Gull Harbor (12 page)

She could see desire in the depths of his dark blue eyes, but there was something else there, too. Pain. Her remaining doubts shattered and fell away. Whatever this awful secret was, they would handle it—together.

“Stay.”

He held her captive, caged between his arms. “You know what will happen if I stay.”

She nodded, her hair sliding against the door. Unhooking her fingers from the waist of his jeans, she dipped her fingers into her own pocket to retrieve her key. Silently she turned, unlocking the door.

Her legs trembled as she led him up the stairs. Moonlight spilled through the windows, bathing her bedroom in a silvery glow. He caught her wrist in the doorway, pulling her around to face him.

“Claire…before we go any further, you need to know something. There’s a chance I may never be able to fully explain what happened five years ago.”

She studied his expression in the pale light of the moon. He held her gaze, his hair falling across his forehead as he bent his head toward hers. She brushed the strands out of his eyes, then trailed her fingers across the rough stubble under his cheekbones.

“But you’ll tell me if you can?”

“I promise. But think about how you’ll feel if I can’t,” he said, releasing her wrist.

“Confused, I’m sure,” she murmured. She gathered the fabric of his shirt collar and pulled it slowly over his head. “But I don’t think it’s going to make me want you any less,” she added, dropping the shirt to the floor.

He wrapped his arms around her and walked her backwards, toward the bed. “Just know that my leaving had nothing to do with how I felt about you. I never stopped loving you.”

Her calves connected with the cool metal of the bed frame. “Back then, you mean,” she whispered, her voice raw with emotion.

“No, I meant what I said. Never.”

She splayed her hands across the hard planes of his back. “Please make love to me. I can’t wait another second.”

He lifted her up, and she clutched his neck, wrapping her legs around his waist. Hot blood rushed through her veins as his mouth devoured hers in a hungry kiss. They tumbled onto the bed, their bodies tangled together, her back pressed into the mattress.

He sat up, his weight on her hips igniting the ache between her legs. “You’re wearing entirely too much,” he said gruffly, hiking her shirt up to expose her belly.

She wiggled out of her top as his nimble fingers unhooked the clasp of her bra. He ran his rough palms over her breasts, and she arched up toward him. Her lower body, anchored to the bed by his, burned with need. She reached for his shoulders and pulled him down on top of her.

We still fit together perfectly.
She twined her fingers with his. He pulled her arms over her head, holding her captive as his mouth traveled down her neck. Every nerve in her body quivered with urgency.

He wrapped her fingers around the metal rungs of the headboard, anchoring her to the bed. His lips moved over her breasts, down into the hollow of her stomach. Somehow, he still knew every inch of her flesh.

Tugging at her shorts, he pulled them down to her ankles, along with her lacy underwear. She kicked them to the floor as his kisses ventured up her inner thigh. His tongue dipped between her legs, sending a shudder through her.

He slid his fingers inside her and she moaned. She trembled with need, beyond ready. “Please,” she begged, the word rasping in her throat.

A gasp tore from her lips as he drove himself into her. It had been so long.

She met his powerful rhythm, desperate for release. Pleasure built inside her and exploded, shattering her. She clung to his shoulders as he tensed and came with her.

They held each other in the darkness; she could feel their hearts hammering in perfect unison. “You okay?” he asked, nuzzling her neck.

“More than okay. You couldn’t tell?”

His laugh was deep and husky. “Yes, I could tell. But what I meant was—am I crushing you?”

“Oh. A little. But it feels good.” She shifted slightly beneath him, enjoying the solid weight of his body on hers. “I think we should stay like this forever.”

“I’m just going to move a little, so you can breathe.” He rolled to his side gently, pulling her into his arms. “Don’t worry, though—I have a feeling we’re going to end up in that position again very soon.”

Chapter 16

She lay tied to the bed, spread eagle. Thick tape bound her wrists and ankles to the wooden posts of the bed frame. Her limbs ached, and she wiggled her fingers and toes to force the blood to move into her throbbing veins.

Staring at the ceiling, she touched her tongue to the cloth gag between her lips. It was wound tightly around her head, cutting into the sides of her mouth and muffling her moans.

