Irene Estep

SEND ME NO ROSES

A Romance Suspense Story

© copyright January 2000 Irene Estep
Cover art by Eliza Black
New Concepts Publishing
http://www.newconceptspublishing.com

PROLOGUE

A cold, heavy object shifted on Joani Brenningan-Estivez’s lap and interrupted her steamy dream. She touched the butt of her small handgun, wondering how it came to be there. The thought was momentary, elusive as the erotic images that insisted on pulling her back into a semiconscious state.

A longing inside her made her recreate the strong, masculine form moving above her in a sleek, shimmering haze, whispering loving praises. Praises of passion and undying commitment. An unruly lock of golden hair dangled from his forehead. Dampness tickled her face. Dampness?

Joani became aware of how ridiculous the fantasy she’d been weaving when she forced one eye open and saw the bead of moisture lining the seam of an overhead metal canopy.

She managed to pry the other eye open, then lifted her head and made out the kidney shape of a swimming pool. A grayish fog hovered over the surface, and two things registered at once: It was morning, and she was still at Miguel’s.

Nothing like being bounced from fantasia into a living nightmare.

She plopped back onto the pristine cushion and rubbed her aching head. Guilt and shame washed over her for having such an unkind thought while lounging on Miguel’s white wicker furniture. Regret also, for never being able to care for her husband as much as she did her elusive dream-man. A man she could never have. Not that Miguel would have cared, anyway.

Their marriage should never have happened. Joani had been looking for companionship, security, and a way to get her mother off her back. She’d struck out on all three counts. But Miguel believed he’d gotten a pig in a poke, too. At least she’d been faithful. Except . . . in her dreams.

Recriminations were getting her nowhere. If Miguel hadn’t blackmailed her into coming last night, she’d never have attended his dinner party in the first place. Being employed by a client of his did have its drawbacks.

It must have been a heck of a party to last until daybreak. Joani moved just in time to avoid another direct hit from the dew dripping off the awning. She rubbed her eyes, trying to decide if the murky perception was caused by remnants of sleep or the morning fog. Something floated on the water’s surface. With effort, she focused on the form of her husband’s bronze body. He was a handsome devil, but not as handsome as—she blocked the thought from her mind.

She turned to ask one of the other guests the time, but all the chairs were empty. In fact—she straightened and surveyed the patio area—except for herself and Miguel, the whole place seemed eerily deserted.

Joani eased into a sitting position. Struck by dizziness, she gripped the arms of the wicker chair until the feeling passed. A quick glance assured her that, at least for the present, her estranged husband seemed uninterested in her presence.

He was doing the dead man's float, a buoyant face down maneuver he'd taught her on their honeymoon. It was the only time she could remember him paying her any special attention during their short marriage.

She noted the white inflated plastic sticking out like chicken wings beneath his arms. Miguel was an excellent swimmer, she’d never known him to use a raft before. He kept it in the pool for company to use.

She shook her head, trying to drive out the lingering numbness, and complained, "Why didn't you wake me?"

Miguel didn’t answer. Joani had suffered enough of his childish silent treatments when they had lived together. She wasn't in the frame of mind for one now. Being left out in the dew all night didn't set too well with her, either.

Not only was she uncomfortably damp, but a strange, bitterness lurked in her mouth. She ran her tongue over her teeth and decided wine didn’t leave a very appealing aftertaste. She leaned forward and peered again into the dissipating fog. A strong ray of sunlight suddenly sprang through an opening in the jungle-like foliage surrounding the patio. It bounced off the water, spearing her eyes like thin shards of glass. She rubbed her aching forehead.

"I couldn’t have drank that much, could I?" Actually, she didn’t remember much of anything from the night before.

Joani ignored the painful throb at her temple and tried to recall if she and Miguel had gotten around to working on the contract negotiations for Watson Enterprises last evening. If not, she hoped he wouldn’t insist on her staying to finish them now. She wanted to just get her things and go home to her cozy, colorful apartment, but supposed she should tell Miguel goodbye first.

Gathering the energy to make her exit, she said, "Miguel, I’m going home."

He still didn’t answer her. Miguel didn’t seem inclined to move, either.

She stared and blinked, then stared and blinked again. As she stood for a closer look, the handgun slid from her lap. She caught it before it landed on the hard tile, barely aware of her reflexive action. Miguel’s inert form had her full attention now.

Her throat felt raspy and raw, and his name, this time, came out as a bare whisper. "Miguel?"

The pool filter kicked on, making her jump, but her gaze never left the center of the pool. Miguel bobbed on the surface like a cork on a trout line. Her heart rapped a staccato beat against her chest.

Had Miguel’s face been beneath the surface a bit too long? Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion since she awoke.

She took another step, then another, never taking her eyes off Miguel. Something about the way the water jets made his body bounce around weightlessly looked . . . weird.

She staggered toward the edge of the pool like an alcoholic coming off a bender. One or two glasses of wine, Joani reflected. She never drank more than that.

Shading her eyes with her left hand, she squinted for a better look at Miguel. She sucked in her breath.

The sun’s reflection on the water seemed to be playing tricks on her eyes. There appeared to be a small red welt in the middle of Miguel's back. She shifted her attention to her handgun, then back to her estranged husband.

His body bobbed again.

Her eyes widened.

The 9mm dangling from her right hand felt cold. Joani shivered.

One of her greatest fears was of hurting someone accidentally. Unassertive June bug, David used to joke.

She looked at the awful weapon, wishing she’d never accepted the gift from her stepmother. She slowly turned the butt upward and stared at the magazine clip inserted into the bottom. Joani’s gaze jerked back to Miguel's lifeless body.

She swallowed to hold back the bile that lunged for her throat. Should she call 911?

Miguel was beyond help. She was as certain of that as she was that he'd been shot in the back, possibly with her own gun. Joani understood all about motive and opportunity. She had both.

The small handgun suddenly felt heavy in her hand. A quick scan of the area revealed no other weapon that could have done the dirty deed. Wishful thinking.

"Oh, my God," she cried.

Pressing trembling fingers to her forehead, Joani again tried to conjure up some memory of the last few hours, but she barely recalled coming out onto the patio for some fresh air. When was that? Sometime around midnight. Beyond that she drew a blank.

Sorry officer, I slept through the whole thing.

Saying she didn’t remember might seem a little too convenient. The police would badger her with questions she couldn’t answer.

When did everyone leave? When did Miguel go swimming? Why hadn't she heard the shot? Who killed him?

Not her! Dear God, not her.

She backed up. Something crunched beneath her right shoe. A piece of plastic tangled in the heel. She kicked it into the bushes. Immaculate-minded Miguel would be furious at her carelessness. He insisted on a neat, uncluttered household. Her husband hated untidiness, another of Joani’s faults.

Miguel was dead.

She ran inside, into the white-on-white living room with the white-on-white sofa. Black marble tables stood out like landmarks on snow-covered ground, giving her direction in her confused state.

She sought out the long dark table in front of the pristine couch. A white curtain fluttered. She spun around. Another bout of dizziness threatened to overcome Joani, and she took in huge gulps of air to combat the feeling. Smelling the scent of roses, she gulped again. No time to be ill.

She tried to concentrate.

Where was her purse? It wasn't on the coffee table where she'd left it, but she didn’t remember other things. Could she have forgotten moving her purse, as well?

Joani knelt, ducked her head level with the floor, and lifted the white skirt of the sofa. She peered into the dustless cloud of white carpet beneath. Something was there. She laid the gun down next to her and reached. Pulling her appointment book out, she sat up too quickly. Dizziness again.

A door clicked in the distance and, for a moment, her heartbeat faltered, then resumed at an even faster clip than before. It hadn't occurred to her until now that the murderer could still be on the premises.

Footsteps echoed at the side entrance from the garage, then on the black-and-white marble tile leading into the hallway and kitchen. The only escape route now was through the front door.

Clutching the leather-bound book to her chest, she quietly tiptoed in that direction. This was one time she appreciated Miguel’s penchant for running a tight ship. The door didn't even squeak as she carefully pulled it open.

Outside, she leaned against the white stucco finish. Her gaze flickered over the landscape.

The long, curving driveway led onto Highway Forty-four, a two-lane county road. Cruising the St. John's River gave the only view an outsider could get of the house.

Miguel liked privacy. She tried to blot out the image of him lying alone and so dead, dead, dead—and the killer roaming freely about inside the mansion as if nothing had happened. Had he returned to do her in as well?

She nearly tripped over one of the tier lights that lined the walkway as she moved as inconspicuously as possible behind the shrubbery. Her white Mercedes seemed miles away, sitting in front of the detached garage at a distance that couldn't have been more than fifty feet to her left. Joani wondered how she would reach her car without being seen.

The wrought iron gate and driveway were visible from the kitchen security monitor, from the garage apartment, too, where the chauffeur, Ramon Valdez, resided.

She considered waking Ramon, then remembered he’d approached Miguel for permission to take the night off and visit a sick relative in Jacksonville.

Good, she had some recollection of what transpired last evening. Now all she needed to do was make her way to her car, then remain undetected long enough to reach the gate.

The gate! Miguel had changed the code. She'd had to call up to the house to get in last evening. Joani always thought it strange that one needed a code to leave as well as enter Miguel's fortress. Then she realized her car keys were in her purse somewhere inside the house. She felt trapped. She couldn't get her car out even if she had the key. She heard a musical tinkling coming from the housing project beyond the woods.

A bloodcurdling scream came from the back of the house.

Joani raced toward the woods.

CHAPTER ONE

David realized the sharp jab to his ribcage this time wasn’t meant to be vindictive. Rena Colter simply wanted him to answer his phone.

Sometime in the wee hours of the morning, he’d begun to get used to the poking and prodding and drifted off to sleep, but it was impossible to ignore her shrieking complaint.

"Good Heavens, David, answer the damned thing."

By the time David’s hand covered the receiver the incessant ringing stopped. He let his head drop back onto the pillow and tried to forget the feeling of being run over by a truck with dual tandem wheels.

Rena shifted and poked again, this time, edging him right off the bed. The woman was more restless than a bear with a sore paw. Or, after she realized sleep was all she’d get out of the evening, maybe she was retaliating by depriving David of his.

He slowly crawled to his knees, braced his elbows on the bedside and let his head loll in his hands for a brief moment before lifting himself sluggishly to his feet.

Without ever opening her eyes, the redhead snuggled into the covers and emitted a soft snore. Content as a kitten to have the bed all to herself, David thought.

He glanced down at the red, white and blue striped boxers he had on and swore. Just as well Rena slept on. Being clothed while she remained butt naked might look incriminating. The lawyer he’d become acquainted with a few years back when he testified against her client for dealing drugs was just clever enough to figure out some way to sue him for breach of promise, or some such thing. David had promised more than he’d been able to deliver.

When he’d invited Rena to come home with him, he’d given no frilly words of affection or commitment, only rash assurances of a little safe sex with a known partner. Before now their relationship, for various reasons, had remained platonic. Maybe that was the problem. Hadn’t he once heard it said friends should never become lovers? Of course, thanks to him, they were saved them from that particular fate.

Disgusted with himself, he spun around and stumbled when his feet tangled in a pair of black pantyhose. Whisking the nylons off the floor, he dropped them on the night table beside the phone. Then he began snatching up the trail of clothing that stretched from the doorway to the bed, evidence of the wild beginnings earlier in the evening. Too bad the night ended with such a fizzle.

He dropped the bundle of clothing on the end of the bed and grumbled, "I’m getting too old for this sort of nonsense."

"Hmmmm," Rena moaned. As if testing David’s theory, she shifted and pushed the covers below two creamy white breasts. David felt nothing, nada, not a darned thing. Friends or not, he should have some reaction to a beautiful, naked woman.

"Nothing, go back to sleep," he said, an unnecessary command since Rena snuggled down and began snoring again before he finished speaking.

As he stepped into the shower, David tried to remember when he'd lost his appetite for shapely redheads. Shapely brunettes and blondes too, he admitted. He'd dated one of each since his return home two weeks ago, thinking to find the right mix that might bring him out of his sexual slump. Thankfully, he’d had the good sense not to bring any of the others home with him.

By the time he finished showering, David decided rest was not the cure-all it was cracked up to be. He’d taken two weeks of his vacation time while his local liaison set the stage for the next phase of a current investigation. Maybe he was feeling left out, because he knew he’d not be able to work undercover on this one.

Normally sex was an excellent outlet for such pent-up adrenaline. But, since his current investigation led him to Estivez Trading Company, he’d been distracted, unable to concentrate on extracurricular activities.

Especially not after he learned that Miguel Estivez—a recent suspect in the drug business—was married to the sweetest, most even tempered female David had ever known. Joani, vivacious and sweet. He remembered her nurturing, easygoing manner just like it was yesterday instead of seven years since he’d last seen her. It galled him to no end to think little Joani’s husband was mixed up in illegal drug activities.

He heard the phone ring again and a groggy-voiced Rena answer, "Devereau residence."

He walked into the room and avoided looking at her anywhere below the neck. Not because he was afraid it would excite him, but because he was afraid it wouldn't.

Rena handed him the receiver. She looked pissed; whether at him or the phone, he couldn’t tell.

"It's for you." The words hung like icicles in the quiet room, so he decided he was the object of her ire.

"Who else?" After all, it was his house.

Rena didn't seem to appreciate his dry humor. How could he blame her? It'd been a pretty disappointing night for her. Hell, it’d been disappointing for him, too. He spoke abruptly, "Hello."

"David, I need to see you."

"Joani Brenningan?" No, Estivez now, he reminded himself. A picture of curling russet locks, sparkling green eyes, and a young overdeveloped body wrapped in satin sheets suddenly came to mind. David heard a faint tinkling sound in the background.

"Joani Brenningan, as I live and breathe," he said curtly. His gaze dropped to Rena's well-rounded backside as she walked naked into the bathroom. He felt a tiny twitch in his lower regions. Perhaps he wasn't dead after all. Two baths in one morning could be invigorating. His spontaneous decision to join Rena for a second shower and find out made him feel antsy. "What’s up?"

"This is an inconvenient time, isn’t it?"

If fate were on his side, its timing stunk, David thought. Socializing with an old friend related to someone under the DEA’s scrutiny would be frowned upon by the agency. Unless he intended to use Joani to further his investigation, but that was something he didn’t feel obliged to do. Besides, his chance of proving he hadn’t lost his manhood could be slipping away. He heard the water in the bathroom come on.

"Er, Joani could you—" He was going to say, "Get to the point," but she interrupted.

"I-I'll call back later. Can't hang out here, someone might see me."

