Magnolia Dreams

Deborah King

© copyright by Deborah McMartin, March 2001
Cover Art by Eliza Black
ISBN 1-58608-140-3
Rocket Edition 1-58608-329-5
New Concepts Publishing
Lake Park, GA 31636
www.newconceptspublishing.com

PROLOGUE

Like a snake, he slithered through the grass that towered inches above his head, the dewdrops falling like rain on his hair. Just like the jungle, he thought, swathing at the thick stalks with his machete. Yes, the very sound, the rip-and-tear, gave him power. He admired the bulges of his biceps as muscles strained to part the dense vegetation. The stagnant, swampy water appeared before him, forcing him to take a longer route to the cabin. He would be there soon enough, though.

An old settler’s cabin, not more than a lean-to, had been his residence for the past few months, a quiet place to think and plan—and soon, to act.

He’d chosen his bride after much searching and he’d bring her here. She wouldn’t mind the rustic nature of the surroundings. No, in fact, she’d thrive on the love he bestowed on her. That would be enough to sustain them.

He’d always heard that all it took to turn a man around, to change his heart, to purge the dark forces of his nature, was a good woman. He was counting on it, on her.

He parted the last blade of grass and admired the sight before him in all its neglected splendor--his home. Not as bad as he’d remembered, it looked rather quaint in the crystal clearing amidst massive foliage in the dark wilderness. She’d like the light, he knew that much, his angel of light. Watching her every possible second over the past few months, he’d learned much, all the tiny details that ordinary men never noticed. She’d appreciate him for that, he knew, and even love him eventually. He’d see that light in her eyes shining for him—and only him.

"Yes," he said, smiling, dropping the machete and picking up the hammer while he examined the structure. Sunlight filtered through the trees, dappling the sagging tar paper roof. It definitely needed work, he thought. No leaky roof for milady. One shutter hung slightly askew. He took the hammer, reached into his pocket and retrieved a nail, which he pounded through the shutter. The pounding transferred to the inside of his skull. Oh, no. Not again!

The noise reverberated in his head like a thousand thunderbolts. Dropping the hammer, he held his head between his hands in an attempt to stop the incessant echoing of the sound in his skull, but the pounding continued–relentlessly, unmercifully. Then the face appeared, just like it always did, his father’s face with shrunken eyes, black as a thunderous sky, and green smoke spewing from his mouth like the Wizard of Oz.

Falling to his knees, he begged forgiveness, "No, Father, please, I didn’t do it. Don’t hit me, Father," he said, shielding his face with his arm.

"Don’t lie to me, Son," his father’s voice boomed. "You might not live through it this time. If I knew what was good for you I’d take you out now. Too much of the likes of you with the bad seed. Somebody’s got to stop the bad seed."

Then he heard the shrill sound of the whip piercing the air and the biting sting of leather slicing his skin. "No," he screamed through the pain. "Not again. I can’t take it anymore!"

He slid down the wall of the house, sweat pouring down his brow. He took a gulp of air, the pungent smell of whiskey burning his lungs. It couldn’t be. His father had been dead for ten years. How could he keep showing up like this?

Just breathe, he told himself, and he’ll go away. Drenched in sweat and shaking to the core, he pulled himself up by hanging onto the window ledge. He wiped the dust off the dirty pane, smearing the grime in order to see his reflection. The features that stared back at him, he didn’t recognize as his own. Familiar anger filling his chest until he thought it would explode. White hot rage followed, and the tingling in his hands. Then came the hunger, the need to destroy, to feel and watch the blood flowing out of a body--the same way his father had watched the blood flowing out of his son–and laughed.

He began to calm as he realized that, soon, he would feed the hunger. He would ease the pain.

And he laughed.
CHAPTER ONE

Dakota noticed the red light indicating an E-Mail message flashing on his computer screen. He punched in the keys and read: In the game of chess the hunted are also the hunters. You want to be the good guy? OK, you be the White Knight. I'll be the Black Knight. It doesn't matter, the checkmate will be mine. As long as you see the comma between the check and the mate, it's still a game. However, when the comma is no longer there, something must be sacrificed. BTW you really ought to take your garbage out more often. Your neighbors are going to start complaining. Enjoy the game, White Knight!

Check, Mate

Black Knight

Dakota felt the skin on the back of his neck prickle. Terrence Wade watching, planning, his need for vengeance obviously as strong as Dakota’s need to protect his loved ones–the way he should have but could not, protect Cara, his beloved wife. Dakota needed the last bite of anger to succeed---to find the man who had gunned his wife down at a grocery store in Durango, Colorado. His mission---to prevent this deranged former cop from hurting anyone else.

Anger rose again, mixed with fear---fear that his enemy might take someone else he loved.

He'd moved to Taylorville, Texas for this reason---to be near Laney and her family. He wanted to protect his sister and quell the constant knot of worry in his gut.

Dakota succumbed to the need to hear her voice, but before he reached the phone, its shrill ring pierced the air, and he lifted the receiver.

"Dakota?" he recognized Laney Harris' always cheerful voice. "We're throwing some steaks on the grill tonight. Thought you might like to join us if you're up to making the drive to the ranch. What do you think?"

"For steaks, anytime," Dakota bantered, running his hands through his hair.

"Oh, I'm on to you. It's not the company, it's the food," Laney chided him in a teasing manner.

"Let's just say it's the company and the food. Am I off the hook now?" Dakota visualized his sister as a child---honey gold curls blowing in the wind, always sassy with her hands on her hips, constantly trying to stay one step ahead of the boys and usually succeeding. She could run circles around any of them in baseball and swim twice as many laps as they could during swim meets. And she was never without that glorious smile, the freckles sprinkled across her nose popping out when she scrunched her nose.

"No, but you can still come to dinner, I guess," Laney said. "Chelsea's anxious to have her Uncle Kota grace us with his presence. She'll have Monopoly and Chess and Twister and any other game she can find to set up ready to go when you get here. You'll be lucky if she gives you a minute to eat."

"Well, you tell my favorite niece that I'm totally at her disposal tonight. She'll have my undivided attention." His seven year old niece had stolen his heart from the moment he’d laid eyes on her for the first time. Not ever having been one to dote on babies, he felt the pull for the first time, and knew in his heart he’d be a father someday, and at that moment, he wanted that more than anything in the world.

"You just set yourself up for this one," said Laney, laughing. "Oh, by the way, do you still like your steaks rare? Or, is raw the appropriate word?"

"Rare will be fine. I'm becoming refined at my old age of thirty-six," Dakota said, in an attempt to disguise his mood.

"It's about time. I've been worried about you," Laney sighed.

Dakota wanted desperately to protect Laney from her fears for him. But she wouldn’t be Laney if she wasn’t worrying or doting over him.

With characteristic cheerfulness, she said, "Rare it will be. See you at six."

Dakota hung up the phone and flew straight for the mildew-infested shower---a tin-box size cubicle with chipped, pink tile and peeling grout. He'd have to do something about this soon. No matter. He had plenty of time to clean and caulk--later. He had work to do. He'd start the day by interviewing a nurse at St. Francis Hospital about a case assigned to him. He could easily take care of that on the way to the ranch.

* * * * *

St. Francis Hospital bustled with activity by late morning. Dr. Walters caught Ariana Holland by the arm before she could walk into the hospital room.

"Just let her die."

"And you don't deserve the title of Doctor," Ariana exploded with anger. "How dare you play God with my grandmother? What right do you have to decide whether her life has meaning or not? And furthermore, you don't even have her test results back. How can you stand there and claim she's dying?"

"I don't need test results to confirm what I already know," Dr. Walters retorted, lifting his chin in as gesture of superiority.

"You are the epitome of arrogance. You're supposed to save lives, not destroy them. I want you off this case and away from Me-Me," Ariana said through clenched teeth. "You are fired. And I intend to file a full report to the hospital peer review committee. You're a disgrace to the medical profession."

Ariana stared into the bottomless pits of coal black eyes. Something sinister lived in those dark caves, no doubt. Dr. Walters turned on his heels and stalked down the hall, his stride and demeanor projecting a repugnant arrogance.

Ariana's eyes spilled tears of fury and dread. Her grandmother was the light of her life, and she could not bear the thought of losing her. Me-Me had raised her since the age of five, when Ariana's mother left them both to follow her star in Hollywood. She never returned. Me-Me had always been Ariana's trusted friend and confidante. Standing in the hospital corridor, she brushed her tears away and took a deep breath to pull herself together for Me-Me's sake before she entered the hospital room.

One step in and her nose reacted to the pungent smell of antiseptic. Ariana shivered at the cold, impersonal green and white-on-steel. Standing at her bedside, she watched Me-Me sleep the peaceful sleep of the good--the innocent. With her head propped up on the pillow, a wispy strand of pewter-colored hair fell across her grandmother's forehead--a forehead creased but not besmirched by the worries and ravages of time, a forehead wide, of regal bearing, revealing a strength that knew no bounds. Ariana caressed Me-Me's arm, and thought she would drown in nostalgia at the feel of Me-Me's crepe skin. She reeled under the memories racing, as if she were viewing their life together on fast forward. Ariana wanted to be just like her, a true steel magnolia with a heart of gold. She was so gentle even the squirrels in her backyard ate from her hand. Ariana's vision blurred and her heart ached.

Me-Me's eyes fluttered and opened, sightless, but still full of warmth and merriment. "Hi, sweetie. Guess I dozed off for a bit. What have you been up to?" She reached up with a frail hand for Ariana to take hers.

Ariana gripped Me-Me's hand and struggled to control her quivering lips. "I just ran a few errands..." she began, and the dam broke.

She took Me-Me in her arms and let the flood of tears pour down her face. Sobs racked through her chest as pent up emotions made their way out.

"Oh, Ari," Me-Me said in her little sing-song voice, "I know you're worried. But I'm fine. Just a few nicks and kinks need to get checked out. I'll be out of here in no time. In fact, I want you on that plane to Phoenix tomorrow. Not that I don't enjoy your company. You know you're my joy. But your career is important, and I don't want to be the wrench in it, or your personal life for that matter."

"Oh, Me-Me, you've never caused problems. But I'm not going back to Phoenix until you're out of the hospital. Don't even try to talk me into it. I think Bane Pharmaceutical will survive another week or two without me. Besides, I need a break. I’ve been working like a slave driver and haven't taken vacation time in over three years. I've got leave to spare."

"Well, what about Graham? Don’t you think he needs and expects you there with him?" Me-Me asked, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

Ariana looked at her engagement ring, and twisted it, secretly relieved to have some time away from Graham. She wasn't sure why and she didn't want to think about it. "Oh, he works really long hours at the law firm. The partners pile all the grunt work on the associates, so he's always up to his elbows in library work. He's probably forgotten I'm gone."

Me-Me patted Ariana's cheek. "How could he not miss you, Ari? My vision may have faded but the image of your lovely face is etched in my mind forever--those luminous blue eyes and silky black hair...and those cheekbones. Why, there hasn't been such a marvelous deposit of calcium since the White Cliffs of Dover."

"Oh, you're just being a grandmother," Ariana said, blushing. She had never been able to accept compliments about her looks, even from her grandmother. "And once an English teacher, always an English teacher. You're still as quick as lightning at turning those metaphors."

All her life Ariana discounted compliments on her beauty. She considered her features an accident of nature, a biological aberration. She'd rather discover what made the world work than preen and primp before the mirror. More important to her than the flattery of good looks was richness of the soul.

"I don't know what happened to Dr. Walters. He assured me he'd be here before noon with the test results," Me-Me said, her aged but nimble fingers reading her Braille watch. "It's after twelve now."

Ariana cleared her throat, "Well, Me-Me, there's something I need to tell you. Dr. Walters isn't here because I dismissed him as your physician." She walked over to the side of the hospital nightstand and poured Me-Me a glass of ice water, nervous energy filling her just as the ice water filled the cup.

Me-Me's eyes grew large and her brows knitted in concern. "Well, why did you do that?"

"I couldn't tolerate his arrogance another moment and let's just say we have some basic philosophical differences. I hope you don’t think I was presumptuous in doing that. I know I should have talked to you first, but he made me mad."

"I do admit he's acted rather strange lately. He slinks around the room and won't give me a direct answer about anything. Actually, I'm somewhat relieved. Though I do wish you had consulted me first. Just the principle of the thing. But who's going to treat me now?"

"Me-Me, I don't want you to worry. I'm going to the Admissions office now to get a referral for another doctor and, believe me, you're going to get the best. Anything you need while I'm out?"

"Let's see, I'd like that new John Grisham tape if they have it." Her voice seemed brighter, and it lightened Ari's heart.

"Sure thing. See you in a bit."

Ariana bent to brush her cheek against Me-Me's and walked out the door, just passing the nurse bringing in the lunch tray. The aroma of broccoli casserole reminded Ariana that she'd not eaten all morning. She detoured to the cafeteria and grabbed a tuna sandwich and iced tea. Ariana spotted only one empty chair--- at a table for two, across from a man hidden behind a newspaper.

Ariana shrugged resignedly. She really wasn't in the mood to share a table with some stranger and make polite conversation, but what the heck. If she didn't want to eat standing up, she'd have to ask if he'd share the table with her. Hopefully he wasn't the talkative type. Maybe he'd just continue to read his newspaper and leave her alone, she hoped.

Politely Ariana asked, "Excuse me, Sir. Do you mind if I sit here?"

The man uncrossed his legs and lowered his newspaper. Ariana's chest quickened. A

He smiled, and dimples cut through his tanned cheeks as he casually folded the paper, rose to an impressive height and pulled out a chair for her. His exquisite smile and twinkling brown eyes that exuded ruggedness and softness were a balm to her wounded spirit.

"Thanks," she offered.

"I'm Dakota Burke," he said as he proffered a hand toward her.

"North or South,?" she quipped, trying to lighten her heart for a few minutes.

"West, actually," he chuckled, without missing a beat, and in obvious appreciation of her humor.

Ariana appraised his hand through the handshake. Strong and brown, and obviously no stranger to hard work.

"Ariana Holland," she responded, regaining her composure and wondering how it would feel to nuzzle her cheek up against his. That little hollow under his cheekbone would be delightfully rough, especially on a day without shaving. She warmed at the thought for a split second until images of her still sick grandmother crept into her thoughts, clouding her response to this pleasant encounter.

"Do you work here at St. Francis Hospital?" he inquired.

"No, I'm here visiting my grandmother. She's having some tests run." Ariana liked his tone of interest.

"So you're from out of town?" he asked, leaning toward her, his brown eyes intense with interest.

"I'm originally from Taylorville. I grew up here with my grandparents, but my job's in Phoenix, Arizona now. I do come back fairly often, though. I miss the East Texas vegetation and more relaxed lifestyle."

Dakota's rich brown eyes never left her face while she talked. She kept talking just so she didn't have to break with his delightfully penetrating gaze.

"Phoenix has its own brand of desert beauty, quiet and expansive, but I get tired of brown and dusty. The heat can be pretty oppressive, but in turn, it slows everything down.

"I know what you mean. I just relocated here from Durango, Colorado. It can get mighty dry there, too. As much as I love the mountains, there's a softness and tranquillity to this southern town that just draws me in. I'm enjoying the green, too," he smiled, revealing a splendid row of ivory, stark white in contrast to his tan, rugged face. A careless lock of thick, sun-bleached hair fell across his forehead. Ariana fought the strangest urge to reach up and brush it neatly back with her fingers.

The rich tone of Dakota's voice matched the warmth in his eyes and smile. How flat and colorless Graham seemed in

contrast to Dakota. Though technically nice looking in a conservative, yuppie sort of way, her fiancé appeared serious and professorial with his six-foot-four lanky frame and wire-rimmed glasses. He always seemed off in his own world and navigated the conversation around to himself. Though intelligent, ambitious and very witty at times, she wished he exuded more warmth and compassion. Oh, well, maybe that would come in time after he became immersed in family life.

Increasingly, the smallest, inconsequential things he did irritated her, like the way he crooked his little finger when he held his coffee cup. So many times she’d tamped down the urge to slap it. She chastised herself for being so persnickety when he did, in fact, have so many redeeming qualities, and attributed it to premarital jitters.

Suddenly, her mind jolted back to her surroundings, and she realized how rude she must seem at having drifted off. "What brought you here to Taylorville?"

Dakota smiled and folded his paper. "I took a job with a private investigation firm here in town. I spent ten years as deputy sheriff in Durango." He lifted his knee and uncrossed his legs. "I needed a change in scenery and a change in profession. So, basically, I've traded in my badge and holster for a trenchcoat and gumshoes. It's still essentially the same work, just a different focus. And not quite as stressful, I hope."

Ariana smiled, "I know what you mean. When I graduated from nursing school I never thought I'd give up my scrubs. But inevitably, things change. Burn-out sets in and its time to move on."

"Yeah, I can relate. No matter what line of work you're in, things happen that you don't anticipate and dream jobs can turn nightmarish real quick. Well, I guess I better be going. I've got a hot date with my favorite niece and I'll be chastised for every minute I'm late. I had some interviewing to do here at the hospital for a case I'm working on, but I've wrapped it up. Hope everything turns out fine with your grandmother."

"Right now I've got to find a new oncologist to treat her. I won't bore you with the details but I dismissed the physician who's been handling her case."

"I might be able to help you there. My brother-in-law is Monty Harris, one of the best oncologists in this area. He's been doing experimental cancer research, but he also has a private practice in town." Dakota pulled his pen and a business card from the pocket of his chambray shirt, "I'll write his home phone number right here. I can't remember his office number right off the top of my head. I'm sure he'd consider taking her case."

Ariana breathed a sigh of relief. Of course she would have to check out Dr. Harris's credentials, but it was a start in the right direction. "Thanks so much. This is a big help. And thanks for sharing your table."

"The pleasure was all mine," he said, his gaze warm as he shook her hand.

Again she caught the flicker in his eyes.

He rose and pulled out her chair for her. "You have my business card. Call me if I can ever help you with anything."

"Thank you," said Ariana, feeling hopeful that her grandmother could be helped.

* * * * *

Ariana fumbled around the cool plastic dashboard to find the windshield wiper switch in her rental car. There was nothing like a soft spring rain in Taylorville to bring out the contrast of greens. She drove past the famous Taylorville Rose Sanctuary and smiled at the thought that the roses were probably loving every drop. Senior prom night had been great there at the giant gazebo.

She laughed as she remembered her date, Billy King---sweet, dependable, just like a brother. He was always there for her when she was ready to swing on the vine out over the lake or get a game of softball going. But when he tried to kiss her on prom night, shy and tentatively, she sputtered and laughed. She wasn't trying to be cruel--it was just so weird to be kissing him after all those years. But his feelings were hurt and things were never quite the same after that. She really needed to get in touch with him. Rumor had it that he was an engineer in Houston now---married with two children.

Envy tugged at her when she thought of friends who were settled with children. Maybe it was her biological clock ticking or a sudden rush of maternal instinct that increased her desire for children, she didn't know which. But it was there, nevertheless, gnawing at her like a hungry puppy.

Ariana slowed down for the slippery brick streets around the town square, where everyone gathered at special times. It provided the sense of community that seemed lost with the ever expanding suburban sprawl. Taylorville: quaint, brick-paved streets and rolling hills throughout the town added to its character and charm.

The antebellum homes stood rich and proud at the top of the hills--a testament to the lucrative boom days when everything was coming up roses and black oil. Me-Me's house, with its stately round, white columns and sprawling porch, spoke of elegance and a quality of architecture and craftsmanship of an era long gone. Ariana loved the look, the feel, and the scent of the past. Much more than a testament to history it was a part of everyone, Ariana thought, as real as blood flowing through the veins.

Many times when she'd lovingly touched the antique dresses Me-Me kept stored in the attic, she'd felt more at home with the old clothes, old values, and old pace of life. All seemed to be made of a more solid and durable fabric, one made from the threads of hard work, family and a sense of permanence, sorely lacking in today’s disposable, musical-chairs world.

Someday she would read the letters Me-Me had stored in the big attic trunk. Me-Me talked frequently of the sealed letters from her grandmother in Ireland, diaries of her flight to New Orleans from the great potato famine in Ireland. Stories that were part and parcel of her heritage, stories that add a richness and soul to the lifeblood of families, stories she could pass down in tradition to her children and grandchildren.

Pulling into the long, circular driveway that led to her grandmother's Greek Revival mansion, Ariana reconnected with her roots. The ancient magnolia tree stood healthy and strong in the middle of the grassy knoll between the drives. As a child she and Uncle Ron stood next to it and watched the shooting stars. He said that if she closed her eyes, inhaled the lemony scent of the magnolia blossom and blew it to the stars, her dreams would come true.

The last time they were next to the tree, before Uncle Ron died, she'd wished for a man to love her deeply, completely. No one could have ever guessed that she longed for love. With her cool professional demeanor and fierce ambition, she appeared business-minded and singularly focused. Career, career, career seemed to be her calling--her life in a nutshell. But that was not what lay claim to her heart. It even surprised her that she would wish for such a thing. But she was here now. No time for dreams. It was time to get to work and get Me-Me out of that hospital.

* * * * *

Ariana sank down into the antique clawfoot bathtub overflowing with bubbles and let the tensions gradually drain from her. The sweet scent always brought back memories in this old Greek Revival house. Me-Me loved the aroma of lavender and kept sachets, bath oil and flowers around the house. The smell of old wood and time intoxicated Ariana.

Ida Jones, the housekeeper, poked her head in the door. "Need some piping hot chicory to wake you up, Child?" Ida drawled in her low, smoky voice.

"Sounds like heaven," Ariana replied appreciatively, her eyes still closed. Ida had been a part of the McKinney household for as long as Ariana could remember. Ida's eternal devotion to Me-Me always made Ariana feel more comfortable about her move to Phoenix. She knew Ida would make certain Me-Me's care. Her light shone the brightest when Me-Me was around to attend. Ida's husband died ten years before and left her in good financial shape. She didn’t have to work, but stayed committed to housekeeping and taking care of Me-Me's world. And Ida had always treated Ariana like she was her own from the time she was knee-high, caring for skinned knees as well as broken hearts, mending them with her gentle touch and words of wisdom.

Ariana followed the lure of frying bacon into the kitchen. Dressed in a plaid, immaculately-tended, red-checkered dress, Ida busily ironed Me-Me's blouses, humming all the while. The clean scent of freshly-ironed linen permeated the room. It smelled like sunshine.

"How is Mr. Graham these days?" Ida asked without looking up, the hiss of steam from the iron punctuating her words. Cherokee Indian and African American formed a strong alliance in her heritage. Ida's simple ways and economic use of words belied her innate wisdom and sharply developed intuition.

"He's okay--busy with his work," Ariana stated, matter-of-factly, filling her plate with scrambled eggs and bacon. She'd worry about cholesterol later. Ida's cooking, in any form, could never be turned down or reduced to health worries. Cooking, as well as tending house, was an art form to her which she derived intense satisfaction from. Everything she did, from washing dishes to making beds, became a soulful enterprise.

Ida chuckled, "Scuttling around like a mouse after cheese, I suppose."

"Ida, you really don't like Graham, do you?" Ariana picked up her coffee cup and leaned on the counter, her chin in her hand, and looked straight into Ida's eyes.

Ida returned the look and held eye contact. "Child, I don't know him well enough. Can't say as to whether I likes or dislikes him. All's I know is that he don't have that light in his eyes when he looks at you. That's enough to cause me worry. Question is not whether I likes him or not. The question is, do you likes him, Child?"

Ariana squirmed. Ida’s forthright responses forced Ariana to think about things she was uncomfortable with. "Of course I do, Ida. I'm engaged to marry him. I love him." Ariana's voice quivered, her insides constricting. She picked up her plate and coffee, carrying them over to the kitchen table, and sat down.

Her stomach tightened. Ariana wondered whether her emphasis on the word love was to convince Ida or herself. But she pushed back the thought--premarital jitters, she supposed.

The phone trilled, sending an overly-loud ring through the silence of the house, and Ida reached for it across the ironing board with her free hand. "It's the hospital," she said, handing the phone to Ariana. "They said it's urgent."

Ariana's heart pounded in her throat as she took the receiver.

"Miss Holland, this is St. Francis Hospital. We need for you to come to the hospital right away. When the nurse checked on Mrs. McKinney, she was listless and incoherent. She appears to be in a coma. We've taken her to ICU, but we need to do more extensive tests. Could you get here as soon as possible?"

"I'm on my way," Ariana responded, fear gripping her heart like a vise. What could have happened to Me-Me? Why had everything changed so suddenly? Something is horribly wrong.

Chapter Two

Bracing herself for what she would find, Ariana entered the ICU. She maneuvered her way toward Me-Me's bed in the far corner of the room, while a cacophony of buzzers assaulted from every direction. A robust nurse dressed in faded blue scrubs drew the curtain partially open to allow Ariana's entry. Without looking up the nurse adjusted the IV tubes and monitors as Ariana walked up to Me-Me, folding her limp hand in her own, as if trying to pulse the life force back into Me-Me.

"She's about the same," the nurse said. She busily attended to ten different things at one time. She snatched up her clipboard with the hospital chart and scribbled furiously.

Ariana gazed at her grandmother's lifeless form and her breath caught in her throat. When did Me-Me develop this pallor? How could things have gone downhill so fast? Ariana reeled for the shock and everything swayed in front of her. No, she couldn't lose it now. She had to stay strong for Me-Me. Ariana took her pale lifeless hand in her own. Her face held the pallor of death and her hand was limpid as Ariana held it in hers.

Feeling the need for privacy, Ariana knelt down and whispered in Me-Me's ear, "I love you, Me-Me. Please, hold on. We still have so much to do yet. If you'll just come back I'll quit my job and move back to Taylorville. We'll make your house into a bed-and-breakfast, just like we've talked about for years. I'll do all the work. All you'll have to worry about is making sure your squirrels are fed everyday. Please come back to me, Me-Me. Give me some kind of sign you hear me. I love you so much. I'm not ready to give you up."

Ariana could no longer hold back the tears. She sensed the slightest squeeze from Me-Me's hand, as if to assure her everything would be all right, no matter what happened. Moving to the other side of the bed, Ariana checked all the life support systems, now slightly assured by the rhythmic beeps which seemed an assault minutes before. Ariana sat on the stool and took Me-Me's hand in hers, tubes protruding from her arms like gnarled snakes.

Ariana, voice slightly out of tune, began singing to Me-Me, just the way Me-Me had sung to her when she was a little girl, sick in bed with the chicken pox. She noted a slight lifting at the corners of Me-Me's mouth. Ariana continued, not worried about disturbing the other patients in this alien-looking, sterile world of the intensive care unit. A place reduced to the very basic concern of the perpetuation of physical life.

Unexpectedly, Me-Me's body jerked and shook violently. Ariana immediately recognized a seizure and called for Code Blue, even before the monitors started the dreaded, infernal buzzing. Instantly, all the orderlies and support staff charged into motion and ran to Me-Me's side.

"Out, now!" bellowed the nurse, wild sprigs of gray hair springing out from under her surgical cap, obviously a veteran of the ICU war zone--constantly fighting the battles between life and death. Some of the battles were won but never the war. "We've put an emergency call in to Dr. Harris. He'll talk with you about her condition as soon as we get her stabilized."

Ariana walked numbly into the waiting room and sank down into the nearest worn chair, burying her face in her hands. Her mind swam with all the events of the past few days---confronting Dr. Walters and hiring Dr. Harris, who she had yet to meet in person. She was absolutely overwhelmed--and alone. In fact, she'd never been so alone in her life---like she was an only planet in a galaxy five million miles from any other.

Minutes seemed to grow into hours, and still she waited for news---any news---and waited.

Finally, a kindly, professional looking man with thinning red hair and a starched white lab coat walked out of the ICU and over to her. "Are you Miss Holland?"

"Yes," Ariana replied, hopeful that she would finally receive news of her grandmother's condition.

His demeanor eased her somewhat and she reached to shake his extended hand. "You must be Dr. Harris."

"Yes, I am." He smiled a kind smile and his voice filled with compassion, "And I apologize for having to introduce myself to you under these dire circumstances. I planned to sit down with you today and review Mrs. McKinney's records and test results. The seizure surprised me. Nothing in her records or blood work indicate anything was out of the ordinary, with the exception of her back problems. But there was nothing predictive of this type of reaction."

"So what's the prognosis now?" Ariana asked with a catch in her throat.

"Miss Holland, I'm afraid your grandmother didn't make it through the seizure. Apparently it caused a stroke which affected the area of the brain that controls heart rhythm, and she died. I am so sorry," he said, his voice full of deep sympathy and concern.

Ariana's stomach caved in, the news beating against her like a thousand whips buffeting her body. She doubled over and crumpled toward the floor. Dr. Harris caught her by the shoulders before she hit the ground and guided her into the chair.

"Is there someone I can call?" Dr. Harris asked.

"I...No." Ariana sobbed. "This shouldn't have happened. It wasn't her time. Something is terribly wrong. I just want to know why--what caused this if she was okay?" Ariana placed her face in her hands, trying to control that black hole of loss hitting her like a Mack truck.

"That's what I'd like to find out, Miss Holland," Dr. Harris said, his voice low and soothing. "I know this is not a good time to talk about it, but I'd like to do an autopsy. I, too, have some serious questions about this case, too and I'd like your permission to be present when its done."

"Yes, you have my permission," Ariana said, wiping her tears with a Kleenex and taking a deep breath. I want some answers---now." She was suddenly consumed with anger.

"Thank you. And I want to tell you this--I just met your grandmother yesterday, but I think she was a very special person. I could tell that after five minutes. She seemed to have such a zest for life, even in the middle of a health crisis. I'll always remember her glow."

Ariana just smiled, touched that he recognized how special Me-Me was. "I need to make some calls and make arrangements."

"Let me know if I can help you with anything," Dr. Harris said. He patted her lightly on the shoulder and turned to go back into the ICU.

Still disbelieving, Ariana dragged herself over to the pay phones. She desperately needed someone to talk to--someone to share her pain. Her friends from Taylorville had long since scattered around the country. She had no family left. Slowly and deliberately, she dialed Graham's office number in Phoenix. She wanted to postpone the inevitable---having to say the words "Me-Me died" made it all too real.

*****

Dakota, freshly showered after his daily run, turned on his computer to check his E-Mail. He read the last one and the hair on the back of his neck stood on end.

White Knight,

I haven’t disappeared from your life. I’ve been busy for the last twenty-four hours. We’ll get to finish our game of chess now. Remember, I win to live and live to kill. Any material left on the board will be mine.

Check, Mate

Black Knight

Dakota's blood ran cold, as if he'd just received an injection of ice water straight into his arteries. His head throbbed with worry over the safety of Laney and Chelsea. Was this man watching every move they made–waiting, stalking terrorizing?

In Durango, Dakota compiled a psychological profile of his enemy, Terrence Wade. This guy was shrewd, sophisticated in his smarts---part of that one percent group in all law enforcement agencies who were smart enough to slip through the fissures, the checks and balances designed to prevent this type of person from becoming a cop. He knew how to answer the questions appropriately and consistently. He could ace the mandatory MMPI and Myers-Briggs Personality inventory every time. But under the veneer of conformity lurked a monster---a vampire whose energy and life force dwelled in the dark corners of the psyche, sucking the soul out of everything and everyone it encountered. Boundless anger had accumulated since childhood, making him a veritable volcano capable of erupting without warning. He was a cataclysmic nightmare---volatile and unpredictable.

Wade's family history and patterns were familiar---alcoholic, abusive parents, short on love, long on screaming and hitting to solve problems.

Back in Durango, Wade admitted that he derived pleasure from inflicting pain on animals as a child. Then it escalated---from cruelty to animals, to abusing women, to manhandling the people he arrested. He'd always managed to find a glitch in the system and slip through the loop with no ramifications. Until he slipped into Dakota's noose that could hang him---accepting illegal bribes. Suspended as deputy and sent to prison, Wade lost what little respect he commanded. When released, he planned revenge on Dakota, whom he blamed for his demise. Wade took what Dakota valued more than his own life---Cara. And then he vanished into thin air.

Until now.

* * * * *

The hospital activity carried on---business as usual. Nurses and orderlies continued to push the carts and gurneys down the hall--as if nothing had happened, as if her Me-Me was still alive. It made her mad. The world should stop revolving, the sun should stop shining and everyone should stop breathing for at least ten seconds in reverence to Me-Me's death. How could things be normal when Me-Me was gone? But the phone was ringing and Ariana had to face it---push forward.

"Thornton and Bickers Law Firm." The voice at the other end answered briskly, reflecting the tone of the office.

"Hello. This is Ariana Holland. May I speak with Graham, please?" Ariana twisted the damp Kleenex with her hands, tearing it into tiny bits.

"He's on conference call and gave implicit instructions not to be interrupted," Marsha Dixon, the paralegal, reported bombastically. Her voice held more than a hint of smugness.

"This is an emergency," Ariana said, her voice quivering. "I must talk to him immediately."

"I'll buzz him," said Ms. Dixon reluctantly.

Discomfort filled Ariana when Marsha was around. When she called Graham or went to his office to meet him for one of their rare lunch dates, Marsha never looked her in the eye and always avoided talking to her even when Ariana made attempts at conversation. Ariana shrugged it off as jealousy. Perhaps Marsha had a crush on Graham and resented his relationship with her. Who knows why people behave as they do. Ariana wished for the intuition that Ida possessed. Ida seemed to pick up on the subtle vibrations of people, sizing them up in a split second.

After several minutes Graham picked up the phone, his voice brusque and businesslike. "Graham Browne speaking. How may I help you?"

"Graham, it's me. Me-Me just... died," Ariana said, her voice cracking. Torrents of tears streamed down her face and she struggled to maintain some semblance of control. Breaking down in front of Graham was not something she felt comfortable with.

But he was a good man, a solid man with a life plan and plenty of action and stamina to back it up. A brilliant man, she reminded herself, and that foundation could be built on. It provided a vessel for love to bloom.

"What?" Graham exclaimed from the other end of the line, "I thought she was just having some tests run."

"She was," Ariana said, sobbing, "but she went into a near coma and had a seizure. Will you be able to fly out? I need you here, Graham, more than I've ever needed anyone in my life."

She could visualize his expression, his unrepentant deep breath and sigh, dark brows furrowed at the intrusion of death on his time and energy. This would not be a good time for a family crisis, he would think. No time was ever a good time for anything with Graham--everything impinged on him, as if the world's schedule should ask if it was convenient with him before it created any tempest storms or calamities.

In the back of her mind she pictured him looking at his watch and rifling through his desk blotter. Without asking, she knew that business would always come first with Graham--even in the wake of a tragedy. Though this was the first crisis they'd faced together, in her heart-of-hearts she knew better than to count on him for support.

"I'll try," he sighed, "This is a bad time for me to try to get away. I've got two huge cases coming up back to back and I don't have enough hours in the day even without sleep. Just let me know the arrangements. And--I'm really sorry," he added. It sounded like an afterthought, an expected gesture of concern he threw out because he knew she expected it.

Given her state of mind at the moment, Ariana took no comfort in his words. Her Me-Me was gone, and she faced her future totally alone. But she knew that no matter what doubts crept in about Graham, she would honor her commitment to marry him. After all, she thought, no one's perfect. And she knew all too well the feelings of rejection and abandonment. Regardless of her emotions, she would always honor her commitments. Her self respect depended on it.

After her mother left, Ariana waited every day on the front porch of Me-Me's house–rocking in the porch swing, praying, dreaming, watching and waiting for her mother’s return. She could visualize her mother running up the driveway, arms outstretched, smiling and bending down to sweep tiny Ariana up into her arms and twirling her around. "Mommy’s a movie star now, Ariana. I have enough money to take care of you now. I bought a big house for just the two of us, and it even has a swimming pool! And you can have all the pets you want, strays and all."

As the years passed, and she realized the truth, that her mother was not coming back, most of the pain slowly receded into the innermost parts of her being.. But Ariana vowed to herself she'd never, under any circumstances, abandon or reject someone else. She'd never inflict the pain she'd experienced. Never.

* * * * *

Sunlight filtered through the slats in Dakota's office, revealing a thick coat of dust that had been there awhile. He'd get to that later. He could almost hear Cara reprimanding him for his tendency to procrastinate. Dusting just didn't make much sense to him---to stir dirt particles up just so they could float up in the air, spread out and land somewhere else. What was the point? And to make a bed just to mess it up again the same day?

When Cara had to leave for the early morning shift at the hospital, he volunteered to make the bed. Pulling up the comforter was about the best he could manage. At night he'd try to make his morning duty easier by sliding up through the headboard and the top of the comfort, slipping down underneath the covers without messing them up. That was at least five minutes of extra sleep right there. No, a morning person he was not. He could never be accused of being neurotic about cleaning house. But when it came to personal hygiene, he could probably be considered close to obsessive-compulsive. Several showers a day was not unusual for him, and more would be better. Nothing quite matched the stimulation of a good, hot soak, as hot as the water could get, where the steam rose from the pores of the skin

like hot vapors from a geyser.

