Guilty Pleasures (18 page)

“You’ll forgive me,” Belinda said, only steps behind them. “And Nasty will forgive you. I knew about Bobby. Of course
I
did. And
I
knew your appetites still demanded satisfaction. You did not need to cover your excesses by inventing a story of rape.”

Eleven

“
S
he thinks I made the whole story up,” Polly said. “Not the whole story, just the part about being attacked against my will.” She and Nasty had gathered with Dusty and Venus in Dusty’s living room. Bobby, who now had his dog, Spike, with him again, had been settled in front of the television in Dusty’s bedroom.

Splendid in yellow tights and an oversize lime green sweatshirt—with matching headband—Venus hovered beside Dusty.

Nasty stood by the windows overlooking the terrace, and the lawns descending to the lake.

“What if they all think what Belinda thinks? The cast as well?” Polly moved behind Nasty. “You were talking to Gavin. What did he say?”

“The man’s an ass.”

She rested her forehead on his back. “He thinks I encouraged some stranger to beat me up? What kind of logic is that?”

“That’s it!” Venus raised her hands. “I shall deal with these people myself.”

“No, you won’t,” Dusty said. “Sit down. I’ll pour us a drink.”

“Thank you,” Venus said. “But I won’t be dissuaded. I’m a mother—and I’m a mother at one with the earth, and who understands the rightful order of things. It isn’t right for a good, kind, gentle woman like my daughter to be accused of such outrageous deceit.”

“You’re right,” Dusty said. He poured several glasses of
Wild Turkey and took one to Venus. He shooed her into an overstuffed chair upholstered in daffodil-strewn yellow chintz
.
“You’re absolutely right, but there are tim
es when we’ve got
to let the fools hang themselves, right, Nasty?”

“Right.”

Polly got the impression Nasty wasn’t hearing much of what was being said.

“We know we’ve got a problem on our hands, right, Nasty?”

“Yeah, Dust.”

“But our bases are pretty much covered now. Bobby’s a great kid, and he’ll be with me. If he’s not with someone else we can trust to do anything that’s
got to be done to look after
him.”

“You’re a wonderful man,” Ve
nus said, her face filled with
admiration. “We must always celebrate the day you came into our lives.”

“I’m the one who’s got to celebrate,” Dusty said in his rusted voice. Every time he looked at Venus his eyes lost focus, and his mouth fell slightly open.

If she weren’t so frightened, Polly might start to worry about her mother’s apparent infatuation with her new friend. And Dusty’s clear reciprocation of the sentiment.

“We can’t allow ourselves to be diverted,” Nasty said. He crossed his arms and braced his legs apart. The muscles in his back bunched under Polly’s brow. “We’ve either got more than one faction at work here, or one very clever group set on making us believe there’s more than one.”

“But what do they want?” Polly raised her head and declined the drink Dusty offered her. “Why would anyone single me out for this?”

Nasty took a glass from Dusty. “This isn’t anything you’ve ever had experience with before. You’re going to have to let me deal with everything.”

“But—”

“No,” he said, cutting her off. “I mean it.”

There was a great deal she wanted to know about Nasty.

His anger, the anger she felt in him, made it tough to ask questions, but she had to. “When you were in the Navy you dealt with some bad people, I expect.”

Dusty and Nasty barked with laughter at the same time. “I’ll take that as a yes,” Polly said, feeling miffed. “You can’t expect people who never had anything to do with that kind of thing to know exactly what you did.”

“There’s no need for you to know about it,” Nasty said shortly. He turned from the window and looked down at her. “But you do want to know about me, don’t you? More about me?”

He could fluster her with only a glance. “Don’t you want to know more about me? Or more than you’ve been able to find out so far?”

“I already know what I need to,” he told her simply. “I’ll learn the rest as we go along.”

Venus made a choking noise but Polly ignored her. “You assume so much.”

“Yeah. It’s a habit, but I base it on—”

“Instinct,” she finished for him. “Bully for you. My instincts aren’t so great.”

