Intimate Betrayal (16 page)

Maxwell was patient to a fault and as many times as he wanted to shake his head in disbelief at her lack of culinary skills, he kept his own counsel, encouraging her all along the way.

By the time they were finished preparing a breakfast of hash browns, western omelets, corn muffins and herbal tea, his once spotless kitchen was a disaster area. But Reese was so pleased with the outcome, her pleasure erased any thoughts of the big cleanup.

Maxwell took his last mouthful of the delicious fare. “That wasn't so bad,” he commented.

“It was actually fun,” she grinned. “Now if I can just remember everything…”

He chuckled. “You will,” he assured. “It just takes practice—and patience.”

She gazed at him with a newfound awakening. “Something that you seem to have plenty of with some to spare. I really appreciate that.”

He winked. “See, I'm not such a bad guy after all.” He leaned back in his seat and patted his full stomach. “And just to prove that point, I'm going to help you clean up the kitchen.”

 

With the dishes finished and the kitchen returned to its immaculate state, Reese and Maxwell walked out onto the deck. Maxwell sat along the railing, his arms crossing his
hard body. Reese opted for a seat on the lounge chair. She lay back and closed her eyes against the brilliant sun.

He'd thought long and hard about telling her of his father's suspicions. Watching her now, having been with her in the most intimate of ways, opening up to her—he knew he couldn't lose her and telling her might just make her run all the way back to Chicago.

Yet not to tell her that she might be in jeopardy was only serving his own purposes. He couldn't keep her sequestered out here forever.

“Reese,” he whispered, reluctant to mar this peaceful moment.

Slowly she opened her eyes and squinted up at him. Her pulse picked up an extra beat when she saw the strain etched across his face. She bolted up in her seat.

“Max…what is it? Don't look at me like that.”

He kneeled down next to where she sat and took her hands in his. He looked down at their hands, then into the depths of her questioning amber eyes. “You already know that for some reason, Reese, there are people in very high places who don't want you digging into my past.” He swallowed. “And apparently they'll do whatever is necessary to keep you from finding out whatever it is they don't want you to know.” He took a breath. “I had more than the reason I gave you for asking you to come out here with me.”

Her eyes widened in alarm. “What's the reason, Max?” she asked with hesitation.

He let out a short breath. “My father felt it best if we stayed together,” he paused, reluctant to continue when he saw the flash of fire in her eyes. Her mouth tightened into a thin line. “It would be easier for Larry to keep an eye on things if we were…”

She held up her hand to stop him. “I don't want to hear
anymore.” She threw her legs over the side of the chair and stood up, nearly knocking Maxwell down in the process.

“Reese, listen…” He reached for her arm. She pulled away so violently the lightweight chair turned over on its side.

“Go straight to hell, Max,” she spat, her anger causing her to tremble. “All the while you were whispering sweet nothings, that's just what it was…nothing!” Her voice sounded strangled as she fought back tears of despair. She leaned dangerously forward, hands on hips with her neck rolling in time to her condemnation. “You're just following orders. What makes you any different from Daddy, who you claim you can't understand?” she retorted with venom.

Maxwell felt as if he'd been blindsided. How could she think so little of him—even now—after what they'd shared, after what he'd given of himself? His response was hollow. “If that's what you think of me, Reese, then this relationship isn't worth the time it took to drive down here. If I didn't give a damn about you, do you really think it would matter to me where you were? Do you really, deep down in your heart—” he poked her in the chest and she recoiled “—believe that I went through all of this—” he waved his hands expansively “—just for a few days and nights of rolling in the hay?” His voice lowered to a grumble. “If that's all I wanted, there are more women than I care to count that would have been more than willing to warm my bed.” He lowered his gaze and shook his head. “You really don't get it, do you?” With that he brushed past her and strode through the house and up the stairs.

The door to the upstairs bedroom thudded so loudly, Reese jumped out of the daze she was in. She spun toward the sliding glass door, her eyes winding up the spiral staircase. Without further hesitation she followed in Maxwell's wake.