The discomfort was no match for the fear, however. It was only a distraction. Whatever was coming would be terrible—how could it not be? A fresh wave of terror rolled through her as she waited.

“Claire. Wake up, sweetie.”

Max. Where was he? He would save her. She forced her heavy eyelids open. “You’re here,” she whispered breathlessly.

“I’m right here,” he agreed, smoothing her hair back. “I think you’re having a bad dream. You were whimpering, and not in a good way.”

“Oh.” She tested her arms and legs. Untied. She was in her own bed; she could move and speak freely. “It wasn’t so much a dream as a vision, I think.” She drew in a shuddering breath. “I did ask Maria to send me some of her memories, so I guess that’s what she did. Jesus, that was awful.”

Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes as Max gathered her in his arms. “Can you tell me what you saw?” he murmured.

“Maria was being held captive. Here in this house, in that other room, I think.” Choking back a sob, she added, “Her hands and feet were taped to bed posts.” She buried her face in his chest and let the tears come.

“Shh,” he said, cradling her head as she cried. “It’s okay. She’s free of that now. And we’re going to find the person that did that to her.”

Claire nodded, wiping at her eyes with a shaky finger. He was right. Maria was being held captive in a different way now; trapped between worlds, scared and alone. The only way to help her now was to let her tell her story.

“What else do you remember?” he asked.

“She gave me a word. I need to write it down, but I think I left my notebook downstairs.”

“I’ll get it,” he said immediately. He pulled back the covers and climbed out of the bed. Retrieving his jeans from the floor, he slid them on and left the room.

She sat up and reached for her shirt, wincing at the delicious soreness that radiated throughout her body. A flush warmed her cheeks as she replayed their night together in her mind. It had been incredible; even better than she remembered. How had she lasted so long without him?

And he was still here. She was ashamed to admit a tiny part of her had been worried that he would sneak away in the darkness, leaving her once again. Her eyes slid to the clock. Five-fifteen in the morning. There was still time for him to claim he had a busy day and should be getting home.

But when he returned, he settled himself on the bed beside her, handing her the notebook and a pen. Guilt twisted in her belly as he curled a protective arm around her shoulders. But she had good reason to doubt him, and they both knew it.

“Secuestrado,”
he said, reading off the page. “It sounds like ‘sequestered.’”

“It does. Although I’m guessing the Spanish meaning may be more sinister.” She tapped the pen against her mouth. “Is the diner open yet?”

“It might be by the time we get there. If not, Dan will still be there…he’ll let us in.” He glanced out the window at the lightening sky. “Are you sure you don’t want to try going back to sleep?”

“There’s no way I could sleep right now. Not after that.”

He frowned. “That’s what I figured you’d say. We’ll go to the diner for a while. But after that, I’m taking you to my house so you can take a nap.”

“No, I should—”

“Yes,” he said, cutting her off. “What you should do is get some sleep. You said yourself that it takes a lot of energy to communicate with memories and visions.”

He had her there. “Okay,” she said with a sigh. “You’re right. But if you’re dropping me off at your place, you have to promise to come get me between the lunch and dinner rush and bring me back home.”

“You drive a hard bargain.”

“Yeah, well, I’m stubborn that way. Is it a deal?”

“Deal,” he replied, squeezing her shoulder before he released her. “I’ll grab a quick shower, and then we can go.”

****

“Kidnapped,” Max announced, reading Claire’s computer screen over her shoulder. “
Secuestrado
means kidnapped.” He met Dan’s eyes across the counter of the diner.

“Great,” said Dan. The door bells jingled, and he walked away to greet his customers, menus in hand.

“I don’t understand,” said Claire, a crease forming between her emerald eyes. “I thought she came here willingly. Maybe I misunderstood something.”

She pressed her lips together, waiting for his reply. The skin around her mouth had a slight pink tinge, probably from the scratch of his stubble, he thought. He smiled at her, rubbing his knuckle gently across her cheek.

“What?” she asked.

“Just thinking about last night,” he said, leaning forward to nibble on her earlobe.

