CAN HE PROVE SHE IS INNOCENT?
Sydney Raferty Lord claims her husband died on their wedding day. Not that his body washes up on the rocks where he supposedly had his accident. Not that she can prove she ever married the man in the first place. When his body is found in the woods, Sydney claims this is not the Kenneth Lord she married! Benno DeMartino, Kenneth’s lifelong friend, is torn between loyalty for the dead man and an undeniable attraction to the supposed widow. Maybe he's crazy, because Benno aims to find the murderer and in the process help prove Sydney innocent.
Copyright © 2010 Patricia Pinianski
With more than seven million books in print, Patricia Rosemoor is fascinated with "dangerous love" – combining romance with danger. She has written various forms of romantic suspense and paranormal romantic thrillers, even romantic horror, bringing a different mix of thrills and chills and romance to each book. She believes strongly in breaking down barriers to write crossover fiction that appeals to a large and varied audience.
Patricia has won a Golden Heart from Romance Writers of America and two Reviewers Choice and two Career Achievement Awards from RT BOOKreviews, and in her other life, she teaches Popular Fiction and Suspense-Thriller Writing, credit courses in the Fiction Writing Department of Columbia College Chicago. Five of her former students are now published in novel-length fiction.
Tell Me No Lies was previously print-published
by a major romance publisher
Look for Books 2 & 3
Quid Quo Pro:
SQUARING ACCOUNTS
NO HOLDS BARRED
Quid Pro Quo:
PUSHED TO THE LIMIT
Patricia Rosemoor
PROLOGUE
THE ROOM FELT small and dank, the tension-riddled atmosphere cloying. Suppressing any visible anxiety so he wouldn’t betray himself, he stubbed out his cigarette and clasped his hands in a fist that collided with the scarred table.
“What did you get on her?” he softly demanded of Lester Freidman.
The erstwhile accountant threw a quick, nervous look over his shoulder. The guard covering the door nodded and turned his back to them. Freidman slipped his briefcase onto the table and unsnapped the locks. From within, he retrieved the report and held out the bound sheaf of papers to his employer.
The folder was opened; a photocopy of a newspaper clipping lay on top. Two women posed together.
Fingers heavy with malice traced the less glamorous woman’s outline. She was the one. A fringe of bangs framed large eyes – odd, pale eyes that made her appear a bit fey. The face was rounded, the nose snub. Her build was slight. Unimposing, that’s what she was. Nothing extraordinary about her, especially not when compared to her dazzling companion.
“This is going to be almost too easy.” He began paging through the report.
“You’re sure you want to go through with this?” Freidman asked warily.
Movement stopped and eyes filled with rancor made the henchman squirm. “That’s a damn stupid question. I’ve waited too long as it is. Besides, what have I got to lose?”
His subsequent laugh that echoed through the room whipped the guard’s head around and made Lester Freidman go pale.
For a brief moment, he tightened his grip on the report. No one on his payroll would dare pity Sydney Raferty.
No one.
CHAPTER ONE
SYDNEY RAFERTY LORD scrambled along the damp edge of the cliff with her husband of several hours, taking care not to slip or let her camera bounce against the rocks. The sky was filled with clouds a threatening gray. The gusty wind whipped her heavy skirts around her legs, every so often exposing them to the chill of the moody late summer day. Far below their nerve-racking walkway, waves crashed against the Oregon shore, pounded the boulders strewn along the shallows and gouged out crevices that undercut the cliff.
“How about here?” Sydney asked, thinking the spot perfect for a picture.
Kenneth whirled and, tossing away his cigarette, swept her into his arms as easily as he’d swept her off her feet when they’d met two weeks before. His pale yellow shirt lay half-open. She touched his smooth, tanned chest, and found his human warmth reassuring. Kenneth was hers, all solid male, not some metaphysical figment of her imagination as she’d feared so many times in the past days when reality had blurred with dream.
