Lisa Jackson's Bentz And Montoya Bundle Part 18

"Pleased to meet you," Montoya oozed, slathering on his Latin charm.

"Thanks." She nodded. "I a.s.sume you were told about what happened last night."

"Just got the report."

"What do you think?"

"That this guy isn't going to give up. That he's got a real vendetta against you." Rolling his sleeves over his elbows, he asked, "What do you you think?" think?"

"I think whoever sent the card thinks I killed Annie Seger and that the caller who identifies himself as John is somehow linked to Annie-though I don't know how. She is dead, you know."

"Tell me about her."

Samantha took a minute, leaned back in the chair and cradled her purse in her lap. "I hosted a similar program in Houston nearly ten years ago. A girl who said she was Annie phoned in. She was sixteen, pregnant and scared out of her mind. I tried to help, to steer her in the right direction, but..." Samantha paled and looked out the window. One of her hands fisted, then slowly opened. "I wish...I mean I had no idea how desperate she was and..." Sam's voice trailed off for a second. She took a deep breath and cleared her throat before she controlled herself. "...Annie swore she couldn't confide in anyone and...she killed herself. Obviously someone blames me."

"And last night someone impersonating Annie called your program," Montoya said.

"Yes." Sam fiddled with the gold chain surrounding her neck, avoided Bentz's eyes for a second. "It wasn't Annie, of course. I...I went to her funeral, I mean...I was asked to leave, but Annie Seger, the Annie Seger who called me in Houston nine years ago is definitely dead." She blinked hard, but didn't break down.

"You were kicked out of the funeral?" Bentz asked. "The family blamed me." He reached for his pen. "The family?"

"Her parents, Estelle and Jason Faraday."

"I thought her name was Seger."

"It is-was. Her mother and biological father were divorced."

Bentz made a note and caught a glimpse from Montoya as the sound of a truck rumbling by on the street below rumbled through the small room. "What about her father?"

"I-I don't know. I mean, I did some research after the fact...oh, G.o.d, I think he lived in the Northwest somewhere." Her eyebrows drew together, and her smooth brow furrowed.

"His name?"

"Wally...Oswald Seger, I think. Something like that." She managed a tight, humorless smile. "I knew all this stuff nine years ago. In fact I fed on it. Tried to make some sense of it, but then...well, I decided to let it go."

Bentz didn't blame her, but it all had to be dragged up again; whoever was terrorizing her had made sure of that. "You have notes? Names, addresses, anything?"

She hesitated, her eyes thinning. "I think so. I saw the box of notes and tapes and all when I moved. I almost threw it out, but packed it away in the attic with the Christmas ornaments and old tax records. I can get it for you."

"That would help. Call me when you find it, and I'll have someone pick it up. I'd like to see anything you've got." He made a note and asked, "What else do you remember about Annie? Did she have other relatives and friends?"

"A brother. Ken, no...Kent."

"And the boyfriend? The father of her baby."

"Ryan Zimmerman, I think. He was a couple of years older. A big athlete, I think, but I really can't remember." She shook her head. "I've spent a long time trying to forget." Lines of strain evident around her eyes and mouth. The doc was putting on a pretty good show, but the hara.s.sment and threats were getting to her. She was sweating, and the dark smudges beneath her eyes indicated she hadn't slept much in the last couple of days.

"I heard the tape," Bentz said. "John referred to you being a prost.i.tute again. What's that all about?"

"He's sick."

"So there's no truth to it?"

In an instant, she was out of her chair and leaning over the desk, her hands flat on a stack of letters and files. The defeat he'd witnessed seconds ago had disappeared. Two spots of color tinged her cheeks. "I thought I'd already made this clear!" she said, her green eyes snapping fire. "I have never, not one second in my life been a prost.i.tute of any kind..." Her words faltered, and she closed her eyes as if to pull herself together. Bentz's gut tightened. He saw Montoya tense as well. They'd hit pay dirt. He felt it. "Listen," she said quietly, her face now draining of all color. "I have never sold myself for any amount of money, but there was a time when I was in college where, for a research paper, I got to know a couple of streetwalkers...here, in New Orleans. I went out with them, saw how they made their money, the kind of men who tried to pick them up, how they discerned a good trick from a bad, the whole psychology of the street life. It wasn't just about prost.i.tution but the subculture of the city at night." She slowly sat down and looked straight at him. "But I don't see what that would have to do with anything..."