Dakota flipped the computer switch and watched the screen fade to a pinpoint of light. Instinctively he reached for some fresh brewed coffee, he preferred it in the pure mud form. For now, he'd shut down thoughts of Terrence Wade and gear his mind toward more pleasant things, like Ariana Holland.

Last night's dream replayed---he riding Goldsmith and she riding Samantha. He wondered if Ariana even rode horses. Her lithe, sleek rider's body and coltish legs were made for riding---horses and men. If she didn't ride--well, it was never too late and he'd love to teach her. His thoughts then turned to teaching her more than learning how to ride a horse. He envisioned himself running his fingers through her dark, shiny, silk-spun hair, peering into those clear blue eyes.

He shook his head in amazement--how could he have fallen so quickly? He'd better slow down--he wasn't clear what this was all about--he just knew he was feeling again, and responding physically to those feelings with an ardor he'd not known for a long, long time.

The door opened, setting off the buzzer, and Dakota's brother-in-law, Monty Harris, walked into his office. His brows knitted and his lips tightened with consternation. He looked pale.

Concerned, Dakota asked, "Hey, what's going on, Mont? You look a little stressed." Dakota grabbed an extra mug and poured Monty some coffee.

"I just lost a patient, Dakota, and I just can't figure out what went wrong," he sighed with resignation, placing his head in his hands. "Her test results came back negative. Then the next thing I know she's in a coma, had a seizure and she's gone. Just like that. There's something wrong with this picture."

Dakota handed the mug to Monty. "Wait a minute. Was this patient Ariana Holland's grandmother?"

"Yes. Mrs. McKinney was her name." Monty slumped into the corner chair, taking a sip of the coffee. "Yes, as a matter of fact. She's the patient you referred to me."

Stunned, Dakota asked, "What does it look like to you?"

"The symptoms indicate poisoning. But nothing showed up in the blood samples to give us any conclusive evidence. I'm going to have the lab go back and keep testing for different possibilities until we come up with something significant."

"How is Ariana?" Dakota asked, his tone revealing deep concern.

"As well as can be expected. She could probably use a friend right now, though. I don't know how well you two know each other but I don't think she has many friends or much family left here."

Dakota toyed with the idea of calling her, relieved to find Mrs. McKinney’s name and address in the phone book. But since they had just met he thought that might seem too presumptuous. "I'll see what I can do."

"Well, I'm off," said Monty, walking out the door. "See you later."

"Bye," Dakota replied absently, having already made a decision to pick up a bouquet of fresh flowers to take to Ariana's house. Presumptuous or not, she needed a friend and Dakota intended to be just that.

* * * * *

Ida looked up from her cooking when Ariana walked in the back door. Ida cast her a despondent look---and Ariana was certain Ida knew about Me-Me. She just hadn't been told. Ida turned the stove off and walked over to her. Ariana fell into her arms and allowed herself to be held and comforted, just like she had as a child--upset because she didn't make the girls' basketball team. Ida stroked her hair and rocked her gently as Ariana let the sobs roll out.

"She's gone, Ida. How can this be?"

"Because this is life, Child," Ida said in a soothing voice. "We be born, then we die--we can't worry about neither of those ends--we just gotta worry 'bout what's in between--and that's called livin'."

Ariana finally raised her tear-stained face and said, "I love you, Ida. I'm glad you're here. You know you're family to me."

"I knows that, Child, but thanks for telling me. I likes to be reminded. And you know I loves you, too. Ain't nobody as beautiful and smart as my Child. But right now Ida needs to be by herself for a bit."

Ida walked slowly out of the room toward the back of the house. Ariana knew Ida had to mourn in her own way---privately. It was a few minutes before Ariana heard the haunting melody of Ida's all-time favorite song, Amazing Grace, bellowing out of her lungs, followed by deep, wracking sobs that turned into wails. Silence followed. Ida was back within minutes with her apron tied and going about her routine as if nothing had happened. A knock at the back door broke the solemn stillness of the house. Ida opened the screen door to a handsome stranger holding out a bouquet of flowers to her.

"Hi, I'm Dakota Burke. I heard about Mrs. McKinney’s death and wanted to relay my sympathy. Please give these to Miss Holland and tell her that I am deeply sorry for her loss."

"Thank you very much," said Ida, all the while sizing up this man standing in front of her and wondering about his intent toward Ariana. She liked what she saw and felt warmth and concern emanating from him. This man was good, his intentions honorable. She knew. "I'm Ida, the housekeeper. Won't you come in? I'll call Ari."

"That's okay. This is probably not a good time for her and I really have to get back to work. Please relay my concerns to her, though, and tell her to call me if there is anything I can do. Here's my number in case she lost my card." Dakota took another business card out of his shirt pocket and wrote his home phone number on it.

Ariana walked into the room as Ida was letting him out. The sunlight played in his thick hair and danced off his strong jawline. He seemed even taller today---his rock hard body silhouetted against the screen door. His pin-striped cotton shirt revealed the broad expanse of chest and the way his muscles tapered down to his waist in a nice v-shape.

"Hi, Dakota. Nice to see you again, although I have to admit, this is a surprise."

"Likewise, and I'm sorry it's under these conditions. I'm so sorry about your grandmother. Monty told me what happened and I thought I'd drop by and check on you.

That unmistakable electrical tingle shimmered through her as she stood in front of him, in spite of the grief that threatened to engulf her. His concern moved her, her heart warmed by his mere presence.

"When things settle down a bit I'd like to invite you out to my sister's ranch just outside of town. I don't know if you like to ride horses but I thought we'd pick a nice day and go for a trail ride."

Ariana's heart soared for a moment, "Oh, I love to ride horses. I rode in shows when I was in high school, and for awhile I joined a riding club in Tucson, but my work schedule got so crazy that I never had time to go. I haven't ridden a horse in years, but I'd love to try it again."

"It'll come back fast--just like riding a bicycle, I promise you. I'll give you a call. Meanwhile, please let me know if I can do anything for you."

"Thanks," Ariana replied appreciatively, seeing him out.

Ariana picked up her list of people to contact regarding the funeral and reached over to begin her calls. Before she could pick up the receiver, the phone rang and she answered, "Hello, Ariana Holland speaking."

"Ari. You've been on my mind all day. Just had to call you and catch up on the latest," chimed the bubbly voice of Karen Tullos, Ariana's close friend who was in graduate school at the University of Texas in Austin.

Without skipping a beat Karen proceeded, "I just wrote an essay about the pranks we used to play on Mrs. Glisson in high school and it got me thinking of all the fun we've had. And oh, Ari, I've finally found him---I've fallen head-over-heels with the most intriguing guy you have ever laid eyes on in your life. He's got the piercing-blue eyes of Daniel Day-Lewis and the butt of Brad Pitt. Now, tell me how can you ask for a better combination. He is brooding at times but hey, the chemistry is unbelievable. I can't wait for you to meet him. What do you think about us driving to Taylorville this weekend? Is it good for you?"

Ariana interrupted Karen's stream-of-conscious chatter with a sigh and dread at having to explain the circumstances of Me-Me's passing. "Karen, I have some very bad news. Me-Me... died today."

Silence followed on the other end of the line, as if Karen took the needed time to collect her thoughts and absorb the shocking news. Tearfully, she apologized, "Oh, Ari, why didn't you interrupt my babbling? Here I am carrying on about my life and you're going through this crisis. God, I am so sorry. I know you don't feel like talking about it now, but I would like to come to the funeral. Please let me know when the arrangements are made and let me know if there's anything I can do to help."

"Thanks, Karen. You're right. I don't feel like talking about it right now and I appreciate your understanding. I promise to let you know as soon as the arrangements are made."

"And, Ari, I do want you to know how much I loved Me-Me. She was a very special lady."

"Thank you. I know you loved her and she loved you like a granddaughter."

"Bye, Ari. Take care."

"Thanks for calling, Karen."

For a few minutes Ariana's grief subsided but it soon returned full force and she ran into her bedroom and threw herself across the bed, sobbing.

CHAPTER THREE

Raindrops dripped from the thick, green tarpaulin and the satin-robed priest murmured the last words of the grave side service, "In principio erat Verbum...Gratia et Veritas per Jesum Christum facta est." He lowered his head and made the sign of the cross on his chest, his vessel whipping around his neck from the wind.

Ariana rose from her folded chair to place a pink rose on Me-Me's coffin. The sweet floral scent wafted up, comforting Ariana and reminded her of how sweet life was for her grandmother. No matter what the hardship, Me-Me always took time out to tend and to smell the roses, appreciating them as a perfection of nature. Her garden abounded with multi-varied species, fragrances and color. The pale pink Tiffany Roses always captured the attention of the Rose Society and took first place as Me-Me’s favorite. It was only fitting that she be buried with roses.

Ida sat next to Ariana, her hands folded and her head down, as still as a statue. Ariana sank back in her chair, whispering her last words to Me-Me. She heard a rustle next to her and looked up to find Graham sitting there, safely ensconced in his double breasted suit and tie, his back stiff and straight as if he had a metal rod for a spine.

He was a nice enough looking man but there was a stiffness about him that she wanted to shake up, mellow a bit, and a coldness about him that she was determined to warm up. Yes, that would definitely be her project over the course of the next year. And a challenge it would be. Life had been a series of challenges for Ariana. Maybe that was why she was always attracted to one--sort of like a difficult algebra problem, she thought to herself. She couldn't leave it until it was solved--correctly.

"I'm sorry I had to be late like this," he apologized awkwardly. "I was delayed by the Fraser case and caught the earliest plane out on stand-by." He patted her hand as if in a gesture of reassurance, "But at least I'm here."

Ariana managed a half-smile and nodded, but a chill rushed through her like a March wind, leaving a residue of discomfort. How hard could it be to change a court docket time? Was the case more important than attending Me-Me's funeral? Is this how I'm going to be living the rest of my life--catering to Graham's schedule--even in the event of death? Frissons of doubt followed the path of the March wind and she shuddered as she attempted to keep them at bay.

Well, at least he's here. He could have made an excuse not to be here at all, a part of her protested silently in his defense. Who am I to be so judgmental, she chastised herself.

"Ariana, why is the maid sitting on the family row here? Don't you think that's a tad inappropriate?" He whispered, his breath sending waves of repulsion through her.

Ariana stiffened, anger threatening to erupt from the recesses, her shoulders hitting the back of the chair with a force. Leave it to Graham to worry about social protocol at a time like this. "Ida's not the maid, she's part of the family and has been for years. Ida was Me-Me's closest confidante and she deserves to sit exactly where she is," Ariana hissed through tight lips, and making another vow to lower his socially elite attitude a peg or two. Another project to the future-to-do list.

Although visibly irritated, and wanting to add that Ida had much more right to be on the front row than he did, Ariana bit her tongue and refrained. Now was not the time for a knock-down-drag-out argument with Graham. This was not the time to stir up emotional conflicts. The heightened sense of grief would only supercharge the problems, making them more difficult to work through later, she thought, still working to quell her irritation with Graham.

The pall bearers struggled to lower the casket into the ground and the saxophone played the Catholic Song of Death, a sweet harmony of saxophones and bagpipes, comforting in itself. Everyone kneeled for the prayer and fingered their rosary beads. At this moment the sky opened up to send down torrents of rain as the wind whipped the cold moisture straight into the tent. Ariana felt strangely comforted that the weather was commiserating with her spirit. She would have been angry had the sun chosen to shine as Me-Me was laid to rest. That would have been an irreverent testament to Me-Me's life.

Graham leaned over and whispered in her ear, "I hate to do this to you, but I'm going to have to leave so I can catch the next plane back to Phoenix. The Smalley case is scheduled for tomorrow and I have to do the last minute preparations.

"No problem," Ariana responded, her voice flat and devoid of emotion. And the truth of the matter was, she really didn't care. When Graham wasn't around, she didn't have to deal with the doubts and fears that crept in like little spiders, threatening to spin their webs of negativity over her heart.

Graham slunk out quietly, just as he had arrived. Ida, seemingly oblivious to all that had been going on around her, reached for Ariana's hand and squeezed it in a gesture of understanding and concern.

Ariana flushed with hot embarrassment over the thought that Ida may have overheard the remark Graham made about her seating position. Ida always seemed to pick up more than she acknowledged. It was almost as if she had a highly developed personal radar system. She saw things other people missed--seemingly subtle things that always turned out to be ever important.

* * * * *

Even though Dakota drove as fast as he dared on the rain slick streets, he knew he'd arrive a little late for the graveside services. He'd arranged to meet Monty in the back. Ariana gave the appearance of holding up well, but he was worried about her. It was amazing how this woman had wrapped herself around his heart in such a short period of time. But was anyone safe around him anymore? Had Wade cast such a hex on him that everyone he touched turned to death? No, Dakota resolved, I'm going to win this one. I just have to keep the antennae up and cranking at all times. This viper could strike anywhere and at anytime. But he's not going to win the game.

"Dad-gummit," Dakota said, the red lights at the train track started flashing and the gates dropped down. He turned the radio on to his favorite country and western station and Garth Brooks serenaded him with "The Dance". Dakota drummed his fingers on the steering wheel in rhythm to the beat, singing the words along with Garth Brooks, and glanced around.

An odd sense of familiarity washed over him when he peered at the man in the truck next to his. His pulse raced and he strained to see the features under the shadows. Was it...could it be. No, it couldn't be. His heart pounded and he broke into a sweat by the time the guard rails flew up. Now Dakota's heart stopped as the man slowly turned to face Dakota. There was no mistaking that face. And the demented smile that spread slowly across the face--an ear-to-ear, bare-all-the-teeth smile. A smile with that insidious space between the front teeth that looked like an extra tooth belonged there. It was him. The Devil himself. Terrence Wade.

The truck sped ahead of Dakota, fishtailing from one side of the road to the other, taunting him, daring him to take the bait. With the adrenaline flowing, Dakota slammed the accelerator down full throttle and began the inevitable chase. Damn this animal. Dakota knew he was falling right into this man's trap. He was certain Wade had planned this confrontation meticulously--right down to the timing of the train. Wade was probably waiting in ambush right now. He wouldn't stop short of anything, was afraid of nothing. "Calm down," Dakota said to himself. "He's just playing with you." He slowed the car down, tamping down his anger. No, I don't need to chase him, Dakota thought. I've got to get a grip or I'm going to fall right into his trap. Dakota turned down the road and headed toward the cemetery.

* * * * *

The rain let up and the sky quickly turned blue again as the haze vanished. Making their way toward the back of the tent, Ariana spotted Dakota and Dr. Harris. She couldn't help but notice how dashing Dakota looked in his navy blue suit and tie. "How thoughtful of you two to come today," she said as she approached them, extending her hand in welcome.

"It's the least we can do," Dakota said, taking her hand in his, letting it linger for just a few extra seconds.

"We just wanted you to know that you have our deepest sympathy," Dr. Harris added kindly.

"Ariana, we are having a spring round-up at the ranch tomorrow with a Texas barbecue, complete with rodeo games and horseshoes. If you're up to it, we'd love to have you. The weather is supposed to be beautiful--it should be a great day for riding if you can stand a little mud," smiled Dakota. "Of course, I understand it might be too soon..."

Hesitating only for a moment, Ariana surprised herself by saying, "Well, yes--I'd like that, as a matter of fact. I think that's just the medicine the doctor ordered. You'll need to give me directions on how to get to the ranch."

"It's a bit tricky to find your first time out...tell you what. Just to be on the safe side, I'll come by and pick you up. How's that?"

"Great," Ariana replied, warming at the thought of spending an afternoon riding with Dakota.

"Ariana," Dr. Harris stepped up, pulling her aside. "May I have a minute with you?"

"Sure," Ariana replied, curious as to the reason for his concern. "Have you received any of the test results back?"

"Yes, I have. And the conundrum keeps growing. The tests showed a high level of lead in her system. It looks like she died of brain encephalopathy due to acute lead poisoning."

"She lived in an old house. Is it possible she could have gotten lead poisoning from old leaded paint?" Ariana tried to stay calm and logical, in control, and rule out every possibility of a natural death.

"I'm afraid not, Ariana. Acute lead poisoning exhibits certain symptoms. The type of lead poisoning that Me-Me experienced was very quick and immediate, rather than a slow build up of lead in her system over a long period of time."

"Well, how do you think she was poisoned and was it deliberate?" Ariana asked, feeling shock waves tear through her body at the thought that Me-Me may have been murdered.

"Ariana, is there anyone you know who may have had a reason to harm Me-Me? Is there a person or people who would have something to gain from her death?"

"No!" Ariana implored. "Everyone loved Me-Me. And Me-Me loved everyone. But we are going to get to the bottom of this. Accident or no accident, we are going to find the answers."

"I'll talk to you more about it Monday. Can you come by my office early Monday morning?"

"Sure. What time?"

"Eight o'clock."

"I'll be there."

Ariana stepped over to Dakota. "Thanks again for the support today. I'll be looking forward to the round-up."

"Your welcome. I'll see you tomorrow. Bye, Ariana." Dakota walked away with Monty.

"Ariana?" A familiar voice from behind her beckoned.

Karen embraced her with a big hug, wiping the tears as she held Ariana tight. "I am so glad to see you, Airhead, but I'm so sorry about the Me-Me."

"I know. Me, too. But I'm so glad you're here. You just don't know how much it means to me. Hey, where's the mysterious man in your life? I thought he was going to drive you here."

"He did. And he is in town. But he said that funerals are private affairs and that he would drop me off, visit some friends and pick me up later at Town Square."

"Well, let's go warm up with some coffee. There's a shop right across the street." Ariana took her arm and they walked to Lady Maple's Coffee Emporium."

"So how are you, kiddo?" Karen asked as she scrutinized Ariana's face.

"Holding up," Ariana answered, debating about whether to share the disturbing news Dr. Harris had just delivered. She decided it would be best to keep the information to herself until she knew more.

"So how is life at the University of Texas great grad School?" Ariana asked, wanting to turn the conversation to Karen, as they slipped into a booth with cushions made of vinyl as green as old linoleum floors.

"Fun. Interesting. Exciting. Exhausting. What more can I say?" said Karen, as the waitress poured their steaming cups of coffee. "I burn the midnight oil every night of my life now. The English Department is as rough as they come. They are preparing us all to write for the New Yorker. Some of us just want to write for ourselves."

"Do you remember Rebecca Gold Jypsun from Charleston, South

Carolina?" Ariana mimicked in a soft voice barely above a whisper.

Karen reared her head back and laughed, "How could I forget our idol? I remember us racing to class to make sure we always had a front row seat for her lecture. She was so beautiful--absolutely stunning, in an ageless sort of way, with that creamy skin and perfect bone structure. And she had a voice like liquid honey."

"I remember the time she read to us out of a Virginia Woolf novel and when she got to her favorite passage, she started crying," Ariana said wistfully. "I think it made us all aware of the power of words. Something shifted in me that day."

"Here's to the good ol’ days," said Karen, lifting her coffee cup for a toast and smiling.

Karen had a way of making Ariana feel better, even on the darkest day of her life.

"So tell me about Graham! Have you set a date for the wedding?" Karen asked, leaning forward on her elbows, light brown hair falling forward in her face.

"August third," replied Ariana tersely, folding her arms stiffly across her chest, definitely not in the mood for talking about Graham. "And I would really be honored for you to be my maid-of-honor."

"Why, I'd be right proud," Karen answered in her best "southern lady" drawl. Just let me know what I can do to help. I'd love for you to come to Austin to visit between now and the wedding. As a matter-of-fact, there are some great bridal boutiques where you can shop for a dress. How about it?"

"I'll do it," Ariana said with a half smile, wishing she could muster up more enthusiasm for this major life event.

* * * * *

Dakota's back ached and his feet hurt from the long day. When he saw the E-Mail light flashing, dread overshadowed him. Another chess game. He pulled up the message:

Yes, it was me you saw in town. Were you surprised? I should think not! After all, I am the master chess player. You can't win. I am in town on legitimate business. Guess you can't guess what! And that business is real close to your new good lookin' little friend you've become so tight with in the last few days. Pretty little thing I might say. Hope she stays that way.

This one should give your gum shoes and trench coat a little work-out. (You'll need them today!). Until we meet again...

Check, Mate,

Black Knight

Sweat poured from his brow, dripping down onto his collar as he fought to keep his anger and fears in check. Not fear for himself, but for the people he loved. This evil personified could destroy his life and everyone he loved. No, he wouldn't let it happen. Dakota would gather his whirlwind of strength, rally all his forces, and focus all his energy on winning this game. He couldn’t afford to lose, the price was too much to pay.

* * * * *

The ranch never changed, not as far as Dakota could remember. Inherited from his grandparents, his parents had been meticulous in preserving the farm's original flavor. The land captivated the best of the outdoors--dense trees and foliage combined with wide open spaces, clear blue sky and fresh air. The scent of honeysuckle mingled with the sweet aroma of lilac drifted up to greet Ariana and Dakota.

Ariana inhaled deeply, savoring the oxygen. "Who needs aroma therapy when you can have this?" She folded her arms, embracing herself as she luxuriated in the natural surroundings. The scent of pine compelled her to grab several fallen needles and sweep them under her nose.

Ariana closed her eyes and said, "Did you know that if you ever get lost in the forest, you can boil pine needles and drink the fluid to survive? Pine needles are chock full of vitamin C. That will keep you going for awhile."

"Our very own pine needle cocktail," Dakota answered with a smile, all the while holding the dense foliage back for her to walk through. The thought of being lost in the wilderness for two weeks with Ariana sent darts of pleasure coursing through him.

"Intoxicating, isn't it?" Dakota said, smiling as he watched Ariana drink in the surroundings. Somehow he knew she'd appreciate his piece of paradise. In spite of the corporate, fast-paced nature of her profession, she exhibited a deep love and appreciation of nature. It was important to Dakota that the woman in his life share a love of all things wild. Being in nature was second to being next to God. In fact, it may be one and the same, he thought. But he needed to stop thinking in terms of a future relationship with Ariana--it could be dangerous to her health--or her life.

"Uncle Kota, Uncle Kota," Chelsea screamed as she ran and jumped in her favorite Uncle's arms.

"Hey, how's my favorite blonde," Dakota said as he ruffled Chelsea's curls.

"Uncle Kota, come play Ride the Beast with me. You be the beast and I'll be the rider. Make him roar!" Blue-eyed , blonde-haired Chelsea, a perfect in-the-flesh version of a porcelain Dresden doll, pulled him to the ground with mock strength. It was obvious to Ariana that she was skilled in mounting ponies--she draped her legs athletically over Dakota's back and had no fear of falling off the bull, or bucking bronco it seemed to be.

"Sure," Dakota said as he rolled his eyes in mock disgust at Ariana. Loud roaring accompanied the beasts attempts to throw her off. He slowly rose up on his haunches and seemed to acquire a second wind. This time he bucked back, Chelsea sliding down his back, barely hanging on. Without a pause, she jumped right back on, giving him a run for his money.

Dakota finally collapsed in a heap in the middle of the floor, with melodramatic huffing and puffing. "I give up. Count to ten and you win, Chels. That means you get to pick the next game and go first."

Ariana could tell that he was loving it though. Her heart warmed at seeing his playfulness with his niece. It brought to mind her strong and increasing desire to have children of her own. But would Graham be a good father? Would he be available to his children or would Ariana end up feeling like the proverbial "single-married mom", accepting all the responsibility for her children's' upbringing and activities because her husband was too busy being a workaholic. Instinctively sensing it was the latter, she resolved to put it out of her mind. After all, she had the power to change things, even Graham. She could melt him with her caring and concern so that he would want to change, want to be with her and their children. Besides, she was projecting into the future. She needed to be in this moment--now, and enjoy her newly-budding friendship with Dakota.

Men and women could be just friends, although she’d had many an argument, late into the night, with her friends about sexual tension interfering with a friendship between a male and female. But sexual attraction needn’t interfere. If it existed, it could be reined in and controlled, no problem.

Her body warmed, her heartbeat quickened and a flush washed over her at the thought of sexual tension–it spelled Dakota. Yes, it was definitely there, in more than its share, but she would keep it to herself. The flush she felt pooled between her thighs, slowly forming a slow burn. Dakota looked up at her with those intense, brown eyes and stoked the fire. All of a sudden she felt self-conscious, as if he could read her mind, and her face burned.

Not seeming to notice, and exhausted after his play with Chelsea, Dakota grabbed Ariana's hand and walked over to the picnic tables. It looked like everyone in town had come out for the barbecue and fun.

Laney walked over and took Ariana's hand, "Ariana, I'm so glad to meet you. Dakota has told us so much about you."

"Oh?" Ariana asked casting a sidelong glance at Dakota.

Dakota's skin turned a deep brick red under his rugged tan. Could that be a blush, thought Ariana. "It's nice to meet you, too."

Ariana liked Laney. They clicked immediately. Very natural in appearance and her style of dress--blue jean cut-offs and Birkenstock sandals, Laney did not look stuffy and overdone like most doctor's wives, nor did she appear to be caught up in the trappings of success that usually accompany material wealth. She knew instantly they would become friends.

Dakota intercepted, "Let's go hitch up the horses, Ariana. It's time for our trail ride. You're going to love the scenery. There's a bluebonnet clearing not too far from here that's absolutely spectacular. Are you ready?"

"I'm game." Ariana adjusted her riding boots and followed Dakota to the barn.

The traditional barn odors, manure and animal, excited Ariana. It had been far too long since she indulged herself in one of her great passions--horseback riding. Fencing challenged her in high school--nerve-wracking at first, she overcame her fears quickly to win the state championship. She'd not tell Dakota for fear of high expectations of her riding skills. Better to start out nonchalant and surprise him pleasantly if the performance went well.

"This is your girl here, Ariana," he said, patting the horse lovingly. "Samantha. She's some kind of gentle horse. I think you two will prove quite compatible. She does spook easily though, her only weakness. So watch out for other animals that might scare her and send her off running."

"No problem," Ariana said, nonplused, already caressing the beautiful chestnut covered animal with long, smooth strokes.

"I'll take Goldsmith, the Palomino. He thinks very highly of himself--the horse with an overinflated ego. He can be volatile and unpredictable at times. He could definitely use some counseling. I'm sure he'll think very highly of you." He grinned as he saddled the horse.

Ariana, guiding Samantha out of the barn, thought about the ride to the ranch. She felt so comfortable and relaxed with Dakota--she hadn't remembered feeling like that in a long time. And the sense of fun--they'd laughed raucously over the most trivial things on the way over. She could almost palpate the chemistry between them--she'd have to be careful. The attraction could be a problem. No, Ariana fought herself, it doesn't have to be a problem. Men and women are certainly capable of establishing and maintaining platonic friendships without the interference of sexuality. She hoped. It would certainly be sad to have to eliminate half the population of the world as potential friends just in case the sexual tension popped up. No, it can be done. And this friendship with Dakota is the perfect example, she reassured herself.

"Let's do it," Dakota said, leading Goldsmith up behind her.

* * * * *

To Ariana's relief, the mare accepted her as a rider, and her riding legs came back quickly. Dakota's mood was quiet and contemplative during the ride. He couldn't help but notice how luscious Ariana looked in her riding jeans and red and white checked shirt with a bandanna around her hair. He watched her lean forward on the horse, hair flying and a look of total concentration on her beautiful face. She and the horse rode in unison--in sync as one fluid movement.

He thought about how easily the conversation flowed, about how comfortable he'd been with her on the ride out to the ranch. There was no doubt in his mind where he wanted this relationship to go. It felt so right. He'd just have to keep a check on himself not to get in too deep too fast. He didn't want to scare her off. And he wanted to be certain he wasn't overreacting to his ability to feel emotion again after Cara's death. Yes, he'd have to keep close tabs on himself, pulling back the reins if necessary.

"There's a jump up ahead. I'm going to go for it. You can go around it on the trail if you'd feel more comfortable," Dakota said, nudging the horse with his heels and leaning forward as the horse picked up speed.

"Are you kidding? I'm right behind you!" Ariana laughed, giving her horse a gentle dig to spur him on. This little game could turn into a competition quickly. The joy in her bubbled to life again as her competitive spirit rose up from the depths.

Dakota laughed, spurring his horse into a run. He should have known. This woman had spunk! Whoa, slow down, Dakota! Pull those reins back on your heart. You're just experiencing a bit of deprivation anxiety. Overreaction is what this is called, boy.

Right after he made the jump, he saw the movement in the bushes out of the corner of his eye. Then he heard the rustle just as Ariana was readying to make her jump. Samantha whinnied and stopped cold in the middle of the leap, causing Ariana to fall off the back of the horse. She crashed into the bushes, back first, then rolled onto her side. Dakota jumped off his horse and ran to Ariana. Please, God, let her be okay.

"Ariana, are you all right?" he said as he picked her up and carried her over to a mound of pine straw in the clearing. He lifted her arm up and felt every inch up its length, all the while asking her if it hurt."

"I'm fine," she assured him. "Just a little dazed. What happened?"

"There must have been an animal in the bushes that spooked the horse." Dakota spoke what he hoped to be true. Terrence Wade surely could not have followed them all the way out here. Dakota assured himself that it must have been a rabbit. He had to quit looking for the devil around every tree and bush. He would have to remember to be on guard every second though. This had been a good lesson in keeping the stealth. On guard and ready was the order of the day, needed or not.

"I've got some water in my canteen. Why don't you take a some." Dakota walked over to Goldsmith, taking his pack off the back and drew the canteen out.

"Thanks," Ariana said, adjusting herself up to a more comfortable position on her elbows.

Dakota gently lifted the container to her lips and Ariana drew a long, cool sip. She rested her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes for a few minutes. His arm brushed Ariana's when he placed the canteen on the ground, sending an electric arc up his spine. He reached over, pulled a piece of straw from her hair, and gently began caressing her hair. With their legs touching, he began to feel the heat rising in his groin.

Impulsively, he cupped her head in his hands and ran his fingers through her silken hair. She tilted her head toward his invitingly and her lips were ripe for the taking. He gently lowered his lips toward hers, nipping them at first, then tracing them with his tongue.

She opened her mouth for him with readiness as he let his tongue slowly explore the slick wet surface of the inside of her lips. His breathing became faster and heavier as he plunged his tongue into her mouth. He felt his manhood swell in response to the exquisite sensations that were permeating every cell of his body. Powerful feelings plowed their way to the surface, threatening to rip out of him, and he felt as if he would explode. He felt every part of his being drawn to this woman.

Ariana felt her skin grow hot and her body seemed to take over in response to the kiss. She could feel the liquid heat pooling in her loins and knew that she had never experienced this kind of sensation in her life, this depth of feeling. Feelings forged their way through layers of her that she had not known existed. She had the wildest desire to pull Dakota on top of her, as she thrust her tongue ever deeper into his mouth, not being able to get enough of him. She knew that if she didn't stop now, she'd be in trouble. Breathing hard and shaking, she pulled away weakly.

"I'm sorry," Dakota stammered. "I had no right to do that." He drew away from her, head in his hands, then looked up at her sheepishly.

"Don't apologize," said Ariana softly. "I was a willing participant. But I really think we'd better go back." She looked away from him but not before she noticed the tenderness in his eyes.

"I think you're right," Dakota said, preparing the horses for the return trip to the ranch, relieved that she had made the decision.

Awkwardness quickly took over where the heat had been, Dakota thought. The tenderness he felt for her went far deeper than mere sexual attraction. Had he blown it with her, though? Had he come on too strong? It had seemed the most natural act on earth to reach over and kiss her. It was as if he couldn’t not have done–couldn’t have lived with himself if he had let the moment slip away and not acted. But would he live to regret it? Would she run like the scared rabbit in the bushes?

Time could only tell. He’d back off, let her slowly absorb what had happened, what was happening, between them and follow the path of her heart. He would be right behind her, just in case.

During the quiet, uneventful ride back, they both stole shy glances at each other, excitement and discomfort at the changed status of their relationship filling their thoughts. Ariana was overwhelmed by the force of her attraction to this man. A tidal wave of emotion washed over her and she tried to swim through it to the other side---against the current.

* * * * *

Ariana and Dakota basked in the glow that surrounded them during their drive back to the mansion. The sweet silence communicated so much more than words, but Ariana knew they had to talk. A knot of tension formed in her stomach as she thought about the conversation that loomed ahead of her. It was time to tell Dakota about her fiancé--about the fact that she was engaged to be married and had every intention of carrying it out.

"Dakota, we need to talk," Ariana said as she cleared her throat and avoided his gaze.

Dakota smiled at her and reached over to rub her neck affectionately. "Yes, we do. There are so many things we need to talk about. You pick the subject and let's talk about it. There's nothing coming through those lips of yours that won't intrigue me. In fact, everything about you intrigues me."

He kept his glowing eyes on her as long as he could before turning them back to the road.

Squirming with discomfort and weighted by an albatross around her neck, Ariana sighed, "Dakota, what happened today was really special."

"Are you referring to the ride, the fall or the kiss?" he laughed, his eyes twinkling.

He was not making this easy for her, Ariana thought. "What I meant was...I've never experienced these kind of feelings before...not in my whole life. But what happened between us today cannot happen again. Dakota, I'm engaged to be married in August. I should have told you before but the subject never came up and it was not really relevant to anything."

Dakota inhaled deeply and gripped the steering wheel tightly with both hands. He stared intently at the road ahead, his jaw working up and down like an oil derrick, his eyes taking on the hard cast of gray metal. The playful spark that had been so apparent just seconds before was quickly replaced by a cold chill.

"I saw the ring but I guessed that it was an heirloom of your grandmother's. I suppose that was wishful thinking on my part. That was what I wanted it to be. Ignorance is bliss as the saying goes...something like that."

Ariana had no excuses and no explanations. Bereft of words, her heart felt like a boulder. An interminable silence descended on them--the kind of silence that seems to drag on forever. The kind of silence that creates a gulf between two people.

"Do you love him?" Dakota asked, his voice tight with emotion.

"What do you mean, do I love him?" Ariana answered defensively. "He's a respectable, intelligent man whom I admire very much. He has a thriving law practice and I think we'll make great life partners. We've known each other for a long time."

"I didn't ask for his resume', I asked if you loved him," Dakota said evenly.

Anger bubbled up from deep in Ariana's soul. She felt exposed and didn't like it one bit. She wanted to stay within her protective, logical little shell and ward off any of these emotional demons she found so fleeting and unreliable.

"Dakota, I am very attracted to you. I'm still somewhat in a daze about what happened between us today. But attraction doesn't mean action. And I'm not going to cause someone I care about pain because of some silly infatuation with another person."

A look of pain streaked across Dakota's face and she noticed his eyes darken. "Is that what you think this is?"

"To tell you the truth, I don't know what it is. But I'm a realist, and the reality is that I'm engaged to be married to Graham Browne on August third. I have no intention of not honoring that commitment."

"Ariana, what happened today, as much as you're trying to discount it, was an expression of something rare and beautiful that some people never experience in a lifetime. I don't know where it will go but I sure would like to find out. I respect the fact that you’re engaged and I respect your principles, but things happen. People make the wrong decisions sometimes. Some relationships can be good for awhile but for some reason turn sour or crash and burn. What you didn't say about your fiancé a minute ago tells me everything about the way you really feel, whether you'll admit it to yourself or not. You don't love him, do you?"

"I...I...," Ariana tried to explain as she burst into tears. Confusion roiled up in her like boiling water in a cauldron. "I didn't know what passion was until I met you. I've wanted to feel that all my life and it never happened. I didn't think I was capable of it so I didn't seek it anymore. I decided to settle for warm companionship. This passion thing is new and it feels glorious, but I don't know much about it. What I do know about is commitment. I'll never break a vow that I've made to someone, no matter what my feelings dictate. Feelings come and go, commitment and reliability are concrete and tangible."

Dakota sighed, seemingly in resignation, "Ariana, you have to live your own life. You can't be beholden to something you have no control over."

"That's easy for you to say. You've never been faced with this, I'm sure," Ariana said, reaching into her backpack for a

Kleenex."

Dakota leaned further back in the driver's seat, his back as rigid as a steel rod, right arm straight, hand on top of the wheel. His eyes never wavered from the road. Fatigue etched his face, and tight muscles Ariana had not noticed before revealed the magnitude of his strain. Bloodshot eyes caught her gaze for a split second.

"Ariana, there's something about me that you should know now, too. I was married for three years. He paused for a moment, his lower lip twitching slightly, and he took a deep breath, as if to get his bearings. "Cara was her name. We met in college, fell in love, got married. We were like two peas in a pod; we could finish each others sentences, that kind of thing. Our love was nice and comfortable, like a good, soft pillow that’s hard to sleep without at night. One day at high noon, about a year and a half ago, she walked out of the grocery store and was shot and killed---a deranged former cop with a 357 Magnum and a rage he couldn't contain. And it was over. I thought my life was over, that I would never be normal or feel again. Until now. From the moment I saw you in the hospital cafeteria, I felt the stirring of life inside of me---for the first time in a long time–and it gave me hope. What I'm feeling right now is so special that I can't even find the words to describe it. I know it's really too soon to say these things but I feel what I feel, it is what it is."

