Authors: Kathleen Rowland
“Can I convince you not to go out tomorrow?”
“The Closet Project needs me.” For months she and Bayliss collected gently used fashionable dresses and accessories for teens in foster care at Bearwood. “A group of us are meeting after services at the community church.”
“You’ll drive the pickup. Wear the wig.” He bent down, buried his face in her neck. He pressed his lips to her throat and whispered, “Black hair with a fair complexion? Result is vampy.”
She felt the tickle of his teeth and laughed. “Vampire vampy. Different is the best disguise. Don’t you think?”
“As long as you don’t hide from yourself.” His voice of pure business downshifted to husky.
She laughed. “Hide from myself?” If there were a way, she’d have discovered it. With Les, trying to live up to his expectations and downplaying her family values were ways to forget who she was.
He cleared the rattan table by shoving everything into the takeout bag. “I like your natural hair. But then you’d look pretty in a skunk hat.”
“Why, thank you. What’s your disguise, former army ranger? Camouflage gear?” As tough and hard-bitten as he was, she feared for his safety, too.
He kissed her forehead. “I want this assignment.” His well-being took a backseat.
Her thighs trembled, the flesh between them softening, preparing to be possessed by him.
His loose-limbed walk halted within inches of her. He gazed at her hand, took it.
With everything his walk promised, he delivered. She clenched her thighs against the syrupy ache between them. She treasured their time together. They’d both agreed on the ground rules. Keep it sexy and casual. The paradox didn’t escape her. Despite the logic, he’d remain forever in her heart.
He swept his mouth across hers.
Without hesitation, she parted her lips, allowed him in, always willing to do more. She gave him control of her body, and let him drag her into his world, the world he commanded and ruled.
She chuckled at the truth of it, but her chuckle was breathless. How he took her breath away.
He said, “I don’t want to hurt you, I swear.”
“Just don’t be with other women while we’re together. After you move on, disappear. I don’t want to hear about it. I don’t want to be friends.” It crossed her mind, she might wake up one of these days and find him gone.
“Back up a sec,” he said. “No disappearing forever without a word. We owe each other a conversation. Deal? Let’s shake on it.”
“We can shake on it in other ways.”
He looked past her face, cold and distance. “Before I came along, when was the last time you had sex?”
She hesitated, choosing her words. “Three and a half years ago. I became pregnant. Les offered to pay for an abortion. I called it quits before I miscarried. He lived elsewhere. During the time he was gone, I realized he wasn’t the guy for me.”
“Your sportswear business kept you occupied.” His palm cradled her cheek. The warmth of his skin was like a shield, at least for now.
“Then Liam took a bullet to the head.”
“You cared for the man you believed was Les. You’re a special human being. I admire you, Amy Kintyre.”
She stared at him and wished he’d stare back.
* * *
Sitting beside her in the living room, Finn pressed a kiss to her temple, marveling at how his attitude about life changed. “I’ve only known you for a few days.”
Her head moved on his chest as her gaze slid to his face. “Events happened. Showed our true colors.” She moved to straddle him.
He watched her, riveted by her sensuality. “I’d like to meet your grandparents and your brother.”
“I come from a humble level of society.”
“Do you? I bet they’re good people. That’s why you’re trusting.”
“Over-trusting like a doormat,” she said.
“What is your family doing this weekend?”
“Granddad is repairing front steps of our stucco abode. Grandma delivered a dinner to a sick friend. My brother studies car magazines and then tinkers with things like carburetors.”
“Hands-on studies, good for him.” Finn smiled. “My dad was a car mechanic. My GTO was his.”
“Neat. What’s he up to?”
“His girlfriend Dolly invited him to dinner.”
“The same Dolly I met in the backwoods?”
He nodded. “She gets around.” In the next several minutes Finn told her about the tricks his dad played on Dolly and her dog.
“Any other questions?”
He stared at the wall and hesitated in thought. “Just curious, I guess. Five years ago you and Les lived in an Austrian-inspired mansion.”
“Fancy schmancy, huh.” Her cheeks blazed a deep pink. “Les was thrilled it was chosen for the Holiday Tours of Homes.”
“Big deal for Les. His opportunity to put on airs. The event culminated at The Burnt Mill Beach Club for a wine and cheese reception. Les wound up with new clients.”
“It was good for me, too. I brought sports designs. I landed a contract with an apparel manufacturer in Los Angeles.”
“Then Smithson hit a downturn. Les sold your mansion. You two moved to the condo where you live now.”
“Correct.”
Finn ground his jaw. “I don’t usually get pissed. Damn it, I’m angry Rose Kelly put the gold digger label on you.”
“You heard her at the reading of Les’ will.”
“Rose couldn’t believe the condo landed in your lap.” He was there because of their partnership. His fingers curled into fists at his side.
Misery clouded her expression. “Les did things for business reasons.”