"Joani, wha—" She hung up before David could ask her what difference it would make if anyone saw her. The idea that she could be in serious trouble caused him some concern, but she didn’t sound as though she were in danger. If she were, why didn’t she just say so?

He was amazed that he’d even recognized her voice. It had a mature, sensual sound to it now. He wished she'd told him why she called. It wasn't just for a friendly chat. She could have picked up the phone any number of times to say hello, but she hadn’t done so. So why now?

It was difficult to visualize the animated teenager he remembered all grown up and married. David hoped for her benefit that Joani’s husband wasn’t guilty of the things he’d heard before leaving the Bahamas.

The name Emilio Garcia, Miguel’s uncle and a well-known banker, had been whispered back and forth through his network of snitches as being closely associated with a Colombian Cartel.

Of course, in the islands some might think it inevitable that a financial institution do a certain amount of business with drug dealers. Whether done innocently or otherwise, drug-related trade was the most productive industry around. Lately, though, those same snitches pointed accusing fingers at shipments to the Bahamas from Estivez Trading Company.

Since the DEA had no concrete proof, the Bahamian government refused to cooperate in producing a search warrant. This prompted the agency to send David back to Central Florida to gather the evidence needed to convince them.

Hearing from Joani made David wonder if he should rethink his decision to keep her out of the investigation. If she had called him because she knew something about her husband’s activities . . . .

No, Joani had too much integrity to be involved in something illegal. However, she was loyal, as well, and she wouldn’t betray a man she loved enough to marry. In either case, she wouldn’t be calling David Devereau.

So what did Joani want to talk to him about? David pondered the question while he put on a pot of coffee to brew. Then he sat down, stared at the phone, and pondered some more.

Thirty minutes later, with coffee cup in hand, David paced the kitchen floor. Joani still hadn't called back. He’d give her another ten minutes then he intended to call her parents. If she were in trouble, Conner and Marleen Brenningan would be the first ones she’d contact.

He stepped out onto the front porch to retrieve the morning paper; glad now he hadn't joined Rena. His flash of arousal had dissipated after Joani hung up.

Where the hell are you, Joani?

A familiar musical sound came from down the street. "Mary Had A Little Lamb" drifted though the air and grew louder as an ice cream truck turned the corner onto Ryder Street. At first David thought it too early for such treats, then he spotted the group of kids gathering in front of his house where the truck came to a stop.

A copper-haired woman took the children's orders, while the freckle-faced driver remained seated, grinning at her backside like a mule eating briars through a barbwire fence. When the woman leaned into the chest freezer, her slinky black dress rode an immodest degree up her shapely thighs.

The children didn't pay much attention, but the young driver got an eyeful. David straightened when the woman turned and he took a good look at her face.

Joani! My God, how she’d changed. She wasn’t a little schoolgirl anymore, that was for certain.

The driver squeezed past her to collect the children's money, and David could swear the boy brushed her plump little breast with his arm on purpose. Mumbling aloud his thoughts of head-bashing the minor to teach him a little respect, he didn't hear Rena step onto the porch beside him.

"Neat uniform," Rena commented. She didn't need to point for David to know she spoke of Joani's bodice-sequined party dress.

The corner of David's lip quirked up on one side. Rena seemed to have recovered her sense of humor. He felt he owed her an apology.

"Rena, about last night . . ." he began awkwardly.

"Forget it, David. Last night is a faded memory. Or was it no memory?" She laughed. Her sense of humor suddenly lost some of its former appeal, and David decided the less said about the sensitive subject of last night’s fiasco, the better.

In silence they watched Joani give out the ice cream treats to the children. After they dispersed, the young truck driver graciously assisted her as she stepped down from the running board to the sidewalk.

The boy’s thick mass of freckles, several shades lighter than Joani’s hair, became beacons on his baby fat cheeks when she hugged him. With the liveliness of youth, the young man hopped back into the driver seat and shifted the van into first gear. The wheels squeaked on the pavement when he popped the clutch.

"Mary Had A Little Lamb" picked up speed, and the vending truck quickly disappeared around the next corner.

David noted the sudden slump of Joani's shoulders after she waved goodbye. When she turned and spotted him, the once familiar smile returned. Her shoulders straightened, and she bounded up the walk like a contestant on a game show.

"Good morning, David," her voice lilted. She stopped at the bottom of the steps and looked up with sparkling green eyes and a generous smile that faltered slightly when she glanced at Rena.

"Joani," David said with a casualness he didn’t feel. Even dressed in black, she looked like a breath of sunshine. The reaction of lust he felt told him the answer to his physical affliction stood before him, but he knew darn well he couldn't afford the cure. Now instead of an impotent old man, he felt like a dirty one.

Rena broke the ensuing silence. "I like your outfit. I'm Rena Colter."

"Thank you. Er, Joannetta Brenningan, but most people call me Joani."

David lifted a brow at Joani's use of her maiden name. She ignored him and shook Rena's proffered hand.

"Well, Joani, I'd love to stick around and chat, but I'm due in court in thirty minutes. See you later, David." Rena kissed him on the cheek, then paused and turned when she reached the bottom step. "By the way, darling. I wouldn't worry overmuch about your, uh, condition."

Rena's eyes dropped to his crotch, and David felt exposed. His hands curled into fists as he resisted the urge to shield himself. He wondered if Rena’s success as a lawyer was somehow connected to her skills at debasing male adversaries. Still laughing, she slid behind the steering wheel of her red BMW and drove away.

A concerned expression marked Joani’s otherwise flawless face. "Your condition? David are you—"

"A private joke of Rena's."

He noticed Joani's eyes were puffy and red, and for the first time, he became aware of her disheveled appearance. The skirt of her dress was wrinkled, and several strands of her hair had come loose from a lopsided topknot. Whatever was bothering her, he realized, must be serious. He put his arm around her shoulder and gave her a brotherly hug. "Come inside, I’ll fix you a cup of coffee."

* * *

Joani wasn’t a child anymore, but watching David stir a liberal amount of milk and sugar into the coffee cup reminded her that he’d always thought of her as one. It was nice to think he’d retained even that snippet of memory about her, however, so she didn't have the heart to tell him she drank her coffee black these days to avoid the excess calories.

Miguel often cautioned her about her weight. He dictated to the housekeeper, Luisa, the sort of meals to prepare for Joani. No fat, no sugar, no taste.

The first thing she’d done after moving into her own apartment was order a large supreme pizza. She ate the whole thing. Within a week, though, common sense had her back on a more sensible diet.

David sat across from her, tilted his chair back, and stretched out his long, denim-clad legs. He watched her from beneath half-lowered eyelids as he sipped from his coffee mug. He hadn't changed a bit.

The same unruly strands of blond hair flipped defiantly over his forehead. The same woodsy scent emanated from his muscular body. The same quixotic gray eyes gleamed as if harboring an amusing secret. Cocky, flirtatious eyes, Joani had always judged them. She took a large gulp of the brew, which had been reduced to lukewarm by the generous portion of cold milk.

"I’m surprised you called me, June Bug," David said.

"I wouldn't have bothered you, but Marleen and Dad took the boys camping in North Carolina. I had no way of reaching them. I guess, I could have called my mother, but . . ." She shrugged. She really didn't want to go into her reasons for not calling Laura.

David sat down his cup. "All right, Joani. What's going on? Your eyes are bloodshot, and your clothes look like you slept in them. Why are you riding around in an ice cream truck, for Christ's sake? Can't that husband of yours afford to furnish you with transportation?"

"I have a car, a Mercedes," she stated, then realized how pretentious that might sound to someone like David. "It’s just that—" How could she break the news about her husband without sounding incompetent and foolish? She should have called the police. Now David would be caught in the awkward position of having to turn her in. "I used to buy treats from the ice cream truck for the children in the cul-de-sac beside Miguel’s estate. Jimmy, the driver, lives in the neighborhood. He let me hitch a ride on his way into town to pick up supplies."

"You’d rather hitch a ride on a vending truck than drive in luxury?" he smiled.

Another thing that was the same about David, she thought, was his ability to catch her off guard. He could play good-cop bad-cop all by himself. Being as unpredictable as the Central Florida weather was probably what made him so good at his job. The teasing light in his eyes still held, but his voice sounded angry, critical, too much like the time he’d come home and found her naked in his bed.

A thin veil of tears clouded her vision. She didn’t know if she felt more like crying for her dead husband, or for the unrequited feelings she still harbored for the man sitting across from her. Seeing him again was like coming home after a long absence. One felt warmed by the familiar sights, sounds, smells, but ones old room was now occupied by another.

She remembered the woman who’d left earlier: beautiful, sophisticated. Rena Colter struck her as being a clever, assertive personality as well. Assertiveness wasn’t something that came easily for Joani. How ridiculous to be filled with self-pity at a time like this, she thought, and suddenly blurted out, "Miguel's dead."

"What!" David's chair bounced to the floor with a hard thud. He reached across the table and clasped her hands in his. The whimsical glitter had vanished from his eyes. "I mean—I’m sorry, honey. Who—er, what happened? Was he in an accident?"

Blinking back tears, Joani looked down. David’s fingers were long and slender, but one of his palms was almost broad enough to completely envelop both her hands. So strong, yet his touch was gentle. As contradictory as the rest of the things she remembered about him—macho and brusque one minute, tender and affectionate the next.

"He was shot, David. I found him in the swimming pool with a bullet hole in his back."

"Murdered?" he asked quietly, as if a bullet in the back could indicate anything less brutal.

She noted the reflective look in his eyes as if he hadn’t realized he’d voiced the question aloud. She nodded anyway.

"Did you see who did it? Is that why you're hiding out?"

"No. I-I—Oh, David, what if I did it?"

David gave a short bark of laughter.

Joani stiffened.

"I could have," she maintained. "Miguel was alive when I fell asleep in the patio lounger. The other guests were there, too. But when I awoke, I was the only one left. The gun was on my lap."

"Good Lord!" He dislodged their hands and stood.

"I don't think I did it," she hurried to add, feeling the loss of his comforting touch.

He leaned against the counter, rubbed his hand over his face, across his nicely squared jaw and then stared at her with a cool, intent look. "Either you did or you didn’t, June Bug. Which is it?"

She felt him distancing himself. He asked the question with the typical controlled voice of a law enforcement officer. She took another sip of the sweet coffee, made a face into the cup, and then set it back down. Did David believe her capable of murder? She was vacillating.

Hadn't she just indicated she could have done it? On the one hand, she wanted him to believe her capable of taking some off-center, drastic action. On the other, she desired his belief in her integrity.

She concentrated on the milky mixture in the mug and wrapped both hands around it for warmth. The air conditioning must be going full blast, she thought, for she shivered in spite of the ninety-degree weather outside. "I didn’t have any reason to kill Miguel."

"Did he leave you a wealthy widow?"

"What difference does it make? Miguel's dead. What I gain or don't isn't relevant." She knew of course, but she felt like a mudslide victim digging for daylight.

"That's where you're wrong, Joani. The first thing the police will look for is motive. And whether they have any physical evidence or not, the person who stands to gain the most from his death will be their prime suspect." He pushed away from the counter and massaged the back of his neck as he slowly stepped off the length of the small room.

Joani took another quick sip of coffee, ignoring the over-sweet taste. She decided David should know the worst of what he’d be getting into if he decided to help her. "It was my gun."

David stopped pacing and locked gazes with her. His gray eyes changed to a sympathetic smoky hue, belying his impersonal mode.

"Your gun?" he asked with an expression she guessed to be a mixture of disbelief and vexation.

"Marleen gave it to me for protection."

"Marleen should have known better."

"You don't think I did it, do you?" If David doubted her innocence, Joani didn't know who else to turn to for help. Her father and Marleen were unreachable at the moment, and she certainly didn't expect her mother to stand by her in her time of need. Before the day was over, though, she would have to call Laura and tell her about Miguel. It would be uncharitable to let her mother hear about his death on the six o'clock news.

"Let's stick to the facts right now," David said. "Tell me exactly what you remember."

Joani braced herself for the interrogation. "Miguel gave a dinner party last evening and insisted I come."

"Come? Why wouldn't you be there?"

"We're separated. Almost two months ago. I really believe Miguel was relieved to see me go, but he still enjoyed controlling my activities to a certain extent."

David sat back down. "What kind of bastard were you married to?"

"He wasn't so bad. He—"

"Save the gloss for later, Joani. I told you I only want the facts."

"That may prove incriminating, like asking have I always been stupid," she said testily.

"June bug," he drew an exasperated breath, "you're a born diplomat. You try to explain away everyone's shortcomings, and right now I just want the basics. Just tell your side of things. Let me draw my own conclusions."

"All right. But I don’t call me June bug. I never have liked it." She sniffed.

He looked at her a bit incredulous at first, then a hint of a smile crept across his face. "Okay, Joani. But stick to the facts for now. Who attended this dinner party?"

If he wasn’t going to let her elaborate, how would she be able to convince him of her innocence? "It was a small gathering. My employer, Barton Watson; his wife, Eadda; Miguel's secretary, Maria Ramera; and a competitor of Watson Enterprises by the name of Paul Everly." Joani knew she couldn’t tell him much about what occurred after dinner, and she wondered if he’d think her lying if she came right out and told him so. She’d never experienced a loss of memory before. Finding the body might have been a believable explanation for the lack of recollection. However, her inability to recall things had come before she knew Miquel was dead.

"What happened to your job with that government honcho?"

It shouldn’t surprise Joani that David had kept track of her to some extent. He’d talked to Marleen from time to time over the years. That’s how she’d heard of his recent return to the States; Marleen mentioned it just before she and Joani’s Dad left with the boys for their North Carolina retreat. The fiasco with Congressman Franklin wasn’t something Joani wanted to rehash at the moment. "Long story," she said.

"What time did everyone start leaving?"

He switched gears so quickly it made her dizzy. She rubbed her forehead where it throbbed when she tried to concentrate.

"Headache?"

Surprised by the gentle concern in David’s voice, she lifted her head and sought to reassure him. "It’s okay. The aftereffects of too much wine, I guess."

"How much did you drink?"

"Two glasses, I think."

Joani thought he snorted as he got up. She watched the movement of his broad shoulder muscles as he opened the cabinet over the refrigerator. Her gaze traveled down to his buttocks that flexed as he stretched his right arm and retrieved a bottle of aspirin. No man’s body had ever captivated her as much as David’s. When he turned around and caught her staring at his backside, she felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment.

He grinned and filled a glass with water. Setting it down in front of her, he then returned to his seat as if nothing untoward had transpired. He uncapped the aspirin bottle and handed her two tablets. "You’re the only person I know who gets a hangover from two glasses of wine."