Shocked by the gruesome revelation, Ariana turned pale and a fresh batch of tears rolled down her face. This time they weren't for her but for the man sitting next to her who had been through so much pain. She suddenly felt small and petty. She'd been thinking only of her needs, her guilt, and her life, and not how her actions had affected him.

"I'm so sorry, Dakota," Ariana managed to say, her voice small and hoarse from the tears. "I didn't know."

"I don't want sympathy from you, Ariana. The point I was trying to make is that life is too short to let happiness elude you. It can be here today and gone tomorrow. Life can turn on a dime. You have to grab it with gusto when it's in front of you. My philosophy is---if you don't live your life authentically, it's a wash. Intentionally inflicting pain on someone is one thing but following the natural course of life and relationship changes is another. I've talked enough. I rest my case."

After a lapse of time, Ariana regained control over her emotions. The seconds seemed to tick into eternity. Slowly, she responded, "You are very sophistic in your reasoning, Dakota, and quite convincing. But this is the way it has to be. My feelings are too deeply ingrained to change. I don't think there's anything further to discuss about our personal relationship. I want to remain friends with you and I hope the friendship grows. God knows, I need a friend right now, and I think you do, too. But there can't be anything else. By the way stubbornness is another of my character flaws. Actually, hard headed is the better term. I blame it on my Irish blood."

"I must confess, I've been accused of having a stubborn streak, too, so in that way, we’re a good match. But I can't blame it on Irish blood--I think I was just born with a will of iron that won’t budge."

Ariana continued, "There is something else I'd like to discuss with you---business. I'd like to hire you to investigate Me-Me's death. Dr. Harris seems to think it may have been some type of lead poisoning that caused her death. The question is whether it was accidental or deliberate and who was responsible. I won't feel any peace until I get to the bottom of it. Will you take the case?"

"I'd be privileged to take the case, Ariana. But I won't deny my feelings for you. I'll make a promise to you, though. As long as you feel the way you feel now I won't act on those feelings. If you ever have a change of heart, let me know. And no matter what direction this relationship takes, and I do hope someday it takes the high road, I do very much want to be your friend."

"Thank you, Dakota," Ariana said, relief flooding over her. But she couldn't figure out why she suddenly felt like a deflated hot air balloon, with the old rubber collecting in a wad at the bottom of her stomach..

CHAPTER FOUR

Ariana fumbled awkwardly at the lock on the massive wooden door in an attempt to answer the incessant ringing of the phone before the party hung up. The dark, quiet house was empty---Ida must have left already. She'd told Ariana earlier that she was planning to take the weekend off to attend a family reunion in Louisiana.

Ariana groped at the air, catching the cord hanging from the wall phone at first swipe.

"Ariana," Graham's voice boomed, "I wanted to check on you and see how things are going. Sorry I had to make such a rapid exit from the funeral. I finished the preliminary work on the cases today, sooner than I thought, so I'll have a window of opportunity to work on Me-Me's estate settlement."

"Good," replied Ariana in a detached, business-like manner. "And I guess this is as good a time as any to talk with you about Me-Me's death. Something isn't right, Graham. Dr. Harris found high levels of lead in her system. He seems to think there’s a link between the lead in her system and her death. I've hired a private investigator to work on the case."

For a moment, all Ariana heard was silence from the other end. "I think you're losing it, Ariana," Graham exclaimed, condescendingly. "Are you implying that she may have been murdered?"

"Dr. Harris thinks she was poisoned---inadvertently or purposefully. I want a full investigation, with or without your support," Ariana said, her tone of voice unwavering.

Graham guffawed. "It sounds to me like you need a psychologist rather than a private investigator. I think your imagination is getting the best of you. She was old, Ariana," Graham argued. "She'd lived her life. Just let it go at that. What you need is some rest. You've been under so much stress lately, dear. I want you to go to bed now and forget all those crazy notions about Me-Me being murdered. Ha! What a preposterous notion. Imagine someone wanting to murder an eighty-year old woman. What could possibly be the motive?"

"That's what I intend to find out," said Ariana, unwavering. "And I'd appreciate it if you didn't patronize me, Graham."

"Listen," said Graham, toning it down an octave or two, "I'm going to finish up the essentials here for the week and catch a flight to Taylorville on Friday. I'll call you and let you know what time you need to pick me up at the airport."

"Okay, Graham," said Ariana, "but I'm going ahead with my plans to hire the P.I., with or without your approval."

"Suit yourself," Graham replied with disdain.

* * * * *

Dakota sneezed, straining at the computer screen, his eyes fatigued from spending the day doing some routine preliminary work on Me-Me's case. The dust bunnies in his apartment were hopping around today, taking on a life of their own, and seeming to procreate in accordance with their reputation. He'd really have to get after them soon, but not today. Work came first.

Dakota tapped into a BIAS check on Dr. Walters. Something about the oncologist left him cold and he had been picking up on secondhand rumors that the doctor, though technically brilliant, really wasn't playing with a full deck, or at the very least, had two Jokers in his set of cards.

An interview with a personal friend of the Walters family gave Dakota bits of information about the family as a whole. Dr. John Walters, son of a preacher man---the only child in his nine sibling family to finish college. His father preached fire and brimstone sermons from the pulpit. At home he wielded dominion over his submissive wife, all the while carrying his open bible in his hand, licking his finger before turning to the passage which supported each tirade. All the while his wife cowered in the corner, fear of retribution keeping her still, especially ‘spare the rod, spoil the child’ passage. When he quoted ’submit to your husband, head of the house’ she broke out in a sweat--she knew she’d be next in line to feel the rod on her back. In his eyes, quoting these passages justified his actions and qualified him as the tyrannical dictator.

His father disdained academic success, rendering it the hallmark of the devil. Again, another quote would follow ‘Do not get seduced by the intellect...’

Dr. Walters graduated summa cum laude from Texas A&M, then went straight into medical school at Baylor University in Waco. He graduated number one in his class and was the editor for the medical review paper. He was involved in cancer and pharmaceutical research during the year after graduation, then came his decision to specialize in oncology. He did a residency at Parkland Hospital in Dallas, then opened up a private practice in Taylorville. His academic and professional achievements were impeccable, but when it came to his personal life, things started to break down, according to the inside information he'd received from the hospital employees who had worked for him---four marriages, all failures, six children, reports of abuse though no charges had been filed. Pay offs perhaps, Dakota speculated, his wheels spinning in a thousand different directions.

I've got to focus on one area, Dakota thought. My next step is to find out what areas of pharmaceuticals or chemicals he researched and may still be using in his laboratory. I really need to talk with some more people who have worked closely and consistently with him. And I need to get into his lab---not an easy task.

* * * * *

Ariana dashed through the practically empty airport to meet Graham at Gate 10. She passed what she guessed to be a homeless woman huddled in the corner and a mother with a baby stretched out on some chairs---how lonely and impersonal airports could be. She spotted Graham walking toward her in his usual, type A gait. The man's middle name was "speed". He always seemed in such a hurry---eating, gulping down his food, talking as if he were afraid he'd forget the words if he didn't get them out fast enough, and making love, fast and furiously, almost like he was running a marathon. A course taken in time management five years ago left him hell-bent on doing twenty things at one time. Ariana remembered a time when she admired those qualities but now it just made her feel tired---really tired.

He started talking immediately, his expression pinched when she approached. "Hi, Ariana," he said breathlessly, bending his head down to give her the customary peck on the cheek, "I had about twenty phone calls when I tried to leave the office so I brought these two briefcases full of work that absolutely has to be done. I hope you won't mind helping me with it so that I'll have time to work on Me-Me's estate settlement."

"I thought you'd wrapped up the preliminary casework," Ariana said, feeling slightly annoyed and shoved to the back burner.

"I did, but there were some new developments which are going to require more paperwork. I did bring the forms to begin the proceedings for the succession of Me-Me's estate. We'll get to that first. Once we get that process underway we can go ahead and contact the Historical Society about their proposed purchase of the house," Graham said, lengthening his stride.

"Hold on just a minute," Ariana said, stopping in her tracks. "I've not agreed to sell the house. In fact, I plan to keep the house and turn it into a bed-and-breakfast."

Graham stopped and stared down at her, his wire-rimmed glasses falling down his nose. His deep set, coal black eyes shifted back and forth and the corner of his mouth turned up in a snarl while he appraised her with seeming disbelief. Funny she had never noticed those darting eyes before. And they looked to be a murky brown right now--clouded over with something she couldn't quite discern. His mouth curved downward in a pout that resembled an upside-down smile.

Setting his suitcase down on the ground, Graham put his hands on his hips, squaring off with her. "Ariana, you were amenable to the idea when the Historical Society contacted us last year about selling the house. At that time even Me-Me was making noises about selling and moving into a retirement home. Why have you changed your tune all of a sudden?"

"Because I've changed my taste in music, Graham," Ariana said as she squared him head-on, a tit-for-a-tat. I'm sick and tired of jet setting all over the country to make a corpulent corporation even fatter. I'm sick and tired of listening to the pseudo-bureaucratic, self-important bull shit. I want simplicity, I want a home, I want a family and I want children--lots of children. I want a place for them to romp and play and dance and sing--a place where they can see and feel their roots firsthand. And I don't want to give up this place that is so rich with Me-Me and Daddy-Mack. And for the first time in my life, I think, I'm going to do just what I want to do."

Graham shook his head in obvious annoyance. "This is just not like you, Ariana."

"Well, Graham, meet the new Ariana," she said, opening her arms in an uncharacteristically bold gesture.

Graham stood there and stared at her, his mouth gaping open and a puzzled expression on his face, as if thinking she'd lost her wits.

Pulling himself together, he said, "Well, have you given any thought to the fact that I am your fiancé? That I might have a right to a say in this matter since such a decision will impact our lives together after August third."

"Yes, you're right, Graham. I am being selfish. But I've made up my mind to do it and we're just going to have to work from there."

Silently, Graham picked up his briefcase, walked to baggage claim and picked his luggage off the gurney. They walked to the car, isolated from each other by the silent impasse, preoccupied by their own thoughts. Graham leaned over to open the passenger door for Ariana. "You take a rest. I'll drive," he offered as he closed the door behind her.

"Okay," said Ariana absently, dreading the long and seemingly endless evening that stretched before her. This was not fun. But she'd find a way to make things fun. She was going to find that humor in Graham that had to be there, lurking somewhere below that placid surface. Fleeting thoughts of Dakota wisped through her mind, but she pushed them away and tried to concentrate on some of Taylorville's familiar landmarks.

* * * * *

Dakota flipped the television on and crashed onto the couch, emitting a tired sigh, then played musical channels with the remote control. What a week it had been. The work at the agency virtually tripled in the past few days and taking on Me-Me's case added even more to the workload---a high class problem though. He'd spent many a sleepless night before he moved, worrying that no one would want or need his services. He was not used to working in the private sector and having to solicit his own business. He guessed he was not much of a sales or marketing person. Dakota just wanted to cut to the chase and do the job and do it to the best of his ability.

He wondered if he was close to an ethical line by taking on Me-Me's case. P.I. training always enforced keeping a healthy boundary between private life and business. Of course, technically he was not involved with Ariana--so there was no actual breach of ethics there. But the reality of it was that he was in love with her, those ropes he threw up to corral his own heart in hadn't held taut for very long. So he might be in danger of breaching his own ethics by losing his objectivity. Would he spend more time and energy on this case because it was Ariana's?

He sighed as he leaned his head back and brushed his hands through his hair. This much he knew--he would not violate the promise he had given her--but neither would he deny his feelings. God, just walking into the same room she was in ignited him like a raging inferno. What was a man supposed to do? Those luscious lips, that shy smile that grew until it lit her face like a neon sign, the slender curves of her body. Oh, how I would love to consume her.

More important than the breach of ethics was the possibility of putting her in harms way with Terrence Wade by virtue of her association with Dakota. That issue concerned Dakota much more than the ethical dilemma.

Well, he'd better get his mind back to the subject at hand or he'd be forced yet again to take another cold shower. He'd already tired of cold showers. Besides, the law of diminishing returns took effect here. It seemed he took more and more cold showers with less and less results.

Dakota picked up his pencil and yellow pad and began jotting down random notes about Me-Me's case. Possible motives: money, money, money. Money was the one motive that Dakota had found to be universal and central to most crimes. But he struggled with this one because there was no one in the family other than Ariana who stood to gain from Me-Me's death---Ariana was the sole heir. Me-Me disinherited her daughter, Mary Nell, years ago. He tapped his forehead with his pencil, and he tried some other angles. When he hit a dead end he'd learned a long time ago to do a paradigm shift. It was like taking a camera and putting a different lens on it that allows one to see things in a new way.

Who would benefit from Me-Me's death if things were different...directly or indirectly, now or in the future? Suppose, just suppose...

* * * * *

Ariana led Graham into the guest room with the roll top desk where he started spreading out his papers. She went into the kitchen to call in the order for Chinese take-out delivery.

Graham arranged Me-Me's succession papers across the desk neatly. "I can take care of the work-ups. By the way, Ariana, have you reconsidered your preposterous idea about hiring the private detective?"

Ariana stood silent for a moment, trying to control her rising temper, threatening to flow like flood waters over a dam. "Graham, I never said I thought Me-Me was murdered. I simply stated that I have some suspicions about her death, as does Dr. Harris, especially after the test results came in. And yes, in answer to your question, I've already hired a P.I. His name is Dakota Burke, and he's with a firm here in Taylorville. I checked out his credentials, and he came with outstanding recommendations. My decision is final on this one, too, so the less you say the better."

Graham never looked up. He seemed to sense her resolve and knew when to back off.

The doorbell chimes tolled. It must be the food delivery person, Ariana thought, her stomach grumbling at the cue. Suddenly, chow mein soup sounded like a feast fit for a king.

Graham fumbled with his paperwork while they ate dinner. When Ariana finished she cleared off the table and settled back in the recliner, falling asleep almost immediately. When she awoke to the sound of keys clicking on the computer, she looked at the clock and it read 11:00 P.M. Mellowed from her sleep she walked over to Graham and brushed her lips across his forehead. He responded with a wan smile but kept typing.

"I'm going to bed," Ariana said, yawning. "Your bed and towels are on the counter in the bathroom. What time do you think you'll be coming to bed?"

"When I get finished. Not before." replied Graham in a disciplined, do-or-die tone, without looking up from his work.

Ariana fell asleep the minute her head hit the goose-down pillow. The shrill ringing of the phone, menacing at any time of the night, brought her up in bed with a start. It only rang once. Graham must have answered it, she thought drowsily, falling back to sleep instantly.

She awoke with a start. Had she dreamt she heard a thud? The house was quiet as she looked at her clock. It showed 12:00 A.M. Then she heard the sound again--a scraping across a floor upstairs. As Ariana went to turn on the light she heard footsteps on the floor above her. Could it be Graham? As she walked toward the doorway, she heard footsteps coming down the stairs and into the hallway, padding closer and closer. Her heart thudded wildly as she stood frozen in the middle of the room. Before she could move a muscle, a shadowy figure rushed past her and, fast as lightning, darted through the back door of the house.

Ariana's heart beat thundered ferociously in her chest, she thought it would explode any moment. Still shaken, she walked to the phone and dialed 911. "I've got an intruder. Please come immediately," she cried, her voice quivering.

"Is the perpetrator still in the house?" the dispatcher inquired in a calm, professional manner.

"No, I don't think so. I just heard him run out the back door."

"Listen carefully. I want you to put the phone down but don't hang up. I'll stay on the line. I want you to go lock the back door where you think the person ran out. Then come back to the phone and tell me when you're finished. There is a squad car on the way to your house now. They should arrive there in about four minutes. I see your address as 932 East Houston. Is that correct?"

"Yes, okay," said Ariana, now shaking uncontrollably. "I'll go lock the door now."

The kitchen door was wide open when Ariana got to it and she quickly shut it and threw the deadbolt. Then she remembered the phone call and Graham. When she opened the door to the guest room Graham's bed was made up with a note propped up on the pillow.

Darling,

I am so sorry to have to leave like this but an emergency situation has come up. One of my clients, a very influential one and a major account of the firm’s, has committed suicide and the company sent a plane to escort me back to Tucson. I have to attend to this urgent matter immediately.

Love,

Graham

Fear pierced Ariana's heart when she realized she'd been abandoned by Graham--yet again. A vacuum set in--a hollow that needed filling. She picked up the phone and dialed Dakota's number. She really needed him right now.

"Hello," he answered, his voice groggy from sleep.

"Dakota, this is Ariana. I'm sorry to bother you so late but I really need you over here."

"Ariana, what's wrong?" Dakota asked, consternation filling his voice.

"Someone broke into the house. The squad car just pulled up. I've got to let them in," Ariana said as she heard the pounding on the door.

"I'll be right over," he said, barely getting the words out before Ariana heard the click of the receiver.

Seven minutes later Dakota arrived at the door looking disheveled and worried, his shirt still unbuttoned. "Are you okay, baby?" he asked, pulling her close to him and wrapping his arms around her tightly.

"Now I am," she said, comforted by the hard expanse of his chest. The familiar tingle coursed through her. The circumstances didn't seem to matter, she invariably responded physically to this man in ways that never stopped surprising her. "The police are upstairs. They called down a few minutes before you came and said the whole second floor has been ransacked."

"I'm going to check it out," Dakota said. "You stay here."

Ariana sat down on the couch to calm down and get her bearings. It had been an interminable hour of questions with no answers immediately in sight. Tiredness settled over her, but there would be no sleep tonight. Dakota hopped back down the stairs with a puzzled expression on his face.

"It looks to me like someone was looking for a specific object and one that is fairly large. The mattresses were overturned and there were holes poked into the wall with a blunt object---almost as if someone were looking for a trapdoor or some kind of secret compartment. The jewelry boxes were left untouched and the drawers in the chest weren't bothered. Do you have any idea of what they were after?"

"I haven't a clue," Ariana answered, brows knitted and puzzlement filling her voice.

The police officers came down and said they'd finished up their search and written report. "I strongly advise you to be diligent about keeping the doors locked and lights on even when you're gone," said the burly officer in charge. "We'll keep surveillance in the vicinity to watch for any suspicious activity. That's about all we can do at this point. We'll let you know if we come up with anything."

"I'll be here with her, so everything is under control right now," Dakota injected.

"Good. And don't hesitate to call if you see or hear anything suspicious."

"Thanks for responding so quickly," Ariana said, leading them to the door.

After she let the men out and locked the door behind her Ariana asked, "What do you think this is all about? If it wasn't an attempted theft, what were they looking for?"

"It could be anything," Dakota sighed, not wanting to think of the possibility of Terrence Wade being the perpetrator, much less talking to Ariana about it. Alarming her and adding more stress to her life was not what the doctor ordered. "But right now my main concern is you," he said, placing his hands gently on her arms. "I'm going to run you a hot bubble bath, turn on some soft music and you can soak all the worry out of your system for a while."

"Aren't you going a little above and beyond the call of duty here?" she teased, still tense but reassured that everything would be fine.

"This is not my duty. I'm not on the clock. This is called being a friend."

"Well, you've twisted my arm. It's kind of difficult to turn down this kind of pampering." Ariana walked over to double-check the doors, testing the deadbolts.

"You haven't seen anything yet, darlin'."

Ariana grew serious and started to resist, "Now wait a minute, Dakota Burke..." She placed her hands on his chest to push him away.

"No problem. You're safe with me," he defended himself as his hands flew up. "You stay here and rest those pretty blue eyes. I'll return when everything is ready."

Ariana grabbed her fluffy white fleece robe and curled up in the chair with her book. "Just call me when it's ready," she said.

Fifteen minutes later Dakota came back to retrieve her. The scent of vanilla wafting through the house and the strains of Kenny G. had almost lulled her into a comatose state.

"I could get spoiled," she said when he took her hand and guided her into the candle lit bathroom. "Are you this gracious with all your clients?"

"Only the ones with fairy eyes and names like Ariana," he said softly, running a thumb down the side of her cheek.

"Wow, candles in wine bottles. I haven't seen those since the old college days. How romantic!"

"Well, it's romantic by default, I must confess. I had to be a bit resourceful here because I couldn't find any candlesticks. There were plenty of candles but damned if I couldn't find the holders when I needed them. I found these old wine bottles in the linen cupboard so I decided to put them to good use. So take your time and enjoy a nice, leisurely bath. When you're finished we'll top it off with a world famous baby oil back rub, from the maestro himself," Dakota said, replete with the accent and the bow.

"I don't think I've had the pleasure of a baby oil back rub."

"Woman, you are in for a treat," he said with a wink, shutting the bathroom door ever so gently.

Ariana stepped into the tub, sinking down as far as she could go under the bubbles. She loved the sound of the bubbles exploding. With every pop the stress dissipated, just as Dakota had predicted. 'What a fascinating man' was her last thought before she fell asleep in the tub, her head resting back on an inflated bath pillow. When the music stopped she woke up and dried herself off with a fluffy white towel. She threw her terrycloth robe on, tying the knot at her waist.

When she walked into her room, the soft lamplight revealed a turned down quilt and a snicker bar on the bed.

"Not exactly a mint from the Ritz-Carlton but the closest thing I could find to it," Dakota said from his chair in the corner. "Are you ready for your back rub?"

"Am I going to feel like an Italian salad?" Ariana said, giggling.

"Yea, but a little on the wilted side after this is all over and done with. But I promise you, the baby oil is much better than the extra virgin olive oil. Excuse the pun."

"Under the circumstances, you're forgiven," sputtered Ariana, trying to suppress a laugh.

In spite of the stressful events of the evening and the lateness of the hour, Ariana, lighthearted and playful, surged with content. She was going to enjoy this. After all, they were friends and she did trust him.

She stretched out on the bed as Dakota dimmed the lights and pulled the robe down off her shoulders. He squirted the baby oil in the palm of his hands and rubbed them together. When his hands touched her skin the fire melted her being right down to her muscles, ligaments and bone. He massaged each vertebrae along her spine then kneaded the muscles around her shoulders.

"You are a pro," she murmured, "I think you missed your calling."

"Nah, if I did it for money it wouldn't be near as much fun."

In a bold move Ariana turned over and cupped Dakota's face in her hands, drawing his lips down to hers. He tasted like heaven, so masculine, so strong. And he smelled like hers.

Dakota, shocked, responded with hesitation. He'd never expected this. Ariana touched her lips to his again and he accepted the invitation warmly by tracing the border of her lower lip slowly and languorously with his tongue.

"Oh, Ariana," he moaned, "Are you sure about this?"

"Yes, I'm sure. I want this moment with you. I'm never impulsive, Dakota. Let me indulge myself here. I want this chance to be with you. I want you to make love to me. I want to make love to you."

"You know how I feel about you, Ariana. I've made that clear from the beginning. I just don't want you to do anything you'll regret, baby," he said, trailing a finger over her cheekbones.

"I'm not thinking about regrets. I'm not thinking about tomorrow. I just know that right now I want to be with you more than anything in the world. Indulge me."

"Okay, baby," he said. "I'd just like to think that you'll still respect me tomorrow."

"Oh, get out of here," Ariana laughed, slapping him on the cheek playfully.

"Not on your life," he said, pulling the robe away and stretching out on top of her.

Their bodies began their own natural rhythm of closeness as the soft kisses turned hungry. Ariana felt his engorged manhood pressing into her while she swayed in their primal, age-old dance.

Ariana struggled for air, panting, teasing his ear with her short, wet flicks of her tongue.

"Oh, you're making me crazy," he gasped between heavy huffs of breath, his skin feverishly hot against hers.

"What do you say we make ourselves more comfortable," he drawled, wincing as he stood up to unbuckle his belt.

"Wait a minute," Ariana said as she stood up, letting her robe fall to the floor.

"May I have the pleasure?" she asked, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants before he had an opportunity to answer. She gasped as his manhood, engorged and pulsing, pushed forward with a life of its own. She took it in her hands and pressed it against her abdomen.

"Oh, Ariana, you know I love you, don't you? I haven't felt this way in so long." Dakota bent down to kiss her on the head and she pulled him down on the bed. His hands trailed down her neck and gently cupped her breasts, squeezing them ever so softly. His fingers massaged the small pink nubs, causing them to swell into fine points. Her neck arched back as his mouth came down to savor the sweetness of her nipples, preparing her for the best yet to come. Gently his tongue rolled down the center of her body, tracing a line due south, stopping at the thicket defending her rose. He felt her moisture and deep heat, kneading the folds of her rose garden with the tips of his fingers.

She moaned with pleasure and dug her fingers into his back as he tasted of her sweet nectar. Her hips writhed as he cradled her buttocks in his hands and explored her dark, caverns with his tongue. She guided him deeper with her hands and movements and he could feel her body readying for the apex of her delight.

Ariana felt the moisture running down her face and knew she was very close to reaching that height of pleasure she had only dreamed existed. With the last playful thrust of his tongue, she was there, exploding in mid-air. Ariana screamed, a primal noise she didn't even recognize as her own. White heat flooded into every cell of her body and she felt as if she were floating on a cloud somewhere up near heaven.

Dakota showered her with kisses before he entered her gently. "Oh, Dakota," she moaned. "I never knew it could be like this." He smiled and kissed her sensuously on the lips as he began his thrusting motion, slowly at first. They undulated in their own rhythm and he could feel himself climbing the mountain quickly. He let out a cry, "Oh, Ariana," as he shot his fluid again and again for what seemed like an eternity. He then sank down onto her and shuddered.

Still breathing hard, he embraced her. "I love you, lady. I've loved you since the first time I laid eyes on you. Me--the one who has always scoffed at the idea of love at first sight. Ha. That shows to go you--never say never. Never just might come up and bite you," he said, nipping playfully at her ear.

Without warning Ariana broke into deep wracking sobs. "Oh, Dakota, as wonderful as this was, I can't love you. I'm engaged."

"Let's worry about that tomorrow," he replied softly, stroking her hair with his hand. "You've had a rough day. It's 2:00 A.M. and you need some sleep. I need some sleep."

"Okay," she said, one last tear rolling out the corner of her eye.

He spooned up next to her and closed his eyes. Deep sleep overcame them. The kind that had been a long time coming.

CHAPTER FIVE

Dakota jogged along the trail around Lake Ashbourne and soaked up the rays of the morning spring sun. The birds celebrated with song and the flower buds erupted into blooms just for him. All of nature served as a metaphor for what was going on in his heart today. He should discipline his mind back to his work now. As wonderful as the night with Ariana was, he needed to refocus on his job. Easier said than done--for the cerebral to break through the euphoria of the heart. He wanted to savor the afterglow and keep those feelings fresh forever. The memory of their lovemaking made his heart soar and his feet didn't seem to touch the ground. Nothing in his life had ever prepared him for the impact of this woman.

I hope she's not angry because I left before she woke up this morning. He'd watched her sleep for awhile, his heart surging with emotion, but he couldn't stay in bed any longer. He knew if he did, desire would rise up in him again and again, making it that much harder to ever leave this woman's bed. He'd left a note:

Couldn't bear to wake my sleeping beauty.

Hope your dreams have been as sweet as mine.

Love you, Dakota.

He wanted this woman---more than he'd ever wanted anything in his life. A frisson of anxiety crept into his mind when he thought about the inevitable feelings of conflict within her. He was keenly aware of how deep her loyalties ran. She was very committed to the ideal of staying loyal to Graham. How would this all work out? What would she do?

Dakota didn't have answers to those questions--didn't need answers. But he knew the issues that would be in the forefront--that would make or break them as a couple--and he was prepared emotionally to face them. But he would never give up on them getting together--it was right.

Time to get down to business, he thought, walking into his apartment and wiping the sweat from his face with a towel. The first plan of action on the agenda today was to find out more information from the nurses and personnel who treated Me-Me at the hospital. Dakota would start the interviews today. He remembered that one of the nurses in the ICU had pulled him aside and told him there was something she needed to tell him that could be significant. He would track her down first. Donna Matthews was her name.

Another chilling thought snaked its way into his mind. Terrence Wade. Dakota could only hope Wade was in his hibernation state now. But was he endangering Ariana's life now? Would the stakes in Wade's game go up? Were they too high to risk the gamble? His heart plummeted as he knew there was only one answer to that question. Yes. Which brought up a whole new slew of questions--what to do about it.

* * * * *

Ariana finally awoke to Margery, the cat's, purring. She must have slept for years---and a most blissful sleep at that, replete with the most exciting dreams she could ever remember having, and in color! Rainbow dreams, she thought. Traces of images from the night before filtered through her mind. She smiled before she opened her eyes, reaching over to touch Dakota, but her hand fell, disappointedly, on a heap of sheets. She felt a piece of paper on top and rubbed her eyes to read his note.

"Oh, no," she thought. "Last night really happened." She had hoped it was only a dream so she could have the pleasure without the guilt. Now all she had was the hangover. "Damn. I just did what I said I'd never do---betray Graham. I'm scum of the earth---just like my mother."

Ariana stumbled out of the bed and drug herself over to the full-length pedestal mirror, gazing at the image of red-rimmed eyes that stared back at her---sad eyes with a lost look in them. Everything she had worked to build in herself---respect, integrity, virtue, down the drain for one night of passion. She felt as if she were staring at a stranger, lost in the dark circles of disappointment that ringed her eyes.

So what am I to do now? How do I crawl out of the hole I've buried myself in? Dakota. Yes. I've got to cut off all ties with him, professional as well as personal. That is the only way I can live with myself. I'll see if Graham will agree to elope--and that will be that. No more temptation, no more deceit, no more guilt. I'll be damned if I'm going to end up like my mother. Never. Never. Never.

Ariana walked over to the bed, threw herself on the tangled pile of sheets, pounding the pillows while she sobbed. Finally, her muscles relaxed. So much had happened that she'd begun to feel like an overloaded circuit---with a breaker snapped. She stroked the bed, the sobs subsiding. Sweet thoughts of Dakota and their night together sneaked through her steel resolve. What she had experienced with Dakota was soft and special and oh, so lovely. She clasped her arms over her chest, trying to hold all the wondrous feelings and sensations inside her for just awhile longer. No matter what happened or what the future held, deep down below the guilt and anger at herself, she had this internal treasure that she'd carry with her forever. No one could take it away from her. And the intimacy she'd felt with Dakota---she knew that she would carry around a part of him forever.

That thought was a comfort to her in the wake of her decision to cut all ties with him. It was the only way she could live with herself and retain her self-respect. If she chose to throw all caution to the wind and take a chance on Dakota, she knew she would live in a perpetual state of self-loathing. That in itself would end up destroying her relationship with him, no matter how blissful it was at the outset. But knowing what she had to do and having the resolve to carry it out did not diminish the fact that she was giving up the 'real thing'.

This thing that felt so good and so right---was she really going to throw it all away based on some kind of ideal---this image of herself she'd built to be everything her mother was not? Was it just an illusion? She'd shattered all the bricks she'd worked so hard to build up with one act in one night and guilt sank into her like the teeth of a dragon.

No, I can't think like this. I have to stick with my decision. I'm going to call Dakota right now and tell him I cannot see him ever again and not to contact me for any reason.

It's the only way.

* * * * *

Dakota, "dressed up" in a blue denim jacket, Mickey Mouse tie and blue jeans, starched and pressed from the cleaners, walked up to the nurses station in the ICU and asked for Donna Matthews, RN.

"Yes, she's still in ICU, but it's time for her break. I'll page her and tell her you're here," said the head nurse, with an authoritative, all-business tone.

"Thank you," Dakota said with his friendliest smile.

The older nurse's stern expression immediately gave way to a smile.

The double doors leading from the ICU burst open and a small, attractive-in-a-hard-sort-of-way, bleached blonde nurse bustled toward him. Dakota extended his hand to Donna, the same person who had slipped him her card and said she had information about Dr. Walters.

"I don't know if you remember me or not, but I'm Dakota Burke, private investigator, and I'm working Mrs. McKinney's case. May I have a few minutes with you?"

"Yes," she answered, winking at him from behind heavily blackened lashes and bright blue eye-shadowed lids. Dakota thought make-up like that had gone out years ago. "I was just going to have some coffee. Would you like to join me?"

"Sure," Dakota answered, having to almost run to keep up with her as she led the way to the lounge. He guessed her to be somewhere in her mid-thirties. She definitely looked like she'd lived life to the fullest, one of these rode-hard-and-put-away-wet girls.

The lounge was empty and she grabbed two Styrofoam cups and began pouring coffee. "Do you take cream or sugar?" Donna asked.

"Black is fine. You mentioned when I saw you last that you had some information about Dr. Walters that may be significant," Dakota began as he took a sip of the coffee.

"I'm not sure what I have to say is very important but I need to at least tell you and you can decide what you want to do with it." Donna replied, reverting to her professional mode, talking as rapidly as she walked.

"On this type of case, anything is significant. Shoot."

Another nurse blew in the door and nodded in their direction. Donna immediately shifted the conversation to Dakota, obviously not wanting their discussion about Dr. Walters to fall on wayward ears. "Hey, are you dating anyone at the moment? You are a hunk if I should say so myself."

"Uh, thanks," said Dakota, taken aback, not knowing whether she was covering or just being brazen. "I just moved here."

"Well, I'd be more than glad to show you around town. How about dinner tonight? We can talk more in depth then," Donna purred, smiling up at him and brushing his tie with her hand. "I'm a big fan of Mickey Mouse. Looks like we might have something in common."

The nurse left the room quickly and Donna lit a cigarette.

"Those things will kill you," Dakota said, avoiding answering her invitation.

"I think men like you will get to me first," she laughed. And I can tell you my smoking theory later. But back to the subject at hand." Donna took a big gulp of coffee before she began. "When Mrs. McKinney lapsed into a coma, I was assigned to wheel her to the ICU. As I was taking her down, she sat up with her eyes wide open and a look of perfect clarity on her face. She said, as clear as day, 'The room. Ariana has to find the room. Tell her to find the room. That's where the picture is.' Then as quickly as she sat up, she closed her eyes and flopped back down on the gurney. At first I thought she was delusional, but then I decided that, delusional or not, you may need to know, for whatever it's worth."

Puzzled, Dakota rubbed his chin with his hand, "I can't imagine what it might mean but that doesn't mean that it doesn't tie into the case. Thanks for telling me. It could prove to be important."

"Oh, and one more thing," Donna said, lowering her voice to a whisper and closing the door to the lounge. "I could get fired for saying this and I really need my job so if you repeat it I'll say you're crazy, but Dr. Walters has a long history of acting strange. Now, he's technically good at what he does, his clinical skills are superb, but he's a strange man---very strange."

"What do you mean by strange?" Dakota inquired.

"He launches into these chants sometimes when he's with his patients and he doesn't think anyone's around. It's almost like a ritual or something. I have no earthly idea what it's about It just strikes me as weird, that's all."

"Very interesting," Dakota replied, accepting a second cup of coffee she handed to him. "I'd definitely like to look into this further. What do you mean about the patients who die mysteriously?"

"Patients that come in with one problem and end up dying of something else. It may just be a fluke or the fact that his practice is mostly geriatric and they tend to have multiple problems. The man gives me the creeps. His elevator doesn't quite reach the top floor, I don't think. Food for thought. Well, this has been nice but my fifteen minutes is up. Got to get back to the grind. By the way, I wasn't kidding about dinner...or the hunk part. I don't know if you're attached or not, but I can throw together a mean spinach salad. What do you say to dinner tomorrow night?"

Dakota was caught off guard but managed to get out a garbled, "I...I've got plans tomorrow night. But maybe some other time."

Donna confidently pulled one of her cards from her lab coat pocket and tucked it into his shirt pocket. She patted it and smiled seductively as she walked off, hips in full swing, "Mi casa, su casa. You can call me anytime"

Slightly taken aback, Dakota said aloud to himself, "Wow, I've been hibernating too long. Women sure are bold these days."

If he was into sex for sport, Donna would be an easy mark. He just couldn't operate that way, though. For him to have sex with a woman there had to be a strong emotional connection. Like what he had with Ariana.

Attached. Am I attached? I certainly am but I'm not so sure about the other half of the party. Ariana. I really have to get back to the apartment and call her.

* * * * *

Dakota walked into his apartment, immediately confronted by the blinking red light on the answering machine. Ariana, he hoped as he pushed the message button. Ariana's voice rang out loud, clear, and cold, "Dakota, this is Ariana. Listen, I can't see you anymore and I'm dismissing you from Me-Me's case. Please don't try to contact me as I want no further contact with you. Good-bye."

With his guts wrapping around each other in a sailor's knot, Dakota reached for the telephone and instinctively dialed her number. His heart thudded in his chest at the anticipation of an answer, an explanation, from the other end of the line. He just wanted to hear it from her. But all he got was the lonely sound of repeated rings, each one like a lance piercing his heart. Ariana was not answering but she was obviously there because the voice mail was not picking up.

Worry crept into Dakota's mind with each successive ring. Could the intruder have returned? Was Ariana okay? Of course she was okay---she was just bungee jumping on him. Doing a little Houdini "out of sight, out of mind" act temporarily gave her relief from the guilt at her disloyalty to Graham. But it wasn't the reality. She would eventually see the whole picture. She'll come around. I just have to give her time, let her have her space. She'll figure it out. I hope.