“Nasty’s are great,” Dusty remarked. “He’d still be doing his thing if he hadn’t had a bad break in Colombia.”

“That’s history,” Nasty said, sliding to sit in a director’s chair and draping one of his legs over a wooden arm. “I made a bad call and got shot. The end.”

She did want to know more—she wanted to know everything about him. And she wanted to convince herself that her motives for taking him into her life weren’t based only on what Belinda so accurately called lust. Or the need for the support of a strong, dauntless man when she felt so threatened.

“You do know Belinda was suggesting I was the man with you last night?” he said, swinging his foot. “She’d dreamed up some concoction about me sneaking up on you, then you deciding you liked the idea of sex with a rapist.”

“That’s disgraceful,” Venus said, and swallowed a huge gulp
of bourbon. “You must be mistaken. Belinda is a very special, very intuitive woman.”

Polly couldn’t look away from Nasty’s eyes. “If she’s so intuitive, you’d have to believe what she believes. Nasty’s right, Mom. She did kind of hint that it could have been him last night.” But Belinda didn’t know how it felt to be in Nasty’s arms, to be touched by him, and to touch him. If there was any violence in his lovemaking, it was the violence of his passionate tenderness.

“We gotta have a plan,” Dusty said, coughing. “Smoke ’em out. Never could abide waitin’ for the other side to make the first move. That’s what did Nasty in. Not that he had a choice when—”

“Not now,” Nasty said brusquely. “I’ve got some thoughts on all of this. I need a little time to work them through. In the meantime, Polly and Bobby can’t be left alone.”

“Bobby’s with me,” Dusty said. “How about you, Venus. Maybe you should stay here, too.”

“I have my classes to conduct,” Venus said, but she smiled a little girlishly, Polly thought. “And I’m responsible for running Hole Point. I can’t let Bliss and Sebastian down. If I have even a hint of trouble, I’ll call you for help at once. And the police will be checking in regularly.”

“They’ll be checking my place regularly, too,” Polly commented. “I’ll be fine.”

“As long as you don’t have a visitor when the patrol car isn’t cruising by,” Nasty said. He stood up. “Dust, I need to go to the
April
for one or two things.”

Dusty cleared his throat and nodded. “Sure. No problem. Think we should see if Roman can make it over from Montana? Might be good to have another pair of eyes.”

“I’ve got eyes,” Venus said, widening hers.

Nasty’s gum snapped. “N
ot the kind of eyes Roman Wilde’
s got. Maybe, Dust. But not yet. Not until I figure out if what I’m thinking is on the money. I’ll be right back. Nobody goes anywhere until I am.”

He left swiftly, without a direct word to Polly. She felt his absence immediately. Her breathing quickened and her heartbeat. “He could be in danger because of me,” she said. “You should go with him, Dusty.”

She was rewarded with another harsh laugh. “Nasty don’t need a baby-sitter.”

“I was thinking of a bodyguard, not a baby-sitter.”

“A bodyguard for the best bodyguard in the business—one of the two best in the business. Nope. Don’t think so. But I would like to see Roman walk through the door. They made one hell of a team.”

The light was failing. A willow at the shore cast a dim, swaying silhouette against a livid evening sky. She peered through the gloom until she picked out Nasty striding along the floating dock toward his boat.

He was putting his own safety on the line for her. She owed him honesty about everything she felt—and feared. She owed him the truth. There was more than a chance that she was falling in love with him, too, but there was also a chance that she might not be if they hadn’t come together when she was needy.

Polly didn’t want to need a man. Any man. Or she hadn’t wanted to need one.

Then there was Xavier, Nasty Ferrito, offering friendship, offering passion, offering protection, offering—love, maybe.

And she needed him.

But she would not use him.

He’d made it clear he wanted her to stay here with Venus and Bobby. Because he’d gone to do something that could threaten her life? What about his life?

She couldn’t stand waiting, and not knowing he was safe.