"You did this for a cla.s.s?" Montoya cut in, obviously doubting her.

"Yes!" She whipped her head around. "I got an A."

"Any way we can verify that you were enrolled?"

"Look, I didn't come down here to be humiliated. If you doubt me you could check with my professor...oh, G.o.d." She bit down hard on her back teeth and looked up at the ceiling as if searching for cobwebs.

"What?"

"He's my ex-husband," she admitted and gave her head a little shake. "I, uh, was his student. But you can call him. Dr. Jeremy Leeds at Tulane."

"We'll look into it." She seemed suddenly tired, nearly wilted in the chair. As if her outburst had taken all the fire out of her. But she'd get it back. Bentz knew people, and this woman, he was certain, was a fighter.

"Who knows where you park your car?"

"Everyone at the station. We all use that garage. And...some of my friends, I guess. It wouldn't be hard to figure out as it's the closest garage to the building where I work, and my car is pretty distinctive, a 1966 Mustang." Her fists curled in her lap. "Look, Detective, last night I was scared out of my wits," she admitted. "And I don't like the feeling."

"I don't blame you. If I were you, I wouldn't go out alone, and I wasn't kidding about changing the locks and getting a rottweiler. Maybe even a bodyguard."

She was standing now, her backbone stiff again, her temper snapping. "A bodyguard?" she repeated. "That's rich. You know, it really ticks me off that this guy is winning, that he knows where I live, where I work and what I drive. I shouldn't have to change my lifestyle because of some creep."

"You're right, you shouldn't have to, but you do," Rick said evenly, holding her gaze, hoping to get through to her. "In my opinion, Ms. Leeds, this guy is dangerous. He's escalating his threats, becoming bolder and since we don't know who he is and what makes him tick, you have to be extremely careful and take extra precautions whether you like it or not. I'll call the PD in Cambrai and make sure your street is patrolled frequently and we'll take care of the neighborhood of your offices when you're at work. We'll try to nail this guy's a.s.s, but we can't do it without your help, okay?"

"That's why I'm here," she said.

"And we'll do the best we can."

"Thanks." She stood, offered both him and Montoya her hand, then, swinging the strap of her purse over her shoulder, she walked out the door, unaware that Reuben was watching her hips sway beneath her skirt or the fact that she slightly favored one leg.

He gave off a soft whistle. "If she decides she needs a bodyguard, you let me know cuz I would loooove to guard that sweet lady's a.s.s."

"I'll keep it in mind," Bentz said dryly, and wondered at the connection of the caller to a dead girl in Houston. "Let's find out everything we can on Annie Seger. Who she hung out with, where she lived, her family, boyfriend, the whole nine yards. Check out everyone a.s.sociated with Dr. Sam." He tapped a pencil eraser on the edge of the desk. "This case is getting weirder by the minute."

"Maybe it's supposed to," Reuben offered, scratching at his goatee as he stared thoughtfully at the path through the desks Samantha Leeds had taken.

"What do you mean?"

"You've tuned in, haven't you? Aren't you interested?"

"It's part of the case."

"I know, I know," Reuben said, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully, "but I'm just willing to bet that ratings are up on Dr. Sam's show, and that's got to be good for business. So bring on the weird. In fact the weirder the better."

"You think it's a setup?"

"I think it could be." He flashed his sly smile. "It's just like those tell-all television programs where the host introduces a normal-looking couple, then brings out the chick the guy is cheating with and the two women get into it...it's all set up ahead of time. It has to be, and the audience and viewers get into it. The next thing you know, another guy comes out-the husband's brother or sister and it turns out the wife has been banging him...or her. Now the audience is in a frenzy."

Bentz leaned back in his chair, holding the pencil in two hands, rolling it in his fingers. "You figure Dr. Sam is in on it?"

"Maybe, maybe not. She seems genuinely scared, but then she might be a trained actress; she's on the radio for Christ's sake. But this happened before and the same team worked with her, right? George Hannah and Eleanor Cavalier for starters? Maybe there are others. I'll bet next week's paycheck that someone someone at the station knows what's going on and that there's money involved." at the station knows what's going on and that there's money involved."