“You want to do it here?” he asked provocatively, cradling her buttocks and pulling her tight against him.
His action took Sydney’s breath away. “I was suggesting taking your picture, you sex maniac.”
Dark brows lifted over his heart stopping green eyes and his sculpted features drew into a mock-frown. “Oh. And here I thought you wanted my bod, Mrs. Lord.”
“I do, Mr. Lord,” she assured him, her heart pounding strongly at the notion. She still couldn’t get over how much – and how often – he wanted her. “Maybe we should wait until we get inside your house.”
Only after the justice of the peace had pronounced them man and wife that morning had they headed north for Stone Beach and Kenneth’s part-time seaside home. So far, all she’d seen was the outside of the wood structure where they’d left the car.
“I guess I can wait... this time,” Kenneth finally agreed when a fine spray shot straight up the cliff and misted them.
Sydney felt strangely bereft when her new husband released her. “So, how about that picture?”
“I know the perfect place. It’s just ahead. You go up there.” He pointed to a high spot where saplings bent under the onslaught of ferocious and incessant winds. “You’ll get an incredible view of the area... and me, of course.”
“That’s the important part.” She stood on tiptoe to brush his lips.
“Mmm, don’t tempt me or you’ll never get that photo.”
Sydney was tempted to forget about her camera altogether, but she wanted to finish the film since these would be the only pictures she’d have of her wedding day. With a sigh, she moved away from her husband and the dangerous waters that had played a central part in recent and disturbing dreams. Her uncertain state of mind had to do with the dreams’ unwelcome return after a decade of peace. She didn’t want to be different again. Carefully, she picked her way over rocks and across narrow crevices that would widen with time.
Time. Something she and Kenneth hadn’t had much of. The impulsiveness that had made her a creative success in advertising had prompted her to marry a man she barely knew. But, in work, when things clicked, they clicked. Why should relationships be any different?
They’d met at a beach town further down the coast where Kenneth had been going over blueprints with a client... and where she’d been trying to recuperate, a victim of job burnout during the day and perverse dreams at night. Sydney had just quit her L.A. ad agency in search of sanity. She’d made an auspicious start by meeting Kenneth and falling in love with him.
Reaching a flat spot between the windswept trees, she tried to avoid the mud. His wavy dark hair ruffled out of its slick style, Kenneth was staring out to sea. Sydney aimed her camera and framed him in the viewfinder, admiring this perfect specimen of the opposite sex. She never judged a man by his looks alone, but it was difficult not to appreciate such male beauty.
Feeling a little silly, Sydney grinned and yelled, “Hey, Mr. Lord.” When he glanced up over his shoulder, she snapped a picture and the film automatically advanced. “Come on, turn around and pose for me.”
Sydney had never thought she would experience the overwhelming emotions that zinged her out of nowhere. After months of being harried, exhausted, more than slightly out of focus, she was overjoyed by these positive feelings. If
she wasn’t as totally besotted and sure of things as Kenneth seemed to be, Sydney certainly was happy.
She was still looking through the camera’s lens as her husband turned and waved, then struck a silly pose and gave her the crooked smile that made her heart leap. She was shooting and laughing when his face pulled into a mask of surprise. His arms shot out and yet he lost the struggle to keep his balance. His upper body wavered and his feet did a bizarre and uncontrolled dance.
“Kenneth!”
Heart pounding in sudden fear, Sydney found herself frozen and helpless as she watched, the horror of the situation magnifying the incident as if it were happening in slow motion. His feet seemed to fly right out from under him. For a second, he was suspended in mid-air. Then he went down hard and his lower body shot out over the cliff. His mouth opened in a silent scream.
“Kenneth!” Sydney dropped her camera and ran.
Chest flat against rock, he clawed at the smooth surface. Then, with a single shout of defeat, he slid inch by inch and disappeared from sight.
“Oh, my God!” Sydney ran toward where he’d stood only seconds ago. “Please, tell me you’re all right.”