Dakota's anxiety subsided and he tried to understand what was going on with her and not take it personally. He knew at this moment there was nothing he could do. He might as well work on Me-Me's case and try to call Ariana later. This seemed like a reasonable plan, he thought. If he showed up at her house now with his pleas for their relationship, he'd run the risk of pushing her away forever.

Patiently and methodically, he walked over to his computer. The red E-Mail light flashed, indicating some current E-Mail. He clicked into the mail-mode and saw that information had come in from Tulane University in New Orleans, Dr. Walters' former employer. Dakota had received this information from a hospital employee and decided he'd take advantage of his professional P.I. computer networking ability to secure background information on Dr. Walters. Anything, even the most remote detail, could be tantamount in solving the case. When it came to his work, Dakota was as methodical as a neurosurgeon with a scalpel. He was always able to make connections that seemed remote and had the ability to tie everything up in neat little bundles.

In the back of his mind Dakota vaguely remembered Ariana making a passing remark about Graham having attended Tulane Law School. He'd have to do some more checking but it could have been in the same time frame. Another red light flashed in his mind. Was it possible that there was some kind of connection between Graham and Dr. Walters? Dakota guessed that with this line of thinking anything was possible. It was an occupational hazard with him or maybe it was genetically instilled. At any rate he began to formulate hypotheses about the possibilities.

It could be that he had hold of a wild card, pure coincidence. Further research could easily determine whether this one was right or wrong. Or there could be a connection---a deadly connection---between Graham and Dr. Walters. They could be collaborators in Me-Me's death and arrogantly think that no one could possibly put the two of them together. But why would they have collaborated to murder Me-Me? What was in it for them? It had to be money. Ninety percent of the time greed was involved in collaborative murder.

"Whew," Dakota said to himself, his head reeling with the impact of this potential scenario. And the question was---what next? If he threw this at Ariana right now, she would certainly think it a ploy on his part to try to get Graham out of the picture. No, he had to keep this information to himself for the time being and build up this theory on his own, in secret. He couldn't take the risk of someone finding out who could warn the perpetrators. That could blow the evidence out the window.

But who broke into Ariana's house? What were they looking for and how was it related to the case?

The E-Mail light flashed on again. Dakota clicked the receive button. Wade was back and in full form with a new message.

White Knight,

Thought I left town, did ya? Or is hope more the word? Wishful thinking on your part. I was just in for a much needed rest. I have lots of work to do. And no, I was not responsible for your little girlfriend's break-and-enter the other night. I'd like to claim credit, but, I was busy. It made for a great little party under the sheets afterwards, though. Sorry I couldn't be there to share in the fun. Someday. I bet she’s as shriveled as an old prune today after you juiced her last night. Not to worry, I'm not ready to end this game yet. I'm having too much fun watching you sweat. But some time, material will have to exit from the board. Sorry, White Knight, the pleasure will be all mine. Loving it.

Check, Mate

Black Knight

* * * * *

The stairs creaked ominously as Ariana trekked up to the second floor guestroom ransacked by the intruder. The door to the bedroom stood slightly ajar as she made her way in. She surveyed the disarray in the room. The mattress stood on end with the sheets pulled off and wadded up, the chest-of-drawers stood on its side, as well as the trunk. Dakota was right, nothing small had been tampered with. Her chest-size jewelry box was still in tact with no drawers hanging open. She opened each drawer carefully to see if anything had been stolen. Everything was in the same order as she'd left it. As organized as she was, she'd know immediately if anything was out of place. It obviously was not a typical theft. She would venture a guess that the jewelry box had not even been opened.

As she was closing the last drawer to the jewelry box, a white piece of paper caught her eye. Caught in the drawer seam, she tugged on it, carefully prying the paper loose. When it finally released, intact, she examined it. A drawing on the torn paper appeared to be a map. It almost looked like the map of the house. Curious and puzzled as to what it might be, she stuffed it in her pocket to study later. Right now she needed to call Ida to help her get the mess cleaned up and everything back in order.
CHAPTER SIX

Ariana carefully tucked the paper into the back of the desk drawer in her room downstairs. She would examine it more closely when she had some time. It was probably just the remnants of Daddy Mack's doodling. She had never seen anyone who loved to doodle as much as Daddy Mack. She could remember him drawing on the margins of the newspaper in the morning after he'd finished reading it. A combination of nostalgia and sadness washed over her. It had been five years since Daddy Mac died of heart failure. She still missed him, the old codger. As brusque and burly as Irishmen come, he had a heart of gold under all those thistles and bristles.

But there was no time now for sentiment. She shoved her feelings aside, not allowing herself to indulge in them. There were important things to be done. She had a plan now and it must be carried out as soon as possible. As she reached for the phone to call Graham, it rang shrilly, startling her.

"Hello, Ariana Holland speaking."

"Ariana, this is Dakota. Please don't hang up. I know you've asked not to talk to me, and I promise to keep this strictly professional," Dakota said rapidly, as if trying to get all his thoughts out before she hung up on him.

"What is it?" Ariana asked, with a tightness in her throat. Hearing Dakota's voice was the last thing she needed at this time. She could feel her carefully constructed reserves crumbling away, and all at the sound of his voice. She shored herself up again---she could not afford to let herself get weak and break down. She knew what she had to do, she had a plan, and by God, she was going to do it. No P.I. with a tight little butt was going to weaken her resolve. No sir.

Dakota took a deep breath and collected his thoughts. He knew he didn't have much time and he sensed the need to flee. Patience be with me, he thought, this is going to be a tough one. "Ariana, I've found something out. It may or may not mean anything in regard to your grandmother's case but I think you need to know. I don't have all the tangible evidence yet but I have all the information in order. The documents confirming everything are on their way."

"Documents to confirm what?" Ariana asked suspiciously, wrapping the telephone cord around her fingers until they turned white.

"I'd really rather talk to you in person. May I have ten minutes of your time, face to face? You name the place."

Ariana struggled in her mind about what to do. She felt she owed him the courtesy of a visit since he'd worked so hard on the case but she didn't trust her feelings. Her autonomic nervous system had already taken over at the thought of even sitting in the same room with him---sweaty palms, heart rate and pulse climbing higher by the second, and just that plain old fashioned desire to jump his bones. Her autonomic nervous system won out. "Okay, Dakota," Ariana sighed. "Be over here in fifteen minutes. And here are the ground rules. You have the floor for exactly ten minutes. I want to know what, why, how and where you obtained this so-called important information you wish to share with me. Then I'll determine what's to be done with it. Understand?"

Ariana felt somewhat back in control after her spiel.

"I'll see you in five minutes," said Dakota, throwing the phone down on its bed and dashing out the door. He was all the way to his car before he realized he had only his towel wrapped around his waist. He dashed back into the apartment, threw on a clean white T-shirt and his holey blue jean shorts. He picked up his running shoes on the way out, no need for socks.

His hair dried in the wind as the truck flew. He felt a sense of urgency he'd never experienced before and time pressed in on him. Things with Ariana could turn on a dime. Within four and a half minutes he screeched up the circular driveway in front of the house. He picked up his packet and ran to the door as if he were racing against time. Ida was there to let him in. Her eyes twinkled and he knew he had at least one person on his side.

Ida silently led the way into the formal dining room where Ariana was sitting with a yellow legal pad in front of her.

"You're early," Ariana said dryly, looking at her watch.

"Fashionably early, I might add. In this case anyway," Dakota bantered in an attempt to lighten things up.

"I'm glad we haven't lost our sense of humor," Ariana said wryly, writing something on the paper.

Dakota pulled a chair out and sat down, studying the room. The massive, heavily carved antique furniture which he'd always admired suddenly appeared dark and formidable, encroaching on them like cougars out of the night.

Ariana put her pen down and safely armored herself behind two folded arms in front of her chest. She would not, could not, allow herself to be swayed by her emotions for this man. It could ruin her life.

"How are you?" Dakota asked, his voice cracking like an adolescent as he feigned cheerfulness and attempted to fight off the fleeting images of the night before that kept racing through his mind.

"Fine," Ariana answered, her voice low and eyes downcast.

Dakota sensed Ariana fighting some of his same tumultuous emotions, which somehow comforted him and made him feel more relaxed. In spite of her defensive posture, underneath she still cared. Dakota knew that. No action or words on her part would convince him otherwise.

"I've got everything right here," Dakota said. He quickly poured the contents of a large envelope on the table. "Ariana, what I've come across is the possibility of a link between Dr. Walters and Graham. I'm not going to beat around the bush or mince words here. At this point I'm not going to say I believe there was a conspiracy between them to murder Me-Me, I'm just saying the fact that they know each other needs to be explored further. There's been no acknowledgment by either party that they ever knew each other. I have to say I find that strange and disconcerting. It may or may not be significant to the overall picture in this case. But I felt like you needed to know, no matter what the outcome."

Ariana, eyes snapping, tapped her pen against the table. "Absolutely preposterous. This is an act of total desperation on your part. I can't believe you would resort to such lengths to defame Graham's character to keep me from marrying him. Tell me, how hard did you have to dig to concoct a story like that?"

Dakota balked. He had expected to encounter resistance from Ariana, but not a frontal assault.

"Let's clear a path here. This is not information based on emotion or my feelings about you or your upcoming marriage. I'm a professional investigator. You hired me to do a job. Part of that includes providing you with information as I come across it. I'm simply doing my work. Part of my job description is to use every means at my disposal to acquire information that might be relevant to my case. What you see laying on the table here is information proving there is a relationship between Dr. Walters and Graham and has been for years. They met originally when Dr. Walters was a professor of oncological medicine at the Tulane School of Medicine in New Orleans. Graham was a law student there at that time. He was doing an internship in medical malpractice and Dr. Walters served as his mentor. They collaborated on several big projects and even published a paper together."

"So, they knew each other. What does all this have to do with Me-Me's death?"

The autopsy showed that Me-Me had high levels of lead in her system. She may have been poisoned by an introduction of lead acetate into her bloodstream, causing the acute brain encephalopathy. My theory is that there is someone somewhere who will benefit from her death. You are the only living relative of Me-Me's, other than your mother. Since Me-Me disinherited your mother years ago and she's nowhere to be found, she can't be included in the case as a living relative. However, the reality is, if Graham marries you, he has access to the money you inherit from Me-Me's estate. Now, lab invoices show that Dr. Walters ordered a substantial amount of lead acetate crystals from Merkler Pharmaceuticals. I think that information is significant---all that information ties up into a neat little bundle."

"Except for the fact that I'm not buying the package!" Ariana yelled, her face flaming, and pushed her chair back, Irish temper unleashed. "There has to be another explanation. The notion is absolutely absurd. I think you've lost it---your professional objectivity as well as your mind. I thought you had much more integrity and class than this. Your motives are selfish, Dakota. The bottom line is that you are biased against Graham because you don't want me to marry him. That fact is clouding your judgment. Please send me a bill for your services rendered up to this point. But your employment terminates at this time. Now, you may leave."

Dakota knew there was no point in saying more. She refused to believe anything negative about Graham and he knew she was using her hostility to distance herself from him. He knew he'd have to continue the investigation without the support of Ariana. He could not start a case and leave it unfinished, whether he got paid for it or not. He packed the envelopes back in the briefcase, looked up at Ariana and said "You know you can call me if you need me. Anytime."

A lump formed in Ariana's throat as she watched him leave. She admitted to herself that her feelings for him held no bounds. Deep warmth emanated from her chest and a sense of longing overcame her. She didn't want him to leave. Squelching the strangest urge to grab him by the arm, jump in the car and run away--far away from the conflicts and emotions and commitments that seemed to pull her down like a block of granite, dragging her spirit further and further down into the depths. Ariana wanted to turn everything around, forget this whole scenario and escape with him somewhere.

She couldn't help marveling at his perfectly sculptured calves. Part of her wanted to run her hands up his legs, feeling the hair-covered splendor of his muscles rippling under her hand. Stop it, she chided herself. This is pure insanity---I just told this man I never wanted to see him again and here I stand lusting for him. But this is the last time. No more temptation. I will be strong and prevail over this temporary lapse of insanity. Out of sight meant out of mind. No man will ever have this kind of power over me again--from this moment forward.

* * *

Ariana and Ida carried the antique washstand in from the truck and placed it at the end of the hall. A porcelain washbowl perched on top would be the perfect touch. The more Ariana planned for the bed-and-breakfast, the more excited she became exploring the possibilities. The whole process of the preparation endeavor sparked her creativity, a part of her that had remained dormant when she spent her professional time toiling for corporate America.

Graham was still reticent about the whole project, though. He balked at the idea of investing so much money into it and having to build up business, not to speak of having a commuter marriage. Secretly she was relieved at the idea of not living in the same town as Graham. The time apart seemed essential for the maintenance of their relationship. Some couples could be together all the time and thrive--she and Graham were not one of those couples. They required a certain amount of distance to maintain whatever it was they had.

What did they have, Ariana questioned herself--attachment, support, commitment. Those were the biggies. But a niggling doubt arose in her mind again as she wondered if people didn't sell out to their attachment needs, not allowing themselves to persevere the loneliness of waiting for something fuller, richer, a more satisfying union. If it was too easy, it wouldn't be worth anything.

She prided herself on being an independent soul. Marriage would not interfere with that.

It had been a tough month, not talking to Dakota. She had someone checking out some other private investigators to handle Me-Me's case. Keeping busy with the bed-and-breakfast plans had kept her mind off Dakota, she never allowed herself an idle moment. But he lurked on the periphery of her mind, residing in the shadows, and she dreaded the day when she ran into him again.

"Oh, Ida, I'm all pumped up now. Let's go antiquing again today while I'm on this role. We can stop by the wallpaper outlet, too. Wallpapering that hall bathroom is definitely next on my list."

Ida looked up and wiped the sweat off her brow. "Don't you think you need to slow down a little bit, Child?"

"I don't know, Ida. There's so much to do and I want to have the bed-and-breakfast open and running by December. I've been thinking about a name. What do you think about "The Lillian", after Me-Me's middle name?"

"I think Me-Me would be honored and very proud. It's a lovely name. But you're in a frenzy, Child. You're running from something."

Ida's gaze bored deep into her soul---deeper than Ariana wanted her to go. But Ariana knew she was right. She was keeping busy to avoid thinking about something she couldn't quite articulate but knew the object of---Dakota. Her restless sleep the last few nights had told her as such.

Dreams of passionate interplays on enchanted beaches and high mountains and making love in a grassy meadow on a hilly knoll as the meadow larks sang their sweet serenade to them had caused her to wake up in a sweat. What she wouldn't give to reach over and caress his skin, kiss his sips with a passion that showed no bounds. Her loins ached to feel hiss manhood between her legs, penetrating and thrusting deep into her being. She put the pillow over her head and groaned in pain at the loneliness of their separation.

Oh, Dakota, she thought. She longed for him with a desire beyond description. How could anything this good be real or lasting? It would surely be ephemeral, just as her mother's love had been for her. And a mother's love for a child was supposed to surpass all other loves. No, she couldn't take a chance on that kind of cruel trick. A platonic, cool love---more controllable and consistent, placid, reliable and lasting is what she needed. Graham could give her that. He would give her that for the rest of her life---not a fleeting conflagration that would inevitably crash and burn, like an out of control airplane.

Her conscience would feel relieved if she had a dream or two about Graham, though. Graham was her fiancé but never part of the fantasy. She would just get through the lovemaking with him, whenever that happened, and channel her passion into her business and her children---her future children---her and Graham's children. Yes, the matter was settled once and for all.

Ariana caught Ida staring with imploring eyes when she looked up, seemingly able to read her mind.

"Child, don't sell out. You need someone who love you to the bone like my Henry loved me. I never told you this before because there was no reason but when I met Henry there was something happened to my toes that I never felt before. My fingers and toes tingled like I put my hand on a lightning bolt. I felt like I might be gettin' electrocuted. It scared me, but my Henry, he wrapped hisself around me and says, 'Ida, I was born to take care of you. I knew it when I sees you.' And I knew it, too. And his smell---something more than just the smell of a man. It was the smell of my man. I never felt like that with nobody else. Don't give up the electricity, Child. It passes between you and Dakota. If I ran my hand between you two when you two get together, I'd get the shock of my life. There's no charge with you and Graham. If you marry Graham, you sellin' out, baby."

The truth of it hit Ariana like a bat--mainly because she knew Ida was dead-on target. She also knew Ida was sparing with her unsolicited advice. Ariana had never known Ida to be wrong about anything. She must have realized that Ariana had arrived at a critical juncture and this was her last chance to speak up. A wave of nausea suddenly hit Ariana, and she felt like the blood was draining out of her. Everything around her started moving in circles, and she reached for the washstand.

Ida's voice sounded far away, but Ariana heard her say, "Child, are you all right? You look like you just seen a ghost. Come on over to the sofa and lay down. I'll go get a cold washrag."

Ariana clambered over to the sofa, balancing herself on Ida's arm. "I'm okay, Ida," she murmured weakly while Ida plumped the pillow under her head. "But you're right about one thing. I've been jogging too much lately and not eating right. I will admit to that."

"Well, Ida's going to take care of that problem starting right now. I'm going to be staying here with you from now on. And I'm right about more than just you running too much."

It was very unusual for Ida to be so persistent. Things had to be really close to being out of control before she would take such persistent action, Ariana surmised.

"Ida, I know you mean well and I know you're genuinely concerned about my well being, but I have to live my own life and make my own decisions, whether you think they're good decisions or not. I'm going to marry Graham, have his children and spend the rest of my life with him. I do hope that eventually you will accept that and give us your blessing. Believe me, it will happen, with or without your approval. If I don't marry Graham, if I betray his trust, I will never be able to trust and respect myself again.

"Honey, if you marry Graham, you betrayin' your heart and Dakota. You are in love with Dakota. Dakota is in love with you. You two should be together and have children. Little time for living, long time for dyin'. You need to grab this gift from the sky when it come along. I cannot bless this marriage to Graham, Ariana. That would be a lie. But I hope you be happy, any way you decide. Now let me get that cold rag."

Ida scurried off to get the supplies, and Ariana closed her eyes only to confront images of Dakota flitting across the black screen of her mind. Dakota on horseback. Dakota in his office. Dakota in her arms. Dakota in her bed. She could feel his weight on top of her as she imagined the night they shared. Oh, this bliss. She wanted to keep the fantasy alive because she knew it would carry her a long way in times to come.

The phone rang and Ida bustled back into the living room. She picked up the receiver and placed the cold, wet towel on Ariana's forehead. Without acknowledging the caller she said a terse, "Yes, she's here," and handed the phone to Ariana.

"Ariana, it's Graham. I have Me-Me's estate and investment portfolio ready for you to look over and sign. I'll be in about ten o'clock tonight. I'll grab a cab at the airport so you don't have to pick me up."

"Okay, sounds good. I'll see you when you get here."

* * * * *

Dakota examined himself in the small mirror above his sink in his closet-sized bathroom. His after-five shadow had begun to sprout, but he knew he was not going to have time to shave. He had to have a shower, though. His skin felt clammy from the high humidity and ninety-five degree day. The high altitude chill of a Colorado night would go a long way toward making him comfortable right now. As much as he loved east Texas, the cool mountain nights and majestic views were sorely missed. Someday, sometime, at the very least, he'd have a log cabin built into the side of a mountain--a retreat from the pressures of everyday life in this day and age. He could visualize hiking in the fall, the gold leaves of the aspen shimmering in the sunlight, the nip of the air with its scent of pine. And Ariana by his side. He couldn't, wouldn't give up his dream of being with this woman--for the rest of his life. A magnetic pull from deep within his chest exerted itself whenever he was graced by her presence. The mere thought of her stirred his soul. It is what it is, he accepted, no matter the outcome. I feel what I feel and that will never change, I'm certain of that. But I want her to be happy, if that takes being out of my life, so be it.

Even though Ariana had officially fired him, he had to complete the investigation on his own. He felt he had a moral and ethical responsibility to complete the assignment, for personal reasons as well as professional. He really thought he had Dr. Walters pegged but couldn't come up with a plausible motive. Mercy killing just didn't quite wash. There was a missing link here, a tough one to find. It reminded him of the frustration of one light being out on a strand of Christmas lights, and you know it is the one light that is keeping all the others from working, but it's just so hard and laborious to find that one light. He would find it, though. Tenacity was his primary strength.

He'd toiled on the computer for the better portion of the day and information that he had requested from various sources was coming in faster than he could assimilate it. The more information that came in, the more complicated the Dr. Walters puzzle seemed---and the more chilling.

The psychological profile that Dakota was composing from all this information revealed a much more complex and darker issue than simply a doctor with an out of control ego. There was something sinister and pathological in this man and it had been carefully cloaked with his intelligence and professionalism---most of the time. After doing an extensive background check, Dakota discovered a disturbing pattern in his activities. Nurse Donna had sparked his thinking in that direction with her information. But there was a big factor that bothered him. Dr. Walters was too obvious. Instincts told him there was much more to this case than met the eye, and he would have to get much more information covering many different angles. He didn't know what yet, but he trusted that, in time, the information would emerge.

Though grateful for Donna's keen observations and perceptions, he didn't quite know how to handle her on a personal level. She was vivacious and overbearing and at the same time delightfully direct. He wasn't interested in her romantically but he had to admit that she was engaging company. It was refreshing for someone to put herself right out there on the platter---no holds barred. There was nothing mysterious about that woman, but he had to give her an "A" for entertainment value.

Dakota chuckled to himself as he dried beads of water off his legs. The doorbell rang and he looked at his watch. He really wasn't expecting anyone and felt slightly annoyed at the unsolicited interruption from his work. It was probably Monty, stopping by on his way home from work to unwind. He wrapped the towel around his waist and tied it at his hip. When he opened the door he looked straight into a dozen red roses with two sparkling Donna eyes peeping through the stems.

"Surprise! Bet you've never gotten a dozen roses before. I thought it was about time, just in case you haven't." Donna stepped past him and sashayed through the door, in full hip swing, not waiting for an invitation to come in.

"Well...can't say as I have...," Dakota stammered.

"But this is not all. There are more surprises to come," Donna said, handing him the vase of roses and grabbed a paper bag from the ground. "Here's some Dom Perignon and two of the thickest steaks in east Texas. As the old saying goes–everything in Texas is big. Where's that hibachi grill all men have hidden in their closets for just these occasions?"

"Well...actually, I was just about to...," stammered Dakota, taken aback at Donna's abrupt and spontaneous arrival.

"Oh, bother," Donna said, dismissing his reluctance to accept her offer. "You are obviously not taking care of yourself here. I'm here and I will. I mean, it's a dirty job but somebody's got to do it, right?"

"You wouldn't happen to have any Italian blood in you by chance, would you?" Dakota asked, raising one eyebrow and resigning himself to the fact that she was not going anywhere anytime soon.

Donna threw her head back, her blonde bob bouncing, and laughed a hearty laugh as she bustled past him to put the groceries on the counter. "Hmmm...not much room to work here, but we'll make do. Now you just go slip into something more comfortable, although the white towel is becoming on you, and I'll take care of the champagne. Just tell me where your champagne glasses are and I'll be cooking. Oh, and don't forget the grill."

This woman was relentless. "I'll get the grill set up," he sighed with resignation. Dakota could feel himself turning crimson at the reminder of the towel wrapped around his waist. "Uh...yea. I'll do that."

"Oh, and before you disappear, tell me where the charcoal is and I'll get the fire going," Donna said with a sly smile and a glance sideways at him with her heavily mascaraed blue eyes.

Dakota made a beeline for the bathroom and replied, "It's in the utility closet by the refrigerator. It won't take me but a second to dress and I'll help you light it up."

"Oh, yeah? I can't wait for that!" Donna busily emptied the paper sacks she brought in and found a make-shift vase for the roses.

That is one horny woman, Dakota surprised himself by thinking. Unfortunately, she's going to be disappointed about coming here. She's cute in her own pixie-ish sort of way---but not my type.

Although I'm just like any red-blooded American man, I'm a red-blooded American man whose blood boils for one woman and one woman only---Ariana Holland. Just the thought of her made his heart leap, and he could feel himself stiffening at the memories of their one passionate night together.

Oh, Ariana, if you only knew how I felt about you. I would give up everything I own in the world just to have one more night with you. This longing is making me crazy. I want to taste those tender lips again and that salty ocean of your desire. I want to run my fingers through that luxurious silken hair. I want to hear that soft, sultry voice whispering those wonderful words in my ear as I make love to you, slowly, through the night, bringing every cell of your body to that ultimate sweet satisfaction. Over and over again we'd ride those waves together, bringing to each other the fullness only we can provide. I think one full night with you could just about get me through anything. And what kills me, Ariana, is that I know you feel the same way. Are you gone forever to me, Ariana, or will you see the light before it's too late?

Dakota tried to pull up his jeans but after his reverie, he'd have to wait a few minutes---Donna would most surely get the wrong impression. He grabbed a T-shirt, gave a cursory glance in the mirror and tried his pants again. He was calmed down now. He knew he'd just have to keep his thoughts away from Ariana to stay that way.

Handing Dakota a glass of champagne, Donna said, "Well, I thought you'd fallen asleep in there. Salad's made, steaks are on and here's to an evening of fun. Skoal," Donna said as she handed him the glass of champagne and reached up to toast his.

"What are we skoaling?" Dakota asked.

"Skoal is the Swedish word for cheers. My mother is Swedish so I've inherited some unique customs and slang."

"And what might those be?"

"Well, one of our Christmas traditions is that we throw a Saint Lucia's Day party in celebration of the winter solstice, the shortest day of the year." Donna plopped up on a barstool, throwing her leg across the other one in a seductive pose. The black spandex skirt she sported left not much to the imagination. "And how do you celebrate?" Dakota asked, taking a sip of the champagne and intentionally keeping his eyes level with hers. It rapidly became evident what this woman wanted--a roll in the hay was written all over her face, he thought.

"With homemade spiced wine, Swedish food, flat bread, potato, meatballs, ginger cookies, and lots of candles and singing. It's great. Maybe I'll invite you sometime so you can see for yourself," she said with a wink, taking a drink and slinking closer to Dakota.

"I want you to know that my original intent was to come over here on business and before I get too drunk there are some things I need to tell you about Dr. Walters. But I also have to let you know up front that you really turn me on and I'm not responsible for anything that happens tonight since I'm drinking this nectar-of-the-gods champagne. It's already started taking effect--I can feel the end of my tits tingling right now, just being this close to you. You can do what you want, but I'm all yours tonight." And by the way," she added as she took another long swig of champagne and pressed her body up next to him, "I don't handle my liquor very well. Just a word of warning."

"Well, I do, and I want you to know right now that I'm not going to take advantage of your graciousness or your drunkenness."

"Oh, please take advantage of me," she begged teasingly, taking off her jacket in one swift movement, spilling plump, shining cleavage that reminded him of two ripe cantaloupes out of her spandex band-of-a-shirt-tube. "I don't expect anything from you. My philosophy of life is to live for the moment---you've got to grab every ounce of fun and pleasure that you can. Life is just too short. Relationships never last anyway. I just like to suck the nectar out of them while they're the ripest. And boy, would I like to suck the nectar out of you right now," she said as she dropped to the floor in front of him and popped the snap at the top of his jeans. "I can make this good for you, too, baby. I can make you feel like you've never felt in your life. Just relax and enjoy this."

"Wait a minute," Dakota said as he stepped up, snapping his pants back up. "You're a great girl, Donna, but I need to be up front with you. This ain't gonna happen. Not now, not ever. You're great company and very attractive, but to be honest, I'm just not attracted to you in a romantic sort of way."

"You don't always have to be attracted to someone to have great sex--just sit back and enjoy what's offered to you, on a silver platter, no less. What's the matter?" Donna whined, the alcohol obviously taking effect rapidly. "You're a widower, aren't you? I was just trying to provide you with a little conjugal comfort to help heal your grief."

"I hate to sound like an old stick-in-the-mud but I'm just not into one night stands or quick sex, Donna. If it works for you, that's great, but it's not for me. I'm happy to share dinner, music, and nice conversation with you, though. And I'm very interested in what you have to tell me about Dr. Walters."

"Oh...okay," Donna replied, looking a bit chastened as she began chopping the salad to toss. "For one thing, I've worked with and around him a long time and the dude is weird, no way around it."

"What do you mean by weird? What specifically does he do that you find weird?" Dakota picked up the knife and began trimming the fat from the prime-rib steaks.

"He goes into these ritual type acts over a patient when they're close to death. And he does it when he thinks no one's around because he always looks around to see if anyone's watching. I just happen to have been caught behind the door the first time it happened, then I made it a point to spy on him when he's by himself. I was curious about why he did it. It smacks of voodoo or hoodoo or something creepy to me. He'll take a needle and stick it in various places in their body. It's almost like he's doing acupuncture or something. But this is the doctor who has publicly professed that he believes all acupuncturists are quacks and need to be incarcerated for medical malpractice."

"Oh, and he has this lab that he spends all his time in," Donna continued. "He set it up in the basement of the hospital to do research in and he has all these chemical compounds that he mixes together like a chemistry experiment."

"How do you know about the chemicals?" Dakota asked.

"Well," Donna said sheepishly as she poured the balsamic vinegar over the salad. "I followed him down there one day and watched him work. When he left I went in and looked at the chemicals."

"What chemicals did he use?"

"Methanol, lead acetate...I really don't remember what else. Maybe when I'm sober..."

"What do you know about his personal life?"

"Rumor has it that he's been married five times and that he's extremely bitter because all his wives have divorced him and taken him to the cleaners financially."

"Bless his heart," Dakota commented wryly, heading out the door to check on the steaks.

"Well, girl, steaks are done. Is everything else ready?"

"Yea, well, ready and willing," Donna smirked.

"The info about Dr. Walters is interesting. It may or may not be relevant to the case, but it makes for interesting conversation. Thanks for sharing it with me."

"Well, enough of Dr. Walters," Donna said as she seated herself at the table. "Let's talk about the new boy in town."

Dakota raised his eyebrows in a puzzled expression as he cut his steak, "New boy in town?"

"That would be you," Donna giggled, her breasts bobbing in rhythm with her jangle bracelets. Throwing her head back she proceeded to guzzle the champagne.

"Oh, the buzz is on," she crowed happily as she marched over to the oven to retrieve the forgotten potatoes.

"You did say you like your steak medium rare, didn't you?"

Dakota asked as he placed the steak on her plate.

"No, I like it medium bare," she growled, not about to give up her challenge of seducing Dakota.

"Oops, Freudian slip," she stuttered and laughed at her own faux pas, obviously getting a kick out of her own humor as she slid her skin-tight tube skirt down to her ankles and kicked it into the middle of the floor, revealing red silk bikini panties that looked like they’d hopped straight out of the Victoria Secret catalogue. She began a slow, provocative dance to the music Dakota had turned on a few minutes before.

Dakota was suddenly glad he'd only taken a few sips of his champagne. This woman was going to be more than he'd bargained for. She'd obviously been drinking before she got to his house.

"Just one kiss, Dakota," she cooed as she nuzzled up next to him.

She didn't wait for an answer or an invitation before she plunged her tongue into his mouth. He pulled her away just as she swayed and passed out in his arms like a limp spaghetti noodle. He carried her to the couch and carefully laid her down, placing a pillow under her head and an afghan over her. He sighed and thought he'd let her sleep off her drunk. He could take her home in the morning. It looked like he'd be eating steak and drinking champagne by himself tonight.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Tension between Ariana and Graham filled the house with a tautness that could almost be felt. "Graham, I don't want to sign these papers until I get a second opinion. It's not a matter of trust, it's a matter of sensibility," Ariana explained with her professional demeanor. "I have to be sure of exactly what I'm doing. I'd hate to think I made big tax mistakes or signed the estate away after the fact. I think seeking a second opinion is the prudent path to follow.

Graham looked down at her from where he stood, peering beneath wire-rimmed spectacles. "I view your reluctance to sign these papers as a breach of trust to the man you're committed to marry. I just want to know what it is specifically that you have a problem with," Graham spewed, his face turning as red as a beet.

"Nothing in particular. I don't understand all the legalese and I'd like it explained to me by someone else. This is my inheritance, Graham. It only benefits both of us to make sure there are no mistakes." After all, you're a part of this too. Any mistake could hurt your interest in this."

"If you want to marry me, sign these papers now," Graham said, slowly and methodically between clenched teeth.

"I won't sign them now, Graham. I don't feel comfortable with it."

"Fine. Call me when you get your second opinion. Right now, I have work to do," Graham said as he threw on his jacket and stalked out the door.

"Graham, where are you going?" Ariana asked, running after him in alarm.

"I've got to take care of some of my own business. You just take care of yours. I'll meet you back here at six in the morning. If those papers aren't signed by then, I'm out of here. You can call the wedding off and forget your whimsical elopement idea," Graham said angrily as he climbed into his rental car.

Ariana stood in the driveway, stunned speechless at what she considered a major overreaction on his part. She jumped in the car to follow him to try and explain more about how she felt. She was too close to realizing her dreams to let this issue come between them, even though she felt strongly about getting the second opinion. She wanted them to work through this together.

Graham was proving difficult to follow, even though she knew Taylorville much better than he did. When she saw him pull up to the Holiday Hotel, she stayed a certain distance behind him, wondering what kind of business he'd have there. It was then that she saw Marsha Dixon. Graham got out of the car and embraced her, planting a kiss on the top of her head as he handed her an envelope.

Numb with shock and a wave of nausea threatening to envelop her, Ariana pulled her car away from the curb and headed out---anywhere. What was Marsha doing here and why had he embraced her? What could possibly be the explanation for their behavior or Marsha even being in town? And what was in the white envelope that Graham had given her?

Dakota. I need to talk to Dakota. Now. He'll help me understand what's going on. There's got to be an explanation for this.

Ariana pulled up to Dakota's apartment, wondering whose car was parked next to his truck. She took the stairs two at a time, then pounded on the door. "Dakota," she yelled. "I really need to talk to you."

Dakota opened the door, his eyes groggy looking.

"Oh, I'm sorry if I woke you up," Ariana apologized, just as Donna came up behind him, clad in her bra and panties only, a white blanket trailing behind her.

"Who is it, honey?" Donna murmured in a hung over voice.

Mortified, Ariana said, "Dakota, you didn't tell me..."

"It's not what it looks like, Ariana," Dakota groaned, trying to explain the truth to Ariana though he knew it was probably useless.

"Ariana, you said you needed me for something. Can I help you. Come on in. Donna is a nurse at the hospital. I had an interview with her the other day and she paid me a surprise visit." Dakota felt helpless. He really didn't even owe Ariana an explanation, but it was important to him that she understood the truth.

"Well, yeah, today has been full of surprises for me, too," Ariana said as she walked in the door and sunk into the couch.

"Let me get you something to drink," Dakota offered.

Donna walked out of the bathroom, fully clad. "Thanks, Dakota, for letting me sleep my hangover off here. I really didn't need a DWI. And, honey, I don't know who you are or what your relationship is to this hunk, but he's leveling with you. Give him a chance," Donna said as she walked out the door, hips in full swing.

"So what's going on with you?" Dakota asked.

"Graham is very upset with me because I am choosing to get a second opinion on Me-Me's estate papers. He left in a huff and I followed him to the Holiday Hotel where he met his paralegal and embraced her. I had no idea she was even in town. And why was he so intimate with her like that? I'm just really confused right now, Dakota. I don't know what's going on. This has just blown me right out of the water."

Dakota handed her a glass of iced tea and sat down next to her on the couch. "Okay. Let's start from the beginning and see if we can put the pieces together to make a picture, something plausible."

"Tell me exactly what happened when Graham came to you with the papers, blow by blow and word for word."

Ariana recounted every detail, and finally, buried her head in his shoulder, crying with exhaustion.

"Oh, baby, you have really been through it, haven't you. I need some time to think about this and try to put these pieces together," said Dakota, tilting her chin up to stare into sky blue eyes, red-rimmed and still brimming with tears, a new batch threatening to spill over any second.

"But if I'm going to be involved in this, Ariana, you have to have some faith in me. If you can't say you trust me, let's drop the ball right here."

"I do trust you, Dakota. I just don't trust myself. That's the bottom line. I don't trust myself around you---It's easier to criticize you. I have this need to push you away and I have to have a reason to push you away. Accusing you of putting suspicion on Graham was my way of distancing you. I know that now. I apologize to you for the way I acted. I was wrong. Will you take the case back, Dakota? I really need you."

"You know I will" Dakota answered, stroking her hair. "I have always had your interest at heart, even though it's been difficult for me to tow that line between professional and personal. I still love you, babe. I always will."

Ariana could contain her tears no longer as she turned to him and nuzzled her head into his chest."

"I love you, too, Dakota. I've tried to fight it for so long. I've tried to pretend I loved Graham, but I will never be in love with Graham. I care for him and I respect him, but I will never be able to have with him what I have with you. Never. I just don't know what to do about it."