"You always think money's involved," Bentz grumbled, though, he'd had similar thoughts himself. He'd met George Hannah, thought the guy was a pompous a.s.s at best, a downright cheat at worst. The station manager, a sharp black lady, was known as a ball-breaker, and Montoya was right, they'd both worked with Dr. Sam in Houston-that much Bentz did know. He cracked his knuckles and thought. What bothered him most was that he had a gut feeling that somehow the guy who called in to Dr. Sam in the middle of the night was connected to the murders of the prost.i.tutes. There wasn't much to go on-just the hair from red wigs, so like Samantha Leeds's, the photograph with the cut out eyes, like the blackened eyes on the hundred-dollar bills. Not much at all.

"And I'm right," Montoya was saying, "99 percent of the time in these types of crimes, money changes hands."

"Why then would John call after hours? What good would that do? No one heard him."

"It could be all part of the scam, let that leak out to the press that the stalker has been calling not only during the program but after, and if the doctor isn't in on it, she'd be even more freaked out. The nutcase is making it personal." That stuck in Bentz's craw, but he couldn't argue the logic. "Then prove it," he said to Montoya, and the c.o.c.ky young buck threw him a self-a.s.sured I'm-a-bad-a.s.s smile.

"I will."

Morons.

The police were morons.

Didn't they get it? Didn't they see a connection? Couldn't they put two and f.u.c.king-two together?

Outside the cabin bullfrogs croaked. The steamy bayou night floated in through the open windows and the cracks in the walls. He slapped at a mosquito as he read the article on his most recent killing, buried deep in the paper, about as far from front-page news as it could get.

No word had leaked to the press about the murders being linked, yet he'd been careful to leave all the clues...f.u.c.k it, he thought, clipping out the pathetic article with his knife, making sure he cut straight, leaving some margins, as moonlight sliced through the rising mist, filtering into the tiny room to add an opalescence to the light of his single lantern. He was hot. Uncomfortable. Restless. He'd have to do something more to get their attention. And it was time. He glanced through the window, saw the shadow of a bat as it flew by, and felt his heart rate accelerate. he thought, clipping out the pathetic article with his knife, making sure he cut straight, leaving some margins, as moonlight sliced through the rising mist, filtering into the tiny room to add an opalescence to the light of his single lantern. He was hot. Uncomfortable. Restless. He'd have to do something more to get their attention. And it was time. He glanced through the window, saw the shadow of a bat as it flew by, and felt his heart rate accelerate.

His breathing was shallow as he switched on his radio and heard the familiar strains of "Hard Day's Night" playing over the static, and then her voice. Low. Sultry. s.e.xy as h.e.l.l.

"h.e.l.lo, New Orleans, and welcome. This is Doctor Sam at WSLJ, and it's time again for Midnight Confessions, Midnight Confessions, a program that's as good for the heart as it is for the soul. Tonight we'll be talking about high school. Remember? For some of you it's going on right now, for others it's been a while, maybe longer than you want to admit. a program that's as good for the heart as it is for the soul. Tonight we'll be talking about high school. Remember? For some of you it's going on right now, for others it's been a while, maybe longer than you want to admit.

"Nonetheless, we've all experienced going to high school either private or public, run by the church or the state. And we all felt peer pressure and the urge to rebel, experienced the sweet pangs of first love and the sting of rejection.

"Remember your first day of school? How nervous you felt? How about the first time you saw your high-school sweetheart? Your first crush? Your first kiss...and maybe a whole lot more. Tell me about it, New Orleans...Confess..."

Blood thundered through his brain. High school? The c.u.n.t wanted to talk about high high school? And first love? school? And first love?

Sweat broke out over his forehead and slithered down his spine. He walked to the cupboard and as he pinned his trophy-the minuscule sc.r.a.p of newsprint-inside the door, he conjured up Dr. Sam's face.

Perfect white skin, hair a deep, dark red, full lips that covered a razor-sharp tongue and eyes the color of jade. And just as cold. G.o.d, she was a turn-on. And a b.i.t.c.h. He listened to her voice, luring the innocent to call in, to confess, to ask her for advice.

