Every morning when Liz awoke she was certain Captain Moralas would call to tell her it was all over. Every night when she closed her eyes, she was certain it was only a matter of one more day. Time went on.
Every morning when Liz awoke she was certain Jonas would tell her he had to leave. Every night when she slept in his arms, she was certain it was the last time. He stayed.
For over ten years her life had had a certain purpose. Success. She’d started the struggle toward it in order to survive and to provide for her child. Somewhere along the way she’d learned the satisfaction of being on her own and making it work. In over ten years, Liz had gone steadily forward without detours. A detour could mean failure and the loss of independence. It had been barely a month since Jonas had walked into her house and her life. Since that time the straight road she had followed had forked. Ignoring the changes hadn’t helped, fighting them hadn’t worked. Now it no longer seemed she had the choice of which path to follow.
Because she had to hold on to something, she worked every day, keeping stubbornly to her old routine. It was the only aspect of her life that she could be certain she could control. Though it brought some semblance of order to her life, it didn’t keep Liz’s mind at rest. She found herself studying her customers with suspicion. Business thrived as the summer season drew closer. It didn’t seem as important as it had even weeks before, but she kept the shop open seven days a week.
Jonas had taken the fabric of her life, plucked at a few threads and changed everything. Liz had come to the point that she could admit nothing would ever be quite the same again, but she had yet to come to the point that she knew what to do about it. When he left, as she knew he would, she would have to learn all over again how to suppress longings and black out dreams.
They would find Jerry Sharpe’s killer. They would find the man with the knife. If she hadn’t believed that, Liz would never have gone on day after day. But after the danger was over, after all questions were answered, her life would never be as it had been. Jonas had woven himself into it. When he went away, he’d leave a hole behind that would take all her will to mend.
Her life had been torn before. Liz could comfort herself that she had put it together again. The shape had been different, the texture had changed, but she had put it together. She could do so again. She would have to.
There were times when she lay in bed in the dark, in the early hours of the morning, restless, afraid she would have to begin those repairs before she was strong enough.
Jonas could feel her shift beside him. He’d come to understand she rarely slept peacefully. Or she no longer slept peacefully. He wished she would lean on him, but knew she never would. Her independence was too vital, and opposingly, her insecurity was too deep to allow her to admit a need for another. Even the sharing of a burden was difficult for her. He wanted to soothe. Through his adult life, Jonas had carefully chosen companions who had no problems, required no advice, no comfort, no support. A woman who required such things required an emotional attachment he had never been willing to make. He wasn’t a selfish man, simply a cautious one. Throughout his youth, and through most of his adult life, he’d picked up the pieces his brother had scattered. Consciously or unconsciously, Jonas had promised himself he’d never be put in the position of having to do so for anyone else.
Now he was drawing closer and closer to a woman who elicited pure emotion, then tried to deflect it. He was falling in love with a woman who needed him but refused to admit it. She was strong and had both the intelligence and the will to take care of herself. And she had eyes so soft, so haunted, that a man would risk anything to protect her from any more pain.
She had completely changed his life. She had altered the simple, tidy pattern he’d been weaving for himself. He needed to soothe, to protect, to share. There was nothing he could do to change that. Whenever he touched her, he came closer to admitting there was nothing he would do.
The bed was warm and the room smelled of the flowers that grew wild outside the open window. Their scent mixed with the bowl of potpourri on Liz’s dresser. Now and then the breeze ruffled through palm fronds so that the sound whispered but didn’t disturb. Beside him was a woman whose body was slim and restless. Her hair spread over her pillow and onto his, carrying no more fragrance than wind over water. The moonlight trickled in, dipping into corners, filtering over the bed so he could trace her silhouette. As she tossed in sleep, he drew her closer. Her muscles were tense, as though she were prepared to reject the gift of comfort even before it was offered. Slowly, as her breath whispered at his throat, he began to massage her shoulders. Strong shoulders, soft skin. He found the combination irresistible. She murmured, shifting toward him, but he didn’t know if it was acceptance or request. It didn’t matter.
