Against the Tide (19 page)

“You're crazy. You wouldn't dare!” She swung at him again, so hard that when she missed she tumbled forward.

Zach smiled grimly, caught her around the waist, dragged her over, sat down on the couch, and hauled her across his lap. “I'd dare a lot of things for you, Jaimie. This is just the first.”

With that he jerked up her little wool skirt and his hand came down on her bottom. A couple of hard swats, then he lifted her up and tossed her on the sofa.

“I'm nothing like Scott, Jaimie Graham, and I'm exactly the right man for you. It's past time you figured that out.”

“Get out of my house!”

“I'll see you tomorrow at work. Think about what I said.” Something shattered next to the door as he pulled it open and walked out on the porch.

Zach didn't look back. He had made his opening salvo and it was a beaut. She'd be mad for a while, but at least he'd made his point.

His mind went back to the way she had kissed him. Hot and sweet, sexy as hell. He wasn't wrong about Jaimie. He was the right man for her and always had been.

Zach smiled as he walked off into the darkness, heading back to his house. He'd need a cold shower before he went to bed, but at least he was no longer invisible.

 

 

As Rafe drove into his garage, he noticed Olivia yawning. With the funeral and setting up surveillance at the motel, she'd had a long, emotionally exhausting day. On top of that, she'd spent last night in his bed, which meant he hadn't given her much time to sleep.

She stirred herself enough to make her way into the house and the two of them headed upstairs. When he came out of the bathroom, he found her curled up on his bed in the faded Coast Guard T-shirt she'd worn the night before.

Since he didn't have the heart to wake her, he stripped off the rest of his clothes and pulled back the covers, eased Olivia between the sheets, and climbed in beside her. She didn't even stir when he pulled her up over his chest and wrapped an arm around her. She just snuggled in, her face pressed into his neck.

Damn, she felt good. Too good. Rafe thought of icebergs long enough to get his body under control, then his thoughts shifted, moved in a direction that kept him awake a little longer.

He needed to collect a DNA sample, could probably get one off the hairbrush Liv had borrowed that morning. It had to be done. He didn't believe for a moment Olivia was a criminal. But there was no doubt she was in some serious trouble. He had to know what was going on in order to keep her safe. His stomach knotted. Just thinking about it felt like a betrayal.

Rafe kissed the top of her head and drowsiness settled over him, pulled him into slumber. He wasn't sure how long he slept before the press of soft lips against his chest awakened him, the sensation of those familiar, perfect lips moving over his skin.

He was hard before she reached his navel, before Liv ran her tongue around the indentation. Her lips moved lower, soft kisses trailed over his skin and the muscles across his abdomen contracted. Desire hit him like a fist.

Sliding a hand into her thick, dark hair, he cupped her head as that warm, sexy mouth enveloped his erection.
I've got to be dreaming,
he thought as the blood raced through his veins and heat burned into his groin. Just another of the erotic dreams he'd had for weeks before he'd begun his determined pursuit of Liv.

His head went back and he groaned. He was close to release. Reaching down, he caught her shoulders and hauled her up his body. “That's enough. I want to be inside you when I come.”

She made a little sound of protest, then started nipping the side of his neck. When he reached over to grab a condom, she caught his wrist.

“I'm on the pill. Irregular this-and-that. You don't have to worry.”

Rafe kissed her long and deep as he moved her into position on top of him and buried himself in her soft, warm heat.

“Jesus, Liv, you feel good.”

She arched beneath him, wanting more, straining his control. Gripping her hips, he started to move, drove deep and didn't stop. He could feel her inner muscles tightening around him, heard her quick intake of breath, and knew she was close to the peak.

“Rafe . . .” Matching her rhythm to his, she drove him to the brink.

Rafe dug for control, hung on long enough to push her over the edge, then followed her to release. He came hard, his jaw clenched, and, Jesus, it was good. He let the rush drag him under, hold on to him for seconds that felt like hours, before the pleasure began to fade.

Easing away, he rolled onto his back and drew her up on his chest. She tucked her head into his neck as she had done before, and a few minutes later, she was asleep.