"I know what we can do about it right now. Let's be here in this moment, together---you and me," Dakota said, taking her hand in his. "Let's enjoy what we can have together for the next few hours and worry about the rest of the world later."

With that, Dakota lifted her chin up to press his lips against hers. He nipped her lips tenderly, caressing her neck with the back of his hand.

Ariana responded with small sweet kisses of her own across his cheek and she stroked her hands through his hair as he buried his head in her chest. She closed her eyes and

savored the feel of his hands on her thighs, stroking her

with such tenderness.

She kissed the crown of his head and his forehead as she tilted his head back, then planted a big kiss on his lips. An insatiable hunger filled her completely, the kind of hunger that a steak dinner would fail to satisfy. No, this hunger came from deep within her being and she knew she wanted to satiate it---with this man---now.

Dakota explored the inside of her mouth with his tongue, relishing her taste, her feel, her scent. His senses were alive and on fire, every nerve cell in his body turned inside out from this exquisite creature. There was something so unique and special about her. She was extraordinarily beautiful, yes, but more than that, he had never felt the comfort in any other woman's presence that he felt with her. He was totally himself with her. It was like they had been born to belong together---soul mates. He had never put much stock in that word before. But now he knew it was the best way to describe how he felt about her. They fit together like two peas in a pod, like two puzzle pieces that had been apart and were now together to form a whole. Now that he had a taste of heaven, he knew he would do anything to keep it and keep it good.

He shifted on the couch and could feel her collapsing underneath him. He knew she felt it, too. He was on top of her, beginning the slow rhythmic motion that was their dance and theirs alone and he knew the dance would continue until late in the night. And no one would be turning into a pumpkin tonight. He kissed her deeply and he knew she felt it, too, in the very marrow of her being. It was like a nuclear force, pulsating and ready to explode.

"Oh, baby," breathed Ariana. "You don't know how many times I've thought of this." Her hips moved in motion to his and she could feel his tensile strength against her, pressing, ever ready into the caverns of her being. He unbuttoned her dress, one by one, and kissed the tender skin on her stomach as he pulled the dress down over her feet. He pulled her sandals off and took her feet, massaging them, then took each toe in his mouth, playing one little piggy and sucking each toe.

"Please don't stop," Ariana pleaded. "That was so good."

"And there's more to come. The show's not over yet, darling," Dakota said as he removed his jeans and underwear. Let's just make this last, no rush tonight he said as he laid down on top of her again. He kissed her neck and nibbled her ear lovingly, enjoying the fresh scent of her skin, laced with a hint of perspiration from their playfulness. "Look at me," he said. "I am in love with you. There's nothing you can do to change that."

"I don't want to change that, Dakota. I just want this moment to last forever. Can we get into a time machine and just take off somewhere together and find a black hole somewhere in the universe?"

"Honey, we don't need a time machine for that. I'm planning to take you to the moon right now." With that he slid her panties down and began stroking the inside of her thighs with his hands, kneading her folds with his fingers and working magic, like he was playing a finely tuned instrument. "Oh, Dakota, she moaned, "I want you--I want to feel you inside of me.'

"Your wish is my command," he said as he deftly shifted his manhood into position and slid into her easily, the slick walls of her corridors enveloping him like a wet glove, squeezing and releasing, Picking up her rhythm, he gently bore deeper and deeper into the mysteries of her being. Ariana could feel him penetrate deeper and deeper as his thrusts quickened, making her want to explode in ecstasy, and at the same time hold back to make it last. Suddenly and without warning, her bodily needs took precedence and they reached the pinnacle of their crescendo together. Both yelled the other's name at the same time, collapsing in a heap as they rolled onto the floor from the edge of the couch.

No words were needed for the encore. The heavy breathing and heat was enough to hold them together. Dakota held onto her like there was no tomorrow. He grabbed the blanket from the couch and placed it over their entwined bodies, knowing it would be a long time before they awoke, hoping for time to stop and let this moment last.

Ariana moaned softly as she turned over on the floor, her mouth upturned in a smile, her body glistening in the moonlight, her skin milk-white. Dakota stroked her forehead with one finger as he watched her sleep. My sleeping beauty, he thought. There was nothing like watching the person you love sleep---he could watch her for hours and just listen to her breathe.

Oh, how he loved this woman. He gave no thought to possibilities beyond tonight. He knew of her strong commitment to Graham, but he also knew she loved him. He could feel it exuding from every fiber of her being and absorb into his own skin, letting the knowledge sink deep into his soul. He knew---he just knew. This was his once in a lifetime chance and he would do everything in his power to hang onto it---as long as Ariana was safe. As long as Terrence Wade kept his eyes and hands off her. If things went further with the threats, Dakota knew he'd have to do something.

He knew what Terrence Wade was capable of doing and that he could blow at any time. Dakota was well aware of the depth of the anger, rumbling and thrashing deep within until it erupted full force, destroying everything and everyone in his path at the time. It would happen, Dakota just had to be ready. The police would only get in the way. They did not understand the psychological implications of this man's problems. Their interference could provoke Wade to the point where he could very conceivably leave a bloody wake in his path. Dakota thought he knew what he had to do to stop the destruction. It would just take some time---he hoped he could buy it.

Wade bordered on the genius. He knew how to block and evade E-Mail addresses, thwarting Dakota's efforts to track his whereabouts via the computer. He made no mistakes, but there had to be a chink in his armor somewhere, and Dakota was determined to be the one to find it. From this moment on he would become the hunter as well as the hunted. He knew Wade was close by, probably hibernating or dormant, but he could feel in his gut that it wouldn't be long. Now was the time to make his move.

Dakota walked over and turned on his computer. He knew he would find a message from Wade and there it was, boldly challenging him from the screen:

Dear White Knight,

The sands of the hourglass are marking your time. Not much longer. The natives are getting restless---we're ready for some action---the game is getting sluggish. Nocturnal creature you are, partner. And two in one night. I have to hand it to you---you're good. I would think you'd be generous enough to share with your chess partner, though. Being rather stingy, aren't you? You didn't invite me to the party and I'm MAD. What are you going to do about it? Which one are you going to sacrifice? Take your pick---the blonde or the brunette. It's time for material to be lost. The Mark of the Beast is upon you.

CHECKMATE,

BLACK KNIGHT

Dakota’s body went rigid, straight into the fight or flight mode. He didn’t have time for emotion, only an emergency plan of action would work now. "The time of reckoning has come, the comma between check and mate is missing. He's going to kill and soon. But he'll always give a warning because part of his thrill is in terrorizing," Dakota said out loud, mentally planning his course. "I've got to get Ariana out to Laney's. I can't let her be by herself at her house. It's just too dangerous right now. It's time to tell her some of the scenario. She has to be on guard."

Dakota stayed at the computer and contemplated the rest of the night. Once he made the decision he made a reservation on Delta Airlines for Ariana to fly out to Phoenix rather than taking her to Laney's. He needed her out of the picture for a few days while he wrestled with the beast.

Dakota walked over to Ariana, gently shaking her awake. They were sitting on a time bomb. He had to get her out of here.

"Ariana, I'm going to put you on a plane for Phoenix. You said you needed to sign some papers since you are quitting your job. Now is the time to go," Dakota implored, slipping her dress on.

"What is going on here," Ariana asked, rubbing her eyes. "What are you doing?"

"I'm getting you out of here. I'll explain on the way to the airport."

"I need to clean up. I haven't even had my bath. And what is this about catching an airplane? Slow down a little bit, will you?"

"It's all arranged. I'll explain on the way to the airport." Dakota grabbed his briefcase and opened the door for her, gesturing for her to walk out ahead of him.

They walked down the stairs in silence. Ariana could tell by the set expression on Dakota's face that he wasn't going to budge to any objections on her part. This was clearly his territory and he knew his stuff. She knew it was serious. He opened the truck door for her then jumped in his side, putting the key in and pressing the accelerator in one full swoop. Screeching out of the driveway, he headed ninety to nothing to the airport. His jaw worked until he was ready to talk.

"Ariana, I want you to stay in Arizona until I call for you. I haven't told you everything about my wife's death. Until now it didn't affect you, but now, just by virtue of knowing me, your life is in danger. I can't live with the possibility that something could happen to you."

Ariana knew that trying to argue with Dakota at this time would be an exercise in futility. She could see that set look in his face and the iron determination in his jaw.

"What about Ida? What am I going to tell her?"

"I'll make sure Ida's taken care of. I'll explain everything to her and you can call her later. Right now we have to get you out of here."

"Dakota, I'm not a child. Please don't treat me like one. I need an explanation for all this. It takes ten minutes from here to get to the airport. That will be ample time for you to at least give me some kind of reason for all this panic."

Dakota sighed and reluctantly said, "Ariana, my wife was murdered by a man seeking revenge against me. He was arrested for Cara's murder, but broke out of jail. Lately he's been in contact with me via E-Mail and he's threatening to destroy everyone and anyone who is part of my life. Whether he'll do it or not is another matter, but I know he's capable of it. The man is a psychopath. You don't mess around with his kind when they decide to play hardball."

Stunned, Ariana was speechless. My God, she thought, I never would have suspected that this was going on.

"Why did you pick now to send me off? What has happened in the last few hours to make you think he's really going to do something now?"

"I don’t have to time to go into the whole scenario, but the short version is this: He's been playing a one-sided verbal chess game with me on my E-Mail. The last statement he made said that some material was going to be lost. That meant someone is going to die. And I want to make sure it's not you, Ariana."

"Oh my God. He is crazy. Do you really think he's going to kill someone or do you think he's just playing games with you?"

"I'd like to think he's taunting me and trying to just make my life one long chain of misery, but I'm afraid this man's like a vampire. Once he killed he found some kind of cheap thrill and power trip in the killing. And now he's thirsty for the blood and power again. It’s become a chronic addiction. Sick, isn't it?"

"Worse than sick. It's just so hard to believe."

"And you're just an innocent victim---wrong place at the wrong time with the wrong person. But that's how these things happen. You find one full blown psychopath in about one of every thousand people. Your chances of ever encountering one are about nil. But if you do, you watch your back constantly and plan your strategy."

"When will it be safe to come back?"

"I'll let you know. We're here now. I'll help you with your bags." said Dakota.

` Dakota grabbed the bag she had on the seat and took it to baggage check. He gave her a quick kiss on top of the head and said, "I'll be in touch soon. Take care."

Ariana, still a bit dazed and disconcerted, boarded the airplane. She got out her pencil and pad and started making a list of the things she needed to do when she got to her apartment. She'd put off these essential duties for too long so it was fortuitous that circumstances had forced her to make the trip back to Phoenix.

* * * * *

Donna, restless after the big sleep at Dakota's, and hungry--she'd missed the steak dinner she'd planned so carefully, stopped by Henry's bar for a late night snack and a drink for the road. The patrons would be thinning out at this time of night and she could get her free weekly counsel from Henry, the best bar-tender-psychologist this side of the Mississippi.

Henry attended the University of Southern Mississippi clinical psychology program back in the 1970's. He'd done all his course work and clinics but the graduate committee did not agree with his dissertation position. Frustrated with the whole system and burned-out on school, Henry said 'to hell with it' and opened up a bar in Taylorville. It was reminiscent of a cozy Irish pub and one of the hot spots in town. Everyone who was anyone showed up at Henry's at least once a week to get the inside scoop.

` Donna strutted in and plopped down at the nearest table. The Tiffany lamp and candles gave off a warm, soft glow against the backdrop of dark wood that filled the tavern. "What's on the menu tonight, Henry? Hope it's not potatoes again."

"Enough of your spud slams, Donna. After all, potatoes are still the staple of the American diet. Especially with the skins on."

"Ugh--I got sick on potatoes when I was a kid. Can't stand the smell or sight of them now. Now skin–that’s a different story. I do like my skins. Not too well done though–maybe over easy." Donna took a cigarette from her purse and lit up. She only smoked when she drank or bar-hopped. The two seemed to go hand-in-hand.

"You're in luck tonight, Miss Donna. Salmon and rice are the specials for the evening." Henry said, ignoring the innuendo skin remark and wiping and putting the clean glasses back up on the bar. "What would you like to drink?"

"I'll have some of that green beer you're always bragging about. Let's see if it lives up to its reputation. You're looking at the ultimate beer taster here. This is the girl with the discriminating tongue."

Henry cast her a long, side-long glance. "Yeah, I've heard."

"Now, Henry, don't you be going disrespectful on me. Who are you cozying up with these days by the way?" Donna blew her smoke in his direction, making little rings that floated toward the bar.

"I've written off women, Donna. You know that. It's just not something I want right now. The bar is my love and it's enough."

"The bar can't keep you warm at night, Henry," Donna said provocatively. "Why don't you give me a chance to warm your bones? Who knows--you might like it. How do you know 'til you've tried?" Donna walked over to the bar and pulled out of school. Henry had sunk into his own thoughts, not responding to her suggestions. "I'll have the special, Henry."

"Coming right up," he said, grabbing his towel and heading toward the kitchen.

The heavy wooden door opened, bells jingling, and in walked an interesting looking stranger. Ah, a potential new conquest, Donna thought. Tall and lanky, the stranger exuded a mystique that Donna found intriguing. Dressed in a plain black chambray shirt and tight black denim pants pulled over black boots, Donna motioned for him to sit down next to her. He obliged without saying a word or smiling, but boldly stared at her, eyes burning through her like a laser. Riveted, she couldn't take her eyes off his--he was hypnotic, mesmerizing in a way she'd never experienced. Her breath caught in her throat as she introduced herself, "I'm Donna Matthews."

"Jack Ralston," he said, motioning for the bar tender.

"Do you live around here?" Donna asked, anxious to make conversation.

"Scotch on the rocks," he said to the bartender.

"No," Jack said flatly, which intrigued Donna even more. This man was definitely a mystery to be solved, and she thought she had the key. Donna had always worn her sexuality like a red flag, and for most men it didn't take much to succumb to her charms. But after the fact, no matter how many men she slept with, an emptiness settled in afterwards that was even more intense than the original void. But she didn't know what else to do. It was like an itch that had to be scratched but just got worse with each scratch.

She thought she'd really like to scratch this guy's itch. Dakota be damned--she was onto something much more interesting. Still waters usually do run deep, she thought. Under Jack’s calm, unruffled exterior, Donna sensed a potential conflagration that could erupt at any time and she hoped he'd erupt when she was there to enjoy it.

"Do you want to eat your dinner at the bar, Donna?" Henry asked, plopping the plate in front of her before she had a chance to answer.

"Of course. I have a vested interest sitting next to me." Donna reached over, trailing her finger up Jack’s spine, stopping to rub each vertebrae.

Jack drew the scotch to his mouth and drew a slow, long sip, watching her out of the corner of his eyes. He licked his lips slowly, languorously, as if knowing full well the effect it would have on her. "You want to check out my carvings?"

"How about now?" Donna said, without inquiring as to what his carvings were. Hell, carvings, etchings–they all got you to the same place–in a nice, warm bed with a nice, hot, hard body. Who could ask for anything more? She began to salivate at the very thought of her legs wrapped around his.

After taking four bites, she didn't feel hungry anymore--at least not for food.

Jack chugged his scotch down and swiveled off the bar stool, looking down at her. "You ready?" he asked her, without mincing words.

"I am more than ready, honey," she said, taking his arm and practically dragging him out the door. She sucked in a breath at the thought of his lips pressed hard against hers, how he would feel, hard against her belly, and how he would quickly fill that empty void in her, and stop the pain–for just a little while.

He guided her to his truck and opened the passenger door for her. He went around the other side and opened the drivers door. It was then she saw the gleam of the butcher knife...and everything went black.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Dakota's shoulders burned and exhaustion crept over him like a heavy fog when he got back to his apartment, not to speak of the emotional drain. He'd called Laney on his car phone on the way back from the airport to make sure she was all right. She'd sounded rather nonchalant when he told her how careful he wanted her to be and why. She was the epitome of the proverbial optimist. Nothing or no one was going to drag her down or stop her from living her life the way she wanted to live it, psychopath or not. Dakota sighed and ran his hand through his hair as he felt the heavy weight of responsibility descend upon him like a two-ton boulder.

He picked up the television remote and absent-mindedly started flipping channels. Background noise, white noise of any kind, drowned out his thoughts for five minutes. He closed his eyes only to be greeted by a pounding on the door.

"Taylorville Police Department. Dakota Burke, open up please."

Dakota jumped up and unlocked the door. Two burly men in full uniform flashed their badges and asked to come in.

"What's going on here?" he asked, tamping down the fear that seemed to be searing his throat. Fear that something, despite his valiant efforts, had happened to a loved one. The something being Terrence Wade.

"Did you have a guest by the name of Donna Matthews last evening?"

"Yes. What's the problem?"

"When did you last see her?"

"She left here about twelve last night. Could you explain the need for all these questions?"

The tall thinner cop with the name "Randall" typed on his badge kept looking at Dakota with a wary eye. "Donna Matthews was murdered at about one-o'clock this morning. She was strangled and her body sliced up with a butcher knife and dumped on the side of the road next to Henry's bar. She was seen leaving the bar staggering drunk at about 12:45 A.M., but supposedly left by herself. Now, whoever killed her was obviously waiting in ambush, either in her car or theirs. Could you tell us if you had any altercation with her last night? And exactly what was your relationship to Ms. Mason?"

The policeman did not break eye contact with Dakota, looking down at him with a searing, formidable gaze. He kept popping his gum and rocking back and forth on his heels, waiting for Dakota to answer. Dakota knew the likes of them---they wanted easy answers and the case wrapped up tight and solid. They did not want to chase leads around for weeks---each minute that passed chilled the chances of finding the perp. They wanted to be smooth and smart and they wanted the rest of the world to think the same. They wanted Dakota to be the murderer and they wanted to take him down to the station now. They would be the town heroes---two astute police officers who stayed on the trail while the case was hot and nabbed the killer before he had a chance to spring.

"Donna left when I had a friend drop by. The friend stayed until this morning. You can talk to her if you wish. I'll be happy to provide you with her name and number. As far as Donna, this is a terrible tragedy. I'm very upset about her death. But the truth is I didn't know her very well. I'd interviewed her at the hospital about a case I was working on, and she invited herself over for dinner. Seemed like a nice person, although we didn't have a relationship, in any way, shape or form. If I can be any further assistance to you, please don't hesitate to contact me."

"Good day," they said as they tipped their hats, still eyeing him suspiciously. "Just don't take any long trips for awhile, okay?"

Dakota was hit by the impact. Could it be---he suddenly thought of Wade. If it was, there would be a message on the answering machine. He'd surely be bragging about his conquests.

Dakota walked over to the computer with a sickening certainty. This was one time when he wished his instincts would prove glaringly wrong. He touched the key for the E-Mail and it sprang up on the monitor.

"White Knight,

Where was Sir Lancelot when Queen Guineviere needed you? You can't save the world, White Knight, so don't even try. Just come to terms with the fact that I’m always here and there lurking in the background. You never know from one minute to the next what life (or death!) may bring. Just be glad it was not you---or the pretty lady of your dreams. When playing chess, there are times that material must be lost. And the game is not over yet---there's a lot more fun to come!"

Check, Mate

Black Knight

P.S. Did you check out my fancy handiwork?

* * *

"Karen, Ariana here," Ariana said after Karen answered her phone. "Listen, I'm ready to take you up on your offer of the weekend in Austin. I really need to get away from here."

"Where is 'here'? I've been trying to call you in Taylorville and Ida just said you were out. She was mum as the fence post. I've been worried. What's going on?"

"It's a long story and I don't have time to go into it right now, but I promise I'll fill you in later. Is this weekend going to work for you?"

"Sure. My house is open to you anytime you want to come. But you didn't answer my question. Where are you?" Karen said, with an edge of concern in her voice.

"I'm in Phoenix, trying to clear out my apartment and wrap up the termination process at the company. I've taken the plunge, Karen. I've quit my job," Ariana said, feeling a sense of release, as if saying the words gave her that sense of finality and closure that she needed.

"Oh, good. I've always thought that job was far too stressful. I know you were very successful at what you did---you would be successful at anything you attempted, come hell or high water, but it was just so, not you."

Ariana laughed, "Then what is me, Karen?"

"Oh," Karen mused, "Something creative involving people. I suppose the owner and proprietor of a bed-and-breakfast in Taylorville, Texas would suit you just fine. That would be you."

Ariana laughed at Karen's concern and insight. "You do have a certain sensitivity, Karen. Sometimes it's uncanny the way you seem to be able to see more about people than they know about themselves."

"Well, that's what friends are for---if you have a gift, use it. Speaking of gifts, are we going to make this the official shop-for-a-wedding-dress-weekend?"

"Uh---yea, right. This would be a good weekend to do that."

"Oh, I almost forgot," Karen exclaimed, "Jack's birthday is this weekend. I've planned a surprise party at the Medieval Times for him and I'm going to have to break into his apartment and get on his computer to find his list of friends. He is going to die. So you'll be here for that."

"Sounds great. So I'll finally meet the great mystery guy with the Brad Pitt butt. What a treat."

"Are you planning to fly in?" Karen asked.

"Yes, I don't have my car here. But it'll be tomorrow before I can make plane reservations. I'll call you when I get my itinerary."

"Great. Adios!"

"Bye," said Ariana.

Ariana stared at the phone, debating about whether to call

Dakota. I need to tell him how I feel. I can't just keep running from these feelings or I’ll explode. And I need to let him know that I am getting married. I need to tell him we cannot, from this point on, ever be around each other again.

But Ariana could not dial the number. Her fingers would just not push the buttons on the telephone to do the job. Oh, I'm so confused. Why do I feel that I'm making the biggest mistake of my life? The boulder in the pit of her stomach seemed to sink to the very bottom, dragging her spirit down with it.

No, I have already planned my life. I will go through with this wedding. Maybe going shopping for a wedding dress is just what I need. Maybe it will get me into the spirit of things. I've just had so much going on. That is the only reason I've been feeling so confused and down in the dumps---just system overload. I really do need to call Ida to check on things at the homefront. But first I'll send him a note on E-Mail. A note that tells him it is final---we can never see each other again and to drop the work on Me-Me's case. Things are just not working the way they are.

"Hi, Ida," Ariana said cheerfully as Ida answered the phone.

"How are you, Child?" Ida responded with her usual warmth. "Your voice don't sound so good. What's wrong?"

"Oh, it's just that I'm feeling a little overwhelmed," Ariana sighed, too tired to be defensive. "What with the wedding plans and the Bed-and-Breakfast plans. It's a lot to handle at one time. I think I've taken a bigger bite than I can chew."

"That might be some of it. But the main thing I sees is, you're not following your heart. Not if you marry Graham."

"Ida, this is out of character for you to be so adamant about this wedding. You don't think I should get married, do you?"

"I think you should get married, Child, but not to Graham. You should marry Dakota. He is your soul mate. You know it, I know it and he knows it. If I keep my mouth shut now I'll be mad at myself sometime down the road. So, yeah, if I’m interfering, you're right, but it's for a cause. That being my Child's happiness."

"Okay, Ida. I understand. I need to go now and sign my termination papers at the company. I'll be leaving from here to go to Austin to visit Karen for the weekend. You have her number in the file in case you need to reach me. Can you handle things at The Lillian until I get back?"

"Sure, Child. No problem. Don't you worry about a thing."

"I don't worry about anything as long as you're there, Ida."

* * *

Dakota received Ariana's note and sighed. Oh, well, a part of him knew this was inevitable. Ariana couldn't be the person she is and continue the relationship as it existed. It would cause her too much distress. But it was good while it lasted. He was thankful for what he had with her. It would carry him a long way. It was beyond anything imaginable as far as he was concerned. She was really going to go through with this wedding. Ariana had the determination of iron.

It would be easy for him to dissolve into despair, thought Dakota, but he would not allow that to happen. Life had dealt him a blow when it came to love but, hey, it wasn't over until the fat lady sings. And he didn't hear anybody singing any wedding songs at the moment. The eternal optimist his roommates used to call him in college. The sky could be falling in and he would find a way to build castles out of the rubble.

Maybe this was for the best in regard to Ariana's safety, too, Dakota mused. The danger that Ariana was in directly correlated with the amount of association with Dakota. He would leave things as they were with Ariana, but continue to work on the case. He knew something else would happen but he did not know what and to whom it would happen to. He would just have to wait and watch and be able to react with full throttle. He was primed and ready, like an animal in the jungle who knew his predator was close by, waiting and watching.

* * *

Dakota took the back door to the hospital basement. Inferior lighting bathed the hall in a surreal, iridescent glow.

Lucky for him, the door to Dr. Walter’s office stood wide open, and the large, brick walled room stood in disarray. Notes on torn pieces of yellow legal pad paper papered the walls, and piles of old medical journals collected dust in the corners. But it appeared Dr. Walters had been working that morning–the coffee cup sat half full and testing the temperature with his finger, Dakota noticed it was tepid. The clutter on the desk denoted a frantic, overworked mind. Shifting some papers with his hand, he picked up a business card–‘Graham Browne’, attorney-at-law were the words on the front–gold letter on slick black paper. That would be his style, Dakota thought with chagrin. He turned the card over flippantly. The name ‘Mary Nell James’ was scrawled out in broken, cursive writing, no doubt her own. What the hell, he thought. And then everything clicked.

He knew.

Karen ran to Ariana and gave her a big hug as she met her plane.

"Great to see you. Are you ready for the whirlwind weekend? Got your dancing shoes with you? We have lots of plans."

"Well, do you have an extra pair? I don't think I own a pair of "dancing shoes", whatever they are.

"Just kidding. Here's the deal. Jack's picking us up at the apartment at six o'clock. He doesn't know you're here so this will be a big surprise to him. He thinks he doesn't like surprises, at least that's what he's always told me, but he's going to learn to love them. Now, about you, we'll just say that you sprung a surprise visit on me and you're along for the ride. We'll head to Medieval Times for dinner. His group of friends will be there waiting for us."

"Now would be a great time to do your wedding dress shopping. Are you up to it?" Karen asked, shifting the car in reverse to head for the stores.

"Well, I suppose now is as good a time as any," Ariana replied without enthusiasm.

"What gives?" Karen said, heading the car toward the bridal boutiques. "Why are you so blah-say about your own wedding. Me no-comprende."

"I've just had so much going lately with Me-Me's death, getting her estate settled, preparing for the opening of the bed-and-breakfast. I suppose I've taken on too much at one time."

"You don't suppose for a second it has anything to do with the fact that you really don't want to marry Graham?" Karen looked at her pointedly, as if trying to deflect Ariana's hedging.

"No, it's not about that," Ariana quipped defensively.

"Okay, we've arrived at the first bridal boutique. Let's see what we can find."

The small boutique filled with lace and satin sat tucked in the corner of the strip shopping center. Soft music set the romantic mood and mirrors covered all the walls. The first rack of dresses held bustles and trains that made Ariana want to gag. "Look at this one, Ariana. It's the candlelight shade that you like and it's simple. Your taste all the way." Karen held the dress up and turned it for Ariana's inspection.

"It's fine except for the bustle in the back. I absolutely detest those bustles. It's definitely not me," Ariana protested, placing it back on the rack with the thousand other dresses bunched together.

"You need a little bustle to make it look like you have a butt. You're so thin your butt looks flat. Without a bustle, you're nothing but hip bones. It would become you," Karen argued.

"I don't care if I look like a telephone pole, I'm not wearing a bustle. I'm getting married, not entering the Miss America contest," sighed Ariana. "Come to think of it, I'm really not in the mood for this. Can we do this some other time?"

"Like when--the day before your wedding? Have you looked at the calendar lately? You've only got two more months."

"Don't remind me. At his point I'll opt for a beach wedding, maybe in Hawaii, with my feet in the water when we say our vows." Ariana stated flatly, looking around. "Let's get out of here. I feel suffocated."

* * * * *

Dakota stretched out on the sofa and tried to relax but his mind was on overload. He kept thinking about Donna, the way she'd died, and guilt kept pressing on him at the thought that if he'd never met her she would probably still be alive and bouncing around the hospital, feisty as ever. Fate doesn't make any concessions for anyone. The chips always fall randomly, but Dakota hadn't yet absolved his feeling of responsibility. It was too late to save Donna, but there had to be something he could do to change the course of the way things were going.

He took a deep breath and forced himself to think of options---to come up with strategies on how to outwit Terrence Wade. Going to the police would only botch things up. He knew that. But not going to the police could appear very strange and questionable if he were placed under legal scrutiny. He was definitely caught between a rock and a hard place---a rock about the size of Gibraltar and a hard place about like Mount Rainier, and no space to move at that. But he'd never let situations like this daunt him. Challenges were like his birthright---a puzzle that needed to be solved. He knew he could be more aggressive if it was just his own life in danger. But he had Ariana and Laney and Chelsea to think about. He would not let anything happen to them. He would sacrifice his own life first.

The words from Wade's last E-Mail kept popping up in his mind and running through it like a bad tune that wouldn't stop. It was the line about the handiwork. Terrence must have carved something on Donna. Maybe it was something significant that he needed to know about. Maybe he needed to go down to the morgue to check it out. He had to. There could be a clue here that he couldn't afford to miss---a missing link in Wade's sordid "chess game".

Dakota grabbed a shirt and headed off toward the morgue. As suspicious and strange as it might look, Dakota knew there would be something there he had to know.

The drive didn't take long. It was dusk when he got there and the place appeared locked up tighter than a drum. Dakota checked all the doors, finding the back one unlocked and opened. Two garbage cans were holding the double doors open and the lights were on. Apparently the janitor was still here cleaning. Oh well, Dakota thought, he could be as surreptitious as he needed to be when necessity called for it. He walked down the hall quietly and stealthily, rounding the corner only to run smack into the janitor holding a mop, a broom and a bucket. Everything went crashing to the floor, including the janitor, whose face looked as pale as a ghost when he picked himself up from the heap.

"Whoa. You tryin' to scare the bejesus out of a man?

"I'm sorry," Dakota apologized, "I didn't mean to rattle you."

"Mister, you ain't got no business in here this time of night. What's going on here?" said the janitor, regaining his courage and looking angrier by the minute.

"I'm Dakota Burke, Private Detective. Here's my badge," Dakota said, flashing his badge and Identification card.

"What I want to know is, not who you are, but who gave you permission to be in here? This here is what they call highly sensitive, protected property."

"I need to see a marking on a corpse for a case I'm working on," Dakota said, skirting the question and pulling fifty dollars from his pocket. "Do you think you could accommodate me?"

"Uh, yea sir," he said, taking the money from Dakota. "I can be as helpful as they come. I'll show you the room, but I ain't escorting you in there. No, not even a hundred dollars could make me do that."

Dakota relaxed, "Just lead me to the door, that's all I need. And don't worry. I don't have a hundred dollars to entice you anyway. So you can relax."

* * *

"Well, Ariana, our plans have just changed. We will be picking Jack up at work. He's going to be working later than he thought, so he asked me to come pick him up. I'll explain your presence when we get there. Are you ready?" Karen asked, buckling the belt to her denim mini-skirt as she fluffed up her blonde hair before the hall mirror.

"I'm set to go," Ariana replied, glancing at herself in the mirror as she walked past. Looking a little bit pale, she thought to herself. I should have added a touch of blush-on, at least for the evening. They headed out to Karen's Toyota Camry and Karen quickly unlocked the doors for both of them.

"Jack's office is not too far from here. He said he'd be waiting out front for us."

"What exactly does Jack do for a living, Karen?" Ariana inquired.

"Well, I'm not quite sure. We've talked about it before and the more I probe him the quieter he becomes. He literally clams up. I think it has something to do with the stock market and commodities. I know that he does quite a bit of work on the computer when he's at home."

"Forgive me if I'm prying, but is this thing getting pretty serious? You guys have obviously been spending some quality time together."

"To tell you the truth, Ariana, I'm not real sure where we stand or where this thing is going. Sometime in the very near future, we are going to have to sit down and have the talk. I am obviously verrrry attracted to this person. He's cute, intelligent, interesting and oh, sooooo smart, and excuse my crudeness but I'm just going to be blunt with this---the sex is better than fabulous. This in the most sensuous, intense man I have ever known in my life and everything intensifies and comes to a head when we're in bed. I mean, he just takes me to the stratosphere. And whatever is not quite right or not developing in our relationship I'll deal with later, but right now I want to enjoy the good parts that we have."

Ariana sighed, "I know what you're talking about---about the sex, I mean. I know this is going to come as a shock to you Karen, but Dakota and I had that together. But I had to let it go because I'm committed to Graham and I fully intend to marry him, come hell or high water. But I will never have with Graham what I have with Dakota."

Karen pulled the car over to the side of the road and screeched to a sudden stop. "Did you just say what I thought you said? You, Ariana Holland, slept with the hunk of a private detective that you hired to solve the discrepancies you saw in your grandmother's death."

"Yes, you heard me correctly. And, for the record, I slept with him twice. It was just the way you described it with Jack---better than incredulous, more earth-shattering than anything I ever felt possible for me to experience in that realm. But to make it worse, he's in love with me."

"What? To make it worse, what kind of number are you doing on yourself, Ariana. What are you talking about---to make it worse. This is fabulous, don't you see?" Karen said reaching over with both hands and shaking Ariana. "You have found the love of your life. Forget Graham. Break it off. He'll get over it and you know it. It'll probably take him all of two weeks. Otherwise, if you marry Graham, you'll be a fraud. You'll be cheating everyone, but most of all---you'll be cheating yourself---and living a lie to boot."

"Oh, Karen," Ariana said, near tears. "You sound just like Ida. She's told me basically the same thing. But I can't break it off with Graham. There is something in me that just won't let me do it. Every time it comes down to the wire I pick Graham."

"Horse shit," yelled Karen. "Just do it."

"I can't."

"Subject closed---for tonight," Karen said, as she swerved the car up to the door of Jack's office complex. "But we'll continue this conversation tomorrow, as we search for a new wedding dress, we'll search your heart. Tomorrow is a new day, as the old saying goes. Was that Gone With the Wind? We might have to buy two dresses---one in the event you marry Graham, and the other in the highly likely event you marry Dakota."

"You're just not going to let it go, are you, Karen. What a friend! And, furthermore, Dakota has said nothing about wanting to marry me."

"Of course he hasn't, Dufus. Do you think he wants to scare you off? Well---check this out, here comes Jack the man. What do you think?"

The sandy blond, lanky-but-muscular-and-well-built-man bound out of the office toward them, half walking and half running. He was nice looking enough, Ariana thought, but when she caught the glint of his eyes, something bothered her. She didn't like the sinister look in his eyes and when he got within a few yards of them a cold chill swept up her spine. She shivered. But it was when he smiled that her blood ran cold. The cold intensity of his eyes did not match the smile. Something was wrong---off by a mile. The teeth were even off setting---the front ones had a space in them that a Mack truck could drive through. She took an instant dislike to this man and she was suddenly afraid for Karen.

Apparently the feeling was mutual and she had the same effect that he had on her. When Ariana and Karen stepped out of the car to greet him he turned as white as a sheet and started stammering, before Karen could even get the introductions out of her mouth.

"Jack, honey, I'd like for you to meet a dear friend of mine, Ariana Holland."

Ariana tentatively held out her hand to him and barely managed a, "Nice to meet you."

He took her hand but didn't say a word. The white pallor to his face was suddenly replaced by beet red. He sputtered, "Karen, why didn't you let me know that you were expecting company?"

Between his teeth he said, "I thought we were just going to have a quiet dinner out---just the two of us."

Embarrassed, Karen attempted to make amends, "Honey, I can't believe you're so upset. Ariana flew all the way in from Phoenix to spend the weekend with us. It was your birthday and I...well...I just wanted to surprise you."

Still seething and seeming barely able to control his anger, Jack said, "Well, there just better not be any more surprises tonight. If you've planned anymore you better tell me right now. That is, if you don't want to see me blow. And I don't think you want to see that. I promise you, it won't be pretty."

"Jack," Karen said, crestfallen, "I've never seen this side of you. I really don't understand."

"Well, you haven't known me that long, have you, Miss Karen?" Jack said, his voice getting louder and louder. "Maybe there's a lot of things you need to learn about me. Tell me now if you have any more surprises. I told you I don't like surprises."

"Well," Karen said, swallowing hard and preparing herself for the onslaught, "If I must tell you, I planned a surprise party for you later on tonight at the Medieval Times."

"And who did you invite, Karen. You know that I am a very private person. I made that very clear from the beginning of our relationship."

"I know that you're a private person, Jack, and I love that about you. But this is your birthday for Pete's sake. I wanted it to be special."

Drawing a circle in the sandy dirt of the parking space, Jack said slowly, "So how did you get the names and numbers of my friends, Karen?"

Sheepishly and defensively Karen said, "I had a copy made of your key and went to your apartment and got the list off your computer."

In a rage, Jack let out a roar and charged at her like a lion. "You fucking bitch," he said as he grabbed her and put his hands around her neck, the veins in his neck bulging out like knotted ropes.

Reacting instinctively, Ariana put her hands up in a Kung Fu motion and let out a high pitch yell that could probably be heard a mile away. She charged at Jack, knocking him to the ground in one swift kick. He was obviously stunned, caught off guard by Ariana's reaction, but quickly recovered and charged at her like a mad bull.