“Les had problems with the IRS.” He covered her hand with his, holding it tight. “The title didn’t go to Spencer. His inheritance was cash. He bought a waterfront lodge on Big Bear Lake.”
“That’s right. Next door to Bayliss and Byron.” She shook her head. “I want a regular existence again. Hang out on their dock. Walk around.”
The taunt muscles of his arms strained as if he wanted to reach out, grab her, and shake more answers out of her. “I’m done with questions.”
“Fine, it’s my turn.” She released her hand from his, and cold air swirled to replace his warmth. “Remember when I told you rough people visited?”
“I’ve thought about that, too. The Roaches needed to see Les. Liam passed for him.” He slipped his fingers through her hair, tilting her head toward his. “Expect a call from Les.”
“Why?”
“He put the deed in your name. Plans to come back to you.”
“Not ‘to me’ in a romantic sense.”
“We’ll see. Anyway, I have a ‘57 pickup. You can’t drive your red Jeep.”
“I’m good with a stick shift.” She nuzzled against his neck.
Finn bit back a laugh. “Mountain climber, sportswear designer, Olympic skill level with a Swiss army knife? And, she drives a stick.” He pulled her close.
“You make me happy. It’s you I want.” She took hold of the tab of her shorts zipper, the one that ran from her waist to her crotch. After removing her shorts and panties, she covered herself with her blouse. She unbuttoned it. “Ready?” she asked.
“Hmm, yes.” He gripped her thighs and squeezed.
Her blouse parted, and he went even harder at the sight of her breasts. Cupped by thin straps of green satin framed by white lace, her breasts spilled a la cleavage. Her nipples, swathed by the flimsy material, were hard beneath. The blonde wisps covering the sweet flesh between her thighs teased him. He cupped the curve of her ass and pulled her in close.
Her greedy hands slid up beneath his T-shirt and her mouth sealed his as she pulled the shirt over his head.
She took him.
He gripped her hair and gave.
Chapter Nine
Amy drove Finn’s pickup to the community church and passed cars trailing aluminum boats with outboards. October mornings in the mountains were chilly, often wet, and the busiest fishing season of the year. The way things should be.
Ten minutes later she pulled into the church parking lot and stepped out. She looked at the cloudy sky and brushed mist off her raincoat.
The sky was about to drizzle, and she rushed inside to the hall where she spotted Brooke. There had to be twenty volunteers handling various stages of dress fix-up.
“Amy, is that you?” Brooke asked. “It’s not Halloween yet.”
“It’s me in disguise.”
Brooke stared at her blue-black wig. “I totally get it why Mrs. Rourke, her daughter, and her cousin are wearing wigs. Takbir takes hostages. What’s your reason?”
Before Amy could explain, Brooke waggled her eyebrows. “You were the unidentified witness!”
Here goes nothing. Amy threw caution to the wind. “I saw the gang fight.”
“Nobody told me.”
“I’m telling you now. A Takbir leader knows who I am.” Amy didn’t think she was important enough to be taken hostage. “Finn insisted on a disguise.”
Brooke leaned closer to examine her heavy-handed eye makeup. “Smoky, vampy, and sexy.”
Amy drew herself taller. “Why, thanks, Brooke.”
Brooke turned her head sideways. “As far as wigs go, Mrs. Rourke’s purplish-gray wedge is an improvement. But her purple lipstick?”
“You don’t like her shade?”
“A soft pink would be better,” Brooke said. “Tori’s a princess in her wispy platinum layers. Vivienne’s brown mullet does not do her justice.”
“A mullet revival going on.”
“So I’ve heard.” Brooke moved a hand to tousle her hair. “That style is not for me.”
Amy’s comment was not lost on her.
The redhead curled a finger around her shoulder-length hair with a thoughtful expression. “Years ago, I met Mrs. Rourke and her daughter, Vivienne. Smithson handles their family investments.”
Amy said, “As the receptionist, you take their names.”
“After hearing yesterday’s news, I figured they’d be in danger. Explains their new last names.”
“How do you like them?”
“Very Hollywood.” Brooke untied her long scarf and wore it over her shoulders as a boa. “Mrs. Valentine, Vivienne Valentine, and Tori Morningstar? Way cool!”
Amy wondered if Mrs. Rourke picked them. “I’ll bet their names are legally changed.”
Brooke nodded and let out a quaking breath. “Can’t believe gang warfare happened in Lake Arrowhead.”
“An oddity, smack in the middle of the village.” Amy feared for Finn’s estranged family. He probably didn’t know what to do with himself now that he had a reason to talk to them.
“Do you know what bothers me?” Brooke swallowed tightly. “I’m mistaken for a mushroom. Kept in the dark and fed shit.”
“I can share this. This room is under the watch of FBI monitors. Don’t look up now. There’s one in the ceiling fan.”