"Who's on the line?"

"This here's Randy."

You and me both, he thought, his erection pressing hard against the fly of his jeans. he thought, his erection pressing hard against the fly of his jeans.

"What's going on, Randy?"

"Well, uh, high school was a big deal for me. I was a football player, down in Tallaha.s.see and, um, I met my wife there. She was the homecomin' queen and man, she was purty. I never seen a woman so purty as Vera Jean."

Oh, yeah, yeah, so who cares?

"And what did you do about it?"

"I married her, that's what I did. Thirty-five years now. We got us four children and two grandchildren with another on the way."

"So high school was a good experience for you?"

"Yes'm. It sure was. But fer my kids, it was a differnt story. The oldest he got involved with drugs, the second, well, she did all right I guess, but the third. She got herself in a family way as a junior and the boy was a no'count. Wouldn't marry her."

"How's your daughter today?" Dr. Sam asked, as if she cared, as if she could offer some advice.

His lip curled. He had two hours, then he'd call. Give a warning...yeah, tell her it was about to come down. And then he'd hunt.

Another woman would do tonight, he thought as he listened to her voice and wanted to jerk off. If only he could be with her. He touched himself briefly, the tips of his fingers brushing against his fly, but no...not this way...not until the time was right. There were things he had to do. Wrongs he had to right. Women...all those women who reminded him of Annie, lying, whoring c.u.n.ts and the one man he had to deal with, a man who had betrayed Annie. Judas! You, too, will pay. Rage seared through his blood and screamed through his head as he heard Dr. Sam's voice.

Blood pounded in his ears as the low, dulcet tones of her voice reached out to him, from the city, across the swamp.

And he couldn't have Dr. Sam-not tonight. The timing wasn't right. And he had something else planned for her, a surprise. For Annie's birthday. If all went according to plan, Dr. Sam would find his special present tomorrow night He only wished he could see her face when she got his gift, but he couldn't risk it. He'd have to wait. Until just the right moment.

But soon...Oh, G.o.d, it had to be soon...l.u.s.t, anger, revenge and need, his need was so great. His c.o.c.k throbbed. He'd have to subst.i.tute again...find another wh.o.r.e to quiet the rage that tore through his soul, to sate the need coursing through his veins, to sacrifice.

He knew he was a sinner, but he couldn't help himself...His blood was on fire.

He reached into his pocket and drew out his special rosary. The sharp beads glittered in the light from the lantern, winking at him, promising him they would do his bidding.

Then he fell on his knees and began to pray.

As Dr. Sam spoke to him through the little radio, he fingered the sharp beads and whispered, "Glory be to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Spirit..."

