Relative Strangers (24 page)

Panicking at the thought of what he intended, she tried to wiggle free. "Ryan—"

He silenced her with his lips, and with one methodical hand, removed the barrier of her swimsuit. He lavished sweet, throbbing attention on each body part as it was freed from the constraints of the suit, his hand gentle one moment, ruthless the next, until every caress wrung a long moan from her.

When he held her on the edge, he released her wrists and used both his hands and his mouth, setting a slow, drugging pace that had her moving restlessly, desperate as his tongue moved over her, and into her. The air seemed to thicken around her, and she sucked at it, clutching at the towel under her as if she had to hang on to something to keep from tumbling into a pool of sensation that would rob her of self-control.

It was too much. She couldn't take it anymore. Arching up, she reached for him, but he restrained her hands. "No. Let me." And he brought her ever closer.

"I can't. . . Ryan ..."

He clenched his teeth, ready to explode, and she hadn't even touched him. Just having her bucking under him, sighing his name, was enough to push him over the edge. "Yes, you can."

She fought to hang on, fought to drag in air that seemed too hot, too moist. "Oh, God, please."

Ignoring her plea, he moved up her body, shedding his shorts along the way. Pinning her hands on either side of her head, he wanted to plunge into her and cut loose. The need was turning to pain. "Say you want me."

His voice in her ear, low and husky, sent her spiraling. She gulped in air. "You know I do."

"Say it."

"Ah, God, I want you. I want you inside me. Now, damn it. Now."

He smiled, kissed her temple. "You're so eloquent when you're crazy with need."

He let go of her wrists, and she shoved at his shoulders. As he rolled onto his back, she straddled him and took what he'd been holding back. Almost the instant she had him inside her, she peaked so hard she cried out. The climax left her limp and shuddering against his chest, struggling to remember how to breathe.

"Meg?"

She couldn't lift her head. "I'm sure my sanity is some-where nearby," she murmured. "I only lost it in the past few seconds."

"I'm not done yet."

"Wha—"

He arched his hips, and she released a surprised breath. "It seems neither of us is done yet," he said with a grin, switching their positions in one swift move.

Wrapping her legs around him, she answered him thrust for thrust, meeting the next plateau with another cry. Her arms slipped from his shoulders, and her legs around him went slack. He stopped moving, schooled his breathing, waited for her.

She shoved a hand through sweat-wet hair, her brain short-circuiting. "No more."

"Again," he rasped, resuming a crawling pace, grinning when she turned her head to the side, her nails digging into his back. The cords in her neck stood out, her skin slick with moisture.

She couldn't hold a thought. She could only feel him moving inside her, building another intense wave. They ex-ploded at the same time this time, and he buried his mouth on hers, swallowing her scream and giving her his.

For a long time, they lay gasping for breath, Ryan too limp to even shift his weight away from her. Meg didn't mind. She liked his weight, liked having him still inside her. Liked every-thing about him. Perhaps loved everything about him.

He raised his head with some effort, trying not to look too pleased that she had trusted him enough to lose control. "You okay?"

She smiled. "I've never been there before."

"Glad we could go together the first time."

"What's that noise?"

"What noise?"

"My ears are ringing."

"Oh, it's the cell phone. Don't move." She gasped as he withdrew, and he patted her arm. "Sorry about that. I'll just be a sec."

She lay with her eyes closed, feeling the warmth of the sun bearing down. She didn't think, just let her mind drift like the clouds overhead.

Ryan returned to find her still naked, curled on her side, her hair tangled and damp as it fell across her face. She looked peaceful, calm as she dozed. He hated that what he was about to say would take that away from her.

Opening her eyes, she smiled at him. "Who was it?"

He swallowed the lump in his throat. "Nick found Margot."

Meg sat up, wrapping the towel beneath her around her-self. "Where is she?"

"A resort on Captiva. Cabin eighteen."

So close. Only an hour from Fort Myers. "All this time?"

"He thinks at least a week. She's alone."

"How'd he find her?"

He retrieved his shorts from the deck and pulled them on. "Partly luck. Mostly ingenuity. In a nutshell, she's created a new identity for herself. She made a visit to a Captiva urgent-care facility, and he tracked her from there to the resort."

"Urgent care? Is she sick?"

"He didn't say." He watched Meg squint against the sun, saw her start to shiver. When she said nothing more, he went on. "Nick followed her today. She picked up a gun from a street thug in Fort Myers."

Meg closed her eyes.
Her sister, the goon.
"Damn."

"Nick said no one's gone near her. Feds included."

"Then let's go see her."

"And do what?" He already wished he'd asked Nick to tip off the feds and been done with it. He hadn't because he didn't want to make that decision without first consulting Meg.

"I don't know," she said. "Ask her what the hell she's doing. Ask her what happened in October, find out her side of it. She's been on the run for some reason. Maybe Nielsen forced her to set up Beau. Maybe she really did love him. In fact, the FBI agent who questioned me—Loomis—said a woman called nine-one-one that night. That was probably Margot. Why would she do that if she knew Beau was going to be killed?"

Ryan clenched his jaw. "We need to turn this information over to the FBI and let them deal with it."

"But what's wrong with waiting a day? Nick said she's been there a week. No one else knows where she is. I could meet my sister."

"What do you think's going to happen when you see her? Do you think you'll connect somehow?"

"I don't know. I just—"

"Do you think you'll remember her? You were infants when you were separated."

Rising, Meg secured the towel around herself. "I want to try to help my sister, Ryan."

"Maybe she doesn't deserve your help."