Rafe ran a hand over her hair and drifted for a while, his mind returning to the problems he'd be facing in the morning.

He tried not to think of the DNA sample he'd be sending to his brother. Or the GPS and security cameras he'd set up tonight in an effort to discover the truth about Scotty's murder.

Instead, he kissed the top of Olivia's head and tried not to want her again.

Chapter Twenty-One

Rafe got the phone call as he stepped off
Scorpion
after his half-day charter. Not recognizing the caller ID, he pressed the phone against his ear. “Brodie.”

“It's Rusty Donovan, Rafe. I've got an update for you on the Ferris case.”

“What's going on?”

“Forensics came back. No blood or fibers, nothing in Chip Reed's pickup or apartment. No blood on the clothes in his closet.”

In a way Rafe had hoped there would be. “They gonna let him go?”

“No way. Scarborough and the chief still like him for the murder. They think he could have wrapped the body in a plastic tarp. Wouldn't leave fibers. They think he tossed his bloody clothes somewhere on his trip to Fairbanks.”

“Could be, I guess.”

Rusty must have heard the doubt in his voice. “But you don't think so.”

“I don't know. Did Scarborough get anything from the two guys in the motel room closest to the office? I know he talked to them at least once.”

“Interviewed them a couple of times. According to what they said, they were over at the Catch earlier that night—which the bartender verified. Bartender said they were watching ESPN and nursing light beers. They claim they went back to the room and crashed before midnight. Didn't hear or see anything.”

“Yeah, I talked to them, too. Nevin claimed they were drunk. Nursing a light beer isn't the same as being drunk.”

“You think they might be involved?”

“Might have heard or seen something. No way to tell.”
At least not at the moment.
He didn't mention the cameras or the tracking device. Rusty was a friend but he was still a cop. Cops didn't like civilians messing in their business. Rafe didn't want to push his luck.

“I'll let you know if anything else comes up,” Rusty said.

“Appreciate it.” Just as Rafe hung up, his phone rang again. Ben Friedman spoke from the other end of the line.

“Hi, Rafe. Figured I ought to call. I took a look at the video recording from last night just like Zach showed me. The men didn't leave the room till late this morning. Probably went for something to eat or some sightseeing. Haven't come back.”

“Thanks, Ben. Keep me posted.”

“Will do.”

Ben was a quick study. He was watching the live feed as well as checking the recorded images. Tonight, Rafe planned to go in after dark and replace the GPS under the back bumper of the Jeep with a fresh one. Tomorrow, if the FedEx arrived on time, he'd have a more sophisticated device that could be accessed wirelessly in real time.

With things mostly under control, he headed for the Pelican. He was done for the day and he hadn't had anything to eat since morning. The bell rang as he stepped through the door. His gaze automatically went in search of Olivia, but he didn't see her.

He sat down in one of the booths and started perusing the menu, then looked up to see Cassie walking toward him, her light brown hair swinging along her jaw. A little of the color was back in her face.

Rafe stood up as she approached. “Hi, honey, how you doing?”

She shrugged. “Better and worse. Better with the funeral over. Worse because now it seems so final.”

“I know.”

“You never said, but I know you lost someone you loved.”

He nodded. “It was a long time ago.”

“A woman?”

“Yes.”

She smiled. “And now you have Liv.”

Pressure rose in his chest. He thought of the information his brother had given him, thought that Olivia wasn't Olivia at all. “I hope so.”

“I . . . umm . . . really hate to ask, but would you do me a favor?”

“Sure, what is it?”

“I've got a doctor's appointment in about fifteen minutes. Mom was supposed to take me, but she isn't feeling well. Liv took Khan for a walk, and Nell's running the café. I hate to go alone. Scotty always went with me. Do you think you could take me?”

He smiled. “Be my pleasure to take you, honey.”

“You want a sandwich or something? I could fix it real quick.”

“That'd be great.”

“You like ham and cheese, right?”

He nodded.

“I'll be right back.”