Holding her foot on his chest, Ariana said slowly and deliberately, emphasis on each syllable as if to make sure he understood, "Don't you ever lay a hand on Karen again. If you do, I'll have you arrested faster than you can blink an eye. Karen, please get in the car and start it. We are going to be leaving this parking lot now and I want this to be the last time I ever lay eyes on you. Is that understood."

Pale and stunned, Jack mumbled a garbled, "Yes."

Ariana took her foot off Jack's chest and walked slowly to the car, shooting one last fast look at Jack. She thought she heard him mumble, "I'll take care of you, bitch," but couldn't swear to it."

When she shut the car door, Karen was crying and pressing her foot on the accelerator, bolting away from the scene of the crime as fast as she could. "Oh, God, Ariana. I am so sorry," Karen sobbed. "I have never seen this side of him before, I swear. I don't understand what came over him."

"Karen, everybody has a dark side. But this man...I don't know what it is, but there is something sinister and evil about him, like a shark out of water. I could feel it the first minute I saw him as he was walking to the car. I have no idea what's driving him, but I highly recommend staying away from that dude."

"Are you kidding? I don't need any convincing to do that. The guy obviously had me over a barrel---he's a nut case, an absolute lunatic. I'm still so...so shocked."

"I understand. That's perfectly normal. The good thing is that you found out before you got in any deeper. I'm thinking, though, that we need to file a police report---just in case something else happens. I don't mean to scare you or anything, but he could try to force you to see him, even if you don't want him around."

"What do you mean, Ariana?"

"I'm talking about stalking you, Karen. He's obviously a very angry person. His pride has been wounded and he's going to have a tendency to blame all his woes on you. You are just going to be the target right now."

"So what should I do?" Karen asked, on the verge of tears again and sounding panicky.

"My recommendation is that we go to the police station, file a police report, then change the locks on your doors and change your phone number and make sure it's unlisted."

"I'm on my way to the police station now. But do you really think he'll try to hurt me?"

"He's already tried to hurt you, Karen. I'm not trying to play the hero or receive accolades, but no telling what would have happened if I hadn't been there. Jack is dangerous. If he finds a way to get in touch with you be cordial to him, but don't let him draw you into any conversation. Be cool and professional."

"Oh, Ariana, thank God you're here. What would I ever do without you?" Karen said, reaching over and squeezing Ariana’s hand, her eyes brimming over with tears, making her eyes appear as green as moss in a pond.

"Just out of curiosity---did you ever meet any of his friends?"

"No, looking back on it now, I see that as kind of strange. He was always real...well, kind of a loner, really. He didn't talk much about himself or his life and whenever I asked him specific questions he'd either dodge the question, crack a joke, or turn the question around to me. I see that as strange now but at the time, I didn't pick up on it."

"Well, when a relationship is new, you don't want to pick up on those things. You want everything to be good, consistent and wonderful. Your subconscious might be trying to tell you something but your conscious, logical mind doesn't want to hear anything of the sort. It doesn't want to mess up the pretty picture you've painted of your relationship and the way you want it to be."

Karen looked over at Ariana as she pulled into the police station, "You sure are insightful.. I didn't know you had it in you, girl."

"Well, I was a psychology major before I went to nursing school. I guess a little bit of it stuck."

"Here we are. Guess it's time to do the dirty job. I feel like I'm the criminal."

Ariana looked over and snickered at her, opening the car door. Wait until you get in there and they give us the third degree. Policemen aren't high on my list of favorite people, although, at times I've been grateful for their services."

Karen was silent as they walked up the steps and through the looming entryway to the police headquarters.

CHAPTER NINE

Dakota just about jumped out of his skin when he heard the voice from directly behind him.

"I kinda had a hunch we might find you here," the officer said from behind Dakota. "Instead of returning to the scene of the crime, as most murderers do, you returned to the victim. Just as good. Came back to admire your handiwork, didn't you?"

"What in the hell?" Dakota asked, stepping back from the police officer's burly chest. "You've got the wrong idea. I can explain everything, Officer."

"Just doing our job," the officer said as he flashed his badge and took his handcuffs off the belt at the same time. You can explain everything, all right. You will explain everything once we get to the police station. Right now put your hands behind your back. You are under arrest for the murder of Donna Matthews."

The officer, still smacking his gum, read Dakota his Miranda rights. Dakota could only wonder if it was the same piece of gum he'd been chewing when he'd shown up at his apartment to question Dakota yesterday. He smacked it a few times too many---as if to magnify his authority, Dakota thought. Shit, how am I going to get myself out of this one. Ariana, he thought suddenly, a sense of glee permeating his being.

"I am allowed a phone call. I'd like to make it as soon as I get to the station."

The officer smacked a few times before he answered, as if to prolong Dakota's agony, I'd suggest you contact your attorney---the best one you can find, I might add. You're sure the hell gonna need it. We're gonna nail you to the wall. Scum like you that do the likes of what you did to Donna Matthews deserve to burn in hell. You don't deserve the air you're breathing this minute. I'd kill you with my own hands right now if I could get away with it."

Dakota noticed the officer was shaking. This man had a vendetta---an ax to grind and obviously Dakota was going to be his scapegoat.

"How many other women have you done this to?" Officer Randall's voice cracked. "Two, three, four, a dozen, two dozen?" He tightened his grip on Dakota’s arm, his knuckles turning white.

"If it's any consolation to you, I've never killed anyone in my life," Dakota answered, coolly and calmly.

"Yeah, sure, you didn't. That's what they all say. You're probably the same guy that did my sister two years ago. Raped her five times, then beat her with a sledge hammer. My beautiful sister, blonde hair, blue eyes, the face of an angel and the heart of one, too. A sweeter woman you could never find.

Dakota noticed there were tears running down his cheeks and the next thing he knew Randall was down on the floor sobbing. Dakota stood by politely until the wave of emotion had passed. But now he understood what this was all about.

Randall had joined the police force after the death of his sister, so that he could "save the world" from the type of monsters that had murdered his beloved sister. The man had a mission–or the mission had the man. Dakota remembered now. He'd read about the story in the paper. He wondered at the time how Randall had passed the psychological tests required for admittance to the Police Academy.

"Okay," Randall huffed as he pushed Dakota's head down into the car, just like they do on television, "get in there and don't utter a word until we get to the police station."

Dakota was glad for an excuse to be quiet. He needed to get his thoughts in order and formulate a plan. Something niggled at the back of his mind and he struggled to pull it up. Oh, yea, he thought, the statement Randall made about the handiwork---the same words the computer at the end of Wade's last E-Mail message, "How did you like my handiwork?" Was it possible that Wade had somehow contacted the police and set him up or tried to set him up? Dakota laughed out loud and Randall turned quickly in an about-face, evidently startled.

"Nothing, nothing, don't worry, I haven't gone mad. It's just the absurdity, that's all. Just the absurdity of this whole situation." Dakota explained.

Dakota remembered his psychology professor in college talking about the big cosmic joke. He said when life hit the bleakest moment, it could also be the funniest. Tragedy is the flip side of comedy and vice-versa. You couldn’t have one without the other. He guessed that to be true right now. Everyone’s life is a tragi-comedy is you looked at it from a global perspective. Where can you go but up from here, he thought, and laughed out loud again. This time Randall ignored him, appearing deep in his dark thoughts as they arrived at the station.

* * *

"Oh, what a night," Karen said as she collapsed onto the fake fur couch of her townhouse. "Who would of thunk it?"

"Well, I, for one, am ready for a big dose of normalcy. What else could possibly happen tonight?" Ariana sighed as she stretched out on the floor, her head leaning back on the overstuffed leopard pillow, elbows behind her head.

"Oh, let's see, there are all kinds of possibilities. Someone could deliver a giant cake and George Clooney could jump out of it."

"George Clooney?" Ariana scrunched up her face in mock disgust and looked up at the ceiling. "My, what fickle taste we have---going all the way from Brad Pitt to George Clooney."

"Brad Pitt is on my black list right now---butt or no butt," winced Karen. "He’s an instant reminder of our unfavorite Jack, blacklisted from my own personal hall of fame. As a matter of fact, while I still have my anger, I’m going to clean house–might as well get a little mileage out of all this pent up energy. Make it productive."

Scooping up pictures of Jack and her together and throwing them in the wastebasket, she said, "That part of my life is over. From now on I’m the suddenly-Happy-Single-Unattached-and-Aim-to-Stay-that-way poster girl."

"Whew," said Ariana. "What a mouthful. I hope you don’t have to sign any official documents with that title. You could get carpal tunnel syndrome."

"Karen," Ariana chided, Brad Pitt and Jack are not one and the same."

"I know," sighed Karen, huddling up under her summer afghan, "but he's still a much too painful reminder of what-was-once-good-gone-bad."

"By the way, Ariana," Karen said, leaning on her side and propping herself up on her elbow, "there's something I need to tell you about Jack. It bothered me at the time, but I was so excited about the surprise party, I guess I, well, sort of shoved it out of my mind."

"What is it, Karen?" Ariana reached for her glass of mineral water and stretched out on the love seat.

"When I broke into his apartment and got into his computer, your name was on his address mailing list. I couldn't figure it out. I tried to remember whether I gave it to him for some reason, so I racked my brain to remember exactly when or where I could have given it to him and for what reason. The fact is, I know I didn't. I don't understand why your name, address and phone number was on his computer. It stayed with me, niggled at me."

Cold chills sluiced up Ariana's back and she shuddered at

the thought that the lunatic she fought tonight had personal information about her at his fingertips. Ariana tried to rationalize why he might have the information on his computer.

"Aha, I've got it. Maybe he plugged the data into the computer when he brought you to the funeral in Taylorville."

"No," Karen nodded as she pulled the afghan tighter around her shoulders. "I simply gave him directions to the funeral home and graveyard. I know that I didn't give him any addresses. It's got to be something else. And in light of what happened tonight, quite frankly, I'm worried."

The shrill ring of the telephone broke Ariana's chance for rebuttal. Karen sauntered over to the phone to answer it. "Ariana Holland? Why? Who's calling? Oh, yes, here she is."

Karen handed the phone to Ariana and mouthed silently, "It's Dakota."

Surprised, her heart suddenly beating wildly out of control, Ariana answered the phone breathlessly, taking a couple of cleansing breaths to clear her throat before she answered. "Hello," she said, trying to sound as casual as possible.

"Ariana, listen, this is Dakota. I'm sorry I tracked you down here, but I had no choice. I'm in a heap of trouble, it seems, and you're the only one who can get me out of it."

"What's going on? Where are you? Are you all right?"

"Yes, I'm okay. However, there's been a tragedy here. Donna Matthews, the nurse you met over at my house the night before you left, was found brutally murdered that morning. I've been arrested and charged with the murder."

Silence reined in between them as Ariana, shocked out of her senses, tried to stop the reeling in her head.

Flabbergasted, Ariana asked, "When was she murdered?"

"They estimate the time to be around one o'clock in the morning."

"But that's impossible. No I mean, you couldn't have murdered her during that time---You were with me. We were...."

"I know that Ariana. That's why you're the only person who can help me. You are my alibi.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Just get to Taylorville as fast as you can and get to the police station."

"I'm on my way."

Ariana kicked into high gear as she jumped up and began packing, throwing her clothes in a heap into the suitcase.

Karen walked into the room, pale-faced. "Ariana, you look like you’ve just seen the ghost of Abe Lincoln. What’s wrong?"

Without looking up, Ariana responded, "Dakota’s in trouble. He’s been arrested for murder."

"What," Karen shrieked, pulling her hair from the roots and shrinking down onto the bed. "What else could possibly go wrong tonight? Who was murdered?"

"Donna Matthews. A nurse at St. Francis Hospital."

"Well, we both know Dakota didn’t do it. Don’t we?"

Ariana zipped the suitcase and grabbed it by the handle. "He couldn’t have done it. He was in bed with me at the time of the murder."

* * *

Laney checked the dead bolts on the doors and closed the curtains, battening down the hatches as Dakota had ordered. She laughed at the thought of her brother. The over protective brother with the wild imagination. She still felt compelled to do what he asked out of respect for him and his wishes, but all this psychopath stuff was pretty bizarre to her. The man who killed her sister-in-law was someone who didn't seem real to her. And besides that, nothing ever happened in Taylorville---it was as innocuous a town as could be found anywhere considering these days and times. And the ranch was so remote that people had a difficult time even finding the dirt road in the daylight, much less trying to track them down at night.

Underneath the humor and good nature, Laney felt a tremor of unease. But suppose Dakota wasn't exaggerating. Suppose that this psychopath, Terrence Wade as they called him, really was on the rampage and tried to get to her and Chelsea. A wave of nausea washed over her at the thought of anything or anyone trying to harm Chelsea. Her little blonde angel, the light of her life and the bane of her existence.

She and Monty had tried for years and endured numerous fertility treatments to have a child. Laney had known for years, even during journalism school, that she deeply wanted roots. She valued her education, loved writing in various different forms, achieving a modicum of success with it, but she knew her primary goal in life was to secure and enjoy a happy home environment.

Tending the house, gardening, sewing and playing with Chelsea thrilled her and satisfied a deeply felt need. Chelsea changed every day and Laney didn't want to miss a minute of it. There was plenty of time to do the other stuff later.

Laney harbored no envy toward those friends with frazzled lives because they tried to do it all---doing nothing really well and exhausting themselves in the process. Some were CEO’s of major corporations, opulent in the material sense but lacking in the spiritual, the substance in life that really counts, that rich texture of inner nature that only the simple things in life can fill.

The ring of the telephone cut into her thoughts and she hopped off the couch and turned down the television before answering it.

"Hi, Love," said Monty's soothing voice from the other end of the line. "How are things at the Ponderosa?"

"Well, I'm holding down the fort," laughed Laney, feeling normal again as the comfort of her husband's voice washed over her. She paused, thinking about how nice it would be to snuggle up next to him, feeling that warmth that only he could give her. "I just watched the weather channel and it looks like we're due for big spring storms tonight. I just hope it doesn't turn out to be one of our big spring monsoons. You might have a hard time getting back home. You know how that road washes out when it rains."

"Yes," Monty sighed, sounding tired. "And, I do have the paving of that road next on the agenda of my honey-do list. I promise that will get done immediately when I get back. I'll call some contractors and get some estimates."

"Thanks, Sweets. Some of the holes just keep washing out every time it rains. I'm still carrying that piece of plywood in my trunk just in case we get stuck again. I've had a couple of close calls."

A streak of lightning bolted across the sky, illuminating the back yard. Chills danced up her spine and landed in the pit of her stomach, forming what felt like a ball of lead, when she thought she saw an outline of a man's figure crouching at the edge of the trees. She gasped.

"What's wrong?" asked Monty, concern edging out the fatigue in his voice.

"Uh...nothing to worry about, Hon. I just got a little frightened by the lightning," said Laney, not wanting to alarm him when she was not absolutely certain of what she saw.

"Are you sure," Monty asked, not sounding totally reassured that everything was as it should be.

"Yes, I'm sure. Everything's fine," Laney said, willing herself to calmness and raising her voice an octave or two to sound cheerful. But the sound of her own heartbeat through her chest belied her exterior composure.

"How's Chelsea?"

"She's asleep. We finished Black Beauty tonight so she's probably dreaming about her horses."

"I miss you both. In fact, that's why I called. I may be able to get a late flight out tonight instead of tomorrow. The conference is nearly over and I've wrapped up my part of it earlier than I thought. There's no place I'd rather be than home, cuddled up next to you. If I can get a flight out, I'll be home around midnight. How's that sound?"

Laney breathed a sigh of relief. "Wonderful."

"Hope to see you then. Love you."

"Too," Laney said, hanging up.

Loneliness washed over her after she hung up the phone. A sense of foreboding kept her hand glued to the receiver after she hung up, as if trying to hold onto the connection with her husband. She walked over and closed the curtains, but not before pressing her face against the glass to check out what was going on outside. The crickets were chirping in unison, and the noise rose to almost a crescendo. When the next flash of lightening illuminated the sky she couldn't see anything but the trees, looking the same as they always did. But all of a sudden, there was quiet---an unsettling quiet. The crickets stopped chirping in unison, like they were responding to a secret signal. The eerie sound of silence descended over the house. It was the kind of quiet that made one think of nature retreating from the path of evil forces.

Laney shivered and went in to check on Chelsea. The night light cast just enough glow to show Chelsea's face, eyelashes resting on her plump, apple cheeks. Rosebud lips worked as she slept. Laney smiled and knelt down, tracing her finger down Chelsea's cheek. She was a gift from heaven, that was an absolute.

A sound from outside the window startled her. She walked over and peeked out the side of the curtain. She breathed a sigh of relief as she realized it was just the wind picking up, brushing a tree branch against the side of the window. Laney checked the locks on the windows. Everything was secure. I guess I better check all the windows, just to make sure they're closed and locked, she thought. It wouldn't serve much purpose to deadbolt all the doors if the windows were open. Laney was not accustomed to think in terms of such tight security. She probably needed to write a list of things she needed to check. Maybe I'll call Dakota to see if he can help me with this. It'll be a good way to check up on him, anyway.

Laney picked the portable phone up and dialed his number while she walked to the back of the house to do her checks. "Well, no answer here. I wonder what little brother is up to tonight!" Laney said out loud, comforted by the sound of her own voice.

Oh, well, she thought, he's got his life to live. Dakota had talked to her a little bit about Ariana. But apparently things were not going to work out. Laney's heart hurt for her brother. He had been through such an ordeal with the murder of his wife, Cara. A person as wonderful as Dakota, albeit stubborn, she conceded, deserved happiness. She couldn't understand why he couldn't manage to find it now. Maybe he was too particular. Not necessarily, something could change, but...when he fell in love, he fell hard. And, though he'd not come out and said it in so many words, he was head over heels in love with Ariana. Laney just knew. No sheepish denial on his part would convince her otherwise.

His eyes sparkled like jewels and his face lit up in her presence. His physical nature always betrayed him. He wore his heart on his sleeve, and in his smile and laugh. Laney thought of him as an easy read. Ariana was a very special person, not to mention beautiful. Laney, confident as she was, felt a little dowdy next to her. Ariana was stunningly beautiful. But Laney knew that was not enough in itself to get and keep Dakota's attention. Dakota needed substance---right down to the marrow of someone's soul he seemed able to probe and discern.

Laney couldn't remember how many of her friends she'd tried to set Dakota up with after Cara's death---beautiful girls, models. Girls that most men would drool over. But Dakota was just not interested. Oh, he would be polite enough, but there would be no follow up after the initial set-up meal at Monty's and Laney's. Finally Monty told her to give it up and get the stars out of her eyes---Dakota would have to fall in love by himself---for himself. And now that he had, it was with someone unavailable.

Ariana would have been Laney's first pick for Dakota, though. She possessed a rare, sweet essence. She thought Dakota must have that innate ability to pick up on that quality because Cara possessed that genteel sweetness, too. Laney knew Dakota had loved Cara deeply, but she hadn't seen that same spark in his eyes as when he was around Ariana. She'd rarely seen that kind of magnetism with any two people.

Fatigue pressed in on her as she'd finished her checks and walked into the living room. I think I'll just fall asleep on the couch watching television. That way I'll be up for Monty if he comes in tonight. She grabbed the quilt off the back of the couch and cozied up in it, turning off the lamp. The light from the television was the only thing illuminating the room. She closed her eyes and sleep pressed in on her like a charge of thundering horses. No way could she fight it.

The noise woke her up with a start. The heavy downpour was beating against the windows at full blast. That must have been what pulled her out of her sleep. Monty should be getting in soon if he caught the late flight. She looked at the clock---11:00 P.M. the red numbers read.

Wide awake now, Laney stared at the ceiling. Maybe I'll call Dakota again. He should be home by now. She picked up the phone, dialed the number and listened to it ring and ring. Why didn't he have his answering machine on, she thought?

The rain slowed down suddenly. She heard a thump and a scrape. Her heart beat faster as she walked over to the window to check it out. Pressing her face against the glass she saw him--a man dressed in jeans and a plaid jacket, standing at the kitchen window looking in. Her heart beating wildly and adrenaline rushing, she grabbed the phone to call 911. Her hands were shaking violently as she dialed the three numbers. It took an eternity to press those numbers down. But all she could hear was static on the other end of the line.

"Damn," she stifled a scream as she threw the phone down and headed for Chelsea's room. She didn't want to scare her but she knew they needed to hide somewhere. This was either a burglar or Terrence Wade and she wasn't going to sit around and take a chance with either one of them.

Dashing into Chelsea's room, she gently picked her up. Chelsea moaned and opened her eyes. "Mommy, I'm sleepy. Where are we going?"

"We're going to play hide-and-seek with Daddy. He should be home anytime now from his trip, sweetheart, and we're going to play a game and hide from him. Now you have to promise to be as quiet as a church mouse so he won't know where we're hiding and we'll win the game. Now can you do that for Mommy?"

"Yes, Mommy," said Chelsea as she nodded off to sleep again.

"If we win, I’ll take you to get your favorite bubble gum ice-cream cone." Laney felt guilty about the lie but she couldn't take a chance on Chelsea getting upset and crying---it could mean their lives. Forgiveness would be forthcoming for necessary lies.

Grabbing the phone, Laney ran into the library, opening the revolving closet that held Monty's elaborate collection of medical textbooks. When they built the ranch house, they decided to put in the paneled library with revolving bookshelves. They appeared as regular bookshelves until pushed on one side. There was enough room in the back for them both to stretch out. Laney wished she'd remembered to bring a pillow and blanket. And, oh, the porta-phone. Even though it wasn't working when she needed it a minute ago, it could come back on any time. Laney wondered if someone had cut the telephone wires from the house. Fear gripped her in a form she'd never experienced. She sensed the presence of something sinister near her---the air was so much as crackling with it. Taking a deep cleansing breath, Laney began to rock back and forth with Chelsea in her lap, the movement soothing her somewhat as it put Chelsea back to sleep. Laney wanted to make sure she stayed that way.

From the sound of it, the storm had abated for awhile and Laney could again hear the ominous silence cloaking the house---the kind of silence that is a precursor to catastrophe, the kind of silence that sets every nerve on end and every fiber of the being up like an antennae on a radar device, like an animal in the jungle with a predator at his feet. Oh, it would feel so good to be out of this mess and just have a normal minute or two again---calm and serene, even boring would be nice.

The footsteps were unmistakable, padding down the hall. Maybe Monty's home, thought Laney. She looked at the glow on her watch and it showed 11:00. No, it would be impossible for him to make it home before midnight. Someone else is in my house. I've got to stay calm, Laney willed herself. I'm not going to help Chelsea or myself if I panic and lose control. Okay, take a deep, from-the-bottom-of-the-diaphragm-breath. In-out-in-out, take longer to exhale than to inhale. Twice as long. Four counts to the inhale, eight counts to the exhale.

Now, if I can just stay focused on my breathing and not panic. Even if whoever is in the house is not Monty and not Dakota, even... Terrence Wade, there is no way he can find us in here. That is, unless he knows about the trap door to the bookcase. But how could he possibly know? Dakota says he has the IQ of a genius, so obviously he thinks differently than everyone else. If he does know where the trap door is, he'll find us.

The voice that softly called out Laney was not Monty's voice, nor Dakota's---it was someone else's.

"Laney, I know you're in here. If you'll come out now without force, your daughter won't be hurt. I only want to talk with you. If I have to come in that farce of a hide-out after you, you'll be in big trouble. You'll have to stay for after school detention, and maybe even get a slashing. But the slashing won't be with a whip. I can promise you that. Now come out of there---now."

Acidic tasting bile rose up in her throat and her stomach coiled in on itself. She knew and understood that she had no choice. Dakota had told her this man was a monster. She knew if she were to survive this, she'd have to use psychology and ride with her instincts. Her instincts now told her to move and not rile this man. Instinctively, Laney tucked Chelsea into the farthest recess of the area, still sleeping like a log up under a cushion in the back hollow of a space.

If she stayed asleep and didn't make any noise she would be virtually undetectable to anyone. If something happened to Laney, Monty would know where to find her. The back closet was ventilated, to increase the life of the books. Thank God. Laney never thought there would be a reason to have the closet ventilated, but Monty had insisted on it. She said a silent prayer thanking Monty as she turned the bookshelf outward.

She stood up and looked into the eyes of what she knew to be a madman. His eyes were wide open, showing the white around the pupil, giving him a crazed look. She also found herself looking straight down the barrel of a 32 caliber pistol. This man had to be Terrence Wade---he had a smile on his face that let her know he was on a power trip---a trip that could be deadly and a one-way trip for her if she didn't play her hand right the first time.

"There you are, baby. Pretty as a picture. Turn around for me, honey. I like that sexy nightgown. Take off your robe."

"What do you want?" Laney asked calmly, hedging for a moment, trying to rid her voice of the anger and fear she felt at the moment. She knew he was an animal---he'd be able to smell her fear and pounce on it. She would not reveal it, she would be in control of this.

"Right now I just want to look at that fine, athletic body of yours. Now slowly take your robe off, like you do before you take your make-up off at night and before you run your bath water in the morning," he kept smiling, licking his lips.

It took everything in Laney's power to tamp down the nausea that threatened to boil over. This man had been watching her. He was rabid, sick. And Laney had never suspected, never felt anything. Oh, how she wished Monty would come. But would he kill Monty. Fear washed over her in waves, draining the blood from her face.

"You've been watching me," Laney managed to say nonchalantly and trying to appear nonplused. Her acting days would come in handy right now. This had to be her finest performance. Now she knew there would be no maybe and no might---her life depended on this one.

"I'm in love with you, Laney." His eyes changed instantly from wild and glazed to soft and loving. "I've been in love with you since the day I saw you for the first time. You are so beautiful in a natural way. You look like you sprang from the earth—Earth Woman, that's what I’ll call you. Your brown tanned legs. Brown hair with eyes to match. Freckles that look like the sun sprinkled them across your nose. You look as good without the makeup as you do with it. And your strong arms and legs. Cross country runner and hurdle jumper in high school---All State.

"I just don't think your husband appreciates you enough or is affectionate enough with you. And he always has that twitch when he reaches for you. I would find that a tad annoying if I were you."

"Oh, my God," Laney said, stepping back and covering her mouth in horror. "You’ve been watching us. How long have you been watching us?" She asked, terror filling her as she began to lose her reserve.

Ignoring her, he continued, "You deserve someone who can give you what I can. I would love you twenty four hours a day, seven days a week. I'd never let you out of my sight. You are my Madonna, Laney---I was born to love you. And you were put on this earth to love me back. I'll give you anything you want--as long as you don't step out of line with me. Then and only then would I ever hurt you. But it would be for your own good. Sometimes life's lessons have to come down hard. Like the Bible says---women must submit. Those are the rules, Laney. I didn't make them up---I just have to abide by them and make sure you do, too."

"What are you going to do?" Laney hated the way her voice resembled a whimper. No longer able to stand up for the shaking, she slumped to the floor.

"In answer to your prior question, he smirked, "This house is a great one for hiding and planting little cameras in all the nooks and crannies. Oh, and by the way, the sound track on the video cameras do manage to pick up all your groans.

Laney felt the blood drain from her face. She’d been violated–her privacy had been marred. "How long have you been watching and listening?"

He laughed, mirthfully, "Long enough, my dear. Long enough to know you, to know every nook, cranny, and delicious curve of your body," he trailed off, seemingly in a trance.

"You haven't submitted to my request. You almost made me forget. Now don't you be doing that again. Take your robe off and turn around. I want you to model your nightgown for me. I want to see every inch of you glisten---every curve and mound on your body."

Laney let her nylon robe drop, revealing her sleeveless long white nightgown. She slowly turned around, making a full circle, her nightgown flowing as she turned. Everything appeared surreal to her in this moment. If she just kept her eyes closed, it wouldn’t be so bad. She wouldn’t see him looking at her.

"Woman, you are pure sweetness," he said, his expression glazed she noticed when she finally opened her eyes.

Laney looked at him, expressionless, trying hard to maintain the poker face that he could project anything on. There was something about this part of him that she believed was being honest and part of her felt a little bit better for it. If he really did fancy that he loved her like he said he did and this wasn't a ploy, she could have some leverage. It could be the factor that would spare her from a sure death or at the very least, buy her some time. Maybe he'd leave Chelsea alone. He must have forgotten her, he hadn't even mentioned her name.

"Laney, I know you don't love me right now. but in time you'll learn to love me, I promise you. I didn't intend for this to happen. I came out to the ranch originally because I wanted to kill what that brother of yours held so dear. But the minute I saw you, I knew I couldn't. I wanted to save you for myself."

Now I want you to walk to your room, I'll be right behind you with the gun, and get dressed. We're going for a little ride. Now don't worry. I will not do anything against your will. I want you to be in love with me when we make love for the first time. Oh, it's going to be so good, Laney. I promise you. I'm a changed man in your presence---a reformed man."

Laney was silent. She just kept walking as Wade requested, but as slow as her feet would drag her.

* * *

The flight was stormy and bumpy all the way back to Taylorville. Ariana could not stop thinking about Dakota. Karen's last words kept ringing in her ears, "Ariana, you're in love with Dakota. This running to him when he's in dire straits proves it. Do yourself and Graham a favor and let him go."

Ariana had answered her with a hug. She told her she'd consider her remarks. Deep emotions rumbled to the surface like an earthquake while she closed her eyes and tried to rest. Not much chance of that with the adrenaline pumping through her veins at full power. She was in love with Dakota Burke. There was no denying that anymore. Maybe she should rethink her plans to marry Graham---at least postpone it for awhile until she had more time to sort things out and get clear about her feelings. No, she knew her heart. She loved Dakota. She wanted to spend her life with him. She wanted to give birth to and raise Dakota's children---not Graham's. Relief poured from her. Okay, she said, exhaling deeply, now that I've admitted this to myself, what do I plan to do about it? First of all, I'll talk to Graham---I'll just tell him the truth. Then I'll talk with Dakota. I'll just tell him the truth. Oh, wow, how much better honesty feels--like a two ton block of granite has been lifted from my chest, Ariana thought. No more lies. No more deception. No more guilt. No more conflict within myself. I am going to live the life that I want to live--the life that will make me happy. I will no longer be ruled by the past and the sins of my mother.

Ariana stepped off the plane into a cold, biting rain, pelting against her like a thousand steel pins. I'll just catch a cab to the police station, she thought. It's too late to call Ida to come pick me up, and I don't want her involved in all this mess. She'd just have a tendency to worry.

The airport was close enough to the police station. Ariana paid the cab driver and ran up the steps—taking two at a time as she went. The guard led her to the holding quarters. Dakota sat against the back of the chair kicked back against the walls, hands in his pockets and eyes closed, hands on the table.

"Dakota, are you all right?" Ariana asked, surprising herself by rushing over to him and hugging his neck.

Dakota was just as surprised. He looked up at her with pleading eyes. "Please, just give them your statement. I'm sick of this place and I'm ready to go home."

"Okay. I've already talked to Sergeant Noonan at the front desk. He's going to have the papers ready in five minutes for us to sign."

Dakota pushed himself away from the table. More than a five o'clock shadow was already taking over the majority of his face. It was sexy, though, Ariana thought, little tingles spreading out over her entire body, starting a brush fire that was going to prove difficult to put out. He is as good looking a man as I have ever seen anywhere. And so much more to go along with it. Ariana couldn't wait to tell him about the epiphany she had on the plane and the leap of faith she was about to take.

The papers were sitting on the top of Sergeant Noonan's desk. "What else do you need from me, Sergeant."

With a bored expression on his face and a deep look of irritation at having been interrupted from his nap, Noonan responded, "You're free to go, Burke. Just don't go too far until this whole matter has been cleared up. You're not out of the woods yet."

"Got it," Dakota answered, already in full stride with one foot out the door.

Ariana instructed the cab driver to stop at her house. She'd take Dakota home in her car and grab some chocolate brownie mix on the way out.

The ride home was quiet with Dakota sleeping most of the way. Ariana would wait until they got in to talk with him. She wished the circumstances were different and she'd have had time to make him a little treat. How hard could it be to whip up some brownies. They could eat brownies in candlelight. How romantic.

When they pulled up at the house Dakota stumbled out and up the steps, drunk with fatigue, Ariana following close at his heels.

"Here, give me the key and I'll open the door for you," said Ariana, taking charge. With the door open, Dakota made one big lunge for the couch, his legs sprawled over the armrest.

"I'm going to make some brownies. I'll wake you up when they're ready."

"Thanks," Dakota murmured, his head flopping back on the pillow.

Ariana smiled, feeling content for the moment. She was amazed at her calmness. All of a sudden everything clicked---she knew why she felt right. She was with the love of her life and the current was too swift to try to fight. From this moment on, her constrictions were behind her--go with the flow was the order of the day. She would have to break up with Graham. A sense of relief washed over her, cleansing her like a fresh waterfall, leaving her feeling authentic. The brownie mix was going to be too thick if she didn't stop stirring, she thought to herself, a sludge of it flying up and hitting her on the chest.

"Here, let me get that," Dakota surprised her as he bent down and licked the chocolate off her chest. His tongue lingered a bit longer than necessary to do the job and he trailed upward to kiss her neck, drawing her close to him as he found her ear and caressed it with a moist tongue.

"Oh," Ariana moaned softly, arching her head back and returning his embrace. "I have missed you so much, Dakota. And I owe you an apology. I've been wrong. I am in love with you and I've been fighting it from the beginning. I was just trying to maintain my self-respect. But now I realize that if I deliberately live a lie, then I'll have a lifetime of no respect, and will end up only hurting lots of people, including myself. So from this point on---you've got me..."

"Oh, baby, I've been dreaming of hearing you say those very words--those sensible, heartfelt words. "I can't tell you how it makes me feel." Dakota pressed his finger up to her lips. "How about no more talk now, though. Let's play show, not tell."

Dakota lifted her up and walked into the bedroom, falling onto the bed in one big heap. "Now, with your permission, I would like to take your clothes off and make love to you like you've never experienced in your life."

"I'm all yours, baby."

"Oh, Ariana," Dakota said, choked up. "I never thought I would ever hear those words come out of your mouth. Could you just say it one more time, just so I'll know that my hearing is not impaired?"

Ariana laughed, "I'm all yours. I love you, Dakota. I love you, Dakota. Ariana loves Dakota."

"Ahhhhh," he groaned. "That is absolutely the sweetest sound I have ever heard. Music to my ears."

"What about the brownies?" Ariana teased.

"The brownies can wait. I can't."

"Let this be my pleasure," Ariana said, rolling over and sitting up, "to undress you first."

Dakota stretched out, making himself a ready and willing victim. Ariana knelt over him and began unbuttoning his shirt, tucking her hand inside to play with the curly splays of chest curls as she moved down. She peeled the shirt off him in one swift motion and began the trip to his pants. The belt buckle presented a bit of a conundrum, but she managed to pry it loose with Dakota's help. The zipper presented a delicate problem as his jeans were swollen. Ariana carefully pulled the zipper away opened the jeans with deft fingers.

"Thank you," Dakota murmured, enjoying being pampered. He sat up, pulling Ariana up with him, and pulled his boots off, dragging his jeans with them, not wanting to delay paradise for another minute. "Now it's my turn. He cupped her chin in his hand as he nibbled on her ear lobe and unbuttoned her dress at the same time.

"That was easy," he whispered as her dress fell around her ankles.

Dakota pulled Ariana down on top of him, her panties and bra still intact.

"You forgot something," she said.

"No, I didn't. I just save the best for last." He reached inside her panties to feel the warmth between her folds. He could feel the slick heat as he stroked her, and her already heavy breathing getting heavier. "I love you, Ariana. Before I make love to you I want you to know that you are it. I have never really believed in love at first sight, but you've made a believer out of me. I haven't been able to get you off my mind since the day I met you. I'm yours. You've got me, too. And right now, I want us to be together, body, mind, and soul. I want to be a part of you, Ariana, a part of your whole being. And the closest I can get to that is to be a part of you physically," Dakota whispered to her as he slid his shaft inside of her, pressing against her in a rhythm she matched that sent both of them into earth shattering spasms. Sweat poured off his brow as Dakota gently lifted himself off of her. He rolled over and tucked her head gently under his arm, watching the soft rise and fall of her chest next to his.

Ariana felt herself float into space in an ethereal delight, a soft haze carrying her off into a land she’d never visited and didn’t care to leave–the land of love and pure pink bliss. Nothing would ever be the same again. Thank God.

CHAPTER NINE

Ariana kissed Dakota and tucked a note under his pillow. This time it was one saying she would be back after she checked on Ida at the house. His face held the serenity of deep sleep, the crinkles around his eyes smoothed out. His jawbone jutted abruptly against the pillow, his breathing almost culminating in a snore. She delicately traced the delicious curve of his lips with her finger, lingering on the cleft above his lip. So perfect. She yearned to crawl back in bed and curl up like a ball next to him, soaking in the warmth from his body.