 

Maxwell stalked the four corners of his bedroom. Hurt wouldn't adequately describe how he felt at the moment.
Disappointment moved in the right direction and even that wasn't sufficient. Maybe he should have told her that part of the reason for them being together was for her own protection—and he'd do whatever was necessary to keep her safe.

Abruptly, he halted his pacing and paused for a moment in front of the window. He braced his palms against the window frame and stared, unseeing onto the horizon. She had every right to be upset, even to doubt him, he rationalized. He, of all people, should know about mistrust and deceit. He swung toward the door just as it opened.

Her eyes were two large pools, drawing him into their bottomless depth. His heart knocked in his chest, a combination of anticipation mixed with an inkling of fear.

Reese stepped into the room. She closed the door silently behind her and pressed her spine against it—hesitating—unsure of what it was she saw in his gaze.

Maxwell clenched his jaw and crossed the room in—what appeared to Reese—slow motion. He kept coming until the barest whisper separated them. She held her breath as his invariable gaze bore down into hers.

He lowered his head. His kiss was tentative, treading lightly, slowly seductive. She wanted more.

Reese wound her long, bare arms around his neck. Reaching up on tiptoe she pulled him closer. “I'm sorry,” she murmured against his hot mouth. “
I'm
sorry. I should have told you everything,” he groaned against her neck, trailing kisses along its length. “I wanted—needed to protect you.” He pulled back and searched her face. “Can you understand that, baby? I'm not going to let anything happen to you.”

“I can't remember the last time anyone cared enough about me…” her words caught in her throat. Shimmering pools floated in her eyes.

Maxwell crushed her lush body solidly against his. “Until now,” he whispered finishing her sentence.

She hugged him tighter. “But I'm a big girl, Max,” she uttered against his chest. “I need to know what I'm dealing with just as much as you do. I've spent the better part of my life in the dark. Please.” She looked up at him. Her eyes implored him. “Don't you do that to me, too.”

M
axwell slowly pulled out of the comfort of Reese's embrace. He crossed the room and sat down on the small sofa in front of the bay window. Looking across the room to where Reese stood—waiting—he held out his hand to her.

A tentative smile quivered around the corners of her mouth as she came to meet him. She took his outstretched hand and brought it to her lips, before lowering herself to the floor to sit at his feet.

“I don't know quite where to begin,” he started in a hushed, halting voice. “I've been going over everything my father said to me on the phone, but more importantly, what he didn't say.”

Reese curled closer, pressing her head against his thigh. “I've thought about it, too,” she said. She looked up at him gauging the look of caution in his eyes. “I don't think the problem is with us, but with our fathers, Max.”

With great reluctance, colored with relief, he nodded
in agreement. “Somehow, there's a connection and they—someone—doesn't want you to find out what it is.” He paused and took a long breath. “And I don't know if I want to find out, either. And yet—” he looked down into her upturned face “—finding the answers may be the only way either of us will ever be free.”

Hadn't Lynnette said almost the same thing? Reese reflected thoughtfully. “So what are we going to do?” she asked.

“We,” he began, standing up and pulling her to her feet, “are going to use your investigative skills, and I'm going to use all the resources in my power to find out whatever it is we're not supposed to know.”

Reese smiled openly and released a long held breath. “Now you're talkin'.” She grinned.

Together they went back downstairs and out onto the deck.

Maxwell hopped up on the rail and sat down. Reese took her place on the lounge chair.

“I was thinking I would put a call in to Lynnette when she returns to Chicago and see if she could tap into the computers for some background information,” Reese said.

Maxwell nodded. “That may work. My only concern is involving anyone unnecessarily. Is there any way that you could get the information yourself with the computers at my offices?”

Reese pursed her lips. “If there is a way to link up with the mainframe at my office in Chicago it might work,” she said, slowly thinking out the possibilities.