Chapter SeventeenSam nearly jumped out of her skin when she saw the man on her porch. Then she realized it was Ty. She hadn't expected to see anyone, but smiled to herself. There was something right about him reclining on the front-porch swing, jean-clad legs outstretched, a bottle of beer cradled between his hands, his face cast in shadow where the weak light of the single bulb on the porch didn't quite reach. He seemed at home there. Calm. Rocking gently to the music of the wind chimes and cicadas. And yet there was a restless quality to him, a darkness she didn't understand, a danger that lured her as much as it frightened her."Don't make more of it than it is," she muttered to herself, but her heartbeat kicked up a notch as she pressed the electronic opener and nosed the Mustang into the garage.So what does he want, she wondered as she switched off the ignition and tossed her keys into her purse. she wondered as she switched off the ignition and tossed her keys into her purse. Why is he here? What does he expect? Why is he here? What does he expect?No, Sam, what do you expect?Her throat went dry and for the briefest of seconds she wondered what it would be like to kiss him. To touch him. To...Don't go there. You don't know him well enough. There's something he's not telling you, something he's hiding, something dark. It's the middle of the night, for crying out loud. Why is he waiting for you alone? This is no good.No good! But a drip of antic.i.p.ation ran through her blood.Silently arguing with herself, she slid out of the car, walked through the breezeway and into house, where Charon greeted her by crying and rubbing against her legs. "I missed you, too," she said to the black cat as she tossed her purse onto the counter and quickly disengaged the security alarm. Carrying the cat, she walked to the front door and slid the bolt.Ty was still on the swing, eyes in shadow. He glanced up at her, and she felt a tingle-like the cold breath of winter-against the back of her neck. "You're beginning to make a habit of this," she said, as Charon, sensing freedom, scrambled from her arms and dashed across the porch."Is that bad?" he drawled."Could be."The swing creaked as he pushed himself to his feet. Intense hazel eyes caught in the pale light. "Maybe I find you irresistible.""And maybe that's a line out of a bad movie.""Is it?" One dark, nearly sinful eyebrow raised. He finished his beer in one swallow as the wind chimes tinkled softly."I think you can do better," she said."Maybe you give me too much credit.""I'm sure I do.""That could be a mistake.""Probably."Leaving his empty bottle on the rail he walked to the door where Sam stood, arms folded over her chest, one shoulder propped against the jamb. The faint odor of musk tickled her nostrils. Night-darkened eyes regarded her slowly and she felt a nervous sheen of perspiration on her skin. He leaned closer, placed his bent arm over the top of hers on the doorframe. His nose was nearly touching hers, his breath warm against her face. "You know, I just thought I'd make sure you got home safely. Most women would want to thank me.""I'm not most women," she reminded him, but her heartbeat skyrocketed."No, Sam, you're not." He was close enough that she could feel his heat. Her heart pounded wildly, and she read the dangerous promises in his eyes. His gaze fell to the open collar of her blouse, as if he could see her pulse jumping in the hollow of her throat. "That's probably why I'm here.""A knight in shining armor-is that what you'd have me believe."His chuckle was low and s.e.xy. "Never.""So your intentions aren't chivalrous?"He snorted. "Who says I have intentions?"It was her turn to c.o.c.k a disbelieving eyebrow. "Peddle that to someone who believes it. What would you have done if I hadn't shown up here?""I would have checked with someone.""Who?" she asked, and noticed his smile grow slowly from one side of his beard-shadowed jaw to the other. "Whoever I had to."Was it the night with its full moon and hot breeze, or was it something else, something more primal, something within, that made her wonder how it would feel to have his skin rub against hers, how she would respond to the feel of his hands on her body? Or was it because she needed to escape the craziness that had become her life, the fear and tension that had become her companions in the last few weeks. Or...was it more basic? Was it simply that she'd been without a man for a long time, and she craved a man's touch? Or that something deep within her, something she didn't want to examine too closely, was attracted to secretive men with an edge?"The least you could do is invite me in," he suggested, his voice low."I'm considering it." She was aware that he was the barest of inches from her, too d.a.m.ned close. "If you behave.""Sorry, darlin', but that's a promise I just can't make," he drawled, and deep inside she quivered. What would it be like to make love to this man, to lie in his arms, to wake up with morning dancing in his eyes and desire running through his veins? Her throat caught."I think I owe you a gla.s.s of wine. It only seems fair to open the bottle and