Ariana smiled at the look on his face, so relaxed. No, she thought with resolve, she had to go. There would be time enough for snuggling later–lots of time. Her heart leapt with joy and a warmth filled her chest as she smiled. The glow crept over her. This was it.

Ariana opened the screen door and tiptoed down the steps to her car. There was so much to think about and plan but she had to un-plan before she could plan. Oh, well, Ida would help her---she was the best at tying things together. Ida was going to be thrilled at the most recent decisions Ariana had made. Ariana couldn't wait to tell her.

The drive home was warm but pleasant. The sweet perfume of the wisteria wafted through the car from the slight breeze as she drove. She pulled up the big circular drive and everything appeared the same. There truly was no place like home. She would never, could never leave this place now---it was hers, in her heart and soul and now it was her destiny.

The phone was ringing as she walked in the door. Ariana grabbed it just as Ida picked up in the other room.

Ida answered first, "Hello."

"Yes," the husky gravelly voice slurred, "I need to talk to Ariana Holland right now."

With a stiff, starchy tone to her voice and enunciating her words very slowly, Ida answered, "She's not in right now. May I take a message?"

"This is Mary Nell, Ariana's mother, and I need her to call me as soon as she gets in. It is very important."

Ida responded in low, even tones, "I am well aware of who you are, Mary Nell. I want you to leave Ariana alone. She doesn't need any more hurt from you. She suffered all these years because you never bothered to get in touch with her. Birthday after birthday went by and she would sit out on the porch rocking and waiting for you. And now, all of a sudden, you want to pop back in her life. What do you want from her?"

Mary Nell's voice rose an octave, "I want to know why no one bothered to call me and tell me my own mother died? My own flesh and blood for God's sake! Don't you think I have the right to know---to attend my mother's funeral?"

Ariana continued to listen as Ida responded, "We tried to find you, but you didn’t tell anyone where you went. We didn't know how to find you."

"Well, that last flea bag place I lived in had a worthless grunt for a manager. He is about the most nincompoop person I have ever known in my life. He couldn't even get the garbage men to pick up. That's how bad it was. Roaches and bugs running everywhere whenever you turned out the light. Why, you couldn't even get a decent night sleep for all the crickets. So how's someone like that going to give you a forwarding address. I ought to get my attorney on his case, cook his goose for a change," She droned on, skipping from one thought to another with her flight of ideas.

Light headed and nauseous, Ariana thought, so this is what had become of her mother. There was no denying the whiskey- laden voice and the slur in her speech. Her mother was a drunk.

Ariana piped in, "Okay, this is Ariana. I've been on the line."

"Well, why didn't that blasted woman tell me the truth. What kind of vendetta do y’all have against my poor soul?"

"Ida is her name and she didn't know I was here. I had just walked in the door and picked up the telephone. So what can I do for you, Mary Nell?"

"You might start with showing me a little respect by calling me 'Mother'."

"You are not my mother. Me-Me was my mother. You gave up mothering rights when you left me twenty-two years ago. So let's get on with the conversation. I know you didn't call just to hear me call you 'Mother'.

"I left you to try to come out west and earn a decent living for us. I always intended to send for you but times got really tough and the parts were dwindling so I headed to Las Vegas. Worked as a dancer and the money was so good, I just couldn't stop and well... here I am. And I'd really like to see you, Ariana. Any chance you might get out this way soon?"

"No," said Ariana coldly.

"Well, I also wanted to know about Me-Me's will. I know she cut me out of the inheritance a long time ago. Probably didn't think I could handle my money. But surely she left her only daughter a token something. Maybe a picture?"

"A picture of what?"

"Oh, I don't know," Mary Nell evaded the question. "Maybe a picture of her ancestor's homeland. Maybe a picture of Ireland. That's the only thing I ever wanted and Me-Me knew that. Surely she left me that."

"Mary Nell, I really don't know what you're talking about. I think I have a headache. I really need to go now."

"Well, just blow me off like this," screamed Mary Nell. "The story of my life. Nobody has ever treated me right. I've never had a break in my life. And look where I am now. The highlight of my night is when a man puts a quarter in my navel and it stays."

"I'm sorry. I don't want to hear any of this anymore. I've got to go. Goodbye, Mary Nell."

Ariana hung up the phone, but not before she heard desperate screams coming out of the other end. Exhausted and heartsick, feeling like the blood had been drained from her by a pack of leeches, Ariana walked back to the kitchen and gave Ida a hug.

"She's sick, isn't she, Ida?" Ariana said, sinking into the chair.

"Child, she is that. But she is also the most self-centered person I have ever known in my life. Pure she-devil and has been since the day she was born. I don't know how Me-Me gave birth to the likes of her. She came into the world like that---screaming, telling everybody what to do, like she held the last law. No, all she cares about is Mary Nell, make no bones about it. There is a reason for this phone call. And you can bet your bottom dollar you haven't heard the last from her. She must be in pretty bad shape."

* * *

Gravel spit from under the car, clueing Laney that she and Terrence Wade were at the end of the long dirt road from the ranch house. She concentrated all her energy on memorizing what turns came next and the span of time between them. If she guessed correctly, Wade planned to take her to a remote location in a wooded area and somehow, if and when she escaped, she'd have to find her way out.

I hope Chelsea's okay, thought Laney. I know she has the sense to call someone if she wakes up before Monty gets home. She's a sharp kid---she'll figure out what to do. Thank God Wade left Chelsea alone.

Laney no longer feared for her own life. It might take some time and maneuvering, but she could outwit this psycho. When the time revealed itself, she would make her break.

Laney noted the right turn, then an immediate left. The tires made a different, softer sound---a dirt road. The curves he took at a reasonable speed then revved the engine on flat stretches.

After a long silence, Wade asked, "Is the blindfold too tight on you?"

"No, but would it matter?" Laney tried to maintain the balance between seeming too contrite and compliant. She didn't want to raise any suspicions about her elaborate plans of escape. To manipulate him would be a challenge, but it could be done by staying one step ahead. Laney knew she'd have to read his mood and play on that.

"Yes, sweetheart, it does matter. Believe it or not, I don't want you uncomfortable. Only the best for the queen. The blindfold is for your protection. The less you know about our whereabouts, the safer you'll be. Understand?"

"No."

"Well, I don't want you pulling any stupid stunts like running away from home. You'll have everything you need at your disposal, eventually. I think you'll find it a very satisfying way of life. There's nothing quite like living close to nature. The stars are so much brighter away from the city lights and the air so much purer."

"Can you tell me more about where you're taking me?" Laney asked, repositioning her bound wrists to a more comfortable position.

He turned sharply to the right. Laney noted that the road sounded like gravel. Then with another turn to the left, the bumps and branches hitting the car made it sound like they were off the beaten path. They were no longer on a road.

Wade began singing the answer to her question, "A little cabin in the woods, little old man at the window stood. Saw a rabbit hopping by, safely to abide. Sorry, sorry, sorry said, little old man will shoot me dead..."

"And voila," he said as he jerked the blindfold from her eyes. "Your new abode. What do you think? Do you think it is sufficient for me lady?"

Laney blinked, adjusting her eyes to the one lamp shining in the window. "Well, at least it has electricity. That's more than I expected."

"Now don't expect too much. This little hideaway doesn't have your usual modern amenities other than the electricity."

"Amenities like..." Laney trailed off.

"Like indoor plumbing and running water. There's a shack in the back and you'll have to draw the well water everyday---heavily laden with minerals, though, really quite good for you. All young couples have to start somewhere down on the low end of the totem pole. That way they appreciate their rise upward."

Wade opened the door and walked around to Laney's side. The stillness of the night was eerie, and filled her with a sense of dread. How many nights would she have to spend in these towering woods, remote from any form of civilization, before she could get free?"

"Oh, okay, whatever you say," Laney conceded, tiredness suddenly enveloping her like a thick, dark cloud.

"Is my sweetheart disappointed?"

"I'm very tired," Laney sighed as she stumbled onto the porch, "I need a bed."

When Wade unlocked and opened the door, a massive canopy bed draped in white silk and satin stood in the middle of the floor. It was the only piece of furniture in the room."

"Your wish is my command, Laney. It's all yours. Don't worry. I respect you. I'll sleep in my sleeping bag in the back room."

Laney collapsed on the bed in one big heap, hoping her dreams would send away the demons.

* * *

Dakota stepped out of the shower and tripped over a still unpacked box. This clutter is definitely getting on my nerves, cramping my style. Yes, it's time to move, he thought. Leaving everything packed does have advantages in some ways. Moving again would be easy. This place was closing in on him fast.

Dakota started at the knock on the door. Who would be calling at seven in the morning? The doorknob turned on its own and a pale-faced Monty stumbled through the door. Panic gripped Dakota by the throat.

Laney. God, no!

Before he could ask, Monty said, "Dakota, Laney is missing. I think Terrence Wade took her. I found Chelsea in the book safe. She must have slept through the whole thing. She doesn't remember anything."

Grabbing his shirt and pulling on his pants, Dakota said, "We'll find her. We have to fine her. And now!"

"Have you been to the police?"

"Yes, I tried to call you from the house but couldn't get an answer so I went straight to the police station.

Dakota's heart pounded with anger. So help me, God, if he lays a hand on her I'll kill him with my bare hands and there will be nothing left for the vultures. But where could he have taken her? Wade certainly planned the abduction down to the last detail. Dakota knew him---knew how his mind worked. Right now he just wished he could read it.

The quickest and most expeditious way to find Laney would be to launch their own investigation. Beginning now.

Dakota noticed that Monty's hand shook on the armrest. "We're going to find her, Mont."

"I'm worried, Dakota." Monty said, his voice cracking with emotion.

"Everything's going to turn out fine. Trust me on this one." Dakota reached over and patted Monty's back. "By the way, where's Chelsea?"

"At my mother's," Monty said, staring straight ahead as if in a trance-like state.

"Good, we have some time. Let's scope your house with a fine tooth comb to see if we can put some puzzle pieces together. We need to check out the gas stations around here to see if anyone saw a green Toyota pickup truck. The last time I saw Terrence Wade, he was in a green pickup."

Dakota backed up the car before he remembered the E-Mail---he hadn't checked it. Maybe a message from Wade was on there.

Dakota pulled the truck back in the driveway. Monty, I forgot something. I'll be right back."

Monty continued to stare into space, a vacant expression in his eyes.

Bounding up the steps, two at a time, Dakota unlocked the door and noticed the red light blinking at him. Perhaps it was Wade. He might be trying to lure them into a trap, a web so-to-speak. But he may have inadvertently left a crumb of information behind---information that could prove invaluable to them in their search for Laney.

The message waited for him in all caps:

HELLO, WHITE KNIGHT,

YOU GOT KNOCKED OFF YOUR HORSE AGAIN. TOO BAD. WELL, I HAVE YOUR SISTER. SHE'S SAFE WITH ME AS LONG AS YOU DON'T PULL ANYTHING STUPID--LIKE TRY TO FIND HER. I WON'T HURT HER AS LONG AS YOU LEAVE US ALONE. TODAY SHE STARTS HER NEW LIFE WITH ME. I'LL SEE THAT SHE DOES NOT GET HURT. I MUST CONFESS, MY ORIGINAL INTENT WAS TO HURT HER TO GET TO YOU, TO CAUSE YOU THE VERY PAIN THAT YOU CREATED FOR ME. BUT THE MORE I WATCHED YOUR SISTER, WATCHING AND WAITING FOR THE RIGHT TIME, SOMETHING ELSE CAME OVER ME. SOMETHING LIKE LOVE. I THINK I'LL QUIT THIS GAME NOW WHILE I'M AHEAD. YOU GOT YOUR ASS KICKED. ADMIT IT LIKE A MAN.

FOR THE LAST TIME,

BLACK KNIGHT

A strange sense of relief mixed with unease filled Dakota. Relief that Laney's life was not in immediate danger, the comma was there in the message, and no check mate. He had a small window of time to work with.

Thoughts of Ariana flitted through his mind and filled him with longing–to touch her, to hold her, to feel her pulse beating through porcelain skin beneath his fingers. At least she was safe for the time being. They were certainly in the eye of the hurricane, though. The lull would not last. Dakota pressed his hands against both sides of his head, as if to suppress the agony raging within it, steel rods pressing against the sides of his skull. He knew what he had to do---stay as far away from Ariana as he could get until Wade was caught. If Wade decided to prowl or veer off course from where he was now, Ariana could easily be killed. He couldn't take that chance. He had to trust that she would understand and pick up where they left off when all this was over.

Dakota's heart ached at the thought of separation from her, especially now that she had declared her love for him and finally the course seemed clear for them to move forward with their relationship. But finding Laney and keeping Ariana safe were his top priorities. He could only tackle one thing at a time.

Pulling up into the Lucky Strike gas station, Dakota jumped out and rushed through the double doors, an elderly man with graying hair holding the door for him. Dakota asked everyone in the store if they had seen anyone who fit Wade's description. The short man at the counter said he'd seen Wade in his truck pull off Ranch Road from Laney's ranch and turn right, taking an immediate left onto a dirt road. It had a distinctive bumper sticker on it that said, "Texas Rules." Dakota took the information and ran to his truck. He pulled out of the parking lot and headed for the dirt road. What a stroke of luck! This was going to be much easier than he thought.

* * *

Ariana hummed as she puttered around the house. In one hour it would be over. She felt better just thinking about it. What a sense of freedom it would be not to have to fight the uphill battle anymore, to settle down and express her emotions honestly. She loved Dakota so deeply and completely that every time his image came to mind an electric thrill charged through her. If cloud nine was the ultimate emotional paradise, Ariana was at least on cloud twenty.

Graham should be here any minute now with a sense of peace. This is the right thing to do, she thought. She would be totally honest with him, leaving nothing to question. Everything would be out on the table. She prayed he'd understand and forgive her for not honoring her commitment to him.

Ida walked into the dining room from the foyer. "Ari, Graham's here. Do you want me to bring him in here."

"Yes, Ida, that'll be fine," said Ariana, giving herself a cursory glance in the mirror, then turning on the Tiffany lamp in the corner.

Ida showed Graham into the room. He nodded at Ariana and held both hands in front of him, examining his cuticles. "Ariana," he said, tilting back on his newly polished-shoes and staring down at her, his head cocked back. "I think we're long overdue for a talk." The corner of his mouth drew up in a lopsided smirk.

"Well, for once I think we're on the same wavelength, Graham," said Ariana, unable to disguise the sarcasm in her tone. She motioned to the chair at the end of the dining table. "Please have a seat and make yourself comfortable. This could be a long night."

Graham looked at her suspiciously, looking a little confused, probably at not being able to sustain the upper hand with her. He methodically spread the papers in neat little piles all over the table, carefully making sure they were all lined up evenly, edge to edge.

"I have Me-Me's estate work completed. Have you decided whether you trust me enough to sign the papers?"

Ariana sighed, bracing herself for another battle. "Graham, it was never a matter of trust or distrust of you personally. I know how much money is at stake here and I didn't want to sign anything I'd regret later. The attorney who reviewed it said everything in the papers are standard procedure. I am more than willing to sign them now."

"Thank you, Ariana," Graham said in his businesslike, professional voice, handing her a pen and pointing to the line requiring her signature.

Ariana signed the papers and put the pen down. "Now, Graham, before we go any further with the document signing session, there are a few things I'd like to discuss with you. Numero uno being--why did you meet Marsha Dixon at the hotel last time you were here and why did you kiss her on the cheek?"

Graham sputtered and for the first time since Ariana had known him, he blushed to the roots. Recovering quickly and clearing his throat, he stammered, "She was here on a special project which was totally unrelated to Me-Me's estate case. I...I just didn't want any intrusion so I didn't say anything about her being here."

"I just find it rather strange," Ariana commented, rolling the fringe from the white lace tablecloth around her hand. "And the kiss. You still haven't explained the kiss."

"She'd uncovered some research material on the Internet that we'd been trying to find for a year. We were both elated about the breakthrough. It was all innocent, Ariana, I promise you. The kiss was an expression of genuine joy at the success. Nothing more. You are just misinterpreting the whole incident." Graham looked down at the tablecloth, never making eye contact with Ariana.

Ariana walked over and shut the door to the dining room. She sauntered back over to the table and sat straight across from Graham. "There are some things I need to level with you about, too, Graham, and I trust you have done so with me. I am not going to marry you. It has never really been right between us--lukewarm at best. I became painfully aware of that when I realized that I can't marry you because I'm in love with someone else."

Graham turned as red as hot coal. Seething with rage, he threw the chair next to him into the wall and shouted, "You, bitch. I knew it--you're just like your fucking mother. Can't stay faithful to anybody. All you care about is yourself. It must be a genetic trait passed down to each generation of McKenna women. I tell you one thing, Miss Ariana Holland. You're not getting out of this Scott free. You're not going to betray me and not pay the price. I've sacrificed a big chunk of my life for you and this is the thanks I get." He kicked the wall and circled the table, wringing his hands.

"And who is this man you've fallen so madly in love with or should I say lust with?" Graham stopped in front of her, staring her down.

"Dakota Burke, the private investigator I hired to investigate Me-Me's case," Ariana said evenly, not willing to let Graham get the best of her. She would stand her ground no matter how heated up he got.

"Oh," Graham laughed sarcastically. "Mr. Law and Order. You know he's in this for your money. That explains how this happened so fast. He's not in love with you."

Ariana stared at Graham, her eyes glittering sapphire with anger. "Are you speaking for Dakota or for yourself? Do you find it unthinkable that someone could actually love me for myself? Is it because you can't, Graham? Because your whole life is based on acquiring things--wealth, prestige, a woman who fits conveniently into your life plan. Who do you think you are to define someone else's love for me. How arrogant and presumptuous of you!"

Graham sat down at the table, folding his hands in front of him and looking down. His voice cracking, he said, "Ariana, I may act like a jerk sometimes, but I truly love you. I'm sorry about the temper tantrum awhile ago but I was just so afraid of losing you."

"It's too late, Graham," she said, softening. "I've made my decision. I cannot marry you. I'd been doing us both a big disservice. Please try to understand. The last thing I want to do is hurt you, but there's no way I can avoid it. I just have to be honest with you. I am not in love with you and I can't marry you."

Graham rose slowly from the chair, carefully placing all the papers back in their proper place in his briefcase, his expression solemn. "I'll be here if you need me, Ariana. I'm truly sorry things ended this way. I still want to marry you."

Ariana looked at Graham for a long time, feeling just the slightest twinge of anxiety. "Why don't I feel it, Graham? Why do I feel that you have never been in love with me? I feel it from Dakota. I can walk in the room and feel the electricity emanating from him. When I'm around you I feel nothing--just empty air."

"I can't answer that, Ariana. You'll have to find your own answer to that one. I'm out of here."

"I'll let you out. You parked out front, didn't you?" said Ariana, trying to remain casual with the heavy cloak of truth blanketing them.

"Yes. I planned to stay a few days but in light of the circumstances, I think it would be better for me to leave now."

"I think you're right," Ariana said as she opened the door and walked to the car with him. "Just be careful on your way home. Thank you for taking care of Me-Me's settlement."

"Oh, I'll send you the bill. Don't worry about that." Graham jumped in the driver's seat and took off like a flash of lightning down the driveway.

Ariana sighed and shivered, folding her arms in front of her. Graham was hovering between anger and hurt...or was it just carefully orchestrated theatrics? Ariana stopped in her tracks. Her mother. What was the comment he'd made about her mother? She racked her brain to remember. Something about her mother being a slut. How did he know that? How did he know her mother? The only thing Ariana had ever told him was that her mother had left when she was five years old and never returned.

* * *

Laney knew she didn't have much time. Wade would be back with the supplies in less than an hour. She tried to pry the rope loose from around her hands with her teeth--that was her only chance. Tearing the rope into slices thinned it down and made it breakable. She snapped it off with one big pull and ran to the door.

The silence of the night beckoned and threatened her at the same time. If memory served her correctly she needed to make a two mile dash to the right of the cabin and head toward the dirt road they came in on. Where had Wade put the flashlight from the night before? If only I could get my hands on it, getting out of here would prove so much easier.

She spotted it on the shelf of the makeshift kitchen. What a stroke of luck. Wade hadn't expected her to try to make an escape or he wouldn't have left it in such clear view. In fact, he was going to be awfully surprised when he walked in and she was gone. She had pretended to be in an "identify-with-your-abductor" mode, throwing him off guard and rendering him complacent. For the past several days she had answered him in monosyllables only. "Yes", "No" with a contrived blank expression on her face.

Now was her chance. The wooden door squeaked behind her when she let herself out. An owl hooted in the pine tree above and filmy light from the yellow moon cast eerie shadows on the forest. She would try to go sans flashlight for awhile so her eyes could adjust to the moonlight. Besides, if Wade came back early, her chances of not being spotted were better without the flashlight.

Fear of the unknown in the forest paled in comparison to the terror she'd felt the past few days with Wade. He was so slippery and unstable that she never knew what to expect from him. One day he might be kind and soft-spoken and the next day he would be raging, calling her a bitch and getting in her face. At first she cowered from him, then found it more effective to not react at all. But she knew she had to escape--he could go off at any moment.

The moon slipped behind a cloud and an inky blackness settled in. Laney turned the flashlight on low beam, pointing it downward as she forged a trail through the brushes and brambles. Confident that she was headed in the right direction, she began to feel her anxiety slip away. Tomorrow, or maybe the next day she'd be back with her family again. Images of Chelsea flitted through her mind--Chelsea playing with her dolls, roughhousing with Dakota, and running out to meet Monty when he came home from work.

Suddenly the woods ended. Shocked, Laney turned the flashlight on high beam and scanned around her. It was the dirt road. She'd found it! Unable to restrain a yelp of delight, she began running along the road. Surely there would be cars along the road. She'd flag down the first one that came along.

Slowing down to a fast-paced walk, she kept the flashlight roving around her. No ominous creatures had jumped out of the trees and she didn't care if they did. At least they wouldn't be Terrence Wade. Their behavior would be predictable.

A low rumble in the distance indicated the approach of a vehicle. "A car!" she screamed, ready to start dancing in the middle of the road to flag the motorist down. The car came closer and headlights blared as it rounded the corner. It came to a stop and the engine was turned off. Elated, Laney ran to the truck, only to stare straight into the contemptuous grin of Terrence Wade. Panic engulfed her. Screaming, she tore into the run of her life--for her life. She heard the truck door slam and the ominous sound of heavy footsteps padding up quickly from behind. He was gaining on her. She'd have to take to the woods. That was the only way she had a chance to lose him.

Faster, faster, she thought, adrenaline coursing through her like water rushing through a ravine after a rain storm. Thank God for her strong legs--All-State legs. She could beat him. She would win this race. She envisioned the falling trees as challenging hurdles--her strong suit. The branches and brambles tore into her face and body while she flew through the night. Harness your energy, she told herself--remember the goal--survival. I want to see my daughter again. Tears streamed down her face and seemed to propel her forward at even greater speed. Laney dared not look back for the loss of time, but she heard nothing behind her save for her own heavy breathing. If he caught her, she was dead. There was no doubt in her mind as to what the outcome would be. She knew. Keep pumping. These legs have carried you cross-country, over hill and dale, and up granite cliffs. And now they're going to carry you to safety--they're going to carry you home--away from Terrence Wade and into the arms of Chelsea and Monty. Oh, how sweet life would be when she got out of this. She ran in an anaerobic state. She'd have to slow down soon from oxygen deprivation. She could only hope and pray that she'd lost him.

Laney threw a cursory glance over her shoulder, her heart pumping faster when she saw Wade gaining on her, close enough that she could see the iron determination on his face. He ran faster and harder than she'd expected, and she could see the grim look on his face. There would be no concession on his part, no forgiveness. She only had to keep going--maybe a stroke of luck would befall her. Maybe he would keel over with exhaustion--or better yet, have an aneurysm or heart failure. Stranger things had happened.

All of a sudden, the world toppled beneath her. Damn, she thought, as she fell hard to the ground, a tree root. She stumbled back up, just like when she fell in a track meet. Don't look at your injuries, just keep going, damn it, keep going. This is your life. You won’t get a second chance. Sharp pains seared through her foot, sending waves of nausea coursing over her. Oh, dear God, help me, when she realized she couldn't keep running on her injured foot. Drag the foot, she told herself out loud, keep moving and drag the other foot. She moved, hop, pull, hop, pull, for what seemed like miles and spying a log, finally sat down, too exhausted to care whether Wade was still behind her. She couldn't go anymore--she had pushed herself to the brink of her limit--pushing the envelope on that, even.

The blue-black sky began to lighten to a pewter gray. Pink shadows of dawn crept over the horizon, and Terrence Wade was nowhere in sight. Her heaving breaths slowing down, Laney stretched out, her back up to the log. What she wouldn't give for an ice-cold glass of water right now or even a canteen of cold something--any kind of fluid would work.

Tired to the bone, pink elephants with floppy Dumbo ears began to dart in front of her, followed by roosters of the strangest persuasion. Maybe she needed to rest her eyes for a few minutes. A little sleep would go a long way toward making her more coherent.

A mental fog settled down over her thought processes like a web of gauze. She gave into it, sinking into a much-needed state of deep relaxation. Images flitted across her mind and she opened her eyes to make sure the dark horse was not in front of her. A pinpoint of light shone through the dense woods and she blinked to make sure she was not hallucinating. Could it be the oasis in the desert? A cabin beckoning her from the land of the demonic? Maybe her luck was starting to change, she thought, as a new burst of energy surged through her veins.

Laney stomped her feet to get the blood going and wake her numb feet up and headed through the briars and bristles toward the light. It loomed larger the closer she got and her heart beat in wild anticipation at the realization that it was, in fact, a log cabin! Relief flooded over her before the doubts and anxieties crept in. Yes, it is a cabin in a remote area of the woods, but generally someone inhabits a cabin and he could be just as crazy as the man she had just escaped from.

Well, she'd take her chances. She'd just have to trust.

This could be her big break, she thought as she walked, inhaling the freshness of the pine trees. Whoever lived in the cabin, she'd take her chances with. She looked down and examined her mud-streaked arms and bramble-scratched legs. What a mess!

The primitive cabin was tucked into a clearing surrounded by the thickly-wooded trees and underbrush. The place was definitely old but well-tended. Weathered logs timbered the frame of the house and the front porch sported an old rocking chair and porch swing. This person or people had to be okay, she tried to assure herself. She stepped up the rickety stairs tentatively and knocked on the door.

A stooped gray-haired man who appeared to be all of ninety-five years old drew open the door and looked up at her with milky blue eyes. With shoulders hunched and a wild, frightened look in his eyes, Laney felt like a frightened child. Her heart sank to her knees. What trap had she sprung into, she thought. Had she jumped from the frying pan straight into the red hot bed of coals? Don't panic, she tried to calm herself. A feeble old man would be easy to get away from. Chances are, he is absolutely harmless.

After staring at her with rheumy eyes for one long moment, the old man stammered, "What can I do to help you?" He seemed more wary of her than she was of him, which eased Laney's mind a bit.

"I've been abducted and got away. Do you have a telephone I could use to call the police and my husband." Laney tried to overcome her outrageously filthy appearance with a layer of propriety. Hopefully, her true intentions of a person in distress would filter through the dirt, scratches and bruises which covered her body from head to toe.

The old man's face appeared visibly relieved as he opened the door for her. "Please come in," he said. "The phone is in the kitchen. I'll lead the way.

White hair stood on end all over his head, giving him the look of a reclusive scientist--an elderly Einstein. He pointed to the telephone tucked in the corner, keeping his eye on her as she picked up the receiver. The phone was of the old-fashioned sort she'd forgotten even existed. She actually had to dial the numbers with her finger and the cord was short and thin, not the coiled stretch type of the modern age.

"It works sometimes and other times all I get is static. Guess it's because I'm so far out in the boondocks." He seemed almost apologetic for being so far out and for the possibility of the phone not working.

Laney nervously dialed her home number, praying Monty or someone would be there to answer her call. As soon as the ringing started the static intervened like an unwelcome storm. She put the receiver down. "It rang in but all I can hear is a bunch of static."

"Wait and try again in a few minutes," the old man said, hobbling toward the refrigerator. "Can I get you something to drink--a glass of milk, maybe, while you wait?"

"Thanks, I'd love that," Laney answered, feeling thirsty and ravenously hungry all of a sudden.

"By the way, the name's Jeb," he said, a bit on the gruff side, handing her the glass of milk.

"I'm Laney. I hope I didn't upset you by coming out of the woods like this. I know I'm a sight for sore eyes."

"Well, it did give me a start. I don't get many visitors in these here parts. What happened to you, if you don't mind my asking?" He walked over and perched himself up on his stool, drinking what looked to be a cross between eggnog and buttermilk. "It's a long story and I really don't know where to start, but to avoid confusion, I'll give you the short version. My brother's wife was murdered several years ago by a man with a vendetta against my brother. He's doing everything he can to hurt Dakota and destroy his life. He kidnapped me to hurt Dakota. The man's a sick, demented psychopath," Laney said, shuddering and folding her arms to take away the sudden chill that came over her. "but he's also very intelligent and narrowly focused. I'm afraid of him. I know the damage he's capable of inflicting."

"Sounds like a bad one." Jeb stood up and walked to the refrigerator to refill his glass of milk. His flannel shirt hung tattered and worn around his oversized work jeans.

Laney soaked in the surroundings in the small one-room cabin. The rifles hanging on the wall looked like remnants of a by-gone era--perhaps muskets from the Civil War. They had probably been instrumental in killing the brown bear whose skin lay in the middle of the floor. Rough-hewn log furniture graced the room, with oversized pillows standing in for cushions. The rocking chair, carved ornately, sat in the corner, a home-made quilt draped across the back. Indoor wooden slats covered the windows and Laney wondered if sunlight ever graced the room. Though cozy enough and warmed by all the woods, there was a dark, lonely feel to it. She imagined what it would feel like when the chill of the winter set in. This place reeked of the Fox-fire books, homemade-looking beeswax candles sitting atop most of the horizontal surfaces.

"You're welcome to use the facilities to clean up a mite if you've got the mind. Nothin' too fancy but warm water and lye soap will go pert far to makin' ya feel like a brand new person."

He'd warmed up to her a bit, she thought. Maybe after she reached someone on the borders of civilization, she'd take a bath and allow her to slip into that deep dark sleep she could only dream about right now.

"The lighter it gets, the better the phone lines get. Don't have no explanation for it, but that's the way it works. You might try again."

Laney walked over to the phone again, putting her milk glass down on the small counter. "Thanks, I'll do that."

The lines were without static this time. Hope filled her and she quickly dialed her number. "Hell," answered Monty from the other end.

"Monty!" Laney cried, bursting into tears, "It's me!"

"Laney! Oh, my God, are you okay? Where are you?" Monty said, his voice cracking with emotion.

"I don't have a clue. Terrence Wade kidnapped me, I got away and now I'm in this house in the middle of the woods somewhere."

"Is anyone with you?"

"Yes, the man, Jeb, who lives here."

"Let me talk to him, Laney, in case something happens to our connection. I need to know where to find you."

Laney handed the phone to Jeb and said, "My husband wants to talk to you. I think he wants directions to the place."

Jeb took the phone and gave Monty explicit directions on how to find the cabin. She thought he must have those curves and trails down to a fine art--four point four miles to the pipeline and left on the unmarked trail. She thought what a challenge it would be to get to the cabin in a vehicle, but in their landrover it could be done.

Jeb handed her the phone again and said, "Your husband wants to talk to you again."

"Hi, Baby," said Monty, "I've got a call into Dakota. We'll be there to get you in about an hour. Hang on tight. I love you."

"I love you, too, Honey. How's Chelsea?"

"She's fine, but misses you terribly."

"Tell her I love her."

"We're on our way, Babe.

Jeb pulled out a chair for her after she got off the phone. "You never did tell me your last name," he reminded her.

"I'm sorry," Laney apologized. "I'm a tad out-of-it right now. This has been a long two days. I'm Laney Harris."

Laney's eyes burned with fatigue but she knew she couldn't rest until she'd had a bath. "If you don't mind, I'm going to take you up on your offer to clean up. I feel pretty gross."

Here, let me get it ready for you. The old water pump can get cantankerous at times. Jeb picked up a tool that looked like a crowbar from its perch above the fireplace and walked into the bathroom. A loud piercing wail emitted from the pipes while he drew the water. Five minutes later he was back. "Everything's ready. Take your time. Have a good soak."

"Thanks," she said, relieved to have a little time out.

Tempted to linger in the warm, soft feel of the water, Laney scrubbed with the body brush and lye soap. She'd never felt so clean in her life. Fatigue began to overtake her as she steeped out of the tub and grabbed the towel Jeb had left out for her. She operated in slow motion, her muscles quivering from overexertion. Please hurry up, Monty, she thought. I really don't want to go to sleep until I'm in the car and on the way home. I'm afraid if I close my eyes another nightmare will befall me, in or out of my dreams.

Jeb knocked on the door. "Mrs. Harris," he said tentatively, "I just thought maybe you'd like some clean clothes. These here are nothin' fancy but at least they're clean and dry. I've got some overalls and a work-shirt to go under them. And some dry socks. I'll lay them right here on the table outside the bathroom door. Can I fix ya up something to eat while you get ready? I'm pert sure you're starving."

"Thank you, Jeb. I'd love something to eat if you don't mind. By the way, you can call me Laney. No reason for formality here."

"Okay, Laney. What suits your fancy? I got bacon, the real kind, eggs--any way you like 'em, and some toast and grits."

"All of the above, any combination sounds like the best meal I could possibly have."

"I'll holler when it's done," he said in a squeaky voice and she heard him putter down the hall.

Laney opened the bathroom door slightly and reached around to grab the clothes off the table. It took her about two seconds to button the work shirt and throw the denim overalls over the top. She walked out to the living room section and sat down on the couch. On the lone shelf behind her she saw pictures of Jeb with his arm around a lovely gray-haired woman with sparkling blue eyes. The steel-gray bun pulled back severely from her face didn't temper the softness of her expression or the warmth that emanated from her eyes. Laney picked up the picture, wiping the dust from the frame.

"Do you live by yourself?" she asked, pitching her voice up an octave for him to hear over the clanging of utensils.

"Yes, I do now. My wife died about ten years ago. Dorothy was her name. Purdiest woman you ever laid eyes on. Pert near the most stubborn, too," Jeb said with a laugh, stirring the eggs in the skillet. "I see you found her picture. Yep, that's her all right. Looks just like her, too. I think I miss her more and more all the time. Used to call her my Princess. But someday I'll see my little princess again, I know that in my bones. In fact, I'm ready anytime. I'm kinda lonely in this world anymore, but I guess the good Lord has a reason I'm still supposed to be here. Died of cancer, she did. Took her fast, just like she'd wanted. She would not have bid well, going out slow, that is."

Jeb poured the boiling water in two tin-cups for the coffee.

Laney could see his lower lip quivering and a tear trickled its way down a deep crevice in his cheek. Sorrow filled Laney's heart at the thought of how close she had come to being separated from Monty and Chelsea forever.

"Did you have children?" Laney asked, still perusing the picture of Dorothy.

"Nope. We wanted 'em but it never happened. She gave birth to one, but it was still born. Broke her heart, and she never wanted to try try again, for fear the same thing would happen again."

"I'm so sorry," Laney said softly, her eyes filling with tears.

"Well, those things do happen when you've lived long enough. Besides, she adopted all the animals in the forest as her children. We certainly were not without love or something to care for around here," he said, wiping the errant tear from his face with his sleeve. "Sorry," he said sheepishly. "Guess I got a little sentimental there for a minute." Jeb placed the plates on the table and motioned for her to sit down to eat.

"You don't have to apologize," Laney said, walking over and touching him lightly on the shoulder. "Don't ever apologize for loving the way you have. That is the most beautiful gift anyone can give and receive."

"I know. And she was the only woman I ever loved. They say there's no such thing as love at first sight, but I had it with my Dorothy. I looked at her at the corner drugstore in Uncertain, Texas and the minute she looked up at me, sucking on a chocolate milkshake and looking at me with those baby blues, she had my heart. No way around that." He put his head in his hands and blubbered, probably something he'd needed to do for a very long time, thought Laney.

Jeb continued, "Those eyes, so clear, so knowing. They looked at me and touched the bottom of my soul--reached places in me that no one else has ever touched, or could touch."

Laney ate ravenously--it truly tasted like the best breakfast she'd ever had. Of course, the woods seemed to heighten the senses--maybe it made the taste buds stronger, too. Eyes blurred with tears of empathy for this sweet old man, Laney looked out at the pink light casting a rosy glow over the woods. Glancing out the window, she caught a movement out of the corner of her eyes. Her heart locked up, sending the blood back through her veins in reverse. It couldn't be. If Terrence Wade had followed her, he would have raised his ugly head by now, she was sure of it.

Trying to appear nonchalant so as not to alarm Jeb, Laney casually walked over to the window and scanned the woods--no one, nothing. Silence permeated the air, sending chills up and down her spine in force. She knew all too well what that kind of silence beheld. Suddenly the front door flew open, and Terrence Wade stood there, spread eagle, a gun pointing at them, a look of wild insanity tightening contorting his features.