“That’s interesting.” Brooke rolled her neck, peeked at the ceiling, and then took a dress from a pile.
This church and the motel room in Blue Jay served as safe zones. “FBI agents observe through these monitors.” They have their eyes on possible conflict. Can you stop conflict without conflict?
“One of the Rourke sons is not in the gang.” Brooke stepped to an ironing board and adjusted the heat on an iron. “One time Sean went into a rage in Finn’s office. He wanted his trust money, referred to his father as a brute.” Brooke slammed the iron around on the dress and handed it to Amy.
“Takbir takes male hostages.” Amy slid the dress onto a hanger and into a rack where dresses were separated by size, color, and style. “Let’s hide Sean in one of these frocks.”
“His full beard will have to go.”
“You’ve seen him around?”
“Last week, jogging down Tallmadge Road,” Brooke said. “He tipped up his ball cap.”
“Sean recognized you.” Amy guessed Finn informed the FBI agent of Sean’s cell number. Then again, Finn had better knowledge of who went where than any busybody at the FBI. It wouldn’t surprise her if Finn contacted Sean today.
Brooke put a hand over her chest. “Sean gives me the creeps.” The more she spoke about his hostility and weirdness, the deeper the strain pulled at the corners of her eyes.
Amy moved to give her a hug and hoped to shift to the tasks at hand. “Looks like I’m late.”
“No worries. The hall opened after the service. Some of us just wandered in. Another project is going on.” Finn’s receptionist nodded toward stacked cardboard boxes and used furniture.
“Who’s in charge of those donations?” Amy asked.
“Dolly Pugh,” Brooke said, “and that pile goes to a needy family. The reverend is driving the U-Haul himself.”
Amy thought of her grandmother’s similar efforts. “Looks like a lot of very nice items.”
Some minutes passed while Brooke explained Dolly’s project. Finding outfits for colder weather. Stater Brothers Market donating food, and the Arrowhead Outpost dropping off new blankets. Brooke’s lips curved into a smile. “I admire the working church.”
“I know what you mean. Doing good feels good,” Amy said. “Aren’t you glad I convinced you to come?” She placed her coat over the back of a folding chair.
“Maybe, after I press this last dress.” Brooke pulled at an unraveling thread. “What about this?”
“I’ll have that mended in no time flat.” Taking out a needle, Amy threaded it with the loose thread and stitched. “Done.” She scratched the back of her neck, itchy from the wig.
* * *
Their afternoon in the church’s hall went by in a blur. Twenty-some volunteers worked for hours.
“It’s time we put our feet up.” Brooke nodded toward the kitchen. “Sure smells so good in there.”
“Little Bear Cafe delivers food for us.” Amy glanced at the clock—4:30 p.m.
“I’m amazed at the local support.”
Amy said, “Bayliss has a talent for promotion. She gets the community into the spirit.”
“There’s nothing like pretty clothes,” Brooke said, “to give teens a confidence boost.”
Amy said, “Everyone needs to be part of the fun.”
Brooke asked, “How about the guys?”
“They rent for free at Men’s Tux Warehouse. Believe me, the guys choose some wild colors.” Amy recalled wild orchid as a popular choice. Suddenly the sweet, smoky smell of barbecue struck her nostrils, making her mouth water. Volunteers made their way toward the double doors.
Amy spotted Avery and Spencer coming from outside. Soon they’d pack dresses and bring them to Bearwood for storage until a week before the prom. Avery stopped to converse with the Rourke trio.
Spencer turned this way and that, gazing from one side of the room to the other. He wrapped his hands around a rack in a frantic grip, moved it, looked behind it, and then rushed to another rack.
Amy was about to walk over, but Brooke held open the swinging doors for both of them. Inside the kitchen, delicious food scents intensified. Gospel music played. The space was filled with tables, each with platters of condiments, ribs, coleslaw, pitchers of lemonade, and rolls of commercial paper towels.
“Volunteering is one big party.” Brooke took the lead and picked up a tray.
“Hey, Brooke. Nice new look, Amy.” Bayliss motioned them to her table. Chairs were scooted over, more chairs pulled up, and Amy found herself sitting between Brooke and Bayliss.
“Thanks for coming.” Bayliss smiled at Brooke. “Are you going to tell us about the plumber I see you with?”
“Gunner the Plumber?” Brooke laughed and made a duck face. “No pipe-fitting jokes, please.”
“Aww. The female to male pipe couplings? So many variations. Never mind.” Bayliss dug into her meal.
Amy looked up, wiped her mouth with a napkin, and looked at Brooke. “Aren’t there two brothers, Gunner and Hudson?”
“Both are hard workers. Haven’t had time to develop big egos. Believe me, Gunner boosts mine.” Brooke grinned, yanked her blouse down in front, and readjusted her boobs so they spilled out the V-neck. “He’s picking me up from here, and I’m good to go.”