She shrugged and swallowed the tablets, chasing them down with a sip of water. She smiled. David was a very focused man. That he even noticed her discomfort while he was busy accumulating information could be construed as a compliment. "Thanks."

An unrecognizable spark flashed in his eyes before he averted his gaze. As if the original conversation hadn’t been interrupted, he continued. Thankfully, he didn’t repeat his question about when everyone had left, which she couldn’t answer anyway. "Was that usual, to have competitors break bread at the same table?"

"No, but Miguel was never predictable. It may have been a strategic move on his part. Watson Enterprises was negotiating a new contract. Estivez Trading is their biggest broker in foreign sales. Computer components," she explained. "Everly of EverMe Technologies was vying for a contract with Miguel, too. Miguel probably thought having both of them present would increase his negotiating power, maybe get him a bigger commission."

"Did it?"

"Maybe." She thought about that for a moment then added, "I think Miguel intended to renew with Watson all along, but Barton seemed anxious. I'm in the public relations department, but I've seen Watson’s financial statements, and I think the company would have a difficult time making it without that contract. Why Miguel didn't just play on that fact instead of bringing in the competition, I don't know."

"What makes you think Miguel intended to re-sign with Watson?"

"He told Barton that if I came to the party, he'd make a commitment that night."

"I thought you were in public relations."

Joani smiled. "I am, but Barton wanted me to pinch hit in contracts in this one instance. In spite of my telling him otherwise, he thought I carried some influence over Miguel."

"And Miguel went for the idea?"

"That's what I don't understand. A month ago, Miguel wouldn't even discuss the contract with me. Then a couple of days ago, he changed his mind. Barton, feeling more confident, went over the document with me, and he promised me a bonus if I could get Miguel to agree to sign it."

"What about this Everly? How did you size him up?"

"He seemed very uncomfortable about the situation. He probably suspected Miguel was using him as a bargaining tool with Watson. I think I was the only person he said more than two words to all evening."

"What were your impressions?"

"Just that his company is new and hungry for business. He offered me a job."

David mumbled, "Young too, I bet?"

Joani resented David's sexual innuendo. "Paul is young and very ambitious. He said I had all the qualifications to help his company grow."

"Among other things," David said sourly.

She pushed her chair away from the table and stood. "I don't like your attitude, David. And speaking of tangents, this conversation is straying from the problem at hand."

She jerked up her cup, stalked to the sink, and dumped the remainder of its contents down the drain.

David noted that when Joani refilled her cup, she took a sip without adding cream or sugar. Her anger was controlled, but at least it was an improvement over her usual tractable behavior. Strange, but darned if he didn’t like her better when she showed more spirit.

For as long as he'd known Joani, although she was vivacious and lively, she never argued with anyone, or caused dissension of any kind. She went out of her way to avoid hurting everyone's feelings, family's especially. Like not telling him she’d rather drink her coffee black, she amiably accepted what anyone dumped on her without complaint. Provoking her further was tempting, but he was afraid if he went too far, she would clam up on him.

"I'm sorry, Joani. My remark was uncalled for."

She gave him a tentative Mona Lisa smile, then sat back down. "It's your background, David. You associate with the lower elements for such long intervals that you're bound to pick up their perspective on things."

"Joani, don't—" David started to say don't begin making excuses for his behavior, but instead he changed the subject. "Let's go back to you finding Miguel in the pool. Why were you sleeping in a lounge chair?"

A confused expression crossed her face, then she dropped her gaze and said, "I'm afraid my memory is a little fuzzy on that issue. The last thing I remember is walking out onto the patio with Eadda and Maria. Francisca, the housekeeper’s daughter, brought out a tray of drinks—she helps Luisa out when Miguel entertains. Francisca asked Maria if it was okay for her to take her mother home. She said Luisa wasn't feeling well."

"Why did she ask Maria instead of you?"

"Because I told Miguel I would attend for business purposes only. Maria was only too happy to step into the role as hostess."

David lifted a brow, but didn’t comment.

"After Francisca left, we made small talk for a few minutes. Then I started to not feel very good myself. I remember wondering if Luisa had a contagious virus or something. I closed my eyes to see if the dizziness would subside, and I guess I just fell asleep."

"And when you woke, it was daylight and everyone had left?"

"Yes. I was groggy and disoriented at first. I didn't notice the gun was loaded until after I realized Miguel was dead." She paused for an interval then added, "David, I never carry a magazine clip."

"You mean in the gun?"

"No, I mean anywhere. I carry the handgun just to keep from hurting Marleen's feelings. She's always asking me if I have it with me when I go out. I didn't see any need to tell her I don't carry ammunition, too."

Sometimes Joani was a doormat, David thought, and he'd like to pick her up and shake the footprints off her. She worried so much about what other people felt, she never exposed any feelings of her own. Just once he'd like to see her stand up for herself. Somewhere inside her there was an emotional tinderbox. He'd caught a glimpse of it earlier. The thought of igniting that spark both enthralled and terrorized him at the same time. Such a blaze as he envisioned just might get out of control and consume him.

David urged Joani to finish her story, then told her the person she heard on the premises must have been the housekeeper, or her daughter, freaking out when they discovered the body. The murderer would hardly have screamed. Joani seemed a bit embarrassed because of her unjustified fear at the time, but he assured her she’d done the right thing by fleeing the scene and not taking any unnecessary chances. He warned her that things didn’t look good for her in any case.

"If we don't come up with something better, Joani, I'd say the police have an open and shut case."

"Maybe I should just turn myself in, David."

"Hell no!"

CHAPTER TWO

David realized he was treating Joani like a child, expecting her to give in to his demands, regardless of what she wanted. He couldn’t, though, let her get railroaded for a crime he didn’t believe her capable of committing. Then he reminded himself people could change a lot in seven years. David really didn’t know the grown up, married-to-a-drug-smuggler Joani at all.

Why was he getting so involved in something that could get him into hot water with the Agency? Harboring a murder suspect was a serious offense. However, she was the stepdaughter of his once very good friend and former partner, Marleen Brenningan. He reasoned that, with Joani’s folks out of town, he should do what he could to protect her until they returned.

"By now the police are probably on the scene," he said. "Give me a chance to find out what they have and how bad things look for you. You may need a lawyer."

David saw Joani flinch. He reached over and squeezed her hand. "Or you might not. Things may not be as bad as they seem." Even to him the words sounded unconvincing. He could see her biting at the inside of her lip, apparently in a quandary over what she should do.

"All right," she finally said.

"Good." He was relieved and more than a little pleased that she so readily trusted him after all these years. It shouldn’t be such a surprise for it had always been Joani’s nature to trust too easily. Was that how she’d managed to wind up married to a man like Miguel Estivez? If she were innocent, merely a victim of circumstance, David hoped her trust wasn’t misplaced by hoping he could help her out of this jam. The spouse, especially an estranged one, was always an ideal candidate for murder charges.

"Could I use your shower?" she asked.

David gave a fleeting glance toward his bedroom. He didn't feel right somehow about having Joani step into the same bathroom Rena had just left. "Sure. I haven't checked the guest bath since coming back, so I can't vouch for its cleanliness."

Her smile looked rueful. "I don't mind scrubbing the tub while you find something for me to wear."

Knowing he'd be unable to find anything that would come close to fitting her small frame, he invited her to make the selection from his bureau while he made some calls.

He dialed the phone for the second time as she emerged with a gray sweatsuit draped over one arm. Watching her walk down the hall, he hoped the scent of Rena's heavy cologne didn’t still linger in his bedroom. Why he should feel guilty about it, he didn’t know.

After a couple of rings, the receiver was picked up on the other end, and a shrill scream pierced David's left ear. He held the phone away from his ear until the noise dwindled into a whining lament of, "Dada, dada, dada."

David waited until the silky-voiced female quieted the crying toddler then he asked, "Lanie, what are you doing to that child?"

"David Devereau?"

"The one and only."

"Why is it no one ever asks what the child is doing to me? Horace has spoiled his daughter rotten. Holds her, pampers her, plays with her almost every minute he's home—and, I might add, gives her darn near anything she wants. Then when he leaves, she can't understand why he won't take her with him. Sometimes it takes an hour or more for her tantrums to subside."

"Tough," David said dryly when, as if on cue, the child started up again. He had once harbored hopes of becoming a parent, but rarely did he dwell on it anymore. The subject brought bitter memories of Crystal. Memories he'd rather leave buried in the past along with his dead wife.

"Tell me about it." Lanie Ackerson spoke between shushing sounds. "Women who recommend couples wait until later in life to have children must have full-time nannies at their beck and call. Believe me, David, it's no bed of roses."

His patience for discussing the woes of child rearing had just about run its course. "I take it Horace isn't there?"

"No, the sheriff beeped him a little while ago. We thought when he went to work for the county things would be a little more laid back. But it seems murderers don't rest on weekends in the suburbs any more than they did in the city."

"Do you know the location of the scene?"

"Off Highway Forty-four, I believe. Some rich dude got bumped off in his swimming pool. Money does have its down side, doesn't it?"

"You could interpret it that way. But then money isn't always the motive."

"Tell me a more motivating motive than money, or, at least, the things it can buy. Right now I'd kill for a reliable baby-sitter and a nice quiet night out somewhere."

"Remind me to take you to dinner soon, Lanie. Since Horace is such a devoted papa, we'll leave him home to baby-sit."

"You're on." Lanie laughed.

David noticed the background noise had disappeared for several seconds now. Lanie must have become aware of it, too.

"Oh, David! You should see my little angel. She's sound asleep with her head hanging over the tray of her high chair. She's making little sniffling sounds every once in a while, and her eyes open and then droop back down. She's—"

"I'll call you later about that dinner date," David interrupted. The joys of parenthood had taken a reverse course in Lanie's mind, and he wasn't up to hearing a lengthy recital on Angel's transformation.

"Uh, okay. Should I tell Horace to call you?"

"Never mind, I'll probably run up on him somewhere. Take care."

"You too, David. I'll hold you to your promise of dinner."

"Don't worry. I never forget a promise." David hung up. He felt Joani's presence and turned.

Even though she'd pushed the sleeves to above her elbows, and must have the pants turned up several times around the waist, she looked like a lost waif in the oversized sweat suit. Her wet hair, slicked back from her face, made her look sweet and vulnerable. He’d always been a sucker for hapless females. He reminded himself of how easily Crystal had fooled him, and Joani might no longer be the harmless young girl he once knew. He grumbled as he picked up the keys to his Blazer from the kitchen counter, "I’ve got to go."

"Where are you going?" she asked with a please-don't-desert-me look. A look that was reminiscent of the one she’d given him seven years ago when he’d turned his back on her and walked out of his bedroom after he’d found her snuggled naked beneath his sheets. That was the same day her innocent schoolgirl appearance started to ebb in his thoughts.

David looked away and pushed the tail of his shirt into his pants. He ran a hand through his hair. Annoyed the cowlick in front disobeyed him, he brushed his hand over it again. "I'll need directions to Miguel’s place."

She gathered their cups from the table and began washing them at the sink. "I could show you the way."

"No."

"David," she faced him, "I have to turn myself in sometime."

"Not yet." As absurd as it was, he, an officer sworn to uphold the law, wasn’t encouraging her to turn herself in. "If I can get onto the premises, I want to take a look around the scene first, talk to the investigating officer."

"Find out how incriminating the evidence?" She wiped her hands on the dishtowel and carefully folded it in place over the edge of the sink. When he didn't answer, she added, "Do you really think I'll need a lawyer?"

He tried to ignore the doleful sound of her voice. "Maybe. We'll see."

Taking a scrap of paper and pen from the kitchen drawer next to the phone, he laid them on the cabinet in front of her. She stared at the items for a moment, then picked up the pen and began drawing. Either the roads had a lot of curves or Joani's right hand wasn't capable of drawing a straight line.

When she finished, David folded and shoved the crude map of county roads leading to Miguel's estate into this shirt pocket and turned to leave. When he reached the front door, with his hand on the knob, he hesitated to open it. Something deep inside of him wanted to assure her everything would be all right. "I won't be any longer than necessary."

"It's okay. I'll use the time to make some calls."

"To who?" He turned to face her.

"My mother, for one. I should let Barton know, too."

"Barton? I don't think that's a good idea, Joani. Not until we know more about what's going on. I'm certain the police will be talking to Barton Watson, if they haven't already."

"You think he had something to do with Miguel's murder?" Her expression showed how incredulous she thought the idea. David wondered how long she'd been on a first-name basis with her employer. He frowned.

"It's like this, Joani. With the exception of the one person we both know is innocent, everyone who attended that dinner last night is under suspicion. So no phone calls to potential suspects. Okay?"

She smiled, a little of the sunshine returning in her features. "All right then, just my mother."

* * *

It didn't occur to Joani until after David left that the one innocent person he referred to could be the victim. He may still have doubts about her. He didn't have much reason to believe in her, she knew. Not after her foolish deed seven years ago.

She took a deep breath, picked up the receiver, and dialed her mother's number. With any luck Laura wouldn't be home. Most of the time she wasn't, but Joani's luck for this day held true to form. An unusually perky voice answered on the third ring.

"Pierre, darling, I'll never be ready on time if you don't quit calling."

"Pierre? New boyfriend, Mother?"

"Joani? Really, dear, that’s very sneaky of you not to identify yourself right away."

Joani wasn't the least surprised by her mother's accusation in spite of the fact Laura hadn’t given her a chance to respond. "I'm sorry, Mother, I—"

"And don't be so catty. Pierre is a client of mine." Laura's voice reverted to the cool, reproachful tone Joani usually associated with her mother.

In typical response, she found herself apologizing again. "I'm sorry, Mother."

"Never mind. I'm a little pressed for time, Joani. What did you want?"

"To tell you Miguel's dead." Joani hadn't intended to spring the news in such brutal form, and she felt immediate guilt for the moment of perverse satisfaction she received by her bluntness. "I’m sorry, mother."

"My God, Joani. It isn't like you to make hideous jokes like that."

"It's no joke. Miguel is dead, but you should know he—"

"Dead! I don't believe it. He's so young, so vital, so, so in the prime of his life."

"Believe it, Mother, it’s true. I found the body myself." During the long silence that ensued, Joani held back a sob, waiting, hoping for her mother to say something sentimental. To offer condolences, or a shoulder to cry on, but when Laura finally spoke, her words were clipped and impersonal.

"Well, it wasn't as if you two were still close or anything, was it? Not that I ever understood why you'd want to leave all that."

So much for Laura's grief for the man she insisted a few months prior was an ideal match for her only daughter.