She felt so good there; she felt right there. All questions, all doubts could wait for the sunrise. Before dawn they would share the need that was in both of them. In the moonlight, in the quiet hours, each would have what the other could offer. He touched his mouth lightly, ever so lightly, to hers.
She sighed, but it was only a whisper of a sound—a sigh in sleep as her body relaxed against his. If she dreamed now, she dreamed of easy things, calm water, soft grass. He trailed a hand down her back, exploring the shape of her. Long, lean, slender and strong. He felt his own body warm and pulse. Passion, still sleepy, began to stir.
She seemed to wake in stages. First her skin, then her blood, then muscle by muscle. Her body was alert and throbbing before her mind raced to join it. She found herself wrapped around Jonas, already aroused, already hungry. When his mouth came to hers again, she answered him.
There was no hesitation in her this time, no moment of doubt before desire overwhelmed reason. She wanted to give herself to him as fully as it was possible to give. It wouldn’t be wise to speak her feelings out loud. It couldn’t be safe to tell him with words that her heart was stripped of defenses and open for him. But she could show him, and by doing so give them both the pleasure of love without restrictions.
Her arms tightened around him as her mouth roamed madly over his. She drew his bottom lip inside the heat, inside the moistness of her mouth and nibbled, sucked until his breath came fast and erratic. She felt the abrupt tension as his body pressed against hers and realized he, too, could be seduced. He, too, could be aroused beyond reason. And she realized with a heady sort of wonder that she could be the seducer, she could arouse.
She shifted her body under his, tentatively, but with a slow rhythm that had him murmuring her name and grasping for control. Instinctively she sought out vulnerabilities, finding them one by one, learning from them, taking from them. Her tongue flicked over his throat, seeking then enjoying the subtle, distinct taste of man. His pulse was wild there, as wild as hers. She shifted again until she lay across him and his body was hers for the taking.
Her hands were inexperienced so that her stroking was soft and hesitant. It drove him mad. No one had ever been so sweetly determined to bring him pleasure. She pressed kisses over his chest, slowly, experimentally, then rubbed her cheek over his skin so that the touch both soothed and excited.
His body was on fire, yet it seemed to float free so that he could feel the passage of air breathe cool over his flesh. She touched, and the heat spread like brushfire. She tasted and the moistness from her lips was like the whisper of a night breeze, cooling, calming.
“Tell me what you want.” She looked up and her eyes were luminous in the moonlight, dark and beautiful. “Tell me what to do.”
It was almost more than he could bear, the purity of the request, the willingness to give. He reached up so that his hands were lost in her hair. He could have kept her there forever, arched above him with her skin glowing gold in the thin light, her hair falling pale over her shoulders, her eyes shimmering with need. He drew her down until their lips met again. Hunger exploded between them. She didn’t need to be told, she didn’t need to be taught. Her body took over so that her own desire drove them both.
Jonas let reason go, let control be damned. Gripping her hips, he drew her up, then brought her to him, brought himself into her with a force that had her gasping in astonished pleasure. As she shuddered again, then again, he reached for her hands. Their fingers linked as she arched back and let her need set the pace. Frantic. Desperate. Uncontrollable. Pleasure, pain, delight, terror all whipped through her, driving her on, thrusting her higher.
He couldn’t think, but he could feel. Until that moment, he wouldn’t have believed it possible to feel so much so intensely. Sensations racked him, building and building and threatening to explode until the only sound he could hear was the roar of his own heart inside his head. With his eyes half open he could see her above him, naked and glorious in the moonlight. And when she plunged him beyond sensation, beyond sight and reason, he could still see her. He always would.
It didn’t seem possible. It didn’t, Liz thought, seem reasonable that she could be managing the shop, dealing with customers, stacking equipment when her system was still soaking up every delicious sensation she’d experienced just before dawn. Yet she was there, filling out forms, giving advice, quoting prices and making change. Still it was all mechanical. She’d been wise to delegate the diving tours and remain on shore.
She greeted her customers, some old and some new, and tried not to think too deeply about the list she’d been forced to give Moralas. How many of them would come to the Black Coral for equipment or lessons if they knew that by doing only that they were under police investigation? Jerry Sharpe’s murder, and her involvement in it, could endanger her business far more than a slow season or a rogue hurricane.
