Eyes of Fire (21 page)

“Sam?”

She didn't answer him. Instead she pulled his head down and kissed him.

And kissed him.

And forgot all about cocktail hour completely.

 

It was time to see Sam. No help for it. He had to pay a visit to Sam.

He could take no more chances.

He'd learned a few lessons.

He carried a Smith & Wesson thirty-two calibre thrust in the shoulder holster beneath his dark jacket.

An unfortunate necessity, he thought grimly.

Just as the shadows and the night were necessary.

He waited for darkness to fall, then walked quickly and silently across the island. He stuck to the shadows and the bushes as he approached her cottage, and he kept a determined eye out.

He saw no one.

One dilemma still remained. He had to get to her without frightening her. He had to find a way to get close to her before she could scream.

Silence. He had to keep moving in silence. Dead silence. Around the cottage, listening carefully, watching. He could easily see into the front of the cottage. The drapes hadn't been drawn over the living room windows. It was empty, as the kitchen beyond seemed to be, as well.

For a moment he thought that she might have left the cottage for the main house. Not yet, he decided. He would have seen her, heard her. Their paths would have crossed. No. She was there. He was certain of it.

He tried the front door, twisting the knob slowly, carefully.

Silently.

It was securely locked.

Fine. He would have to try another way. He kept moving. Around to her bedroom. He heard movement. Voices.

Voices….

The drapes were drawn here, but there was a slim space at the far right side of the windows where light was escaping into the night. He ducked down, one with the shadows, trying to see what she was doing.

And with whom.

He saw her back. Long, sleek, beautiful. Naked. Saw the fall of her hair, deep, rich, fire red, flowing down her back, swaying….

He saw the movement of her hips. Saw the man beneath her.

She was…

Making love.

With Adam.

Adam O'Connor.

He leaned against the wall of her cottage, gritting his teeth.

L
iam was out on the porch, drinking.

He'd been drinking since they'd come in from the dive earlier.

At least, Jerry thought that he had. She hadn't actually seen him. He hadn't bothered her, and she had been grateful.

She had certainly been determined to keep her distance from him. She'd spent the time doing the usual things. Showering. Rubbing lotion into her skin. Putting polish on her nails. Trying not to think.

She prayed instead. Prayed that Liam would stay on the porch until it was time to go to the main house. Praying that she could just walk away.

Funny. Once she had thought she could actually do just that. But she couldn't.

And she knew it now.

She was brushing her hair when he came in at last. Still in his trunks, smelling like sea and salt and whiskey. She tried not to wrinkle her nose when he walked by. She thought he was heading for the bathroom.

He walked to her instead.

“Bitch,” he muttered.

She took a step back, looking downward, still moving the brush through her hair.

“I went diving,” she reminded him. “I dove the damn Steps.”

She cried out when he suddenly backhanded her so hard that she was flung across the room. She hit the wall and slid down the length of it, shaking.

He knew how to hit. It was a talent, actually.

Her lip was cut, bleeding. A little trickle fell down her chin. She quickly caught it with her finger, staring at Liam. He walked to her, standing over her. He pulled her up by the hair.

“You're going diving again. This time, you're finding the way in.”

“Let go of me, you bastard.”

He hit her again.

She started to laugh. “You don't dare hit me too hard. You could find yourself thrown right off this island.”

“I don't think so. What right would Miss Carlyle have to interfere with a domestic dispute? Would you really ever want her to know?”

Jerry stared at him, hating him, wondering how she had ever thought she could use him toward her own ends. Foolish. She'd made so many mistakes in her life. So damned many.

Suddenly both his hands were in her hair, pulling painfully. “You will dive again. You will dive, or you will get hurt. And when I'm through hurting you…”

It was Liam's turn to smile. “When I'm through hurting you, I'll hurt her, as well. Badly. Anything that happened to her before will just be child's play, understand?”

Jerry stared at him.

He hit her one last time for good measure.

“Understand?”

“I understand.”