Joani knew by "all that" her mother meant the money and all the things it could buy. Laura had called and berated Joani for her decision to leave Miguel the moment she heard. She admired him immensely. That's why Joani expected Laura to be grief stricken over the news of his demise.

Joani was forced to face the cold, hard fact that her mother’s regard for Miguel had stemmed more from his financial status than his charming personality. Perhaps knowing the circumstances behind his death would shock her into a less detached response.

"Mother, I think you should know—"

"I suppose I should cancel my plans. I was so looking forward to this little getaway. Pierre and I are taking a cruise to the Caribbean, you know?"

"No, I didn't. You never said."

"How could I? God knows, you never call."

It was true. Joani just couldn't. Her mother criticized her at every turn. Leaving "all that" was just another addition to Laura’s list of grievances.

". . . and do you know how long I've looked forward to a real vacation like this?" Joani realized she'd missed part of the conversation. Somehow Laura had gotten back to discussing her trip. "Well, we both know your father never took me anywhere. Spent plenty of time in exotic places himself, though. He certainly has no reservations about spending his money on that new family either, does he? Off on some excursion or other when you need him most, as usual."

"Mother, Dad took Marleen and the boys on a camping trip. He had no way of knowing Miguel would be ki—"

"That's just like you, Joani. Taking up for Conner, like always. I remember—"

"Mother, there's no reason you shouldn't keep your date with Pierre." Joani knew the only way to halt the tirade would be to relieve Laura from any familial obligation.

"It's not a date, Joani. And it really isn't a vacation exactly, either. Pierre purchased this gorgeous house close to that famous basketball player’s place in Islesworth—you know the one enticed with big money to move to the west coast. Anyway, we'll be discussing the decorations while on the cruise. Separate rooms and all that. There'll be other potential clients present, too, such as the Millers of the Miller Glass fortune, also, the Sandells. I believe they have a son-in-law who is in the State Senate."

Joani didn't know why Laura felt it necessary to fabricate such tales, but she didn't feel like calling her on it, nor had she ever. It was true Laura had finally found a niche for herself in the interior design business, since she no longer qualified for the generous support payments her ex-husband made. Those ceased when Joani graduated from college. Her father had kept up the payments until then, in spite of the fact Joani had lived with him and Marleen since she was sixteen. Joani doubted, however, that Laura's business had escalated to the level of social hobnobbing she now suggested.

". . . such an opportunity shouldn't be wasted."

"I understand, Mother. And I want you to go and have a good time. Don't spend all your vacation working. There's nothing you can do here anyway. I'll be fine, really. You're right, I never felt very close to Miguel even in the beginning of our marriage."

"Well, you can be thankful for one thing, dear."

At this moment Joani couldn't think of anything she should feel grateful about. "What, Mother?"

"You weren't divorced yet. I read somewhere that in Florida that means you can’t be excluded as his beneficiary."

Joani figured her mother had probably accumulated that bit of information when Conner Brenningan took his first overseas assignment back in the eighties during the Afghan war. She wished her mother a bon voyage and hung up, then leaned her head against the cool white wall beside the phone.

Her mother never did ask how Miguel died. She never asked if her daughter needed her, either. Joani squeezed her eyes tight, but was unable to hold back the rivulet of tears that slid down her cheeks.

CHAPTER THREE

David flashed his badge and the rookie guarding the entrance gate allowed him to pass. As he rounded the last curve of thick vegetation lining each side of the long winding drive, a large stone and glass structure appeared. It was enough to impress some, but David had grown up among such pretentiousness. His mother still resided in a home that would make two of Miguel Estivez’s moderate-sized estate.

None of the policemen milling around paid any attention to him until he reached the sliding glass doors leading to the back patio. He could see a gurney lowered to almost ground level on the far side of the pool. Two paramedics struggled to lift the body from the deck.

A young officer stepped in front of David. "I'm sorry, sir, I have orders to keep everyone out of this area."

Again David extended his ID. "Special Agent David Devereau."

"I'm sorry, sir—"

"Devereau?" The question came from a black man dressed in a immaculate light gray suit, who stepped into view in the center of the kitchen just off to the right.

David took stock of the huge black and white tiles—the same as he’d seen in the foyer and hallway—the white tiled counter tops with a narrow black skirt, and the vaulted white ceiling. The glass panes on the cabinet doors looked like mini-sized French windows. Even the dishes sitting inside gave no relief from the monotonous color scheme. A person wearing white would become invisible inside this house, he thought.

"You'll get used to it." Horace grinned and shifted a small black purse he’d been examining to his left hand as he extended his right to David.

"I didn't realize you were into such feminine accessories." David’s pulse tripped when he realized the purse was a perfect match for Joani's dress.

Ackerson ran a hand over his red silk tie and sat the sequined bag on the counter. "Isn't my color." He laughed at the personal pun then got right to the point. "What's DEA's interest in this case?"

"A few whispers overheard about family ties to the drug cartel. Thought I'd take a look around before you guys destroyed all the evidence." When Horace looked skeptical, David decided to stick to the truth as much as possible. "You could say I'm here as a personal favor to a friend of the family as well."

Horace snorted. "I take it you mean on the spouse’s side of the family. However, although Marleen might approve, I doubt you have the blessings of Conner Brenningan to intercede on the family's behalf."

"Well, half a blessing is better than none, right?" David neither verified nor contradicted the assumption that Marleen Brenningan initiated his personal interest in the case.

Years ago, Ackerson and Joani's stepmother worked together at the Orlando Police Department before Marleen began accepting special assignments with DEA and working with David. Marleen retired from police work, a year or so after marrying Conner Brenningan. She’d decided raising a family was more important. Lt. Ackerson probably didn't know Joani’s family was out of town, but it was only a matter of time before he’d try to reach them to find out Joani’s whereabouts.

When the gurney made a clacking noise on the patio, David glanced out the kitchen window. The paramedics rolled the body, now encased in black plastic, around from the opposite side of the pool.

"Would you like to take a look at the victim?" Horace asked.

Joani had described the wound in the back. The red welt around the bullet hole. The lifeless, anemic corpse floating in the deep end of the pool. However, she wasn't exactly an expert observer. The idea wasn’t very appealing, but he couldn’t wimp out now. "Couldn't hurt."

"Hey guys! Wait up!" Horace tapped on the window.

This time the young officer stepped aside and pulled the sliding door open, allowing David to precede Horace outside.

"Dr. Ralph Burton, this is Special Agent David Devereau. "Let's have another look," Horace instructed the medical examiner.

"Body still looks cool as a cucumber," the ME quipped out the cliché as he unzipped the bag and revealed the rather fresh looking corpse. "Takes longer for the body to deteriorate in cool water. No insects, don’t you know."

David swallowed. He’d seen insects feasting on a dead body before, and it wasn’t an experience he cared to repeat. He stared down at the dead man—Joani's husband. Lividity had set in, but he could still tell Miguel Estivez had been a good-looking man of Hispanic descent. He looked much younger than David expected. Much too young to die, but he couldn’t seem to dredge up any sympathy for the poor bastard who was a two time loser. First he'd lost Joani, then he'd lost his life.

"If you want to see the entrance wound, we'll have to turn him over."

David got his first whiff of death when a slight breeze carried the scent upward. Water may have retarded the body's decay, but it had certainly picked up speed since leaving it. He’d never done well around dead things, especially of the human kind. So far, he’d been able to control his weakness, since most of the times he’d come in contact with a deceased, he’d been under fire. His adrenaline flowed too fast during those particular times for such a reaction. He knew if his secret got out, he’d be laughed right out of the agency. He swallowed a couple of times to combat the nausea. "Don't bother. Just tell me about it."

"Clean shot through the center of the shoulder blades. Small caliber cartridge. Could have struck the heart. Poor bastard probably never knew what hit him."

"Time of death?" David cleared his throat and took a small step back.

"Hard to say without further tests. My guesstimate is somewhere between midnight and five a.m." When David made no further comment, the M.E. zipped up the bag with a sharp tug.

"Thanks, Dr. Burton," Horace said.

Dr. Burton made an unintelligible grunt and signaled the paramedics to carry on. With a quick nod, he followed them through the yard’s side gate. David took a cleansing breath and followed Horace back inside.

Horace leaned against the counter and crossed his arms in front of him. "What else can I do for you, Agent Devereau?"

Why Horace was being so cooperative, David didn’t know, but he decided to take full advantage of it. "I'd like to take a look at whatever you have so far."

Horace picked up the purse, then stepped to the side of the counter, revealing a gun in a plastic bag. "A purse, a gun, an empty cartridge shell, and a Mercedes in the driveway. That's about it so far. And yes, I’m pretty certain they all belong to the same person, the wife of the deceased. But somehow I don't believe any of this comes as a great surprise to you, does it, Devereau?"

So, Lt. Ackerson suspected David of harboring his suspect, but he wasn’t sure enough to hit him with a straight out accusation. David wasn't worried about repercussions for himself, but wanted to protect Joani from questions for the time being. He used nonchalance and a pretense of surprise. "Joani?"

"Yes. Hard to believe such a sweet individual could commit murder." Horace sighed. "But then I've been in this business long enough to know anyone is capable if pushed far enough."

"Pushed?"

"Some people didn't think Estivez was very nice to Joani."

"Oh, like whom?"

"Eadda Watson, the wife of Joani’s employer, for one. She volunteered the information when my detective went over to see if Joani went home with them since she wasn’t at her apartment. Others verified it."

"What sort of information?" David asked, feeling a slow escalation of his blood pressure.

"I don't think that's something I should discuss until I've talked to Ms. Estivez personally."

David noted that each time Horace became impatient with the queries, he became more formal. David decided it would be better to get his answers from Joani anyway, so he changed the subject. "There could be a logical explanation why Joani left her car and purse here. And plenty of people must have known about the gun. Any one of which could have taken it from her purse and used it."

"I hope you're right. We won't know for sure until we've checked for prints and do a ballistics test. Joani was here apparently after everyone left. If I could talk to her, maybe she could shed a bit more light on the situation."

"Have you tried to contact her?" David pushed his fingers in his back jeans pockets, rocked back on his heels, and scanned the pallid grout lines between the black and white tiles.

"Sent a couple of plainclothes over to her apartment earlier. Nobody home. Could be she wasn't feeling well and stayed with a friend." Horace paused, but when David didn't add anything to his conjecture, he continued. "There apparently was a dinner party here last evening and another person became ill. Maybe Joani was sick, too. That would be one explanation of why she left her purse and car here."

"Who was ill?" David asked, not giving away the fact he already knew.

"Housekeeper, Luisa Sanchez. She discovered the body when she arrived around seven a.m. I was just going to question her again. Would you like to join me? She's in the living room."

"Sure." David followed Horace down a corridor and to the right. Other than some greenery there and about, the decor didn't change much. White with a sprinkling of black accents dominated the entire house.

An overweight Hispanic woman looked uncomfortable and out of place on the long formal-looking sofa. The theme seemed relentless with her dressed in a black uniform. An officer offered her a cup of coffee. She looked at him with dark, teary eyes, then shook her head.

"Mrs. Sanchez." Horace stepped in front of her. "We'd like to ask you a few more questions."

A smattering of gray hair edged the woman's temples and fluttered about as she bobbed her head up and down. The rest of her hair was held motionless in a huge tight bun at the nape of her neck.

"You live in the subdivision up the road, is that right?"

"Si. Señora Estivez want us to stay in guesthouse, but Señor say he don' want us live there. But he get us nice home." She smiled showing a row of large crooked teeth.

"Us?"

The woman looked about nervously. "Si. My daughter, Francisca, live with me."

"What time did you return home last night?"

Again the woman's gaze danced around the room nervously. David wondered if she felt uneasy sitting on the furniture she was responsible for keeping spotless. "We stay in guest house last night."

Horace exchanged a glance with David. "I thought you said Estivez didn't allow you to stay on the premises," David said, unable to maintain the protocol of observer any longer.

"Señora Estivez say we stay in cottage. She say I too sick to go home." David wondered why Joani didn’t mention it, but she’d sworn she didn’t remember anything after going out onto the patio.

"But you're okay now?" Horace asked.

"Today, I feel fine. Last evening my stomach roll and my head spin." She emphasized this by pointing to both parts of her anatomy.

"Okay, Ms. Sanchez. You can go home now, but we'll need your address. We'll need to talk to your daughter also."

"Sh-she know nothing. She don' come but to help her madre. Good girl. Not do anything wrong." The woman wrung her hands in her lap and pleaded. "She is a nina, a child, don' know anything about what go on in this house."

"What goes on in this house?" David asked, wondering why the woman had become so defensive all of a sudden.

"No-thing, no-thing. That what I tell you."

The woman's words didn't make much sense. David was about to press the housekeeper about it when her gaze flew to a young dark-headed girl being led into the room by another officer. The object of Luisa Sanchez's attention, obviously, was her daughter, Francisca. David saw sheer terror spark in the girl’s eyes when her mother suddenly jumped to her feet and blurted wildly, "I did it! I kill Señor Estivez!"

The girl broke from the officer’s hold and raced across the room. The two women clung to each other and began a caterwauling that rivaled a ritual of mourning over a Tarahumara boy David had witnessed in Mexico last year. Not knowing whose bullet during the shootout with drug runners had killed the boy had caused David to question what he was accomplishing down there. He requested a transfer back to the states. He’d been sent to the Bahamas instead.

Horace waited for the women’s tears to subside, then motioned for the officer to take the younger woman away. He tried to question Luisa further, but every time he asked a question she cried harder. David wasn't sure if the crying was a way to avoid answering, or if the woman was truly distressed.

Horace finally gave up. He was left with no choice but to read the woman her rights and have her carted off to jail until she became more composed.

After Luisa Sanchez was taken away, the lieutenant motioned for David to follow him. He led him to the opposite side of the house and opened a door to the master bedroom. David was astounded not by the repetitive decor, but by the mangled mess someone had made in the otherwise immaculate surroundings.

Contents of drawers were dumped all over the room. The covers from the bed were piled onto the floor and the mattresses tilted over the sides. Pillows were divested of their cases and ripped apart, leaving spongy white chunks lying over everything.

"Apparently someone wanted to find something pretty badly."

"Drugs?" David asked.

"If so, we didn't find any trace of it."

"What about legal medications? Any sedatives or sleeping pills that might be lying about?"

Horace laughed. "You've been working with the DEA too long, David. Not all crazy acts involve drugs. I've seen similar messes made by an angry spouse, getting back at her husband for some perceived wrong."