Over and above her compassion, her sympathy and her hopes that Jonas could put his mind and heart at rest was a desperate need to protect her own, to guard what she’d built from nothing for her daughter. No matter how she tried to bury it, she couldn’t completely block out the resentment she felt for being pulled into a situation that had been none of her making.
Yet there was a tug-of-war waging inside of her. Resentment for the disruption of her life battled against the longing to have Jonas remain in it. Without the disruption, he never would have come to her. No matter how much she tried, she could never regret the weeks they’d had together. She promised herself that she never would. It was time to admit that she had a great scope of love that had been trapped inside her. Rejected once, it had refused to risk again. But Jonas had released it, or perhaps she’d released it herself. Whatever happened, however it ended, she’d been able to love again.
“You’re a hard lady to pin down.”
Startled out of her own thoughts, Liz looked up. It took her a moment to remember the face, and a moment still to link a name with it. “Mr. Trydent.” She rose from her desk to go to the counter. “I didn’t realize you were still on the island.”
“I only take one vacation a year, so I like to make the most of it.” He set a tall paper cup that bounced with ice on the counter. “I figured this was the only way to get you to have a drink with me.”
Liz glanced at the cup and wondered if she’d been businesslike or rude. At the moment she would have liked nothing better than to be alone with her own thoughts, but a customer was a customer. “That’s nice of you. I’ve been pretty tied up.”
“No kidding.” He gave her a quick smile that showed straight teeth and easy charm. “You’re either out of town or out on a boat. So I thought about the mountain and Mohammed.” He glanced around. “Things are pretty quiet now.”
“Lunchtime,” Liz told him. “Everyone who’s going out is already out. Everyone else is grabbing some food or a siesta before they decide how to spend the afternoon.”
“Island living.”
She smiled back. “Exactly. Tried any more diving?”
He made a face. “I let myself get talked into a night dive with Mr. Ambuckle before he headed back to Texas. I’m planning on sticking to the pool for the rest of my vacation.”
“Diving’s not for everyone.”
“You can say that again.” He drank from the second cup he’d brought, then leaned on the counter. “How about dinner? Dinner’s for everyone.”
She lifted a brow, a little surprised, a little flattered that he seemed bent on a pursuit. “I rarely eat out.”
“I like home cooking.”
“Mr. Trydent—”
“Scott,” he corrected.
“Scott, I appreciate the offer, but I’m…” How did she put it? Liz wondered. “I’m seeing someone.”
He laid a hand on hers. “Serious?”
Not sure whether she was embarrassed or amused, Liz drew her hand away. “I’m a serious sort of person.”
“Well.” Scott lifted his cup, watching her over the rim as he drank. “I guess we’d better stick to business then. How about explaining the snorkeling equipment to me?”
With a shrug, Liz glanced over her shoulder. “If you can swim, you can snorkel.”
“Let’s just say I’m cautious. Mind if I come in and take a look?”
She’d been ungracious enough for one day, Liz decided. She sent him a smile. “Sure, look all you want.” When he’d skirted around the counter and through the door, she walked with him to the back shelves. “The snorkel’s just a hollow tube with a mouthpiece,” she began as she took one down to offer it. “You put this lip between your teeth and breathe normally through your mouth. With the tube attached to a face mask, you can paddle around on the surface indefinitely.”
“Okay. How about all the times I see these little tubes disappear under the water?”
“When you want to go down, you hold your breath and let out a bit of air to help you descend. The trick is to blow out and clear the tube of water when you surface. Once you get the knack, you can go down and up dozens of times without ever taking your face out of the water.”
Scott turned the snorkel over in his hand. “There’s a lot to see down there.”
“A whole world.”
He was no longer looking at the snorkel, but at her. “I guess you know a lot about the water and the reefs in this area. Know much about Isla Mujeres?”
“Excellent snorkeling and diving.” Absently, Liz took down a mask to show him how to attach the snorkel. “We offer full-and half-day trips. If you’re adventurous enough, there are caves to explore.”