“Stop,” she said with a laugh, pushing him away. “I need to focus.”

“Sorry. You’re hard to resist. Okay, let’s see…are we sure the boat came from Mexico?”

She cocked her head and thought for a moment. “Actually, I’m not completely sure. I’m certain she told me
she
was from Mexico, and I guess I just assumed that was where the boat came from. It had a Spanish name. Also, I think I read that in terms of drugs coming into the United States, Mexico is the second largest importer of heroin. So I just put those facts together.”

“It sounds like a reasonable assumption. I’m just tossing out suggestions.”

“I know, and I appreciate it. I’ll go back over my notes,” she said, tapping her pen against the spiral notebook on the counter. “Maybe something got lost in translation.”

“Well, it can’t be a kidnapping for ransom. If her family had money to speak of, she wouldn’t have been trying to get into this country in order to get a job cleaning.”

She nodded. “You’re right. She was on that boat, and she was in the house, in that room. I just keep coming back to Gary Williams.” Claire wrote
Gary Williams
in large block letters on the page under her notes from this morning. “He has to be the connection.”

He tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. “We’ll figure it out. Did she ever actually give you his name?”

“No, so far she’s just referred to ‘the captain’ and ‘the man.’ I’ll ask her to send me a memory that includes their faces.” She began typing, then stopped and dragged her fingers through her hair. “Wait a sec. That won’t help. I won’t even know if it’s Gary—I don’t know what he looks like. And since I’m supposed to be his friend, I can’t exactly go around asking people for a description.”

“Do not even think of going back to The Scrimshaw,” he said, his voice low and dangerous.

“I won’t, I promise. I’m done with that place.” She reached for his hand, gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“Thank God. I’ll see what I can find out about his appearance, okay? You work on some questions for Maria.”

She drew an arrow from Gary’s name and wrote
Maria
with a box around it. “Okay. You’re going to the tavern?”

He nodded. “There are some things I need to take care of. I’ll be back in about two hours—if you need me before that, tell Dan to give me a call.”

“Yep,” she said distractedly, turning back to her keyboard as he slid off the stool.

He stood behind her and gathered her heavy mane of red and brown curls in his hand. Shifting her hair to one side, he bent down to nuzzle her neck. She shivered visibly as he kissed his way up toward her ear. “Don’t drink too much coffee,” he murmured. “I want you to get some rest later.”

He strode out of the diner with a wave to Dan and headed down the sidewalk toward his tavern. At 7:00 in the morning, Main Street was still quiet. The shops would begin to open their doors at 9:00; they kept longer hours in the summer in order to capitalize on the tourist season.

His pace slowed as he approached his restaurant. He had a stack of purchase orders and invoices to tackle and morning deliveries to check. But the task he was dreading involved a simple phone call. A phone call to a man he despised.

Max was fairly certain Judge Linden felt the same way about him. The judge had kept Claire on a very short leash after her mother’s accident. He’d determined early on that she would attend law school, become a judge, and decide people’s fates. Then Max had entered her life and encouraged her to follow her own path.

His mind rolled back to his last conversation with the judge as he unlocked the door to the tavern. Fool that he’d been, he’d thought Claire’s father had requested a private meeting with him to make amends. But the judge had a very different agenda on that warm spring day five years ago.

After five minutes on his computer, he had a number. He paced his office, going over what he would say. Three days, he decided. He would give the judge three days to contact Claire, to initiate efforts to repair their relationship. And if Judge Linden failed to take this chance to end their estrangement, Max would tell Claire the truth. All of it.

He dialed the number, found the judge’s receptionist. “I need to speak to Judge Linden,” he said firmly. “It’s urgent.”

“May I tell him who is calling?” asked the receptionist, sounding unimpressed.

“Max Baron.” He took a deep breath and relaxed his grip on the phone as she placed him on hold.

“I’m sorry, Judge Linden is not taking calls at the moment.” She paused, presumably to allow him to leave a message.

“This is very important. Tell him it’s about his daughter.”

He thought he heard a faint sigh as she returned him to the bland hold music. Clenching his jaw tightly, he resumed his pacing.