David swore in silence. Horace seemed to have an answer for everything that continually led to Joani's guilt. "This kind of thing only shows how ridiculous the notion is that Joani could have had anything to do with it," David defended. "She’s incapable of doing something this destructive."

"Maybe," Horace said. "But Francisca seems to have a different opinion. A few months back, she saw Joani sling a vase of flowers Miguel sent her across the room."

"You already questioned Francisca?"

"Yes. I thought it best to see Luisa's reaction before I said anything. You see . . ." Horace paused and smiled. Shaking his head he finished, "Francisca confessed, too."

This time David felt no qualms about cursing aloud. "What in the hell is going on?"

"Don't know yet. It would save us all a lot of trouble if Joani came in voluntarily and told her side of the story."

"I'll keep an eye out for her."

Him promising to keep an eye out for Joani, held a double meaning. He knew it didn't pass Horace's notice either, for he cocked one dark bushy brow and said, "You do that, David, and maybe I'll share the forensic reports with you when I get them back."

Touché, David thought.

CHAPTER FOUR

The smell of grilled cheese greeted David at his front door. He found Joani in the kitchen scooping the warm sandwiches onto a plate. Drying curls of burnished hair feathered out around her face. Her eyes were redder and puffier than when he'd left.

She turned her sunshine smile on him when he hummed his approval. "Hmmm, my favorite."

"I remember. It's what you ordered every time we hit the snack stand that summer we first met at Sanibel Island."

"Good Lord, Joani, that was ages ago. You were nothing but a little snot-nosed kid then." That vibrant expression disappeared. David knew she never liked being reminded of their age difference.

"I'm not a kid anymore," she snapped and placed the plate on the table. "What do you want to drink?"

"Cola's fine." David wondered if they'd ever again be able to carry on a conversation without one of them getting p.o.'d about something. He wished he could regain the rapport they'd once shared. The day he began to think of Joani as a desirable woman instead of the snot-nosed kid he'd referred to, their easy camaraderie had ended.

She snatched open the refrigerator and removed two colas. Then she tore off two paper towels, laid one, along with the drinks, on each side of the table and ordered, "Here, sit down and eat. Tell me what you found out."

He pulled back a chair and gestured for her to be seated. She treated him with a puzzled expression. He could tell her quick flash of temper was already cooling. Anger was as foreign to Joani’s nature as murder, he thought. "I may take a nibble, but I promise not to bite hard."

She brushed close enough he could smell her clean soap scent. A long pause followed. Then, unable to resist taking another sniff, he leaned down and kissed her lightly on the cheek. She laughed nervously. "It must not be good."

"It was good for me." He pretended to misinterpret her words and got a feminine giggle from her in return, reminding David of how easily the banter used to pass between them.

"I mean, you're being too nice. Whatever you found out must be bad." Her expression sobered.

"I remember a time when you wanted me to be nice to you."

Joani lifted her can of cola and took a quick sip. "That was a long time ago, too, David."

"Seven years, three days and six hours."

Her astonished green gaze flew up to meet his.

"Just kidding." He chuckled. Coming home from a mission and finding Joani curled up en la nu in his bed was something he'd remembered vividly for longer than he'd like to admit. He didn't think she appreciated being reminded of the event, though. The years had brought a change in more than her appearance. He didn’t remember her being this easy to get a rise out of. Lifting a cheese sandwich from the plate, he took a huge bite.

He watched her cut her sandwich into quarters, then she picked up a square and took a dainty bite. Her tongue flicked out to recover a stray crumb, and he almost choked.

"So, did you find out anything important?" she asked.

"Huh?" What had they been talking about? he wondered.

She laid down the half eaten quarter sandwich. "You did go out to Miguel’s house, didn’t you?"

"Yeah, of course I did," he said gruffly. He realized guiltily he was taking his sexual frustrations out on her. He washed down the cheese and bread with the cola and said, "Horace Ackerson is the investigating officer."

"That's great, isn't it? I mean, Horace and Marleen used to be partners when they worked for OPD."

David took another bite, slowly chewing and swallowing before he answered. He was reluctant to give her the down side of the situation. "At least Lt. Ackerson will keep us informed if we cooperate."

"Cooperate?"

"He wants you to come in to the sheriff's office and talk to him."

"Then let's go." Joani jumped to her feet and started clearing off the table.

"Joani!" David gripped her wrist. The plate she held wobbled. He took it from her and set it back on the table. "Let's don't jump the gun here. I said that's what he wanted, but I don't think it's the right time yet."

"Why not?" She looked sweet, vulnerable, unsure of herself. She sat back down.

He made an outward gesture with his hands. "I think . . . Horace has enough to deal with at the moment sorting out the confessions he already has."

"Confessions?" Her face lit, and David feared he'd inadvertently given her false hope again. What the hell, he thought, she shouldn't have to worry any more than necessary about what lay ahead.

"The housekeeper said she did it."

"Luisa? Good Lord, that's ridiculous."

"The daughter confessed, too."

Joani laughed. "Francisca, too? I don't believe it. Oh David, don't you see? For some screwball reason they're protecting each other."

She wasn't as gullible as David had hoped, but he should have known better. With the exception of himself, Joani could always discern the reason behind people’s actions better than anyone he knew. "Regardless, Joani, it will give us some time."

"Time for what?" Her voice dropped to a bare whisper.

He placed his hand over hers. Time for getting to know one another again. Time for walking, talking, laughing. Hell, time to do what he should have done seven years ago, he wanted to shout. Instead he said, "I want time to prove you're innocent, Joani. Will you help me?"

"What if I'm not innocent, David?" If she hadn't looked so sincere, David would have laughed.

"You know yourself better than anyone else. What do you think?"

She sighed. "I guess that's your job to find out."

She pulled her hand from beneath his and resumed cleaning the table. David realized he’d let her down in some way, but it was too late to backtrack now. It was better if he kept their conversations on a sum-and-substance level and stuck to discussing the facts of the case. "Were you in Miguel's bedroom anytime last night?"

"I haven't been in Miguel's bedroom since we returned from our honeymoon in Cancun." She swiped the crumbs off the table briskly into her hand and went to dump them into the sink.

When she realized the intimate fact she'd just divulged, Joani straightened her shoulders and pretended it didn't matter. She turned slowly. "Some men seem to prefer me out of their bedrooms."

"And how many prefer you in them?" David quipped, as a familiar sparkle of devilment returned to his eyes.

"A few," she said with enough flippancy to wipe that mischievous smirk from his face. Few was a bit of an exaggeration. She’d slept with only one other before her husband—a foolish, disappointing college fling of short duration that both parties were only too eager to end.

"What caused Miguel to decide on separate beds?"

Joani started to tell David, that as a man, he would know more about that than she did. Instead she resumed her air of indifference and spoke candidly. "I don't remember his reason exactly. Something about not sleeping with a mujerzuela, even one he’d been dumb enough to be tricked into marrying."

"Shit!" David slammed his hands on the table, got up and walked out of the room.

She should have known that, having spent so much time in South America, David would have picked up the seamier variations of the Spanish language. She’d searched through numerous Spanish to English dictionaries at the library to no avail for the meaning of the word Miguel called her. She only came up with "slut" after typing it into a computer program that Watson Enterprises used to translate correspondence. The software manufacturer apparently felt a little colorful dialogue would come in handy in the business world.

She sighed and drew water into the sink, then poured a generous stream from the bottle of detergent.

While she washed the lunch dishes, Joani watched David make two turns past the kitchen window in his methodical circuit around the house. It half pleased her that she’d finally said something that provoked an emotional response from him, albeit unintentional. She'd always known David held a soft spot for her. "Little diplomat" he used to call her because she'd often been the buffer between him and her father. They disagreed about everything from world politics to Joani's upbringing.

David and Marleen had worked together and were close before she and Conner married. There had been friction between the two men from the start. Joani knew she was partly to blame.

At fifteen, she'd been naive about such matters. At the time, She'd embellished David's relationship with Marleen to stir up her father's jealousy. Things probably would have worked out just as well without her interference, but as the young usually are, she'd been impatient. She thought her father needed that extra push to realize how much he loved Marleen.

In spite of Conner Brenningan's lingering animosity, Joani and Marleen regarded David as a friend, and he spent a lot of time with the family before the incident seven years ago.

David often criticized Conner for being so strict on Joani, making wise cracks about his Victorian attitude. Everyone took David's remarks in the same blithe manner as he delivered them, except her father. When David went so far as to ask Conner if he had her chastity belt picked out for her sixteenth birthday, only Joani's quick teasing remark that she wanted a red one had curbed the angry response Conner would have made.

Joani didn't even date until her senior year in high school. That hadn't been entirely her father's fault. She knew she could have talked him into allowing it if she’d wanted, but she didn't have much interest in the boys she knew in school. Since first setting eyes on David windsurfing on the beach, her heart had always and ever belonged to only one man. She watched him now, wearing a path into his yard.

On David’s next tour around the house, he stopped and stared over the row of shrubbery that lined his property to the lake beyond. He stuffed his fingers into his hip pockets, leaned his head back and rotated his neck. Joani could almost hear the heavy breath he expelled when his shoulders lifted and dropped.

His buttocks flexed and bunched beneath the worn blue denim as he shifted from one foot to the other. His shoulder muscles spread, and his waistline narrowed when he lifted his hands and ran them along boths sides of his head. Even from the rear he looked so attractive, so masculine, she was tempted to walk out and touch him to make sure he was real.

When David turned toward the back door with long purposeful strides, Joani picked up the skillet and pretended she'd been preoccupied with her chore, instead of watching him.

She kept her head down as he stepped inside and leaned against the counter. He crossed his arms in front of him. "When you said Miguel wasn't so bad, you weren't talking about the way he treated you, were you?"

"Yes, yes, I was."

"Christ, Joani!" He uncrossed his arms and threaded his fingers through his hair, obviously frustrated by her contradictory information.

Joani felt guilty for causing David such anxiety over something that hardly bothered her at all anymore. She’d momentarily enjoyed his reaction, but now it was time to set the record straight. "I know it sounds absurd after what I told you, but the truth is, except for that one instance, Miguel never said a harsh word to me. I think in his own way, he tried to make up for that particular breach by giving me things—the Mercedes, a new wardrobe, and my own bank account. He deposited a hefty spending allowance into it, even though I worked and made my own money.

"He didn't neglect me, either," Joani said with defiance, thinking this more important than the financial rewards of the relationship. It was only a small exaggeration, he didn't neglect her, but the attention he gave wasn’t personal. Most everything they did together was to enhance his business. The times they went out together were to impress potential clients. "We attended plays, political and charity functions, dined in nice restaurants. Miguel liked to have dinner parties, too, so we entertained at least once or twice a month."

"But you didn't sleep together?" David said dryly.

Joani was afraid his anxiety was about to turn to pity, and she couldn’t take that. She turned on the faucet and rinsed the skillet. "No, we didn't sleep together."

"Joani, I—"

"Look, David." Joani sat the skillet in the drain and turned. She wanted him to see her expression. She needed to convince him she didn't need his sympathy. "Miguel and I had a strange marriage, I'll admit, but we worked out an amiable understanding. He liked the idea of having a wife available to entertain his business acquaintances and attend social functions with him, and I liked the freedom to come and go as I pleased whenever he didn't need me."

"And the money," he said snidely.

Joani didn't like the implication that she'd married Miguel for his money, but she didn't feel she owed David any explanations. She straightened her shoulders and forced a calm facade. "Yes, he took care of my financial necessities, and I took care of his social needs."

David snorted. "If it was such a wonderful arrangement, why did you leave?"

Placing her hands on her hips, Joani decided it was time to end this discussion. "That's my business and not relevant to our current situation. Now, I've been thinking about the time you'll be spending on this investigation, and I want to compensate you for it."

That familiar flirtatious glint appeared in David's eyes so quickly it made her head swim. He did a face-off with her, imitating her stance with hands on hips and moving closer. "I think something could be arranged."

She edged backward, but the countertop prevented her retreat. "I-I have a bit of savings, and then, there's the Mercedes. I should be able to get a pretty penny for it, if necessary, depending on how much you think is fair."

"Maybe what I think is fair isn't monetary." He moved closer still. He didn't touch her, but the heat emanating off his body sent ripples of goose bumps dancing up and down her spine.

"What do you mean?" Her voice changed to a husky whisper. He leaned forward and she could feel his warm breath brush her cheek, smell the fresh clean scent of his cologne.

"I may want to reclaim something that's always belonged to me," he said softly.

Joani gasped when his lips touched hers. He used the advantage she gave him to slip his tongue inside her mouth. An ebullient pleasure pushed and pulled at the most sensitive parts of her body. Her hands glided up his taut biceps, then splayed and measured his broad shoulders of their own accord. She could feel a rapid thrum of his pulse where her thumbs came to rest on the sides of his neck. Her own heartbeat matched the unsteady rhythm. She melted against him, then gasped again. This time, in surprise, when he suddenly pulled away from her. There was a brief puzzled expression on his face, then a cocky grin lifted the corners of his magnificent mouth.

Heat saturated her cheeks when she realized he hadn't even put his hands on her, except to untangle her arms from around his neck. She was reminded of the time she was eighteen and he’d laughed when she made her foolish proposition. Did he think she was still throwing herself at him?

"I was wrong to ask for your help, David. If you'll get out of my way, I'll get my things." She pushed against his chest, but he didn't budge.

"Poor little June bug." Her head snapped up, and her anger flared at the teasing glint in his eyes. She raised her hand. Appalled at what she intended to do, she curled her fingers into a fist and let her hand drop to her side.

"I asked you to move, David." The icy calm of her voice was belied by the edgy feeling in her stomach. Some of the glitter left his eyes, and he casually stepped aside.

"You're not leaving, Joani."

"Just watch me," she said. Stomping off to the spare bedroom with him following in her wake, she glimpsed his penitent expression just before she slammed the door in his face and locked the door.

"Joani, let's talk about this." David tapped several times on the door, but she ignored him.

He paced the floor of the hallway. He'd made another blunder. It had irritated him when she talked about paying him for his services. He'd intended to make a joke out of it, but it backfired.

She'd looked so damned cute and desirable standing there with the sleeves of his sweats hanging a mile off her shoulders and dangling over her wrists. He used to tease her mercilessly, and she’d always taken it in stride. He'd only meant to give her a friendly little peck, but when her lips parted beneath his touch, he no longer had any illusions about her desirability.

Instinct took over and obscured his original intent. At least, impotency no longer appeared to be a problem for him.

When she walked out of the bedroom, she wore her black sequined dress. The sweats were folded neatly and draped over one arm. "I'll take these home and wash them."