“You’re rocking that blouse,” Amy said.
The redhead buttoned up. “We found a No-Tell Motel in Fawnskin. It’s our six-month anniversary. We met in a bar across the street.”
“Hot time in the No-Tell?” Amy asked.
“Hardly. We drank too much. Passed out.” Brooke blushed.
Amy couldn’t help but smile. Bayliss pushed retro glasses up onto the top of her head. “If he makes you happy, he’s the one.”
Amy thought of Finn. Their morning kiss. Kisses that became more. Her body tingled with the memory.
Bayliss resumed the conversation about guys with super big egos. She didn’t like players and mentioned a former boyfriend.
Brooke tucked her hair behind her ear. “I don’t trust men who hit the mark the first time.”
“I agree.” Bayliss purposely looked at Amy. “There’s immediate chemistry, but good sex takes time.”
Brooke’s cellphone buzzed, and she read a text message. “Gunner’s waiting for me in the parking lot.”
“Have a nice evening, Brooke.” Amy crossed her arms, tightening them. Was it bad she and Finn had a rhythm from the get-go? She drained her glass of lemonade.
Bayliss reached for the pitcher. “About Finn,” she said as she refilled their glasses. “What’s up?”
“Let’s just say,” Amy said, “I’ve been hit by a Mack truck.”
Her friend’s eyes held questions. “Just know. You’re in the beginning. Maybe there’s a middle stage. There isn’t a happy ending. Be careful of your heart.”
“I agree. Finn is wrong for me. My chosen mate needs to be a middle-of-the-road guy.” Somehow her smart thoughts blew away like leaves in a gale. “I’m happy.”
“For that, I’m glad, Amy-girl. Under that dark makeup, you’re thrilled to pieces.”
“Rejuvenated sums it up.” Amy leaned forward in her chair. “I know it sounds corny, but he’s tuned into me.” Finn knew when she was cold, where to touch her, how, and for how long.
“Want to know why? Mr. Awesome is good in bed. A serial womanizer views sex as a sport. All technique and no emotion. He broke the heart of Miss California.”
“Damn his warm body and charm.” So far Amy had not found Finn to be detached. Well, maybe, when focused on the mission at hand. She liked that about him. “As for being a womanizer, I’m the lucky one he’s screwing right now.” She touched her temples. Her head ached. Her nerves echoed the ache, as if the cumulative tension of the past few days was an acid, frying nerve endings.
“Are you okay?” Bayliss asked.
Amy looked at her frowning friend. “I’m fine. Just a little headache.” Her mental faculties dipped below comprehension level.
“Just brace yourself. You weren’t in love with Les.” Bayliss pulled the cat-eye glasses down, and her eyes narrowed. “Les is alive. How do you feel about that?”
“Do you ever watch The Three Stooges
reruns?”
Bayliss nodded.
Amy asked, “Remember the scene when Curly, Moe, and Larry beat up the priest?”
Bayliss grinned.
“I’d like to slam him,” Amy said.
Bayliss let the moment hang while she absorbed the information and what it implied. “Someone else might beat you to the punch. Les has enemies.”
“Sounds like he does,” Amy said.
“Byron said a recruit spilled his guts to the FBI. Les stole twenty grand worth of cocaine from Takbir.”
Amy blinked, not sure she heard the amount right. “Takbir stormed the Kelly home to get it.”
Bayliss smirked. “What a traitorous thief. Les takes it all.”
“No boundaries, that’s for sure.” Amy watched Bayliss jerk her head toward the open double doors. “Spencer looks upset. Let’s see what’s going on.”
They hurried to Spencer’s side and listened with horror. Cassidy went missing, and Spencer nursed a kind of fury she’d never seen.
Panic and pain etched into his face. Spencer said, “She’s a crazy one. I love her.”
Amy had miscalculated how deeply Spencer cared for Cassidy. A trickle of ice ran down her spine. “When was Cassidy expected?”
“An hour ago.” Spencer grimaced. “My dad phoned us. He’s alive, did you know?”
Amy nodded. “We heard.”
“Dad has many enemies.” Spencer twisted his face with worry. “He won’t last a minute. Maybe Cassidy took off to help him, drive him to Palm Springs. My grandparents have a place there.”
“I don’t think so. For that, your dad would have phoned you.” Afraid for Cassidy, Amy was steeling herself.
Moving toward a flat-screen, Bayliss turned it on. She held a remote and landed on Eyewitness News.
The host, seated in a darkened room, interviewed a figure in shadow. Electronic distortion made his voice unrecognizable as he explained how he scouted all over the country to bring pretty women to Takbir.
Amy’s phone vibrated in her pocket, and she pulled it out. “Cassidy?” She looked at Spencer, and the tortured panic on his face shot a matching bolt through her. Her hands twitched as she held it.