“And some are fairly remote,” he said idly.
“For snorkeling you’d want to stay closer to the reefs, but an experienced diver could spend days around the caves.”
“And nights.” Scott passed the snorkel through his fingers as he watched her. “I imagine a diver could go down there at night and be completely undisturbed.”
She wasn’t certain why she felt a trickle of alarm. Automatically, she glanced over his shoulder to where her police guard half dozed in the sun. Silly, she told herself with a little shrug. She’d never been one to jump at shadows. “It’s a dangerous area for night diving.”
“Some people prefer danger, especially when it’s profitable.”
Her mouth was dry, so she swallowed as she replaced the mask on the shelf. “Perhaps. I don’t.”
This time his smile wasn’t so charming or his eyes so friendly. “Don’t you?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“I think you do.” His hand closed over her arm. “I think you know exactly what I mean. What Jerry Sharpe skimmed off the top and dumped in that safe-deposit box in Acapulco was petty cash, Liz.” He leaned closer as his voice lowered. “There’s a lot more to be made. Didn’t he tell you?”
She had a sudden, fierce memory of a knife probing against her throat. “He didn’t tell me anything. I don’t know anything.” Before she could evade, he had her backed into a corner. “If I scream,” she managed in a steady voice, “there’ll be a crowd of people here before you can take a breath.”
“No need to scream.” He held up both hands as if to show her he meant no harm. “This is a business discussion. All I want to know is how much Jerry told you before he made the mistake of offending the wrong people.”
When she discovered she was trembling, Liz forced herself to stop. He wouldn’t intimidate her. What weapon could he hide in a pair of bathing trunks and an open shirt? She straightened her shoulders and looked him directly in the eye. “Jerry didn’t tell me anything. I said the same thing to your friend when he had the knife at my throat. It didn’t satisfy him, so he put a damaged gauge on my tanks.”
“My partner doesn’t understand much about finesse,” Scott said easily. “I don’t carry knives, and I don’t know enough about your diving equipment to mess with the gauges. What I know about is you, and I know plenty. You work too hard, Liz, getting up at dawn and hustling until sundown. I’m just trying to give you some options. Business, Liz. We’re just going to talk business.”
It was his calm, reasonable attitude that had her temper whipping out. He could be calm, he could be reasonable, and people were dead. “I’m not Jerry and I’m not Erika, so keep that in mind. I don’t know anything about the filthy business you’re into, but the police do, and they’ll know more. If you think you can frighten me by threatening me with a knife or damaging my equipment, you’re right. But that doesn’t stop me from wishing every one of you to hell. Now get out of my shop and leave me alone.”
He studied her face for a long ten seconds, then backed an inch or two away. “You’ve got me wrong, Liz. I said this was a business discussion. With Jerry gone, an experienced diver would come in handy, especially one who knows the waters around here. I’m authorized to offer you five thousand dollars. Five thousand American dollars for doing what you do best. Diving. You go down, drop off one package and pick up another. No names, no faces. Bring the package back to me unopened and I hand you five thousand in cash. Once or twice a week, and you can build up a nice little nest egg. I’d say a woman raising a kid alone could use some extra money.”
Fear had passed into fury; she clenched her hands together. “I told you to get out,” she repeated. “I don’t want your money.”
He smiled and touched a finger to her cheek. “Give it some thought. I’ll be around if you change your mind.”
Liz waited for her breathing to level as she watched him walk away. With deliberate movements, she locked the shop, then walked directly to her police guard. “I’m going home,” she told him as he sprang to attention. “Tell Captain Moralas to meet me there in half an hour.” Without waiting for a reply, she strode across the sand.
Fifteen minutes later, Liz slammed into her house. The ride home hadn’t calmed her. At every turn she’d been violated. At every turn, her privacy and peace had been disrupted. This last incident was the last she’d accept. She might have been able to handle another threat, another demand. But he’d offered her a job. Offered to pay her to smuggle cocaine, to take over the position of a man who’d been murdered. Jonas’s brother.