share it with you since you brought it over.""I'm all for fairness."She stepped out of the doorway, and he followed her to the kitchen, where she found the unopened bottle of Riesling in the refrigerator."Need help?" he asked, as she kicked off her shoes and snagged the corkscrew from a drawer."Not me, I was a Girl Scout.""Where they taught you to uncork a bottle of wine.""And I've got the merit badge to prove it.""I think you're mixed up. Boy Scouts get merit badges. Girls get brownie points.""A lot you know," she grumbled. She pulled hard. The cork and corkscrew released from the bottle with a soft pop. She twirled the corkscrew in her hand, blew across the end and tucked it into her belt as if it were a six-gun."Very funny.""I thought so," she said over her shoulder as she stretchedto reach the winegla.s.ses in a tall cupboard. One gla.s.s, just have one gla.s.s, One gla.s.s, just have one gla.s.s, she told herself as she poured, all the while aware of Ty standing behind her, one shoulder propped against the door to the breezeway. "Here." She handed him one of the stemmed gla.s.ses and took the other for herself. she told herself as she poured, all the while aware of Ty standing behind her, one shoulder propped against the door to the breezeway. "Here." She handed him one of the stemmed gla.s.ses and took the other for herself."What should we toast to?" he asked, one dark brow lifting."Better days," she suggested."And nights."Her breath caught in her throat. "And nights." She touched the rim of her gla.s.s to his. She sipped her wine and watched as he took a swallow from his gla.s.s, noticed the way his Adam's apple worked over the open collar of his shirt, remembered all too vividly the sinewy muscles of his arms and chest.What was she thinking? Why was her mind running to thoughts of hot kisses and hotter caresses? She didn't know this man. Couldn't trust him. Shouldn't be thinking about making love to him, for G.o.d's sake. And yet as she finished her wine, she knew that he cared enough to wait up for her, he cared enough to show up at the station and drive her home safely, he cared enough to risk his own life.If he'd wanted to harm her, he'd already had plenty of opportunities."This is all getting to you," he said as if reading her mind."I suppose.""It would get to anyone." Hazel eyes held hers, and she noticed the striations of green and brown in their depths. "Come on," he said, removing the corkscrew from her belt. "Let's forget this for a while." Linking his fingers through hers, he grabbed the neck of the bottle with the hand holding his gla.s.s and propelled her through the living room."Hey, wait...where are we going?" she asked."You'll see. Hold this." He handed her the bottle and gla.s.ses, unlocked the French doors and led her outside to the backyard.Moonlight spangled the dark water of the lake and cast a silver glow on the gra.s.s, shrubs, trees and the masts of Ty's sailboat. Of course. His car hadn't been parked in the driveway and Sam had thought he'd walked to the house. Instead, he'd used the boat."Wait a minute, what have you got in mind?" she asked, as he took hold of her hand again and pulled her toward the dock."You took a rain check, remember?" he said, jogging. Barefoot, she had to run to keep up with him. "I think it's time I collected."The Bright Angel Bright Angel loomed before them. "And I think you're nuts." loomed before them. "And I think you're nuts.""Your professional opinion, no doubt," he said, as they reached the dock, and he helped her onto the sloop."No doubt." This was just plain crazy. And wonderful. As she clutched the gla.s.ses and bottle to her chest, he untied the moorings, started the engine, switched on the running lights and pulled away from the dock. In deeper water he unfurled the sails."Isn't this illegal?" she asked, as the sails snapped and billowed in the wind. The sloop cut through the water, and the sh.o.r.e slipped away, blending into the darkness, a few spa.r.s.e houselights glowing warm and bright."What? Isn't what illegal?" He was squinting into the darkness, hands on the wheel, legs braced on the deck."Sailing at night.""Don't know. But if it is, it shouldn't be."She inched forward and was standing next to him at the helm, the breeze fingering through her hair as the prow of the boat cut through the dark water. It was exhilarating and freeing after all the nights alone, the hours she'd spent worrying and tense. Stars winked bright in the blackened heavens, and the water stretched endlessly as Ty worked the wheel, making sure the sails caught the wind, the boom moving as he constantly loosened and tightened the lines."Is this how you live your life?" she asked, as he turned into the wind."What do you mean?""Not playing by the rules.""Maybe I play by my own.""That's ducking the question.""Maybe."He swung the wheel around, and the boat shifted, spray flying in the air, Sam nearly losing her balance. His shirt flapped in the breeze, and she was reminded of the night she'd been certain he'd sailed near her house, that he'd been peering through her windows.He found a spot in a dark cove where he dropped anchor and