"Look, Joani. There's no need for you to leave. I'm sorry if the kiss upset you. It won’t happen again." He’d have to remember to keep his distance if he intended to keep that promise. When he caught a whiff of her sweet, alluring scent, he took a step back.

She moved a step closer, and he found himself up against the wall with nowhere else to go. She threw back her head and a sharp titter erupted from her throat. "Good Lord, David. If you think I'm still harboring a crush on you, forget it. I may have been a bit off balance at first. Uh, been a long time, you know. You understand how it is, don't you?" She wiggled her brows. "Anyway, I think it’s best if I go home. The police will find me sooner or later, so it won’t matter."

David frowned. Male pride wouldn't allow him to believe she'd respond so warmly to just any man's kiss. The thought repulsed him. He was on the verge of reminding her how she used to feel about him, then decided to drop the subject before he made a further fool of himself. Hell, like she said when he'd reminded her of their past, that had been a long time ago. Maybe having her under the same roof wasn't such a good idea.

"I'll drive you," he said. For a moment he thought he saw disappointment flicker across her face. Did she want him to argue the point?

Her gaze dropped and, like a changeling, she returned to the demure, polite female he knew best. Then, she said softly, "Thank you."

Other than her giving him directions, they traveled in near silence the three miles to her apartment. David drove around the block a couple of times to make sure the place wasn't under surveillance. He pulled into a parking space on the opposite side of her building, and they walked the paths between the complex's units back to her apartment.

"This is silly, David. As soon as I change into more appropriate clothes, I intend to call the police, anyway. And," she turned back to face him as he pushed the door open wider after she unlocked it, "there's no need for you to hang around. I'll be fine."

David's scowl, she noticed, was no longer directed at her. As she slowly turned to see what had brought such a menacing look to his face, she felt his arm slip around her shoulder. He gave her a reassuring squeeze.

"My God!" she gasped.

"Stay here," David ordered and moved past her.

Joani barely noticed the gun he pulled from his ankle holster. Her attention remained riveted on the damage done to her small living room.

While he went off to check the rest of her apartment, Joani surveyed the destruction of her personal belongings. Cushions from the couch had been torn open and tossed aside. Compact discs lay scattered, the case that held them toppled on its side. Her collection of paperback books were no longer neatly arranged in alphabetical order on the bookshelf, but tossed helter-skelter over the living room floor. The books in a mishmash from one end of the room to the other, as if someone had enjoyed a session of speed reading, then flipped them at random over a shoulder when finished. She picked up her favorite Amanda Quick novel and smoothed down the cover. So much work went into writing a book.

Suddenly, she dropped the paperback and rushed into the bedroom behind David. He gave her a quizzical look when she tore open her computer desk drawer and sighed with relief. She took out a rubber band-bound stack of computer paper.

"Assertive Behavior," David read over her shoulder.

Joani cradled the manuscript against her breast and spun around.

"You've written a book?"

She smiled nervously. "Just something I've been playing around with."

He seemed disinterested as his gaze flickered once more around her disordered bedroom. Apparently he found the subject of her writing boring. Joani didn't know whether she should be disappointed or pleased. She'd not told anyone about her secret project before, for fear no one would take her efforts seriously.

David tucked his gun back into the small holster at the ankle of his jeans and said, "Pack a few things. You're going back to my place."

Joani started to argue, but one look at David told her the effort would be wasted. Another glance around and she knew he was right. She couldn't stay here. This hadn't been an ordinary break-in. Whoever did this hadn't taken anything of value that she could tell. "I don’t understand. Why would anyone do this?"

"I don't know. But Miguel's bedroom was ransacked this same way. I'd say someone is looking for something, and he decided you may have it."

"That's crazy. When I left Miguel the only thing I took with me was my clothes."

"And your car."

"The Mercedes?"

"I imagine, if it hasn't been searched already, it's next on the list. That is, if whatever they were looking for didn't turn up here. Can you tell if anything's missing?"

"Unless the culprit's into reading romance novels, I doubt I have anything anyone could want." She bent down and picked up her favorite Julie Garwood historical, frowning over the torn cover. "The Mercedes would have been searched that night, don’t you think? And if not, it is protected by the security fence and gate."

"Security can be breached. Don't forget, someone got inside to kill Miguel."

In spite of the destruction of all her worldly goods surrounding her, Joani smiled. That was the closest David had come to saying he didn't believe she murdered Miguel.

CHAPTER FIVE

Back at David's house, Joani retired to the spare room to change. He heard her a few minutes later moving around in the living room.

"Come in here, Joani," he called from the kitchen.

He pulled out a chair and placed a pen and notepad on the table in front of her. "I want you to sit down and make a list of anyone who may have had a reason for killing Miguel."

"But, I don't know—"

"And don't give me any gloss-coated, palliative excuses about Miguel not having any enemies. Just start by listing everyone at the dinner party and anyone else you can think of that Miguel kept in touch with on a regular basis. Put down their full names and their addresses, too."

"Why?"

"I'll need to know where to find them before I can ask any questions. That's what investigators do, Joani. They ask questions." He hoped to hell he wasn't wrong. He'd not done this sort of investigating in a long time. Working undercover for the DEA, he usually knew in advance who the bad guys were.

"You won't need the addresses. I'll just go along and show you to where they live."

"Oh, no, you're not!"

"Yes, I am." Joani calmly replaced the pen beside the pad and crossed her arms in defiance.

David couldn't believe she was being so willful and stubborn. Joani was the personification of compliance and cooperativeness as a general rule. How could she expect him to concentrate on finding the killer if he had to worry about her? He wasn't experienced at homicide cases, but he knew whoever did the damage to her apartment was desperate and could be dangerous. Hell, was dangerous. Estivez was dead.

"Joani, look. I can't take you with me. Any one of these people could call the police. I didn't want to bring it up, but if they find your fingerprints on the gun and it turns out the ballistics match, a warrant—" He stopped abruptly. She was well aware of the threat of arrest that hung over her head without him reminding her.

"Then we'd better get started. We'll have to stay one step ahead of the police until we get something that will make them look further than an easy keeper."

"‘Easy keeper’? My God," David mumbled. He shouldn’t be surprised she knew such cop lingo. He combed his fingers through the unmanageable cowlick. Like a strong spring, it toppled back over his forehead when he released it. "I work better alone."

With chin up, legs—nice legs, he noted—crossed, and left foot swinging to and fro, she tapped her fingers against the table top impatiently. She wasn't going to give in, and if David could have found the information without her help, he wouldn't have considered caving in to her demand. "You'll have to stay in the car."

The restless movements ceased, and her face brightened as if he'd awarded her first prize at a smiling contest. "Thanks, David. I promise not to get in your way."

Watson's home made Miguel's place look like a cottage, putting David's house somewhere between a low-income dwelling and a hovel. The two-story colonial-style mansion dominated the large lot it sat on in Shelter Island, an exclusive community on the north side of Lake Monroe. A well-lit boat shed, visible from the road, held a speed boat. A thirty foot pontoon was moored at the dock.

The front door was answered by a distinguished looking gray-headed man in his sixties. With his poise and bearing, he acted just like a butler from an old black-and-white movie. But none of those butlers ever wore sneakers and gym clothes while on duty. David flashed his badge and ID, then took a guess to the man's identity. "Barton Watson?"

"DEA?" His aristocratic brow beetled. "What can I do for you, Agent Devereau?"

The man was sharp, David thought. Most people didn't grasp that much info from one quick glance. "I'd like to ask you a few questions about Miguel Estivez."

"Look, I've gone over everything I know about Estivez at least a dozen times today. I don't intend to be harass—"The man’s heavy, scowling brow suddenly relaxed, and his expression lightened. "Joani!"

David turned to glare at Joani. She ignored his silent reprimand. He'd gone to a great deal of trouble to leave her in a relatively safe place on the well lighted street. Parking nearly a half-mile away, he’d cautioned her to lock the doors and stay put until he returned.

Barton Watson moved around him and embraced Joani much too familiarly for an employer, David thought, even though Watson offered her his condolences while doing so. If Watson had tender feelings for Joani, David decided, perhaps he wouldn't have to worry the man would sic the local police on them. As perceptive as Watson seemed, now that Joani had shown up, he'd probably guessed David wasn't an authorized representative on the homicide case.

"Let's go inside." Casting a quick glance about, Watson urged Joani through the doorway. "Coming Agent Devereau?" he asked, as if David were an afterthought.

"We can talk in the library. Eadda is resting, and I don't want to disturb her. Miguel's tragic death brought up some unpleasant memories for her."

"Eadda's son died a few month's ago," Joani explained to David.

"A car accident," Watson said. "The boy was reckless behind the wheel. Eadda took it rather hard."

"Perfectly understandable," David said. What wasn’t understandable was how Watson remained so aloof when talking about his dead son.

"He was my stepson," Watson explained as though reading David's thoughts. "I wanted to be a father to the boy, but somehow we never hit it off." He managed a regretful expression that David thought a little too contrived to be entirely sincere, but, of course, it worked on Joani.

"You tried though, Barton. Eadda knows that."

"Yes, I tried," he sighed and patted Joani's hand.

David was distracted by the fact Watson held Joani's hand much longer than he felt necessary. He resisted a snort of derision as Watson guided Joani to a chair in front of a wide mahogany desk. David slid into the seat next to her as Watson moved to the executive chair behind the desk. The polished surface looked as though it had never been used as a work place. The room seemed lived in otherwise.

The wall to the right held a display of firearms that David, being a collector himself, itched to get a closer look at. Though his gaze kept drifting in that direction, he kept track of the conversation.

"I've been trying to reach you all day, Joani. There's some business we need to discuss."

"I don't know when I'll be back to work, Barton. Things are just so uncertain at the moment," Joani said.

"Well, I doubt it matters. Whether you come back or not, we'll still be working together."

"I don't understand," Joani said.

"I think what Mr. Watson means," David explained, "is that now that Miguel's gone, you'll be running Estivez Trading."

"What? I don't know anything about the business."

"Of course, you don't. But I'll help you, Joani." Watson's toothy smile reminded David of the wolf in "Little Red Riding Hood".

"You may be putting the cart before the horse. Miguel's will hasn't been read yet." David ignored both frowns directed at him. Joani's looked more puzzled than disapproving, and he knew if he didn't change the subject, she might disclose more than they learned. About to turn the conversation to the murder investigation, an emotion-filled voice interrupted him.

"Joani! Oh Joani, I'm so sorry." Everyone turned to the woman standing in the open doorway. David had no doubt about her identity, but she didn’t fit the executive wife image he’d expected.

Watson's wife appeared to have come straight from her bed without a thought to grooming herself. The robe she wore was wrinkled and gaped open where the ties had come undone. Her silver hair lay squashed to one side, and she was barefoot.

They all stood and gawked as Eadda Watson rushed into the room. As she pushed by David, he caught a strong whiff of flowery perfume. Joani’s nose wrinkled. He coughed to keep from laughing when she tried unsuccessfully to step back before the woman captured her in a fierce embrace.

"I'm so sorry, Joani," the woman cried again.

"You poor thing," Joani said, patting Eadda’s back. "This must be terrible for you."

Joani looked awkward trying to comfort the woman who stood at least a foot taller than herself. From the way her shoulders convulsed and her tears flowed uncontrollably, anyone would think Eadda Watson were the one with the more recent loss.

"Eadda! You should be in bed, for God's sake." Watson’s face turned red. Was it from concern, embarrassment, or anger, David wondered. Watson rounded the desk and took his wife by the arm, removing her from Joani’s embrace.

Eadda’s eyes blazed fiercely at her husband. She jerked loose from his hold and stumbled backward a step.

"Careful, dear," Watson cautioned, showing a sign of compassion. Apparently it worked.

Her shoulders slumped and the moment of temper evaporated. She swiped at a fresh stream of tears and said meekly, "I'm sorry, Barton. I heard Joani’s voice. I needed to tell—"

"That's enough, Eadda. I don't believe it's good for either of you to be reminded of your losses at this point. I'll help you back upstairs."

She blinked several times, then her glazed eyes glanced from her husband to Joani. "I-I'm sorry, Joani," she whispered. "I'm sorry if I embarrassed you."

"You didn't, Eadda. Would you like for me to walk you back upstairs?"

"Nonsense. I'll go. Everything will be okay, Eadda." Watson reached for his wife.

She stiffened noticeably, but allowed her husband to place a hand on her waist and arm. "I'd like for Joani to come with me."

"We'll both go with you, then," Watson acquiesced.

David thought he saw another spark of irritation in Eadda Watson's dark eyes, but she softened when Joani took her by the hand.

"If you’ll excuse us?" Watson asked David.

David nodded and waited for the three to leave the room together. Then, he took the opportunity to have a closer look at the gun collection. There were a set of flintlock dueling pistols, a Remington double repeating derringer, and several single action handguns manufactured in the eighteen hundreds. He became so intrigued with the Colt forty-five army revolver, a popular handgun used in taming the old west, that he almost missed the more current issue of handguns on the lower right side of the case: a twenty-five caliber Beretta, a .357 Magnum, a thirty-eight revolver. A couple of more modern semi-automatics, David noted, along with a nineteen-twenty’s version suppresser, which looked reconditioned. He couldn't read the manufacturer's marks, so he leaned forward to get a closer look.

"I see you have an appreciation of fine weapons."

David turned to face Watson. "Yes. It’s a weakness of most law enforcement officers. Use the suppressers much?"

"Sometimes in practice. Much better than wearing headgear, don't you think?" Watson grinned and added, "In case you’re wondering, I have a special collector’s permit. I can show you if you’d like."

"That won’t be necessary. I can see you’re a serious collector. I suppose you do your own repairs, too?" David asked, pointing to the array of gun parts on a small table nearby.

"If it's not too complicated, I like to piddle sometimes. It’s a hobby of mine." He picked a barrel part and rubbed his fingers over the shiny finish. "Blued parts are going out of style, you know. I guess Black Teflon is more economical to produce."

Watson opened a drawer on the table and shoved the part into it. "I believe you wanted to ask me some questions about Miguel's death. Joani said you're a friend. I take it your interest in this case, then, is personal."

"More or less." Watson didn’t seem uncomfortable with that fact. Perhaps his interest in Joani was paternal, as she seemed to think. David wondered when he’d become such a cynic, for he still didn’t believe the man viewed Joani only in a fatherly manner. Perhaps his own recent unpaternal-like thoughts of her, had distorted his perception. "Do you have any idea why anyone wanted Estivez dead?"

"Of course not." Watson spoke as brusquely as David. He circled his desk and sat down.