A nightmare, Liz thought as she paced from window to window. She wished she could believe it was a nightmare. The cycle was drawing to a close, and she felt herself being trapped in the center. What Jerry Sharpe had started, she and Jonas would be forced to finish, no matter how painful. No matter how deadly. Finish it she would, Liz promised herself. The cycle would be broken, no matter what she had to do. She would be finished with it so her daughter could come home safely. Whatever she had to do, she would see to that.
At the sound of a car approaching, Liz went to the front window. Jonas, she thought, and felt her heart sink. Did she tell him now that she’d met face-to-face with the man who might have killed his brother? If he had the name, if he knew the man, would he race off in a rage for the revenge he’d come so far to find? And if he found his revenge, could the cycle ever be broken? Instead, she was afraid it would revolve and revolve around them, smothering everything else. She saw Jonas, a man of the law, a man of patience and compassion, shackled forever within the results of his own violence. How could she save him from that and still save herself?
Her hand was cold as she reached for the door and opened it to meet him. He knew there was something wrong before he touched her. “What are you doing home? I went by the shop and it was closed.”
“Jonas.” She did the only thing she knew how. She drew him against her and held on. “Moralas is on his way here.”
“What happened?” A little skip of panic ran through him before he could stop it. He held her away, searching her face. “Did something happen to you? Were you hurt?”
“No, I’m not hurt. Come in and sit down.”
“Liz, I want to know what happened.”
She heard the sound of a second engine and looked down the street to see the unmarked car. “Moralas is here,” she murmured. “Come inside, Jonas. I’d rather go through this only once.”
There was really no decision to be made, Liz told herself as she moved away from the door to wait. She would give Moralas and Jonas the name of the man who had approached her. She would tell them exactly what he’d said. By doing so she would take herself one step further away from the investigation. They would have a name, a face, a location. They would have motive. It was what the police wanted, it was what she wanted. She glanced at Jonas as Moralas came up the front walk. It was what Jonas wanted. What he needed. And by giving it to him, she would take herself one step further way from him.
“Miss Palmer.” Moralas took off his hat as he entered, glanced briefly at Jonas and waited.
“Captain.” She stood by a chair but didn’t sit. “I have some information for you. There’s an American, a man named Scott Trydent. Less than an hour ago he offered me five thousand dollars to smuggle cocaine off the reef of Isla Mujeres.”
Moralas’s expression remained impassive. He tucked his hat under his arm. “And have you had previous dealings with this man?”
“He joined one of my diving classes. He was friendly. Today he came by the shop to talk to me. Apparently he believed that I…” She trailed off to look at Jonas. He stood very still and very quiet just inside the door. “He thought that Jerry had told me about the operation. He’d found out about the safe-deposit box. I don’t know how. It was as though he knew every move I’ve made for weeks.” As her nerves began to fray, she dragged a hand through her hair. “He told me that I could take over Jerry’s position, make the exchange in the caves near Isla Mujeres and be rich. He knows…” She had to swallow to keep her voice from trembling. “He knows about my daughter.”
“You would identify him?”
“Yes. I don’t know if he killed Jerry Sharpe.” Her gaze shifted to Jonas again and pleaded. “I don’t know, but I could identify him.”
Moralas watched the exchange before crossing the room. “Please sit down, Miss Palmer.”
“You’ll arrest him?” She wanted Jonas to say something, anything, but he continued to stand in silence. “He’s part of the cocaine ring. He knows about Jerry’s Sharpe’s murder. You have to arrest him.”
“Miss Palmer.” Moralas urged her down on the sofa, then sat beside her. “We have names. We have faces. The smuggling ring currently operating in the Yucatan Peninsula is under investigation by both the Mexican and the American governments. The names you and Mr. Sharpe have given me are not unfamiliar. But there is one we don’t have. The person who organizes, the person who undoubtedly ordered the murder of Jerry Sharpe. This is the name we need. Without it, the arrest of couriers, of salesmen, is nothing. We need this name, Miss Palmer. And we need proof.”
“I don’t understand. You mean you’re just going to let Trydent go? He’ll just find someone else to make the drops.”
“It won’t be necessary for him to look elsewhere if you agree.”