Good to her word, Cassie returned a few minutes later, holding on to a Styrofoam box. Rafe dropped enough money on the table to pay for the sandwich plus a tip, opened the box and took out half, ate it as he walked Cassie out to his pickup.

He finished the other half on the way, pulled up in front of the doctor's office and turned off the engine, rounded the truck to help Cassie down. Short as she was, getting in and out wasn't easy. Not like it was for Liv. He smiled to think of Olivia's long, pretty legs, remembered how they'd felt wrapped around him that morning.

He walked Cassie to the front door of the gray clapboard building and pulled open the door. She flicked him a grateful smile as she walked into the office. Her stomach was still flat and apparently she wasn't having morning sickness, or at least she hadn't said anything about it if she was.

Two women sat in the waiting room, one cuddling a pink, blanket-wrapped bundle, the other one very pregnant, urging the little girl beside her to fill in the spaces in a kid's coloring book.

“I shouldn't be long,” Cassie said, glancing toward the nurse behind the counter. “If you feel like reading, there's some magazines on the table, but they're pretty old and they're probably not your thing.”

He glanced down at the dog-eared stack of
Good Housekeeping
,
Redbook
,
Parenting
, and
Cosmopolitan
, and his mouth edged up. “I'll make do.”

As a nurse led Cassie down the hall, he grabbed the
Cosmo
, sat down in a gray vinyl chair, and read the cover. His eyes widened at the articles inside: “Sixty Sex Tips: Love Tricks That Will Make Him Want You,” and “The Sex Position That Increases Female Orgasms
.
”

Feeling the heat creeping into his face, he glanced around to make sure neither of the women in the waiting room was watching, then started flipping toward the last article. Not that Olivia seemed to have any problem.

Still...

He was turning pages, flipping through ads for hair products and makeup, when one of the pages caught his eye. It was an advertisement for lipstick, a Revlon ad that showed a portion of a beautiful woman's face, just the jawline, chin, and a pair of sultry lips covered in a dewy shade of deep, dark red.

Rafe felt the zip of adrenaline begin to pump through him. He knew those lips. Knew them intimately. It was funny how the human computer worked. He'd seen it done on TV: A specific feature of an actor was all you got to see, yet strangely, it was obvious who that person was.

In the ad, he could see just enough of the lower portion of the face to know who it was—and he was certain. Those X-rated lips belonged to Olivia Chandler.

He checked the date on the magazine. It was October three years ago. Very carefully, he ripped out the page and set the magazine back down on the table, folded the ad and stuck it in the pocket of the denim work shirt he was wearing.

His mind was still spinning when Cassie walked out of the doctor's office. Rafe stood up from the chair. “Everything okay?”

She smiled. “All good.” Her smile slowly faded, her eyes filled, and he knew she was thinking of Scott.

“Don't go there, honey. You're having Scotty's baby. He left you the greatest gift he could give you, yes?”

She nodded, wiped her eyes, managed to recover some of the smile. “You're right. I'm sorry. It's just . . .”

“I know.” He took her arm and led her toward the door.

“Thanks for coming with me.” She hung on to him as they walked out of the office. “It was easier knowing you were out here waiting.”

His chest felt tight. Scott should have been the one waiting for her.

Guiding her back to the truck, he helped her climb in, then drove back to the café. The lunch crowd was gone. When he walked through the door, Olivia was restocking supplies under the breakfast counter.

His jaw tightened. Rafe couldn't wait to see the look on her face when she saw what was in his shirt pocket.

 

 

Olivia glanced up to see Rafe walking toward her. God, he was handsome. Stomach-melting handsome. Toe-curling handsome. With that thick, dark hair and those golden-brown eyes, long legs, broad shoulders, and that lean, hard-muscled torso, he was just flat-out the sexiest man alive.

Well, at least to her.

He stopped in front of her and she tried to blank her mind against the memory of what she had done to him in bed. He had teased her about a proper thank-you. Well, she had certainly given him one.

She fought back a grin. Of course, Rafe always gave as good as he got in return.