“I’m going to make myself some tea. Is that okay with you, Dusty?”

“Swill,” he muttered. “If you can find some, of course it’s okay with me.”

Polly left the living room and hurried to the kitchen. She didn’t put on the kettle for tea.

She shouldn’t go against Nasty’s instructions. He’d say she was foolish.

If it was safe for him to go out there, it was safe for her. If it wasn’t, then she wanted to know, she wanted to be there for him.

Letting herself out of the house via the door from the mud room, she bent low and slipped along the edge of the terrace.

Nasty would be furious with her. She didn’t care. This was one rash, out-of-character move she had to make.

Darkness fell fast now. As she jogged down the paved steps to the docks, she kept her eyes on the uneven ground beneath her feet.

The sounds she made on the wooden planking of the dock seemed thunderous. Despite the noise, Polly ran. A formless premonition fueled her. The police had been able to do nothing but ask their endless questions, write their endless notes. She couldn’t blame them. What had she been able to tell them that might give them a clue to whoever had decided to make her his victim? They’d taken the answering-machine tape, but as good as told her it was useless.

Lights glittered on the waterfront. Music shaded the air from the cabins of boats moored at docks to the south and from restaurants and cafes with windows open to the night.

Not a single light shone aboard the
April.

Polly hesitated when she reached the side of the boat. Water sucked and blew under the sleek hull. Overhead, wind vibrated the naked masts. Lines creaked.

Scents of pitch and varnish and polish on brass wafted on the current that whipped Polly’s skirts.

And captured inside the night and sea sounds was a silent core more still than any she had felt before.

Not even a deck flood.

He didn’t want to attract any attention.

The hull rose above the level of the dock. Polly located a
short ramp running to the gunwale and walked aboard. She tiptoed and felt foolish, yet could not bring herself to do otherwise than step carefully.

The hatch to the saloon had been closed. She located a handle and pulled. It opened smoothly, and she climbed swiftly down to where she saw a glow coming from Nasty’s cabin fore. Heavy cloth shades had been snapped over every port, hiding his presence from the outside world.

She heard him moving about, heard metal on metal, and a rhythmic clinking as if he counted items dropped from his hands into a pile.

Polly found her voice and whispered, “Nasty? It’s Polly.” The clinking ceased.

He appeared in the entrance to the cabin. With the light behind him she couldn’t make out his face. She didn’t need to see it to feel his anger.

“I have to talk to you.”

“How did you get out of the house? You little
fool.”

She froze. His reaction was expected, but it still stung.

“Polly, are you mad?” He came to her so quickly she had no time even to step backward. “Impetuous. There’s no room for you to be impetuous now. Do you understand me?”

“I had to come.”

His fingers closed on her arm and he spun her around him. He bounded up to close and bolt the hatch, then returned to her. Now she saw his face. Shadows flung dark gashes beneath his cheekbones and into the slanted lines of his eyes and brows. He bore down on her.

“I’ve been wrong,” she said clearly, holding herself straight, and as tall as she could. “I haven’t examined what’s happening to me with you. That’s not fair.”

“What’s not fair is for you to put at risk the very thing Dusty and I are fighting to protect.”

“Me.” She jabbed a finger into her own chest
.
“Me and my family. Why? We aren’t your responsibility. We met such a
short time ago. Now you’re putting yourself in jeopardy for me. I can’t let you do that.”

“You can’t stop me from doing it.
I
can’t stop myself from doing it. If you didn’t want me at all, you’d have told me by now. I’m not falling for you in a vacuum, Polly. You’re in here with me, fanning what I’m feeling.”

“You don’t know that.” She turned from him and saw what it was that she had heard. “You already had a gun,” she said, remembering him in her condo the previous night.

“Don’t concern yourself with any of that.”

There seemed to be an arsenal on his bunk. More than one gun. Ammunition. A sheathed knife. Other things she didn’t recognize. And Seven curled in the middle of everything. “This is all part of what you were, isn’t it?”