“Now, next time we dive, what are you going to do?”

“Find the
Beldona,
” she said tonelessly.

He slammed her against the wall, then walked away. She sank to the floor.

He was good at hitting people. But he might have left a few bruises this time. She would have to do her makeup again. She was going to have to do her makeup again anyway.

Everything on her was running.

Silent tears were sliding down her cheeks.

Not because he had hurt her. He really couldn't hurt her. Not really. She'd managed to hurt herself enough.

And he probably couldn't hurt Sam. Sam had Adam. Jerry smiled despite her tears. Maybe Sam and Adam would never make it, but Adam wouldn't let anything happen to Sam. Neither would Jem. Sam was going to be okay.

Oh, God. Sam had to be okay.

Especially if Jerry did as she was told.

And still…

The tears kept falling silently down her face. Danger remained for them all, but she wasn't crying because of the danger.

She was crying because of what she had become.

And because she didn't want Sam to know what she might have been….

 

It was late, Sam thought. Very late. She should have been at the main house a long time ago. She was completely falling apart as a hostess on her own island. Did it matter? Half her guests were obviously involved in some manner of intrigue.

Adam seemed suspicious of them, as well. So were they all guilty? Of what? And if they were guilty of some evil in life, did it mean that they had come to Seafire Isle with evil designs?

This was a vacation destination, and even crooks took vacations.

She stretched, realizing that, curled in Adam's arms, she had dozed. Now, glancing at her watch, she discovered just how late it was. Nearly seven-thirty. With a groan, she moved her hand over the bed, seeking Adam.

But Adam was gone.

He would be nearby, though, she was certain of it. And though it was late, she stretched again, smiling, and for long moments she allowed herself the luxury of enjoying what they had shared.

The intimacy.

The words.

And still…

All the trust that should have been there wasn't. He still wanted to know about Hank Jennings.

At first she'd been glad that he wondered.

Now she just wanted an exchange of information. Especially since there really was nothing to tell him about Hank Jennings.

Hank had come to the island as a student. He'd pitched in to help with anything any time his help was needed. He had talked about her father for hours on end.

She had even told him some of the stories she knew about the
Beldona.

He'd become like a brother to her, always entirely decent, honest, gentle, kind, smart. And he'd fallen in love with Yancy. Yancy had tried hard not to fall in love back—she'd been convinced that interracial marriages didn't work, and it didn't matter that she was biracial herself. “You don't understand, Sam, because you're like Hank—you don't want to understand. One drop of black blood and a woman is black.”

“But who cares, if you and Hank don't?”

“The world cares,” Yancy had insisted. “Eventually, I'd hurt him.”

“You wouldn't.”

“I would. I wish I didn't think it was so.”

“I wish you'd believe enough in Hank.”

Hank asked Yancy daily to marry him. Yancy turned him down daily. Hank persisted, insisting to Sam that he would wear Yancy down eventually. The three of them and Jem did everything together. Picnic, swim, dive. Watch tapes on the VCR, listen to music, dance, discuss the world at large, the sea…

The
Beldona.

She hated that ship. He had been so excited listening to her talk about it. She'd given him information and he'd used it.

And then he'd disappeared.

Yancy had had her baby soon after Hank disappeared. They all adored Brian, but Yancy refused to let anyone in Hank's family know about the baby's existence. “It's better that way. It's the way I want it. He's my baby. I'll love him. You'll love him. Jem will act as his dad. We'll make it this way, and that's that.”

It still hurt that Hank was gone. It hurt because she
had
loved him, though not the way Adam so clearly thought, and because Yancy had been in so much pain, and because Brian didn't have his father.

It hurt because she blamed the ship.
Beldona.
And herself, for telling him about it.

It was getting later and later, she reminded herself.

She rose quickly, finding her towel on the floor, slipping it around her. She looked for Adam and came upon him in the living room. He was showered and dressed. She didn't think that he'd left her alone so he could go get fresh clothing, and the realization that he and Jem had moved him in here so completely without her knowledge was both reassuring and annoying. He was staring at the charts on the wall.