lowered the sails. Stars twinkled brightly, the moon shone a watery blue. Sam reminded herself that they were completely alone. One man, one woman. Practically strangers.No one knows you're here. No one knows you're with Ty. Somewhere from the sh.o.r.e an owl hooted over the breeze. "Maybe you should tell me about yourself," she suggested. Somewhere from the sh.o.r.e an owl hooted over the breeze. "Maybe you should tell me about yourself," she suggested."And bore you to tears?""I won't yawn.""Promise?""Scout's honor," she said, holding up two fingers as the breeze tugged at her hair."Right. The Girl Scouts." He chuckled. "As I said, it's a long and boring story.""Something tells me that nothing you'd say would bore me."He laughed and the sound was low and s.e.xy as it echoed across the water. "You just want me to spill my guts so you can psychoa.n.a.lyze me.""No way. I've had enough for the night." She leaned against the mast. "It's your turn. You know a lot about me. Probably more than you should. Let's even the score.""And I would do that by spilling my guts," he said, sipping from his gla.s.s and gazing at her with those intense eyes."That's right. Tell me all," she said boldly, grabbing hold of the boom with one hand and leaning closer to him. "Including your deepest, darkest secret."He slid her a glance. "Is this like Truth or Dare?""The kids' game," she said, remembering back to when she was fourteen with Peter and a couple of his friends sleeping outside on the trampoline, a flashlight spinning between them, the unlucky victim having to either tell the truth about a very deep secret or accept a dare from the other players and do something awful the other kids came up with. "Yeah, it's kind of like that," she said, "so shoot." She twirled her half-empty gla.s.s in the moonlight."I choose "dare.'"You can't.""Sure I can." His gaze held hers. "I chose "dare.'She felt a wicked little shiver of antic.i.p.ation as water lapped at the sides of the sloop."Dare me to do something rather than tell the truth." Even in the darkness she saw the challenge in his eyes and despite the rational side of her mind telling her she was making a mistake of monstrous proportions, she took a gulp of her wine, and said, "Okay, I dare you to tell the truth.""Uh-uh-uh. That's cheating. You lose your turn." He finished his wine and closed the distance between them, the toes of his shoes nudging against her bare feet."Wait a minute, that's not how we played," she objected, but felt his arm slide around her waist. "I can't lose a turn.""My boat," he said. "My rules." Through the cotton of her blouse she felt his hand splay over the small of her back. Heat seeped through the fabric, and she was suddenly having trouble drawing a breath. He was too close, his touch far too sensual. She was out in the middle of a vast lake, and no one knew where she was. Yet she couldn't resist him. "It's how I used to play the game," he whispered, his lips close to her ear. "So tell me, Samantha. Truth or dare?""I-I don't know...." Her heart was racing, her blood on fire."Sure you do."She swallowed hard, knew the wine was affecting her. "Okay...dare.""I dare you to kiss me."Oh, G.o.d. The arm around her tightened, pulling her close as the boat rocked gently on the water and the masts creaked overhead. The arm around her tightened, pulling her close as the boat rocked gently on the water and the masts creaked overhead."That's right, kiss me," he commanded, his breath hot against her neck. "And don't stop.""Ever?" Sweat collected on her forehead."Until I say.""I don't know, that could be dangerous.""Definitely," he promised. "I'm counting on it." His mouth was so close it touched her hair. Her knees turned liquid."But-""Shh. No questions. I said 'dare,' and dare it is." The hand at her back yanked her hard against him, forced her hips to his and she felt his erection hard and straining against his fly, pressed firmly against her mound.She licked her lips and he caught the motion. Though their mouths had not yet touched, she knew that she was going to do just as he asked. "Come on, Sam," he said, and her skin tingled. "I dare you. Kiss me."Water lapped. The wind sighed. Dark desire stole through her veins. She leaned forward. Closing her eyes, she wrapped her fingers around his neck, drew his head down to hers and molded her mouth to his. She parted her lips and he groaned, moved against her, pushing his legs between hers, stretching the seams of her skirt as his tongue plunged past her teeth.He was hard, and hot, his muscles straining as he kissed her.Don't do this, Sam, don't go this far...you don't know him...He found the curve of her neck and nipped.Inside she pulsed, wanting, feeling the b.u.t.tons of her blouse slipping open, the air against her bare skin, the feel of his lips and teeth against her breast as his hands slipped beneath the waistband of her skirt, probing, touching, hot fingertips against her bare skin.She throbbed for him, her fingers sc.r.a.ping off his shirt, her hand on the fly of his jeans as he pulled her onto the deck. He was breathing hard, his hands and lips everywhere, and she couldn't stop.A