"Then I guess we need to stick with what you do know. What time did you and your wife leave the dinner party?" David kept his eyes on Watson and eased back into the seat across from him.

Watson picked up a pencil and began bouncing the eraser end up and down on the desktop. He took so long to answer that David thought he’d made a tactical error in being so blunt, but then the pencil stopped bouncing. Watson lifted his gaze and spoke rapidly, "Sometime after midnight. I wanted to leave right after dinner, but Eadda was enjoying herself and wished to stay. It was the first time she'd been that social since Randy died. We were the last to leave, with the exception of Joani. I wanted to wake her, but Miguel insisted I leave her be. He reminded me about the contract and said he'd wake Joani to go over the agreement with him after he finished his swim."

"Ah, yes. The renewal contract. Joani mentioned something about handling the negotiations for Watson Industries. Seems risky, don’t you think, to have her working on that particular project."

"You mean because she left Miguel?" Watson laughed. "I suppose Miguel wasn’t thrilled with her being involved at first, but it came as no surprise to me that he changed his mind."

"Why do you think he did?"

Watson dropped the pencil and leaned forward. "Because he wanted her back. Why else?"

"Why else indeed."

"I think, no, I’m sure, the reason Miguel insisted on closing the deal with Joani was just so he could try to blackmail her into moving back in with him."

"But you went along with this blackmail." David made the statement derisively. He’d met Watson’s kind before, a corporate chameleon whose friendship, sympathy, and praise were dependent upon what they gained him.

"What choice did I have? Those overseas contracts are the bulk of my sales. Without them Watson Enterprises would have to do some serious downsizing. For Joani, it wouldn't have been such a bad deal. Not only would the contract renewals secure her position, Miguel insisted she receive a huge bonus as well."

"And I thought all the time I was earning my way."

Both men jumped up at the sound of Joani's voice. David knew from her irate expression that she'd overheard their conversation. He started to say something, but when Joani cast him a baleful look, he decided it would be interesting to see how she handled this on her own.

"Did Miguel ask you to hire me too, Barton? I always thought it strange that you offered me the job in public relations without questioning my background."

"It wasn't like that, Joani," Watson protested. "I knew I wanted you to be a part of the Watson team the first time I met you."

"But Miguel's endorsement cinched it, right? I suppose it was very naive of me not to have guessed. What did he offer to make it worth your while?"

David could tell this confrontation was costing Joani a great deal of self-esteem, but he was proud of her for standing up to the roach.

Her eyes glistened, and her voice held a slight tremor when she repeated her question. "What did he give you, Barton, to make you hire someone as inept at her job as myself? You must have known about the way I'd bungled my previous positions. I-I thought you were my friend."

"I am, Joani. I swear I wanted to discuss it with you—"

"I'd like to go home, David. Could you finish your questioning some other time?"

"We're finished." Casting a malignant glance toward Watson, David put his arm around Joani's shoulder and they left.

CHAPTER SIX

Joani could feel David's occasional glance as she stared out the passenger widow into the darkness. Of course, it was only a matter of time before he brought up the encounter with her employer, but she was grateful for this quiet time to regroup.

She shouldn't have been surprised about Miguel and Barton's conspiracy. Why hadn’t she become suspicious when Barton first offered her a job for which she had no experience? Glancing up, she noticed they were headed back toward David's house and said, "Aren't we going to see someone else on the list?"

"Not tonight. It's getting late. Horace should have some info back from forensics by now, and I'd like to see what he has before we continue."

Joani leaned back in the seat and closed her eyes. She wasn't anxious to hear from Lt. Ackerson. He probably had a warrant for her arrest by now.

"What's your book about?" David asked, jarring her with his off-the-wall question. She sat up and stared at him.

She'd expected him to pick apart the confrontation between her and Barton, question her about her former job with the congressman, maybe even tease her a little over her inept career track record. She hadn't expected him to take an abrupt interest in a frivolous manuscript she'd embarked upon as an emotional, sometimes fun, sometimes agonizing outlet in her spare time. Was it pity that prompted his sudden interest?

"It's a romance," she said, and waited for him to make some mocking male remark. She knew what most men thought of romance writers—readers too, for that matter. She was an avid reader of the genre.

"Romance, huh? Assertive Behavior sounds more like the name of a psychological thriller."

"It's because of the developing character of the heroine. She tries to please everyone she cares for, but concludes she'll never be capable of living up to their various expectations. After taking a class on assertive behavior, she starts exhibiting a more self-based personality. She discovers what she wants and goes after it."

"Such as the hero?"

"Among other things," she snapped, wishing she could keep the defensiveness out of her tone. "Embarking on a successful career and breaking away from domineering parents are important goals as well."

"I see," David said.

If there was any sarcasm in his remark, Joani didn't hear it.

"I'd like to read it."

"You would? Why?" She wondered if he could possibly be sincere.

He cast a lopsided grin her way. "The description of your heroine hooked me."

She thought about it several minutes before answering. "I don't think so."

"You don't trust me?"

She didn’t feel that question deserved an answer. She'd already entrusted him with her life. What more proof did he need? She was relieved when Ryder Street came into view. David pulled his Blazer into the driveway and cut the engine.

"Let me know if you change your mind." He jerked the door open and walked around the front of the truck.

Joani wondered if she'd hurt his feelings. She waited for him to open the passenger door for her. "Maybe I'm afraid you wouldn’t be completely honest," she said, as she slid out of the seat and stood next to him.

"I've always been honest with you, Joani." He placed his hand beneath her forearm and walked her up the steps. As he unlocked the door and pushed it open, he added, "No matter how much it hurt."

"Yes, you have," she agreed coolly. Brushing past him, she went inside.

David noted the blinking red light on the answering machine that sat on the wall end of the breakfast bar. He depressed the playback button. Horace's deep voice bellowed over the speaker. "David, call me. It’s important."

Horace’s tone sounded impatient or urgent, David couldn’t tell which. He gave Joani a cursory glance as he picked up the receiver. The paleness in her face caused him to hang up before dialing. "It's probably nothing to worry about, Joani. Investigating officers tend to place even routine matters in the urgent category.

She didn't look convinced. "Call him, David. I need to know."

He needed to know as well. Maybe Horace knew something that would help David find the real killer. He picked up the phone and dialed, keeping a careful watch on Joani as she sat down at the breakfast bar next to him. "Horace, what have you got?"

David grabbed Joani's hand when she reached to flick on the external speaker. The silent plea in her eyes made him go ahead and depress the button himself. Then he twined his fingers with hers and listened to Horace grumble, "David? Man, I gave up on you calling and went to bed."

"Sorry, Horace. I wouldn't have called so late, but you said it was important."

"So I did." Horace chuckled. "How come my voice sounds so hollow over the line? You got the speaker phone on?"

"Yeah, uh." Joani reached around David and rattled the coffee maker against the counter. He choked back a laugh and said, "I'm making coffee while we talk."

"Uh-huh. Well, if you happen to hear from Joani, you can tell her to come by and pick up her things at the station tomorrow. The powder residue on her gun was inconsistent with those normally found on a fired weapon. And the autopsy didn’t tell us anything we didn’t already know."

"Meaning?"

"Just what I said. We have nothing conclusive, yet. The ballistics report won’t come back for three to four weeks."

"Then you haven’t issued a warrant for Joani’s arrest?"

"I as much as said so, didn’t I?" Horace said dryly.

David bumped the phone when Joani flung her arms around his neck. You’d think the short reprieve was as good as an acquittal. She showered his face with loud smacking kisses. If Horace caught on to Joani's presence, he didn't comment on it.

"David, remember our little talk, tit for tat. I still need to talk to Joani. Estivez's body will be released in a few days, so she should start making some kind of funeral arrangements."

David didn't think Joani heard the last because she continued to dance up and down in his arms and hug him. He enjoyed the feel of her in his arms and was tempted not to bring her back to reality, but he couldn’t give her false hope, either.

"Horace, I'll call you back," he said and hung up. "Joani, we’re not off the hook unless the ballistics report comes back negative."

"I know, David. But don’t you see? Now you’ll have time to find the real murderer."

David groaned. She laughed and kissed him.

Her lips were soft and pliant on his. Unable to resist, he crushed her to him and deepened the kiss. Her excitement changed to a mellow, contented sounding purr. He loved the way she melted against him in that instant.

His heart rate escalated rapidly when her fingers slid across his shoulders to the back of his head. Then she brushed the hair at the nape of his neck, and the tickling sensation gave him an instant arousal.

He willed himself to slow down. Breathing deeply didn’t help much. Each time he inhaled his olfactory glands were swamped with an enticing flowery scent that emanated off her skin like orange blossoms on a spring breeze.

He traced a path inside the soft fullness of her lips with his tongue. She tasted like a sweet ambrosia, an exotic blend of fruity flavors that he couldn’t seem to get enough of sampling.

Like a compass needle drawn toward the north pole, his hand slid up her slender waist to the underside of her breast. He weighed the soft fullness in his palm. Perfect, he thought. He gave a gentle squeeze. She suddenly tensed and pushed away.

A passionate darkness still lingered in her wide green-eyes as her fingers fluttered to cover her lips. The look of astonishment on her face told him he'd better treat the incident lightly, or Joani would blame herself for starting something she may have regretted in another minute or two. Ready with a nonchalant quip, he opened his mouth, but his vocal chords wouldn’t cooperate. Nothing came out but a muffled, heaving sound.

He must have looked like a fish sucking in water because she began laughing. He didn’t know if he was pleased or disappointed that she wasn’t taking their near encounter as seriously as he’d expected. Finally, he found his voice. "You must feel pretty clever, making an old man like me act like an adolescent in early puberty."

"Oh, David." She sobered. "You'll never be old, just as I've never felt young."

David frowned and mulled over her cryptic statement. She was right to a certain extent. Joani had always been very mature for her age, but what did she mean about him? Was she inferring that their age gap had narrowed to the point it didn't matter anymore? He'd always thought of her like a younger sister, treated her as such until that incident seven years ago. Big brothers shouldn't have carnal thoughts of their siblings, though, and he’d been having them about Joani for quite some time now.

"I think I'll turn in," she said. "I'd like to get an early start. After we go to the police station, I want to pick up my car. I promised Dad I'd check his mail while the family’s out of town, and that's an hour’s drive away. Then I'll see what I can do about cleaning up the mess in my apartment." Her bedroom door clicked shut.

David stood transfixed for several moments, feeling as if he’d just come off a roller coaster and was still a little disoriented from the dizzying ride.

You’ll never be old.

He chuckled, picked up the phone and redialed Horace. "Horace? . . . Yes, yes, I realize you're trying to get some sleep. Listen, could you send a burglary unit over to Joani's apartment tomorrow. It was vandalized sometime between late yesterday and this afternoon. . . . Yes, exactly like Estivez's bedroom. Maybe we’ll get lucky and your men can pick up some latent prints. Thanks, Horace. . .. I promise. Joani will see you first thing tomorrow morning."

* * *

Early the next morning David dried the dishes while Joani scribbled on a piece of paper at the breakfast bar. She'd cooked breakfast and surprised him by not fussing when he volunteered to do the dishes. Neither of them mentioned what had passed between them the evening before. However, it was impressed on David’s mind as if it’d been stamped there by a hot branding iron. He’d spent a good deal of the night tossing and turning and thinking of the woman sleeping in his spare bedroom. After he put away the last plate, he hung the drying cloth over the edge of the sink. Leaning against the countertop, he watched Joani frown and thump the eraser end of the pencil against her chin.

"Must be a difficult chapter," David said, moving to sit on the stool beside her.

"Huh? Oh, it's nothing to do with my book. I'm adding to my list of things about the . . . er, Miguel's dinner guests that may be relevant to the case."

"Really?" David was a little intrigued and much impressed that Joani was finally viewing the suspects with a wary eye.

"The way I see it, David, I'm still the star suspect. Even if my gun proves not to be the murder weapon, I was the only person known to be on the premises when Miguel died."

"Very perceptive," David said. "Let me see what you have so far." He peeked over her shoulder at the first entry on the list and smiled. "You think Maria, Miguel's secretary, used to be his lover? Why, Joani, I do believe you must have taken one of those assertiveness training classes yourself." She blushed and looked away. David realized he'd hit the nail on the head.

"Well." He cleared his throat. "If you have anything substantial to base your theory on, we'd certainly have another suspect with motive."

"Another?"

"Barton Watson is my favorite candidate. Apparently he was in a sweat about the contract. What if Miguel told him that night he had no intentions of renewing their deal? Revenge is a powerful motive for murder."

"But Barton?" Joani said with a look of incredulity. "He'd be more apt to figure out some way to do financial damage of some sort. He's just not the violent type."

"And what makes you believe Maria is?"

"Well, they used to get into heated arguments. I'd overhear them sometimes when they worked late in Miguel's study."

"Joani, I know a woman scorned makes—" David started to say great reading, but decided Joani wouldn't appreciate any critical remarks about her favorite literary pastime, so he finished with, "—has a certain amount of logic. But why off Miguel now when you'd already left the way clear for her to have another shot at the guy? Sorry, no pun intended." He grinned, then became thoughtful for a moment before adding, "Unless, of course, she had some reason to think you two might get back together."

Joani shook her head. "Maria has never seemed to like me very much, but she knew I'd never go back to Miguel."

"How?"

"She asked me, and I told her."

"When?"

"That night, right after dinner, she cornered me in the kitchen. Luisa wasn't feeling well, so I helped Francisca clear the table. I pushed the door open to go back into the dining room for another load of dishes, and Maria startled me. I thought she’d gone with everyone else for after-dinner coffee Francisca was serving in the living room."

"What exactly did she say to you?"

"In a callous tone, she said, 'You might as well give him up, Joani. He's never going to take you back.’ I laughed real hard. I swear, I couldn’t help it. The very idea anyone thought I’d return to the miserable life I’d been living seemed so ridiculous. I guess my reaction made her angry, though. She raised her hand. I thought she was going to strike me. Then she slowly lowered her hand and smiled. But her expression looked more sinister than pleasant. You know, like the wicked witch in The Wizard Of Oz. She turned to leave, but I didn't want her worrying about Miguel and I getting back together, so I assured her it wasn't going to happen."

"Maybe she didn't believe you. Maybe Miguel said something to cause her to think he wanted you back." David hadn't thought much of Joani's theory before, but he was beginning to warm to the idea.

Joani sniffed. "Miguel never wanted me. It wasn't me Maria needed to be jealous of."

"Oh," David cocked a brow. Joani’s unexpected liberated notions were certainly getting interesting. "Then who?"

"Francisca."