“I'll give R.J. a call. He'll get you a terminal set up in the morning. I'll make the connections myself. Is that all you'll need?”

“I'll still have to give Lynn a call. She'll be back in the
office tomorrow. She can get me the access codes for the hook-up.”

“Great. But—is she going to ask a ton of questions?”

Reese laughed quietly. “I'm sure she will. But I won't give anything away.”

“Just remember, the less said the better.” His voice grew serious. “I don't know how desperately they want whatever it is to stay hidden or what lengths they'll go through…” His unspoken words hung in the air between them, his meaning clear.

For several moments they sat in silence, shrouded in their private thoughts.

“Let's go for a walk,” Reese said suddenly. “I'd like to see the beach.”

Maxwell jumped down from his perch. “And I'd be honored to be your guide,” he grinned.

They strolled along the beach for several hours, talking quietly at times, at others simply enjoying the pleasure of each other's company and the beauty of the landscape. By the time they returned to Maxwell's house, the sun was beginning its descent. Never once did they realize that they were being watched.

 

“I'm getting hungry,” Maxwell announced when they'd returned to the lower level. “Why don't you and I fix something and take it out on the deck?”

Reese flashed him a cynical look. “Are you sure you want me to participate?” she asked with a half grin. “Breakfast is one thing, dinner is something else entirely.”

Maxwell chuckled. “Practice makes perfect.” He crossed the expansive kitchen and began opening cabinets, pulling out an assortment of ingredients. Then it was on to the refrigerator where he removed four pieces of red snapper from plastic bags and the mixings for a salad.

He gave Reese patient instructions for preparing a Caesar salad along with a homemade dressing. After cleaning and seasoning the fish, he said, “Let's grill the fish outside. It gives them an unbelievable taste.” He piled the fish in a Pyrex dish and covered it. “I'll take this. Just bring out the salad and the bottle of wine from the fridge and we can get this party started.”

Maxwell got the grill going, while Reese adjusted the volume on the sound system. She dashed back inside and got the dishes, silverware, dinner napkins and glasses. In short order, the aroma of grilled fish mixed with the sounds of Anita Baker's throaty love ballad “Giving You the Best.”

Reese sat down in what had become her favorite seat with a long sigh of contentment.

“Everything should be ready in a few minutes,” Maxwell announced, taking a sip from his glass of wine.

“Smells heavenly.”

“Compliments to the chef.” He smiled, saluting her with his glass.

Reese grinned. “I had plenty of help.”

“Before it's all over you'll be wheelin' and dealin' all by yourself.” He stuck a fork into the fish and turned them over one by one.

Reese pulled herself up from her reclining position and began putting the salad into the bowls and sprinkling the garnish on each.

“Soup's on,” Maxwell announced. “Pass me your plate.”

 

“This is absolutely incredible,” Reese sighed rolling her eyes to the heavens, while savoring the succulent taste of their dinner.

“I knew you'd like it. Now you can add grilled snapper to your repertoire.”

Reese eased her plate aside and took the last sip from her
glass of wine. “We've avoided talking about what we're going to do for the entire evening,” she began without preamble. “I still get the feeling that you're not telling me something.”

Slowly Maxwell shook his head and chuckled softly. “You're beginning to know me just a little too well for my taste.”

“And you're avoiding the inevitable,” she challenged. She leaned back on the recliner, crossed her long, bare legs and stared—waiting.

Maxwell was quiet for several moments, attempting to pull his fleeting thoughts into perspective. To give voice to his suspicions would cast a pall of doubt over his own father and maybe his mother. Was he willing to do that? But not to explore every option would leave them both vulnerable to the unknown.

He took a long, thoughtful breath. “I've been doing a lot of thinking since the phone call from my father. And at first I didn't think much about the dream you said you remembered.” He looked off across the horizon, his bronze skin glistening from the iridescent glow of the full moon. “I tried to figure why you would see my face in your dream.”

“You look a great deal like your father,” she stated more than asked.