“Hi,” she said, looking up at him, fighting a sudden urge to drag him into the storage room and have her way with him—again. “What's going on?”

“Looks like the lunch rush is over. You got a minute to talk?”

Unease slid through her. There was something in his eyes, something that put her on alert. “Sure.” She started for one of the booths, figuring they would have a cup of coffee, but Rafe caught her arm.

“Upstairs.”

Tension coiled in her stomach. “Is this about Scott?”

“Upstairs,” he repeated, making her uneasiness build.

She led the way up to her apartment and Rafe closed the door behind him. Olivia led him over to the cream-colored sofa, and they sat down in front of the sleek, dark-wood coffee table. Across the room, a view of the Sound stretched out beyond the windows. The dismal gray clouds of an impending storm did nothing to calm her nerves.

“What is it? What's going on?”

In answer he reached into the pocket of his shirt and pulled out a folded, glossy sheet of paper, opened it on the coffee table, smoothed it out flat.

A chill slid down her spine when she recognized the ad. “What's that?” She looked up at him, trying to bluff her way through it.

A muscle ticked in his jaw. “You know what it is and so do I. You had that mouth on me this morning. Don't even think about trying to tell me that isn't you.”

Panic shot through her. She had done the photo shoot before she'd fled New York. What were the odds the magazine would still be lying around? Of course it could have been reprinted. Revlon had really liked the ad.

Her mind spun, searching for the right thing to say, tossing aside one answer after another, finally deciding on bold and slightly bitchy. “All right, it's me. So what?”

He relaxed a little. He'd been ready for a fight. Clearly she'd made the right choice. “You were a model before you moved up here?”

“Not a runway model, no. I did magazine ads, just like the one on the table. Lips were my specialty.” She forced herself to smile. “At one point they were insured for a million dollars.”

His mouth kicked up. “Million-dollar lips. And worth every dime.”

Her confidence was building. Maybe she could tell him part of the truth, enough to satisfy his curiosity. “I made a lot of money at it. Enough I could afford the café.”

“Where are you from?” he asked casually, though she could tell it was far from what he was feeling.

“I was born in Massachusetts, a little town called Medfield. I went to the U of Mass, then moved to New York. I was a dancer for a while before I started doing ads.” The last part was true. She hoped it wasn't too much information.

His smile was gone. There was a hard glint in his eyes. “What about your husband? You said you were married.”

“Yes, well . . . I was married for about a year before Tom died.”

“Tom Chandler? That was his name?”

“That's right.” Total bullshit. She'd made that up when she got to Valdez. It had satisfied everyone else. For the love of God, why wasn't it enough for Rafe?

Liv stood up from the sofa. “Is the inquisition over or do you have something else you want to know?”

For several moments he didn't answer and her heart sank. The more he pressed, the more likely he would find out something that would put them both in danger.

He shrugged his shoulders as if it were no big deal. “I saw the ad. I knew it was you. I was surprised you never mentioned it. Seems like we ought to know each other well enough by now.”

“It was a long time ago,” she said.

“Three years isn't so long.” The date of the magazine.

Her stomach squeezed. “Sometimes it is.” It was an eternity to her, another incarnation. Another lifetime.

Rafe just nodded. “You'll be at the meeting, right? Six o'clock downstairs?”

“I'll be there.”

She walked him to the door. “I'm taking Khan for a run. I'll see you later.”

Rafe paused in front of her as she opened the door. “It's natural for people who are sleeping together to want to know a little about each other.”

She forced herself to smile. “You're right. I'm sorry.”

He gripped her arms and drew her close, settled his mouth over hers. It wasn't a gentle kiss. It was hard, and intrusive, and tinged with a hint of anger. He wanted more from her, but she couldn't afford to give it to him.

“I'll see you tonight.” He turned and walked out of the apartment.

Olivia released a slow breath. She hated to lie and especially to Rafe. But there was no other choice. She didn't want to leave Valdez. She was making a home for herself here, making friends. She loved the remoteness, the beauty, loved running her own business. More than that, she didn't want to leave Rafe.