Her only answer was the crash of ocean against cliff.
Her toe caught the edge of a crevice. Sydney flew forward and went down to her knees. Sobbing now, heedless of her scraped legs, she pushed off from the hard surface and scrambled to her feet. She called her husband over and over to no avail. Nearing the cliff’s edge, she slowed, dropped to her hands and knees and peered over.
“Ken-n-n-eth!”
Voice absorbed by the pounding surf, she scanned the rocks below yet could see nothing that resembled a human being. But he had to be there... caught... hurt... his broken body assaulted by the rough waves. She had to get to him... help him... before...
She refused to complete the thought, refused to face what might be despite her denials. Instead, heart pounding in her throat, she ran back the way they had come and found a path down to the water’s edge. Keeping her footing was impossible. She slipped and slid and clung ferociously to algae-slick rock, all the while scanning the dangerous shallows that drew ever closer.
Nothing.
This didn’t make any sense. Kenneth had to be here somewhere. As a wave hit a nearby rock and spewed pebbles at her, Sydney flinched from the pain, turned her head, but continued on. The going was treacherous.
As were her thoughts: What if Kenneth had drowned?
She swallowed the desolate feeling even as she remembered the dream. Boulders had threatened to break her body, waves to drown her. Not Kenneth. But then her dreams were never clear. Denial pushed her on, kept her clinging to sharp rocks and continuing to search until her eyes lit on something moving in the water... something a familiar pale yellow. Kenneth’s shirt. She’d found him.
“Hang on!” she gasped, lunging forward.
At first touch, the cloth slithered through her fingers. She grabbed and yanked. The material pulled free from where it had caught on a jagged rock tooth. Staring at her prize, Sydney was swept off her feet by a wave that hit her full face. A glancing blow stunned her and she swallowed water. Went under. Fought. Gagging from the salt taste, sputtering for air, she found a handhold, righted herself and grabbed onto another rock.
Sydney’s eyes swept the area in front of her just as the yellow cloth, free of any human entanglement, was sucked under the surface by the current.
Just as Kenneth must have been.
Kenneth!
His name echoed in her mind as did the truth she so desperately wanted to deny. Sydney made an unintelligible sound, a mourning for what might have been.
“AND SO, with respect, we consign Kenneth Lord’s soul to God,” Reverend Jonas Taylor said, therewith ending the memorial service.
Calmly, Sydney removed the wedding ring she’d worn for little more than two days. Hardly aware of the drizzle or the people surrounding her, she ran her fingertip around the thick band, its rough exterior simulating a gold nugget, its interior engraved, “Kenneth loves Sydney.” Silent tears mingled with the light rain to wash her cheeks as she kissed the symbol of a union that hadn’t been ordained.
The bit of gold flung out to sea, its trajectory fierce and sure as it joined the man who’d given it to her.
When the ocean roared its acceptance of the token of her love, Sydney closed her eyes. The moment lid touched lid, encasing her hot pain, she saw him. Her Kenneth. As alive as he’d been when she’d married him, not as he’d appeared before the justice of the peace, but standing over her bed in his house.
A house and a bed they had never shared.
Rather a premonition than a memory, she realized.
And so real. Oh, so very real. Her head grew light and she swayed as a weak protest passed her lips. A protective arm settled around her shoulders and snapped her eyes open. Judge Jasper Raferty was at her side as he always had been whenever one of his children needed him.
“Dad, h-he can’t be dead,” she whispered.
Her blood pulsed in jagged throbs and filled her with a growing anxiety that was all too familiar. An anxiety that had threatened her reason during the past months. Brow furrowed, she met expressions of concern and pity.
“Now, Sydney, just because the body wasn’t found, don’t–”
”Dad, please.” She would remain calm, but she had to make them understand. “I saw him.”
“Where?”