“Adam, it's late. You should have woken me.”

He glanced at her, smiling, tall, dark, very handsome in his casual suit. “I thought you needed the sleep.”

“I thought you liked to talk to the others at cocktail hour and try to draw out all their secrets.”

He shrugged. “We have to dive alone. That's our only hope.”

“Our hope of what?”

“Finding the
Beldona.
”

He was staring pointedly at the chart of the island.

“What if I don't want to find the
Beldona?
” she asked him quietly.

He looked from the chart to her. “I figured you didn't want to find the ship,” he said softly. “Because if you
had
wanted to find it, you would have.”

She shook her head. “That isn't true. But it doesn't matter. She's a wretched ship. She destroys lives.”

He shook his head firmly. “That ship is an inanimate object. It destroys nothing. Men destroyed your father's life. And the
Beldona
may provide the clue to finding out what happened. Besides, even more is at stake now. Remember? Hank Jennings disappeared, too. You were attacked. Unless you want me on your tail night and day for the rest of your life, we've got to find out what happened.”

She thought about that, lowering her lashes. It wasn't actually so bad to have him on her tail.

Telling her that he had been in love with her. That he still loved her. That he wanted her.

Making love to her. Holding her….

But she could feel it just the same—tension was growing on Seafire Isle. Like the pressure that came with a storm. She was in danger. He couldn't guard her every moment of his life, but she wasn't equipped to fight off whatever the threat might be by herself. She was strong, she was independent, she could fight—but she was also smart enough to realize that she could be caught unaware.

Drugged.

Taken.

And then what?

She didn't know.

Emotional involvement aside, she needed Adam right now, and Adam needed her.

But Adam was holding out on her. She knew it, and she didn't understand it. She couldn't give herself totally to him when she knew he was still keeping secrets from her.

He could be so damned relentless. Like the others, it seemed he believed that she could find the ship. He saw more clearly than the others, though; he knew she didn't want to find the ship.

She didn't want to find her father's remains.

Adam was staring at the charts again. “What are you looking for?” she asked him.

He shook his head. “I don't know. Something, some little clue that we're all missing.” He spun around and stared at her. “Sam, you must know something,” he insisted.

“I have to shower and dress,” she told him, going quickly back down the hallway.

In the shower, she felt the water rushing over her. Her head seemed to pound in time with the beat of the water. She leaned against the tile while the water continued to fall.

Okay, so it was true that she had denied knowing anything about the
Beldona
because she didn't want to find the ship.

She didn't want to find her father's body.

And Hank's.

Then again, it was also true that she really
didn't
know anything. Okay, perhaps that wasn't quite true. She knew all the theories regarding the ship. She knew the
Beldona
's history. The ship had gone down just after her English captain and crew had seized the Spanish ship
Yolanda.
Captain Reynolds of the
Beldona
had made prisoners of the Spaniard's captain, his lieutenants—and the woman Reynolds had loved, a passenger on the
Yolanda.
So what did this give her?

Sam finished showering. She slipped into a short slinky silver-knit halter dress, then went out to the living room. Adam was still staring at the chart on the wall.

“I think I know why Robert Santino might have sent his son out to look for the
Beldona,
” she said.

Adam turned to stare at her. She walked into the room. “Captain Reynolds of the
Beldona
had fallen in love with Theresa-Maria Rodriguez, daughter of Don José Martinez-Rodriguez, a high official of the Spanish court. Theresa-Maria's mother was an Englishwoman, and the young lady had lived in London for quite some time, long enough for her and Reynolds to form a passionate bond. Her father, however, was determined that she have nothing to do with an Englishman. He pulled her out of England and betrothed her to Don Carlos Esperanza, the—”

“The captain of the
Yolanda,
” Adam said. “Which made it an even greater triumph for Captain Reynolds when he seized the
Yolanda.
Unfortunately for him, of course, his own ship went down, as well.”