“No.” Before Liz could take in Moralas’s words, Jonas was breaking in. He said it quietly, so quietly that chills began to race up and down her spine. He took out a cigarette. His hands were rock steady. Taking his time, he flicked his lighter and drew until the tip glowed red. He blew out a stream of smoke and locked his gaze on Moralas. “You can go to hell.”
“Miss Palmer has the privilege to tell me so herself.”
“You’re not using her. If you want someone on the inside, someone closer to the names and proof, I’ll make the drop.”
Moralas studied him, saw the steady nerves and untiring patience along with simmering temper. If he’d had a choice, he’d have preferred it. “It isn’t you who has been asked.”
“Liz isn’t going down.”
“Just a minute.” Liz pressed both hands to her temples. “Are you saying you want me to see Trydent again, to tell him I’ll take the job? That’s crazy. What purpose could there be?”
“You would be a decoy.” Moralas glanced down at her hands. Delicate, yes, but strong. There was nothing about Elizabeth Palmer he didn’t know. “The investigation is closing in. We don’t want the ring to change locations at this point. If the operation appears to go smoothly, there should be no move at this time. You’ve been the stumbling block, Miss Palmer, for the ring, and the investigation.”
“How?” Furious, she started to stand. Moralas merely put a hand on her arm.
“Jerry Sharpe lived with you, worked for you. He had a weakness for women. Neither the police nor the smugglers have been sure exactly what part you played. Jerry Sharpe’s brother is now living in your home. The key to the safe-deposit box was found by you.”
“Guilty by association, Captain?” Her voice took on that ice-sharp edge Jonas had heard only once or twice before. “Have I had police protection, or have I been under surveillance?”
Moralas’s tone never altered. “One serves the same purpose as the other.”
“If I’m under suspicion, haven’t you considered that I might simply take the money and run?”
“That’s precisely what we want you to do.”
“Very clever.” Jonas wasn’t certain how much longer he could hold on to his temper. It would have given him great satisfaction to have picked Moralas up bodily and thrown him out of the house. Out of Liz’s life. “Liz double-crosses them, annoying the head of the operation. It’s then necessary to eliminate her the way my brother was eliminated.”
“Except that Miss Palmer will be under police protection at all times. If this one drop goes as we plan, the investigation will end, and the smugglers, along with your brother’s killer, will be caught and punished. This is what you want?”
“Not if it means risking Liz. Plant your own pigeon, Moralas.”
“There isn’t time. With your cooperation, Miss Palmer, we can end this. Without it, it could take months.”
Months? she thought. Another day would be a lifetime. “I’ll do it.”
Jonas was beside her in a heartbeat, pulling her off the couch. “Liz—”
“My daughter comes home in two weeks.” She put her hands on his arms. “She won’t come back to anything like this.”
“Take her someplace else.” Jonas gripped her shoulders until his fingers dug into flesh. “We’ll go someplace else.”
“Where?” she demanded. “Every day I tell myself I’m pulling away from this thing and every day it’s a lie. I’ve been in it since Jerry walked in the door. We can’t change that. Until it’s over, really over, nothing’s going to be right.”
He knew she was right, had known it from the first moment. But too much had changed. There was a desperation in him now that he’d never expected to feel. It was all for her. “Come back to the States with me. It will be over.”
“Will it? Will you forget your brother was murdered? Will you forget the man who killed him?” His fingers tightened, his eyes darkened, but he said nothing. Her breath came out in a sigh of acceptance. “No, it won’t be over until we finish it. I’ve run before, Jonas. I promised myself I’d never run again.”
“You could be killed.”
“I’ve done nothing and they’ve nearly killed me twice.” She dropped her head on his chest. “Please help me.”
He couldn’t force her to bend his way. Two of the things he most admired in her were her capacity to give and her will to stand firm. He could plead with her, he could argue, but he could never lie. If she ran, if they ran, they’d never be free of it. His arm came around her. Her hair smelled of summer and sea air. And before the summer ended, he promised himself, she’d be free. They’d both be free.
“I go with her.” He met Moralas’s eyes over her head.
“That may not be possible.”
“I’ll make it possible.”