Jeb jumped up from the table, obviously livid that someone had invaded his home like this. "What in the hell do you think you're doing, Mister. I've got a mind to get the shotgun after you."

"Don't cross him, Jeb. This is the man who abducted me." Laney quickly placed herself in front of Jeb in a protective stance.

"And this is the man who's going to kill you both," Wade yelled, laughing. "You thought you outsmarted me, didn't you, Laney. Well, you just signed your own death warrant. It was either the marriage certificate or the death warrant. Your choice. Remember the Bible verse you memorized, Laney. '...Whither thou go, I goest, where thou lodge, I lodgeth, They peoples shall be my people, Thy god, my God.' You can't escape me. In God's eyes I'm your husband and you're my wife. I own you--the Bible says the wife shall submit to her husband. You submit to me now, woman or you die in two seconds instead of two hours."

Wade walked over and grabbed Laney roughly by the hair, manacling her hands behind her and tying her hands with the rope. After he finished, he gagged her with a handkerchief and bound her feet with a coarser rope.

"Leave her alone," Jeb warned, an ominous tone filling his voice that Laney had never heard nor would have ever guessed was there.

"Shut up, Old Man. You're next." Terrence Wade bound and gagged Jeb just as he did Laney. "Now I want both of you to behave like good little children. Do as your father tells you to do. I'll be back in about three days--if you're lucky--or maybe a week or two. A long slow death is what you both deserve."

Wade walked out the door and Laney heard his truck engine start. Gunning the motor, he took off with a streak. With a heavy heart, Laney wondered what his next action would be--or who his next victim would be. One bright hope was that Monty knew where they were--he would be here soon, she knew it.

Hearing a groan from Jeb, Laney looked over to see wild eyes and a flushed face. Jeb managed to spit his gag out and gasped, "Can't breathe, can't breathe! My heart."

Fear slicing her heart like a sword, Laney rolled over to Jeb, managing to get her still-bound hands on top of his chest. She worked her gag out by moving her jaw and teeth, but trying to get her hands unbound would prove futile, she thought. At least with the gag off I can do CPR. She placed her hands on top of his chest in the correct position and brought her weight straight down. Fifteen compressions to two breaths, she did remember from her last certification class. She finished the compressions and administered the requisite breaths, watching for his chest to inflate. He was unconscious now, his eyes rolled back in his head. Laney continued without a break, not knowing how long she'd been working on him when she heard a car.

Monty and Dakota burst into the room. Monty immediately evaluated the situation and knelt down to take over for Laney. Suddenly, Jeb sat up, his eyes bright and full of luster, reached his arms out and said, "Dorothy." He fell back, Monty took a pulse, checked for breathing and said, "He's gone."

Laney let the tears pour out uncontrollably, the stress of the past few hours and days finally taking its toll on her.

"Are you okay, baby?" Monty said, taking her into his arms and holding her tightly.

"I'm fine, now. Wade was here. He tied us up, threatened to kill us. He said he'd be back. Let's just get out of here," Laney said, her voice near panic.

"Let's go," commanded Dakota, lifting Jeb's body off the floor and carrying it out the door. "He could be back anytime. I have a hunch about where he went. I need to get to Ariana. I'll drop you two off at my house and take you home later. We can't spare a minute."

Laney, still in shock from her ordeal, watched Dakota push the accelerator to the floor. His jaw was tight and she knew he was worried.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Ariana showed the movers where to place the antique poster bed and chest of drawers for the guestroom. Ornate and beautiful, the furniture typified the nineteenth century lifestyle--elegant, ornate and a bit on the ostentatious side. Excitement filled her and she realized her dream of having a bed-and-breakfast, and one on the historical registry, was about to come true. She wished pensively that the other dreams on her life would follow suit.

As in Dakota--she'd not heard from him in a week. They'd spent a dazzling night together, everything perfect and in place, then he vamoosed. She'd left numerous messages on his answering machine and, no response. Anger spiked up through her as she toyed with the idea that Dakota may be the type of man who, once he made the conquest, the thrill and interest vanished in the wind. That was it. She had his number. It had to be the reason--she could think of nothing else. Her anger grew as she thought what a coward he was for not even having the guts to level with her--the male amoebae. Men--who needs them anyway, she thought. I think I'm going to just get over them. That'll give me the key to happy life--no men, no ties, no drain--just complete freedom from attachment. Yes, that was the answer, she thought.

After getting the furniture settled in the room, Ariana picked up the phone to call Karen. She needed to talk with her about Jack, anyway.

"Yo," Karen answered the phone flippantly.

"Hi, Karen. Ariana here. Just wanted to touch base with you to see how you were doing."

"Hey, Airhead. You must have ESP. I've been thinking about you all morning. How are the wedding plans going? Have you found your dress yet?"

Smoothing the new comforter she'd placed on the bed, Ariana said, "There's not going to be a wedding, Karen. Graham and I split up."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I mean, I'm not sorry...I really never thought it was right between you and Graham...I just...I don't know what to say. Where's Dakota figure in all this?"

"It's okay. Things started going great with Dakota and now he's disappeared. I don't know what to think of it."

"There has to be some explanation. Dakota is not the type of person who would disappear without good reason."

"You haven't heard from Jack, have you?"

"God, no, and I hope I never run into him, the slime ball."

"Dakota and I have compared notes and we think Jack may be Terrence Wade, the guy who killed Dakota's wife Cara. The description is the same and when I saw Wade's picture, there was an uncanny resemblance to Jack."

Ariana could tell Karen had put her hand over her mouth. In a muffled, shaky voice, Karen said, "Oh, my God. We could have been killed!"

"Just be careful, Karen. I'll keep you apprised of any new developments here. Let me go pay these movers now. I'll call you soon."

"Bye," said Karen.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Somewhere in that hypnotic state between sleep and waking, that surreal place where observation of one's own dreams takes place, Ariana surfaced to consciousness. Something wasn't right, she thought, when she opened her eyes. She heard nothing, but the normal nocturnal sounds were missing, the haunting sound of silence cloaked the room. It was then she felt the movement next to her, to her right, and the cold sheath of metal pressing in on her stomach. She froze.

Someone was in the bed with her, another living, breathing human being, yet she sensed the sinister--something evil. The room suffused with it, drawing the breath from her. Ariana's heart thudded in her chest, then froze with an iron grip. She darted her eyes to the right without moving her head. The moonlight cast a beam on familiar features and he turned to her and smiled--that MAD Alfred P. Newman smile. It was a smile of victory--of certainty--he had her.

Victory over what? Could this be it? Was this how her life would end? I have to collect my wits and stay in control, she thought. That will give me a bit of an edge.

Epinephrine coursed through her arteries like she'd been given a shot of speed, and her head pounded with the excess--the fight or flight syndrome. She knew better than to fight--at least not in this position with a sharp knife aimed at her abdomen. Ariana had to rely on the one organ that always served her best--her brain. The fight would have to be with her mind as the muscle and then she'd prepare for the flight. If she had the smallest chance of survival in this ordeal, it would be that. She knew what she was up against.

"What do you want, Jack?" she said in as even a tone as she could possibly muster.

"I want you," he croaked through clenched teeth. "Laney ran away. She was a bad girl. She rejected me. So because of that, you die. You must atone for Laney's sins. Someone has to be the sacrificial lamb."

"What do you mean, you want me," Ariana questioned, willing herself to stay calm and buy herself time.

"The only way you can ever have a woman is to kill her. If you commit the act of murder, she belongs to you forever. You felt and snuffed out the last pulse of life. You have the last act of ultimate power--life and death--you see the interface, feel it in your bones. There's nothing like it."

"Why do you want to kill me?"

"I told you, bitch, don't you listen? Why not you? Because you're here, you're available, and because Dakota loves you. As long as I'm on this earth, my job is to destroy the things he loves, just as he's destroyed everything I love--including Laney. He turned her against me. She would have loved me, I know it."

"What did he destroy of yours?" Ariana was on autopilot now. Something kept her going when she was so close to the edge of the precipice of panic. She knew to tamp down the fear threatening to engulf her. He would smell it and feed on it like a vampire. Just like a wild animal, he would torture her for more because he was addicted to the game--addicted to the violence and the intensity and the finality of death.

Ariana had studied enough psychology to know that she could apply it and stay one step ahead of him--just enough to save her own life--to predict his next movement. If she could keep him focused on himself, keep him talking, she could stall for time and bring him down from his frenzy--if she caught him off guard she would make her escape.

"My future, he took it all away," his raspy voice cracked. Anger permeated through it.

In an unexpected move, he jumped on top of Ariana, straddling over her and holding the gleaming knife up for her to examine in the moonlight.

Ariana suddenly lost the reserve she had worked so hard to build up, and began shaking uncontrollably. Her confidence in keeping the situation under control drained out of her like water through a sieve.

"What's the matter, you scared?" he cackled, his voice rising an octave and he began laughing hyena-like. The laugh of the insane--the dangerous.

"Wh...What are you going to do?" she said, trembling, trying to muffle her sobs.

"What do you want me to do to you?" he asked, turning the knife over, the cold steel gleaming in the moonlight.

All Ariana could see was the white of his eyes and gleaming, cannibal-like teeth. Teeth that could grind and gnash in the madness of the moonlight. She suddenly realized where the word lunacy was coined. The seconds grew into minutes and seemed to stretch out forever. What was it that Einstein said about time having the ability to stretch and bend? It felt stretched as tight as taffy now and she knew it couldn't go much further without tearing the fabric. Terrence Wade's psychological state was strung out to the maximum. She felt the edge of the cliff looming ever closer.

"You have some options--I'll grant you that," Wade said slowly, twisting his body to make himself more comfortable. The power of his strength scared her, sending her further into the protective recesses of her being.

"Are you going to rape me?" cried Ariana, fear, disgust and loathing rolling through her with hurricane-like force.

"No, I like to kill. I get plenty of thrills from that. I can just think about Miss Donna lying on that cold gray slab and I get off. But I'm too much of a gentleman to rape a woman. So that's one thing you don't have to worry about from me."

"You....you killed Donna?"

"You mean, you didn't figure that out?" Wade said in a condescending tone, seemingly disappointed that she hadn't given him credit where credit was due.

"What about Karen? You haven't hurt her, have you?" Ariana asked, panicking at the thought of her friend being harmed.

"Not yet, but she's next on the agenda after you. She'll be on the slab right behind you. Cozy, huh?"

Wade raised the knife in the air and examined it himself. "This is actually the same knife that killed Donna--that allowed her blood to flow like a river. I granted her freedom from this life. She was a juicy one, she was. I kinda miss her. A little on the wild side. I prefer my women a little tamer, but...Of course, I sterilized the knife. Wouldn't want to contaminate anyone with it. So you don't have a thing to worry about. No communicable diseases will get passed through me.

Wade brought the knife down slowly and brushed the flat side against her cheek, pressing it down hard on her face and sliding it to her neck, placing the tip straight against her carotid artery.

"I kinda hate to spoil such a lovely piece of work. But hey, it's part of what I do best. You know the old saying, it's a dirty job but somebody's got to do it. I'm going to go slowly if you don't mind. I enjoy it more that way. Sorry you can't stay for the whole party. You're going to miss the best part.

"Please, just make it quick," Ariana pleaded, tears streaming down her face.

"Great sculptors take their time. Don't rush me," he yelled suddenly. "You're making me lose my focus."

Ariana wished Ida had not left for the weekend. That would increase her chances of survival significantly.

She felt him pull the bodice of her nightgown and then felt the rip. She could feel the sting when he carved the "x" on her stomach.

"I've branded you. You're mine now. Did you hear me? All mine." he said, leaning into her ear, his hot breath scalding the side of her neck.

"Yes," she said, shuddering as the sweat poured off her forehead.

The back side of the knife swept down and stopped between her thighs. "How does that feel?" he asked, whispering softly in her ear.

"Cold," Ariana answered with contempt. "Just like you."

"Ha. Ha. I love a woman with a sense of humor. A woman who will go out fighting. For all the good it will do you, it makes for great entertainment."

Ariana shut her eyes tight and willed her spirit somewhere else. She tried to imagine what heaven would be like--or wherever she ended up after leaving this earth. It would happen any minute and her life hadn't flashed before her eyes yet. She'd always heard those images of a lifetime would sweep across the silver screen of the mind, seconds before the spirit left the body. She didn't really mind so terribly the thought of death, she just didn't want to be there when it happened.

"Open your eyes, Ariana. I want you to witness your own death," Wade said, staring her down and running the blunt side of the knife up the side of her thigh. "Just one thing I want to know before you leave...does this feel as good as Dakota? This is as close as you'll ever get to feeling that again, so you'd better enjoy it.

"How about if I flip this knife over now--perform a little circumcision on you for being such a bad girl. That's what they do in Africa to this very day--keeps females in control, where they need to be."

Suddenly he flung the knife across the room and jerked her by the hair, throwing her over on her stomach in one swift moment. Ariana screamed in surprise and began crying uncontrollably.

"Stupid woman!" Wade yelled, "All it takes is a few slick moves and the dude has you in his palm...or in his pants."

"What are you talking about?" Ariana asked, wrestling for control from Wade's iron grip.

"Who am I talking about? Your Mr. Do Good. That's his name. Going to save the world. Going to clean up all the corruption that ever occurred since the beginning of time. I could have been rich if it wasn't for him. I could be living in a castle on top of a mountain in Colorado. I didn't do anything in that police department that anyone who came in before me hadn't done. But Dakota has to make me the scapegoat--salted and hung out to dry. But now it's payday--and believe me, he's going to pay the ultimate price. Too bad you got caught in the middle, baby doll," he said, pulling her hair back with his hand and bringing her face up off the pillow.

"It could have been different you know," he said, as he touched the point of the blade to her neck. "Kiss me goodbye," he said, leaning down to plant a kiss of the side of her cheek.

Ariana closed her eyes to meet death square on--she didn't want Terrence Wade's face to be the last thing she saw before she left this world. Suddenly the door to the bedroom flew open and the lights blazed on.

"Freeze!" yelled Dakota.

Wade hurled himself off the bed and lunged at Dakota like a wild animal. A shot rang out and Wade crumpled to the floor in a heap. Blood spewed from his chest, pooling on the floor and running in little rivulets down the creases between the planks.

"You won, you son-of-a-bitch," moaned Wade, as his eyes closed and his face grew slack, the life ebbing out of him.

Dakota picked up his limp wrist and checked for the pulse he knew wasn't there. "Ariana, call 911, please. Tell them we have a shooting victim."

"Is...he...?" Ariana asked, clasping her hands over her mouth in horror and shaking uncontrollably.

"Yes, he's dead," Dakota responded without emotion. He walked over to Ariana and took her in his arms. Did he hurt you in any way?"

"Just a little knife scratch on the stomach. It's okay, not even bleeding now," she said as she examined the superficial wound.

He picked a blanket up from the top of the cedar chest and placed it over Wade's body. "This will have to do until the ambulance gets here. Now let's go into the other room and sit down."

He took Ariana in his arms, holding her tight against him. She felt secure in the broad expanse, clinging to him for the comfort he provided. Tears streamed down her face, tears of relief that she still had her life and could still feel the warmth of another human being next to her. She would never take that for granted again. Two bodies intertwined, two bodies made one--such a beautiful thing--a gift from the heavens. Even in the worst of cases, everything seemed better when she was in his arms.

"It's over, baby, it's all over," he whispered, stroking her hair back from her face. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, now I am."

Dakota pulled away from her, his hands gripping her shoulders. "Ariana, did Wade hurt you--in any way?

"No, he just terrorized me. I feel like I've been beat up inside." Ariana reached for Dakota's embrace again, feeling cold suddenly and seeking his warmth. "If you hadn't come in when you did, I'd be dead. You saved my life. But why didn't you tell me he was this dangerous? And where have you been all this time? I've left message after message and you never returned my calls."

"I did, baby, you just didn't...it's a long story and I have an explanation," Dakota tripped over his words.

In a profusion of anger, Ariana pummeled Dakota's chest with her fists. Red-faced and screaming, she grabbed a vase in the corner and threw it at Dakota.

"Not your dragon vase," Dakota yelled, ducking.

The splintering vase punctuated Ariana's anger. "What do you take me for? A sniveling, wimpy little idiot who can't take care of herself? And why didn't you call me and tell me about Laney? Did you ever stop to think that maybe...just maybe I could have helped with the search?"

Dakota threw his arms up in surrender. "I...I...I'm sorry, Ariana. I get so narrowly focused when I'm working that I don't even stop and think about other ways to do something. It just never occurred to me to call you. I'm so sorry. I promise, it will never happen again."

"And furthermore, you will never take it upon yourself to be my self-appointed bodyguard. Is there anything else I need to know that you're trying to protect me from?"

"Not that I can think of," Dakota said, hanging his head, as if admonished by her outburst.

"From now on--give me the information I need to protect myself and let me be part of the process. Just like tonight. If you knew Wade would be here, why didn't you just call me and let me know I needed to be on guard. I could have taken care of myself."

"I thought it was too much for you to handle. Besides that--I didn't want to risk something happening to you. But I will never underestimate your ability to protect yourself again. For that, I apologize." Dakota took her in his arms again, absorbing the heat of her anger, electrified by it. His body responded to her closeness and he traced the line down her spine, kneading each vertebrae to release her tension. "I believe you are well overdue for the massage doctor."

"Oh, Dakota, I'm so sorry I lost my temper with you," she said, responding in kind to his touch, those needles prickling her insides again, that animal response firing up at his touch. "Who knows what would have happened if it had gone any other way here tonight. At least we're here, together again." Her hands ran up his back and into his hair--that fresh scent of his, that wonderful maleness, washed over her. She remembered something about the olfactory sense being directly connected to that portion of the brain that controls sexual responses and she believed she'd proven that theory correct.

The ring of the doorbell interrupted her thoughts.

Dakota stood up. "Must be the emergency response team. I'll take care of it. You stay right here."

Suddenly exhausted, Ariana obliged without a fuss. Tonight she wanted to be taken care of. She wanted to be embraced and protected--by Dakota. She wanted to sleep next to him--all night.

Dakota walked back through the door and said, "They've taken the body. The police want to interview us tomorrow morning together. I gave them my statement and told them you had been traumatized and needed to rest before you talked to them and they agreed. I think they're just relieved that Wade is out of the picture."

"Hold me, please," she asked, walking over to him and putting her arms around his waist.

"I love you, Ariana," he said, bending down to kiss her cheek and nuzzling his head into her neck. "And I love this little indention below your neck. It is the sweetest spot on your body."

"I like yours, too" Ariana whispered in his ear, and leaning down to kiss his notch. "Among many other portions of your perfectly splendid anatomy."

"Mmmmmh," Dakota moaned, "that feels good."

"I think that's a good start," said Ariana and began tracing his with her tongue.

"How did you know Wade would come after me?" Ariana asked as she curled up on the couch next to him.

"Part instinct, part tracking, part clues he didn't know he'd left behind. He liked to boast, and every time he did it was like leaving a trail of crumbs in the forest for me to follow." Dakota eased up behind Ariana and stroked her hair. "Thank God you're okay," he said, shutting his eyes and bringing his chin down on the crown of her head.

"Where have you been lately, you never answered my question?" Ariana asked, anger seeping through her veneer of comfort. "I've tried calling and leaving messages. You haven't returned my calls. I went by your house and office. Everything was locked up. I thought you had blown me off. Kind of like here's a man who wants what he can't have when he can't have it, and wants something else when he does."

"No, baby," he said smothering her forehead with kisses. "So much has happened, I don't know where to begin. Wade kidnapped Laney right after he killed Donna Matthews. Monty and I took off to find her and it took us two weeks."

"Is she okay?" Ariana asked.

"Yes, thank God again." Dakota rubbed his cheeks with his hands and shifted his position on the couch. Ariana scooted closer to him, rubbing her leg sensually against the side of his thigh. He showered her face with tender kisses, a prelude to the savage need that quickened to a blue-steel rod between his thighs.

Ariana combed her fingers through his hair and down the brawny strength of his neck, massaging the ropy tendons and muscles that protruded. She kneaded his shoulders and arms, rock hard from the brute strength of outdoor activities.

Dakota brought his lips down on hers and his hand slid up her side, gently cupping her small, firm breasts. He brushed the delicate tips with his thumb, his other hand sliding over to unbutton her blouse. Hungry kisses moved down her shoulders, sending hot chills of desire coursing through her arteries, blood pounding against her temples the sea crashing against boulders on the shore.

"Have you ever heard of the Falls of a Thousand Kisses?" Dakota murmured between kisses, pulling her blouse over her shoulders and letting it fall to the floor.

"No," Ariana panted, barely audible. "Tell me about it."

"It's a spectacular seven level waterfall in Maui, Hawaii called the Seven Sisters. If you stand in the pool at the bottom, the droplets rain on you softly and it feels like a thousand tiny kisses on your skin. I'm going to take you there someday and let you experience it. Meanwhile, close your eyes and I'll show you what it feels like.

He gently removed the rest of her clothes, all the while touching her skin lightly with his lips, counting as he went. Each touch sent fresh star bursts of delight coursing through her. He lifted her off the tapestry sofa and carried her into the bedroom, her body tense with excitement.

"Nine-hundred and ninety-eight, nine-hundred and ninety-nine, a thousand," he whispered, ending with her little toe.

Dakota moved back up to kiss her, rolling his tongue deeply into her mouth, drinking in her sweet essence. He caressed the velvety softness of her abdomen and inched down to the small triangular tuft of curls, savoring the liquid warmth and playing the folds like a musical instrument.

Ariana moved naturally to the music of his all-knowing touch. Desire and love filled her until she thought she would explode with emotion. She was sure no one else of earth had ever experienced what she was feeling this moment. Heavenly. Deep reserves of passion washed over her, wave after wave, to make the essence even sweeter. What a gift, she thought, to let go and ride the waves--a gift to herself and Dakota.

"I love you, Ariana," Dakota said, his voice husky with emotion, as he entered her, hard and pulsating in his readiness.

She arched up to thrust him deeper inside her. She wanted him as deep as he could go--deep enough to reach the level of love she'd allowed herself to feel. No, she wouldn't be afraid of him. It was time to let go.

He buried his head in her neck and wrapped his hands around her small, rounded buttocks, pulling her into him with every thrust. She reached around him to grab his cheeks, feeling his muscles contracting with every move, deep hollows forming with each movement. He moaned with pleasure as she ran her fingers up and down the deep crease.

"I want to make this last," he panted. "This is it for me."

Ariana threw her legs over him, quickly spiraling Dakota to an imminent explosion.

"Oh, baby," he roared as she dug her nails into his back. That was not fair." He laughed as he sunk back down onto her. "A big surprise, but at least a ten on the Richter scale."

Ariana stroked him, rubbing her fingers up and down his back, savoring the sinewy ridge down his back and drinking in the musky scent of male and sex. It just can't get any better than this, she thought.

Dakota started to lift up, "I know I'm getting heavy...."

"No," she said, pulling him back down on top of her, rotating her hips under his.

"You are so beautiful," he said, tracing the contours of her face with his finger.

Ariana smiled and kept moving.

"Oh," he moaned. "You're trying to drive me crazy, aren't you?"

"I love you," she said, still smiling.

"I love you, too," he said, touching his lips to her.

Miraculously, he felt himself harden again in the garden of her warmth. Her nimble muscles emerged from the fertility of her loins, contracting around his manhood like a slick, wet glove. Again and again she contracted and released in a steady rhythm, massaging him until he thought he couldn't hold back. Suddenly, he felt her body stiffen and pushed her to the brink as his thrusts came fast and furiously. Digging her fingers into his shoulders, she arched back and moaned with pleasure. "Oh, God, I love you, Dakota."

Ariana felt herself floating. Somewhere on this earth she'd found a place called heaven. Paradise.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

One more job to do, thought Dakota, locking up his office for the night. Now how to get inside the mansion without Ariana or Ida catching him. Ariana would be furious with him again, just as she had when he saved her from Terrence Wade, but there was only one way he could pull this off. He had to do it his way. Dakota knew he was stubborn to a fault, but when it came to his work and the way he had to do the job to get it done, his instincts prevailed.

He watched the clouds scud across the night sky on the way over to Ariana's. Good, there would be no moonlight. That was to his advantage. He'd been over to the house early that morning to disengage the burglar alarm. Hopefully he could get up on the branches of the tree without too much problem. The rain might give him a break and wait to come in until later on that night. He had no idea when she might come in. It could be tonight. It could be tomorrow night. He just didn't know. But he knew it would be soon. Time was running short on her. She was getting desperate and he knew it.

Dakota parked in the empty lot at the end of the street. He turned out the lights and locked the door. Dressed in all black with a thin black hat on, he looked like the cat burglar he was trying to catch. There was always the risk in this. The risk that he could get caught by some fluke and appear to be the guilty party. He could probably explain this one, though. The room. The painting. The house was dark when he walked up, save for Ariana's lamp burning in her window. Ida must be asleep already. Dakota noticed that she usually retired at about nine-o'clock. He'd been careful about riding by each night and monitoring the pattern of activity in the house.

The tree branches bent and shook under his weight as he climbed them like a ladder. He had no need for his pin-point flashlight. He'd rehearsed this action several times while in the backyard, ostensibly feeding the squirrels. He tried the window. Good--it was still unlocked, just as he'd left it yesterday. He was glad that Ida wasn't too much of a fanatic about checking the windows. That would have presented a problem for him. Slowly and methodically he opened the window, stepping in and shutting the window slowly, no squeaks.

The house was quiet save for the ticking of the grandfather clocks echoing off the hardwood floors. The smell of potpourri wafted up and he thought, it smells like a bed and breakfast already. He felt his way along the wall to the hollow spot, behind the closet, pushing it in, causing the wall to revolve around. He flicked his flashlight on to find his place in the corner, right behind the painting ton the easel covered with an old white sheet. This would be where she came. Maybe he would luck out and nab her tonight. He settled in, turned off his light and willed himself to be perfectly still. Not one for being idle, he began to entertain himself with thoughts of Ariana–their life together. He'd never before felt the sense of settling that he'd experienced lately. He wanted to build a life with Ariana, a family, children a home, stability. That appealed to him more than anything right now--he could almost taste it. And to think he'd almost lost it--it made it all the more sweeter now.

He wanted to marry her--would officially propose to her as soon as this chaos was over. She'd have an adjustment time, this was definitely going to be a shock. But he was confident it would work out. It had to. He'd never wanted anything in his life as much as he'd wanted this. The intensity was what shocked him. He'd never experienced anything this intense. He'd loved Cara deeply but it was very different from what he had now. Not to diminish it in any way....

He heard a noise. It was the door handle on the closet, someone was fumbling with it. He took a slow deep breath, willing himself not to move a muscle. His breathing would have to come shallow or light. He didn't want her to hear. Slowly, with tentative steps...she was moved toward him. She may have a flashlight. He heard her pull the sheet off the painting.

"All mine," she said, her throaty, nicotine voice giving away her identity. "You'll sell for at least a million dollars on the black market. "Ooh," she cooed, kissing the picture. Dakota emerged from the corner, shined his big flashlight on her and yelled, "Freeze!"

"What in the hell!" wailed Mary Nell, dressed in her black catsuit and black stocking cap, thrashing against his brute strength. "This painting is rightfully mine. Willed to me when my mother was not changing her will under pressure or duress. I'll sue you all if you try to take it away from me. I'll take you to court. It's rightfully mine."

"Save your breath for your lawyer, Mary Nell. Right now you're going to the police station. With me." Dakota grabbed her and a green all-weather coat from the closet and draped it over her. "Here's to a little modesty," he said.

Ariana appeared at the doorway in her nightgown. "What is all this commotion about?" She took one look at her mother and covered her face with her hand, the blood draining from her face. "Oh, my God. You're my mother!"

"Shut up. I'm not your mother," Mary Nell spewed. "You blew me off me a long time ago. I wrote you off when you allowed Me-Me to change her will to suit your tastes. We.. this picture was all I had."

"What picture?"

"Ariana, let me explain. The picture was hidden in the secret room--the "x" mark on the piece of paper you found when the room was ransacked was the location. I traced it to the room and figured out the picture, and did research--worth a million dollars. I didn't tell you because this was the only way we'd find the perpetrators--motive for Me-Me's murder."

"Oh, Graham screwed me on that one too.

"Wait, what does Graham have to do with anything. How is he involved in all this?"

"Would you like to tell her or do you want me to, Mary Nell.."

Mary Nell hung her head and said, " I'm not going to waste my breath. You can do the dirty work, Mr. Do-good."

"Ariana, this isn't easy for me. I think you need to sit down while you hear this. Let's all go out to the living room." Dakota held firmly to Mary Nell's arm, walking down the stairs and into the sitting room.

Ida, as if to help relieve the dour negativity in the air, said, "I'll make some hot tea." She scooted off through the door to the kitchen, turning on the lights as she went to warm the atmosphere of the house.

"Ariana, your mother, Mary Nell, broke into the house tonight to steal a painting that Me-Me inherited from her mother. It was painted by one of the most renowned painters Ireland ever produced, William O'Brian. Right now it's value is well over a million dollars. Me-Me told Donna about the room before she died. When Mary Nell called, I figured she'd try to find a way to get into the house to find the painting. When she couldn't get in amicably through you, she took it upon herself to break and enter. My theory is that since Me-Me disinherited her, she felt entitled to the painting. Do you have anything to say, Mary Nell, in your own defense.

With lips pursed and eyes downcast, Mary Nell mumbled, "I didn't try to take anything I wasn't entitled to. I just wanted what was rightfully mine. All my life I've worked my ass off and never gotten anything for it but a paycheck that doesn't even stretch out until the next one. I wanted to feel what it was like to be rich."

"So you could support your drug habit?" Dakota asked her accusingly.

"You mind your own business. My drug habit doesn't have anything to do with this picture. I happen to like the picture."

Dakota looked at Ariana, her face white as a ghost, "There's more, Ariana, and this part's a bit more complicated--the plot thickens. Graham and Mary Nell have been corresponding for a year. She contacted him originally to try to get her name back of Me-Me's will, six months before she died to be exact. as it turns out, his relationship with you was designed so that he could marry you, gain access to the inheritance, and he'd siphon part of the money to Mary Nell. Graham and Mary Nell collaborated in Me-Me's murder, using lead acetate crystal found in Dr. Walters laboratory to put in a liquid medium and inject into her I.V. while she was hospitalized for tests. Graham Brown is being arrested by the state police as we speak. And obviously, Mary Nell here won't be visiting anywhere but the inside of the jailhouse anytime soon."

"Oh, my God," cried Ariana, a torrent of emotions swirling through and threatening to suck her down into the depths like a raging whirlpool. "If Mary Nell were not sitting in front of me and admitted this in person, I never would have believed it."

"Please believe that was the very reason I planned it to come down this way. So you could see with your own eyes and hear with your own ears--firsthand. I'm so sorry, Ariana. You don't deserve this." Dakota walked over to her, unabashed. "It's over, baby. I'm going to take her in to the station. I'll be back over here as soon as we get things settled. I want to make sure they have Graham in custody, too." He kissed her on the head and walked out with Mary Nell.

Ida walked in with the tea and sat down with Ariana. "Oh, Ida, how can this be? It feels like something out of the twilight zone. This doesn't happen in real life. What went down."

"Selfishness. Greed. The idea that money and things in life can buy us happiness. It just ain't so. Be glad, baby. You're off the noose with Graham. You can live your life the way you want to live it now--with a free and clear conscience. You have a chance for true happiness, if you'll grab it."

Ariana's spirits soared from the depths as she viewed the situation with a wide-angled lens. Ida's right, Ariana thought. I'm free! I would love to be free with Me-Me here, but what's done is done. I have to move forward. Me-Me would want me to do just that. As for Mary Nell, she was just a ghost from the past anyway, one that became the flesh tonight for a few minutes before she slipped back into the shadows. I'm finished with her. She was never and is not my mother. And I'm going to build my life with Dakota now, if he still wants me.

Ariana took a sip of the tea. It calmed her like a soothing potent.

* * * * *

"Ariana, it’s been a long night. You have to be absolutely exhausted. Do you want me to tuck you in and come back tomorrow after a good night’s sleep?" Dakota brushed the tendrils of damp hair that clung stubbornly to the side of her face, lingering on her cheekbone with his thumb.

"No, Dakota," Ariana said, her hand grazing the side of his face. "I’m not about to let you out of my sight again. You might decide to pull another Lone Ranger act and leave me high and dry for another two weeks. I want you to take me upstairs to the new guest room. Ida and I finished the decorating this week and I’d like to get the feel of it by spending the night there." Not waiting for his reply, she grabbed his hand, leading him down the hall to the stairs.

"I love a woman who knows what she wants," Dakota said, hastening to keep up with her rapid pace.

When they reached the top of the stairs, Dakota swooped her up in his arms, smothering her face with kisses. "Just give me the general direction and I’ll get us there," he said, coming up for a breath.

"Down the hall and to the right," Ariana said, lassoing his neck with an iron-clad grip.

He stopped at the room, marveling at the raised antique four poster rice-carved bed. "Wow. Although I’m not sure I’m acclimated to the altitude up there," he said, stepping up on the ladder to the bed. "A man could get nosebleeds up here."

Ariana laughed, swatting him on the back. "Oh, Dakota," she said, kissing him on the forehead as he placed her on the bed, "I can’t wait to get everything that’s happened behind us. We’ve been through so much, and it’s made us stronger, I know, but I need the distance from it. I’m just impatient, I guess. I’m still so torn up about everything."

"I know, baby," he said, taking his place beside her. "But let’s start right now. We have to be patient with the healing, that takes time. Let’s don’t let anything run interference with us, though."

Ariana looked up at him, emotion flooding her heart as pools of water danced in her eyes, blurring the exquisite image of the man lying next to her. "Make love to me."

A slow grin covered his face. "And what might be your pleasure tonight, Madam?"

"Pure self-indulgence," she breathed, eyes closed, languishing in the feel of his hands on her skin, slowly removing her silk nightshirt.

He jumped off the bed and pulled his jeans off quickly, and stood before her, his shaft gleaming perpendicular against his body. She traced the small circular ridge if skin and encircled the mound in her hands. He sucked in his breath and let out a moan as she squeezed playfully, kneading and flicking the tip with her thumb.

He took her hand and stretched out on top of her warm, pliant body as if it was a second home. He savored her supple skin next to his, reveling in the contrast of his callused, sun-scorched skin and the soft, virgin-snow texture of hers. Her hands roamed his body, exploring, as if for the first time, all the while moving and undulating in a prelude of things to come. Her nimble finger found the dark crevice on his backside and he wince with pleasure as she explored the terrain.

Her breathing quickened as fresh, white hot desire surged through her arteries. His erect manhood pulsated and twitched against her with a life of its own, in sync with the rapidity of her heartbeat. He groaned softly and she quickly stifled it with her kisses and moans of her own. He played the inside of her lips with his tongue, taunting her with short, sweet kisses in between. He slid down to nip her breasts, taking one at a time playfully in his mouth, giving each a fair turn, stretching out the already taut nubs.

She rolled her hips against his in response to the age-old primal dance that drove flesh into flesh, readying her for the most intense form of pleasure that one could expect to experience on this earth, in this life. He slid his shaft into her easily, its sleekness massaging the orb of her desire with every thrust, sending her rapidly up the mountain of Eden. Electric shocks of pleasure, so intense it bordered on pain, coursed through her in response to the deep pleasure of feeling him inside of her.

He rolled her over on top of him, without missing a beat, and bucked under her like a bronco and she responded in kind, letting him lead the dance with his own rhythm. They seemed to have arrived at a place out of time and out of this world, and she conceded to the unrelenting, throbbing desire that held them both prisoners of the moment. Faster and faster she pushed until she felt him stiffen, then groan. Every cell, every fiber of her being stretched taut and exploded

as a new, fierce wave of heat rolled over her. She felt her own body stiffen with his and they climaxed at the same time, grinding together with a force that knew no equal. The passion of the soul, in all its fullness, the true meaning of life on this earth, had just revealed itself to her. They were one.

He kissed the tears squeezing out from the corners of her eyes before they had a chance to roll down her cheeks.

With his finger, he caught one stray one that got away.

"I love you, baby," Dakota said, burying his face in her neck.

"I love you, too," choking down the intensity of emotion that threatened to sweep her away on a tidal wave.

Raising up, propping himself up on one elbow, he asked, "Are you happy?"

"So happy," Ariana said, choking up, her eyes glistening with tears.

"Well, this may not be the best time," Dakota said, rolling out of bed with a thump and righting himself in a kneeling position, one knee on the floor. "But I can’t wait another minute."

He took her hand in his, brought it to his lips and kissed it tenderly. "Will you marry me, Ariana?" he asked humbly.

"Yes...yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes," she squealed, smothering his face with kisses. She looked out the window at the magnolia tree, standing proud and tall. Magnolia dreams do come true, she thought, smiling, and blew the tree a kiss.

THE END