Maxwell nodded slowly, looking at her with pain in his eyes.

“Do you have a picture of him?”

“No.”

“What is it that you're thinking, Max?”

“I don't want to think anything,” he snapped.

“Then let's leave it at that—for the moment.”

Maxwell crossed his long legs at the ankle. “There's something else.”

Her heartbeat picked up its pace.

“Something major happened when I was about seventeen,”
he said, his thoughts rushing backward. “We were living in Maryland, my father was on some assignment and then suddenly, we packed up and moved to Los Angeles. Usually when we moved, we had months of notice.” He shook his head. “But not that time. My father never explained anything. But I could feel the tension in the household and I remember my mother being very upset about the upheaval. She'd never seemed to mind before.”

Reese's investigative instincts went into full gear. “Do you recall any specific incidents during that time? Did your father ever mention anything he may have been working on?”

“I just remember the phone ringing constantly, at odd hours, and my father talking in a hushed voice, which wasn't like him at all.”

“That could have been any number of things,” she offered, seeing the strained look on his face.

“I suppose.” He breathed heavily. “We could spend forever trying to guess this thing out. There isn't much more we can do until you get what ever information you can from the computers.”

“You're right,” she said with a soft smile, trying to sound light. She stood up and stepped up to him, placing a tender kiss on his lips. “Whatever happens, Max, we're in this together. Please remember that.”

He pulled her into his arms, breathing in her essence. “I will,” he whispered, even as the seeds of doubt burrowed their way beneath his skin.

 

Reese stretched out next to Maxwell, incredibly satisfied from their hours of lovemaking. Hypnotized, she watched the rise and fall of his chest. She curled her leg between his and draped her arm across his chest, the steady beat of his heart lulling her to sleep.

It began slowly at first, the vision clouded and murky,
the shapes—shapeless and dark. Then bit by bit the voices became clearer, the images sharper.

The shouting woke her from her sleep and she watched herself tiptoe out of her bed and into the hall. Silently, she crossed the hallway and knelt at the top of the stairs, listening in fear to the violent argument ensuing between her mother and father.

“How could you, Hamilton?” Sharlene screamed. “My own sister!”

“Sharlene, listen to me,” Hamilton shouted above his wife's tirade. “It was only that one time…”

“One time,” she cried incredulously. “How many times does it take to be an adulterer? Does one time absolve you of something—you bastard! I want you out of here—now—tonight.”

“Sharlene you're being unreasonable. You know I can't do that. I won't do that. This is my home, too. We can work this out. What about Reese?”

“You should have thought about your daughter before you decided to jump in bed with my sister.”

Reese's stomach did a somersault. Her father and her aunt Celeste—in bed? She jumped suddenly and stifled a cry of alarm when she heard the sound of dishes and glasses breaking below.

“Sharlene—please—sweetheart, I love you. I made a mistake.”

“Get out!” Another dish was hurled against the wall.

And then Reese heard her mother's sobs. They began softly then built until they were a keening wail of agony. She didn't realize that she, too, was crying until she felt the tears trickle onto her hands that were clenched into fists on her lap. Without thinking she ran to her room and grabbed her knapsack, and stuffed a change of clothes into the bag. She was going to make her aunt tell her the truth. She would
bring her aunt Celeste to the house and all of the lies would go away.

Her parents were still arguing when she ran down the stairs and out onto the lawn, unnoticed by them. That's when she saw the man leaning down by her father's car. She stopped in her tracks. He turned and look at her.

Maxwell was pulled out of his sleep by the thrashing next to him. He sat straight up in the bed and turned toward Reese who was twisting, turning and moaning unintelligible sounds.

“Reese. Baby, wake up. You're having a nightmare.” His heart lurched seeing the torture that she was obviously enduring. Her nude body was covered in a thin sheen of perspiration. “Reese, please.” He grabbed her shoulders and shook her.

Reese's eyes flew open. A scream hung soundlessly on her lips as she stared into the eyes of the man who killed her family.