"Well, I can't really know that until I talk to her, can I?"

m

"Meg, you're ignoring the facts. Margot stole the emeralds. Why would she do that if she loved my brother? Hell, Beau loved her so much that he would have given them to her if she'd asked. But, no. She
stole
them. And after she found him dead, she bolted. What does that tell you?" He didn't give her a chance to respond before plunging on. "I'll tell you what it tells me. She didn't love him. She duped him so she could take the emeralds. She's guilty."

"But where did she run, Ryan? She didn't run to Nielsen, the man she worked for, a man powerful enough to protect her forever. She ran away."

"You don't know that."

"Of course I do," she said. "We both know it. How many of Nielsen's henchmen have tried to persuade me to return to him? How many of them have threatened my life when I re-fused? Margot ran
away
from him."

"Regardless, she's a thief and accomplice to murder," he said. "She'll never be the woman you want her to be."

"But she's my sister. I can't just walk away. And that's what you want, isn't it? After everything we've been through."

"Yes," he snapped. Then, seeing her flinch, he repeated, "Yes." He went to her, his palms damp as he cupped her face. "I almost lost you once, Meg. I'm not eager to repeat the ex-perience."

She smiled, touched by his tenderness. "You're not going to lose me."

"You can't guarantee that."

She retreated to a deck chair and sat, wrapping her arms tight around her middle. The sun had gone behind a cloud, leaving the air cool. But that was only part of the reason she was shivering. Peering at Ryan, she asked, "What
about
Beau? I thought you wanted justice."

"Justice is the FBI's job. I lost sight of that for a while, but I can accept it now."

"Well, maybe I can't. Slater Nielsen took my best friend from me. I want him to pay. Margot can help me with that. This isn't just about helping my twin sister."

"I understand what you're feeling. Believe me, I do. It's got you so tangled up you can't think straight. But revenge is not the answer."

"What is the answer? Tell me what's going to make this knot in my stomach go away. And don't tell me time will heal it, because so far time isn't doing the job." Choking on the last words, she lowered her head and hugged herself tight. She couldn't stop shaking.

"I love you."

She didn't move, didn't breathe. She was afraid to look at him, afraid that she'd imagined what he'd said.

"I love you," he said again. "Nothing else matters."

He drew her up, and she buried her face against his bare chest and held on, overcome by emotion. She didn't know what to say, how to respond. It was all too much.

He held her close, his heart breaking. Not so long ago, he hadn't been able to imagine anything that could eclipse his driving need for vengeance. But love did it. His love for Meg. Unfortunately, what she felt for him, if anything, wasn't substantial enough to convince her that the only an-swer was to turn her back on Margot Rhinehart and Slater Nielsen and walk away with the man who loved her. Perhaps the only way she would realize that was if she met Margot and saw for herself that the woman wasn't worth the effort. Besides, he had a few things he wanted to say to Margot him-self.

"Ryan, please, I need this," Meg whispered. "What's one more day?"

He pressed a kiss to her forehead before setting her away from him.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"To fire up the engines. We should be off Captiva some-time tonight."

Chapter 24

Margot stared down at the gun in her hand. It was black and heavy. She ran her thumb over the safety lever. Next time, she wouldn't forget to flip it off.

Clenching her eyes shut, she imagined holding the gun to Slater's head and squeezing the trigger. She imagined looking into his eyes and watching them go dead. And wondered whether she should worry that the thought of it didn't repulse her. She was planning to take another life. Shouldn't she feel something? Sorrow? Anger? Anticipation?

But the truth was, she felt nothing. Not even fear.

Maybe that meant she was ready.

Setting aside the gun, she rested her palm on her stomach and breathed deeply. "You're going to be okay, baby," she whispered.

Rising, she went into the bedroom and changed into the new black jeans and dark sweatshirt she'd bought earlier in the week. Stealth clothes, she used to call them. It seemed like a lifetime ago. She took a moment to imagine what life would have been like if she had never met Beau. Empty. But would she have realized it? She had thought she was happy with Slater, had thought her life was pretty damned good. She hadn't missed what she had never known.

Walking back into the living room, she retrieved the gun and pushed it into her purse on the table by the door. Then she stopped to gaze at a vase of roses. They were red and fra-grant, every bloom almost perfect. She had picked them up that afternoon, hoping they would be a happy reminder of Beau, who had often showered her with roses.

She reached for the vase, weighed it in her hand, then heaved it. The vase shattered against the wall, water and flowers splattering the carpet. Closing her eyes, Margot let herself enjoy the rush of satisfaction. There it is, she thought. Anticipation.

She reached for the lamp.

As Meg slipped out of bed, Ryan mumbled in his sleep, reaching for her. She gave his arm a reassuring pat. "I'll be right back."

They'd dropped anchor two hours ago off the shore of Captiva and within sight of the island resort where Nick had found Margot. Ryan had persuaded Meg to wait until morning to confront her sister. The morning would bring a clear head, he said. And they both needed the rest. Meg hadn't agreed, but it wasn't because she thought he was wrong. She just had other plans.

Now, in the bathroom, she slipped on jeans and a T-shirt from the clothing Kelsey had provided. It felt odd to push her feet into her worn Nikes, odder still to think that she was so close to meeting her twin sister. As she slipped the watch Nick had given her onto her wrist—it seemed that months had passed since that night—she wondered what Margot would say when they stood face to face. Would she be happy to meet the sister she'd never known?

Shoving away her apprehension, Meg stared at herself in the bathroom mirror. She hoped Ryan would understand why she wanted to meet her sister alone. He was convinced of Margot's guilt, and Meg was certain her twin wouldn't respond to anger and accusatory glares. Few people would. At least alone, she and Margot might be able to talk candidly. Perhaps alone, their first meeting could be a reunion rather than a confrontation.