She sensed her father’s disbelief before he uttered the single word. But then, his doubt didn’t surprise her. He’d always been the voice of reason, had always dismissed what he had called her childhood daydreams. He’d never wanted to understand. She couldn’t ignore the light-headed feeling that continued to plague her. Nor the familiar chill. Like a somnambulist, she pulled free of his arms and approached the edge of the cliff.
“Sydney.”
Her sister’s worried voice. But Asia was as powerless to stop her as their father.
Sydney dropped to her hands and knees and told herself to see Kenneth in the water. But, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t make the image gel. Instead she saw the shadowy bedroom and Kenneth holding out his hand for her to join him. Double doors behind Kenneth were open. Wind ruffled his dark hair as it had on the cliff. And he was wearing a yellow shirt partially open, revealing his broad chest.
She shivered.
The vision was so real that she fought for a second when strong hands hooked under her arms and lifted. Kenneth’s image faded once more, leaving in his place the roiling waters that had left her a widow.
Or had they?
Bewildered, she looked up into her brother’s aquamarine eyes shadowed with compassion. Dakota’s thick lashes were spiked, wet from the rain that matted his dark ash blond hair and rolled down his worried-looking face.
“Come on, Sydney, let’s go back to the house,” he urged.
“What if Kenneth didn’t really drown, Dakota? What if he’s not dead?”
“I know you want to believe that.”
”But you don’t.”
Her brother’s eyes mirrored her own perplexity. Of her two siblings, he had always been the more sensitive to her. Of her entire family, he alone had believed in her ability to see things others couldn’t. But even he had been glad when she’d closed off that part of her life and had put it behind her. He’d never said so, but she’d sensed what others had called her “gift” had made Dakota nearly as uncomfortable as Asia or their parents.
Maybe there was no gift, never had been.
Maybe she was going crazy.
“She’s just experiencing denial,” Asia whispered to their father who stood rigid and white-faced.
“It’s natural under the circumstances,” Reverend Taylor added.
Yes, natural, Sydney silently echoed. The last few months had been stressful enough to push anyone to the limit. Now this. She was seeing things because she was tired. All she needed was some rest undisturbed by dreams. Then she would be fine.
She needed to forget about the premonition and get some sleep.
Forget about Kenneth.
Forget...
Staring at the ocean, she told herself she had to make peace with the truth. She must believe her husband had been consigned to a watery grave, his body forever enveloped in cold unfeeling arms. Dead. Kenneth was dead. And so was the fantasy.
She whispered, “Dakota, take me away from here.”
He tightened his hold and turned her away from the scene of the nightmarish accident toward the house that would be hers at least until Kenneth’s estate was settled. Kenneth’s parents were long dead and no one had been able to contact his sister Martha in Portland. She couldn’t just pack her bags and leave.
“My deepest sympathies, Mrs. Lord,” Reverend Taylor said.
“Thank you for coming on such short notice.”
“God rarely gives advance warning when he calls his children.”
She’d had warning of a sort, Sydney thought guiltily as Dakota urged her forward past the few mourners, but she hadn’t known how to interpret the dreams.
How sad that Kenneth’s memorial service had only been attended by her own family, the local minister and a couple of town residents. Officer Mick Brickman had responded to her call about Kenneth. Parnell Anderson must have been one of Kenneth’s friends. Passing the two men who stood shoulder-to-shoulder as if they had been sharing secrets, Sydney glanced at Anderson’s rough features, which were set in a bland expression, hardly indicative of grief.
She must be imagining things again. Why else would the auburn-haired man be present if not to mourn? Kenneth had told her Parnell Anderson and his family owned half of Stone Beach. Perhaps he felt obliged to express the town’s condolences.
“You have my sincere regrets,” he murmured as if he’d been privy to her thoughts.
Sydney fastened onto his flat blue-eyed gaze, yet refused to explore too deeply. Still, getting the distinct feeling he wasn’t being up-front with her, she took a step back toward her brother. Dakota tightened one arm around her.
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