dim thought that he could be the person terrorizing her sizzled through her mind, but was quickly gone, lost in his musky scent and the taste of salt upon his skin. His hands were everywhere, stripping, touching, caressing, finding erotic spots on her body she hadn't known existed."You want me," he said, as her fingers slid down the tense hard muscles of his arms."No..." she could barely get the words out as he unhooked her bra and slid it off her shoulders. "You...you want me.""Mmmm." He kissed her breast, his teeth sc.r.a.ping her nipple. She writhed. Perspiration covered her skin. "You want me.""No-""Yes." He lowered his lips, kissed the other nipple. Harder. Nipping. She arched again, felt the warm moistness between her legs.Squirming beneath him, hot and wanting, she closed her eyes. Her blood thundered, her body ached for him."That's my girl," he whispered, one hand sliding beneath her skirt to her calf."Oh, G.o.d," she cried, as he kissed her abdomen and his fingers caressed her calf, climbing higher, past her knee, bunching her skirt as his tongue rimmed her navel. She couldn't breathe, could only arch, antic.i.p.ating, wanting, pulsing for him."Let go, Samantha," he breathed against her skin and tugged at the waistband of her skirt with his teeth.She was so hot...so hot...and his hand crept ever upward, blunt fingertips skimming her inner thigh, hot breath warming her abdomen. The back of her throat was dry as a desert and she moved restlessly beneath him."Let go, I'm here," he promised, his words pressed against her skin, her fingers holding his head fast as he reached the elastic of her panties and pushed them to the side, giving him just enough room to probe with his fingers."Oooh," she whispered, clawing his hair. "Ohhhhh, Ty.""That's it, Samantha."She moved with him, lifting her hips, gasping for air.Still touching he lifted his head and found her lips, kissing her hard as his fingers worked their magic. Faster. Deeper. Harder."I don't think...I...I..."She couldn't breathe, she couldn't think, and she ached for more...so much more. "Ty...Oh, G.o.d...Ty..." She moved with him, kissing him, clinging to him, her fingers digging into his bare back as the first explosion came in a blinding rush. She convulsed, but he didn't stop, kept kneading her, didn't allow her to relax. The heat built again. Hotter."You want me," he whispered into her ear."Yes. d.a.m.n it, yes." She scrabbled at the fly of his jeans, yanked hard. With a series of pops the denim parted. He groaned as her fingers surrounded him. He kicked off his shoes and Levi's in a swift motion, then pushed her legs apart with his knees."You...you want me..." she said, looking up in the darkness, barely able to make out his face in the starlight."More than you'll ever know, darlin'." His mouth cut off any other thoughts as he thrust hard into her and held her fast, pinning her to the deck with his body, pushing against her, holding her as if he'd never let go. Heat seared through her again and again.More, she thought wildly, she thought wildly, I want more I want more as the tempo increased. His breathing was as shallow as hers, his body straining, muscled thighs pressing hard. She heard a wild moan echoing through the night, not realizing it was her own voice. She collapsed, drained, and he reached beneath her, rotating until she was atop him, her flushed skin cooling as the wind touched it. as the tempo increased. His breathing was as shallow as hers, his body straining, muscled thighs pressing hard. She heard a wild moan echoing through the night, not realizing it was her own voice. She collapsed, drained, and he reached beneath her, rotating until she was atop him, her flushed skin cooling as the wind touched it.Strong hips moved beneath her. Big hands covered her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, kneading and moving. She caught his rhythm, pushing down on his shoulders with her palms, breathing in the fresh moist air of the lake, the heat in her building again.The wind tore at her hair and she looked down into the dark, secretive eyes of this man who had become her lover, this man she barely knew, and her fingers clenched in his shoulder muscles.He drew in a quick sharp breath and then stiffened within her, the cords of his neck straining, his mouth drawn back as he released. Samantha spasmed, her entire body convulsing as she fell against him, lost to the night, lost to the world, lost to this man she knew better than to trust.G.o.d help me.

Chapter Eighteen.

What have I done?

As the first rays of light streamed through the tiny porthole over the bed, Ty Wheeler called himself every kind of fool.

Samantha was lying tangled in the sheets, her dark red hair mussed, her eyes closed, her breathing regular. Sometime last night, he'd carried her to the berth. They'd made love long into the morning hours and he had short, lightning-swift images of her body, supple and lean, lying beneath him or straddling him. She'd been playful and s.e.xy and coy as h.e.l.l, a lover like no other. His skin sheened with perspiration at the thought of her, the taste of her, the pure, raw, animal she was.