David laughed. He remembered the skinny young Latin girl he'd seen at the estate the day Horace arrested her mother. She couldn't be more than seventeen or eighteen years old, a child compared to Joani. He realized with sudden soberness that he no longer thought of Joani as a child. But he did remember the infatuation she'd harbored for him when she was Francisca's age. He knew only too well what a temptation that sort of thing could be. A man with no scruples might take advantage of such a situation. "So Francisca and Miguel had a thing for each other?"

"Miguel had a thing for Francisca, but I don't think she felt anything more than gratitude. He took her and her mother from an impoverished existence, a hovel in Mexico. He moved them to the States, got them Green Cards, and gave them jobs."

"A good Samaritan with ulterior motives."

"Well, I'm not certain Miguel didn't have good intentions," Joani defended.

David almost groaned aloud. He shouldn't have expected Joani to remain in her assertive mode for long. That she allowed him to make disparaging remarks about Miguel without coming to his defense sooner should have surprised him more. "How long have Francisca and Luisa been in the country?"

Joani picked up the pencil and stared at it, then twisted it around in her fingers. "About six months," she said quietly as she began crossing off all her previously unfavorable comments.

David clenched the edge of the counter top. Joani and Miguel had been married for six months, and they'd honeymooned in Cancun. He couldn't hold back the expletive. "Christ! He picked Francisca up on your honeymoon?"

Joani's eyes glistened, but she swallowed a few times and spoke in a surprisingly calm, even voice. "I saw Francisca in front of a cantina early one afternoon when I went for a stroll through the piazza. She was crying. I tried to find out what was wrong with her, but I couldn't understand the language, so I went to get Miguel. Francisca told him that she and her mother came from a small village a hundred miles to the south, walked all the way. Her father had just died, and they had no means of supporting themselves. She had several younger brothers and sisters to take care of. They'd left them in the care of a relative.

"David, she was on the verge of selling her body for money. Can you imagine how desperate they must have become?"

"They?"

"Well, a mother must be desperate to even think of letting her daughter do something like that. Anyway, it was my idea to bring them back with us."

David could see how easily Joani would be taken in by a sob story, but he doubted Miguel had been such a sentimentalist.

"Yeah," he said sarcastically, "I'll bet you had to twist old Miguel's arm to get him to agree."

Joani slid off the stool and stood stiffly. "I think we'd better get going. I believe Horace is expecting us, and I'd like to see what I can do to get Luisa a lawyer."

David shook his head and smiled as he followed Joani out the door. The woman was hopeless, but he couldn't help but admire her loyalty.

* * *

They found Horace sitting behind his desk sipping on a cup of coffee while flipping through a manila folder. He sat down the cup and stood to shake David’s hand, then Joani's.

"Thanks for coming in, Joani. Please be seated." Horace glanced down at the folder. "There are a few things that are still puzzling me about this case."

"Such as the fact I was at the estate at the time of the murder? I wish I could tell you what happened, Horace, but I must have slept through the whole thing."

Horace stared at Joani. "That in itself is very strange, don't you think? Under normal circumstances, it would be hard to imagine anyone sleeping through the loud report of gunfire only a few feet away."

"She could have been drugged," David offered.

"It occurred to me. I suppose that's why you asked if we'd found any sedatives or other drugs lying about the house?"

"Did you?" David asked.

"No. Joani," the executive chair squeaked as Horace settled back and scowled at her with a don't-lie-to-me expression, "we didn't find any sleeping pills in your purse either. Were you on any medication that night?"

"No. No, I wasn't. And I could have told you Miguel wouldn't have anything like that around the house. He disapproved of drugs of any kind. He didn't even keep as much as an aspirin in the house."

"What did he do when he got a headache?" David asked snidely.

Joani glanced at him and grinned. You'd think someone in David's profession would appreciate a drug-free attitude. "He swam, jogged, or meditated." When David cocked an inquisitive brow, she explained, "You know, yoga. Miguel believed in keeping mentally as well as physically fit. If he ever had a headache I never knew about it. He said it was important to keep the internal parts as pure as the external."

David snorted.

Horace ignored him. "Joani, you're not being charged with anything just yet, so I'm not required to Mirandize you. But, I feel it’s my duty to advise you to seek counsel if you feel what you have to say could be incriminating."

David reached over and squeezed her hand. She gave him a quick, appreciative smile. He’d already tried talking her into bringing a lawyer to this meeting, but Joani saw no reason for one since she didn’t have anything to hide. The same warning coming from Horace sounded much more intimidating. "I don't know if it would be incriminating until I hear your questions. But I assure you, I want to find out who murdered Miguel as much as you do."

"What about the confessions from the housekeeper and her daughter?" David asked.

"After spending a little time with a public defender, they both recanted their statements. With nothing else to hold them on, we had to let them go.

"I guess that leaves me as your number one suspect," Joani said quietly.

Horace gave a noncommittal grunt. "I'm not obligated to discuss this with you, Joani, but out of respect for you and your family, I want to stress there are three things going in your favor. One: the residue tests on your gun were inconclusive. Two: your apartment was vandalized, similar to Miguel's bedroom. And you were right, David, there were no latent prints. The place had been wiped clean from one end to the other."

"Figures," David said. "You said there were three things in her favor."

"Francisca said she came back after putting her mother to bed and finished cleaning up the kitchen. Somehow she missed a water glass hidden behind a canister on the counter, or someone dirtied it after she left. We found traces of benzodiazephine in it."

"I knew it," David said with substantial enthusiasm.

Joani, usually an optimist, knew by the dire expression on Horace's face that finding traces of some drug or other wasn't enough to vindicate her. Besides, she hadn't drank anything from a water glass that evening. "But I had wi—"

"What about the wine?" David asked, interupting her. "Did you find anything there?"

Horace rubbed his chin. "Why do I feel you’re getting more out of this interview than I am?" Not waiting for an answer he continued, "Two empty champagne bottles in the trash and a half-full one in the refrigerator. None of them contained the drug."

"But I don't—"

"You said Joani could get her things back," David interrupted Joani again.

Horace merely grunted and opened the desk drawer beside him. He placed the purse on the desk, then picked up the gun still enclosed inside a clear plastic bag. He turned it around, studying it.

"Nice weapon. Glocks are rather expensive, Joani." He pointed to scratches around the end of the barrel. "You should take better care of such a fine weapon."

Joani frowned when Horace ran his fingers over the gun. It must have been handled a lot recently, because it looked faded and dull. She followed Marleen's instructions and cleaned it often, the last time just last weekend. "It must have been scratched when I dropped it on the pool deck."

David reached for the gun, and Horace pulled it back and smiled. He placed it back into the drawer. "Of course, we'll need to hang on to the gun a while longer. Check the contents of the purse, Joani, and make sure everything is there."

"We trust you, Horace." David stood, whisked the purse off the desk and shoved it into Joani’s hands. "Come on, Joani. You said you have a lot of errands to run today. Let's get out of here."

"B-but I think we need to talk about the wat—" she sputtered as he gripped her arm and nudged her out the door."

CHAPTER SEVEN

"Why didn't you tell me you reported the break-in at my apartment?" Joani asked, as they rode out of the police parking lot. "And what was that other all about?"

"What other?" David gave her a quick, innocent glance, then swung his head to watch for a break in the traffic. He eased the Blazer onto Interstate Four.

"You know. Every time I tried to talk about the water glass, you cut me off."

After merging with the oncoming traffic, he rested his elbow on the console between them. "I was afraid you'd say you hadn't drank from a water glass that night."

Joani moved nearer the door and sniffed. "Why shouldn't I? It's the truth."

"Horace warned you about saying anything incriminating, Joani. The presence of benzodiazephine in the water glass at least casts doubt on your guilt. If you admitted to not drinking from a water glass, the doubt is removed."

"Oh." She quietly contemplated the situation. Then she said with an air of confidence, "The drug had to have been in the wine glass, too."

"I'd say that's a safe bet. But since no trace was found in the champagne, it'll be hard to prove."

"I don't drink champagne."

"What!" A horn blasted behind him as David, nearly missing his exit, hit the brakes and swerved onto the off ramp. He pulled up to the gas pumps in an Exxon station. "Jesus, Joani, why didn't you say something?"

She gave him a condescending smile. "I tried, remember?"

David yanked sharply on the lever to open the gas tank. "Yeah, I guess you did. What did you drink that night?"

"Luisa kept a bottle of Chablis stashed away for me on such occasions. I hated the dry bitter taste of the expensive Brut Miguel liked to impress his guests with. Chablis is the same color. She added a little club soda to give it some sparkle, and Miguel never noticed the difference."

"Well, there wasn’t a Chablis bottle found or Horace probably would have mentioned it. We may have a difficult time proving you weren’t served from the champagne bottle along with everyone else. Why all the subterfuge? Couldn’t you just drink what you liked without making it such a big deal?"

Joani sighed. "I suppose I should have. Maybe if I’d stayed with him, I’d have eventually made an issue out of it, as well as other things. But at that point I honestly didn’t see any reason to. Miguel liked harmonious ambiance. Be it the wine served at dinner or the dress code expected. When he ordered a certain wine to be served, everyone was expected to drink it. Just as no one deviated from his preferred dress code at dinner. Black and white, white or black, take your pick."

"You didn’t have to stay there and take it, did you?" David asked testily. He jerked the car door open and slammed it shut before Joani had a chance to respond.

If he’d given her a chance, she would have pointed out that she had left Miguel two months ago. Her acceptance to the dinner had been a favor granted Barton Watson, and no other. She’d already told David that, she wasn’t repeating it again. If he didn’t understand the situation, then too bad.

While David filled the gas tank, Joani settled back in the seat and reflected on the current turn of events. They needed to prove the other bottle of wine existed before saying anything to the police. It shouldn't be a problem. Luisa would back her up.

David returned from paying for the gas and drove onto Highway Forty-four. It took a minute for Joani to realize he was heading in the wrong direction. "I thought you were taking me to pick up my car."

"Later. We'll go to your Dad's place first to pick up the mail. We can talk on the way."

"David, I don't like being manipulated like this."

He gave her a puzzled frown. "I don't understand you, Joani. You used to be so agreeable."

Joani sat quietly for a moment thinking about David's statement. She used to be so agreeable. For some reason, his use of the past tense to describe her unassertive behavior pleased her.

"Why did you throw the vase of flowers?"

"Huh?" Prepared to have him fling questions at her regarding the wine, once again he'd taken her completely by surprise with an off-the-wall query.

"The ones Miguel gave you for your birthday. Francisca told Horace you tossed them across the room."

Throwing the vase of roses had been an impulsive reaction to Miguel's erroneous notion that flowers would make her change her mind about leaving him. Of course, it may have been more effective if Miguel had been present when she tossed the colorful blooms across the stark white living room. She hadn't been aware that Francisca witnessed her unconventional behavior. Joani cleaned up the mess herself, hoping to keep her momentary loss of control to herself. It was one thing to be assertive, but quite another to allow one’s temper to take rein.

"I hate roses," Joani said dryly.

David grinned. "I'll keep that in mind. Tell me where the turnoff is to your father and Marleen's place. It has been a long time since I've been there."

From there on they made small talk about Joani's family and what they'd been doing since David lost contact with them. If David's intent was to question her further about the case, he must have changed his mind. Joani wasn't disappointed. Talking about her father, Marleen and the boys never became a tiresome subject to her, and she began to relax and forget about her problems.

They pulled under the sprawling oak tree beside the driveway of her father's waterfront property. Joani hopped out of the Blazer and took a deep cleansing breath.

Huge laurel oaks and gnarled cypresses appeared to be pulled low by the heaviness of thick Spanish moss. The house sat on a bluff, so the spring tributary running behind the backyard couldn't be seen without walking to the rear of the property. But closing her eyes and standing quietly, Joani could hear the soothing trickle of the springs that flowed rapidly toward the St. Johns River.

"I love this place," she said as David joined her.

"I can see why."

Joani felt a sharp tug in her chest as she watched David lean his head back and scan the tops of several long needle pines scraping the summer sky.

The unruly curl that normally hung over his forehead flipped back into its proper place. His face relaxed, and the permanent frown lines smoothed and almost disappeared, turning his features more youthful looking.

She felt a sudden infinite closeness with him and nature, and started to reach out to touch him. Remembering the heat that ignited within her each time she got too close, she reconsidered. They'd barely begun to recover their estranged friendship. She didn't want to be the cause of spoiling it again.

After removing the mail from the box, Joani walked briskly up the steps to the front door. "This will just take a minute," she said and shoved her key into the lock. The door swung open, and she let loose a shocked screech.

David bounded up the steps behind her. Joani felt as if they were doing a replay from the other night at her apartment. With his gun in hand, he pushed past her into the littered room.

After he made certain there weren't any vandals still hanging around, David instructed Joani to call the police while he made a closer inspection of the damage.

* * *

Two hours later, the police finished a cursory investigation and attributed the vandalism to a gang of mischievous kids. There'd been other incidents in the area, they said. Joani was a little surprised that David seemed to accept the theory as well.

Perhaps her imagination was working overtime, but she couldn't fathom teenagers up to a little mischief walking away without taking the expensive stereo system, television—or at the very least, Marleen's collection of Garth Brooks compact discs. Nothing was missing, and other than things being removed from shelves and drawers and scattered around the rooms, there didn't appear to be any damage. It seemed as if someone were searching for something and became frustrated, tossing stuff in a willy-nilly fashion in every direction.

After the policemen left, Joani stood with hands on hips staring at the mess in the living room. "Just go on about your business, David. I want to stay and clean things up." She began gathering up the CD's.

"We have more important things to take care of right now, Joani. We can contact a cleaning service, if you like."

"It could take days, weeks maybe, before they would schedule something this far out." She sank onto the floor and crossed her legs. Arranging the musical disks by the artist’s names, she put them into the slots of the CD shelf. "I won't leave this mess, David. Marleen and Dad would take the incident without it causing them too much stress, but think of the effect seeing something like this could have on my little brothers."

"Okay, okay." David held up his hands in an outward sign of giving up. He reached down and picked up an encyclopedia. Placing it on the shelf and stooping to retrieve another, he realized that Joani was watching him. "What?" he growled.

A slow smile spread across her face. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it. Now get to work, or we'll be here forever."

"Yes, sir." She saluted, then went back to stacking and organizing the CD's.

"You know, Joani," David said a long time later as he sprayed lemon-scented furniture polish onto a cloth and wiped at one of the book shelves—Joani decided they may as well give them a thorough cleaning while they were empty—"someone seems to want something you have very badly."

"Me?" Joani had been thinking the same thing, but she just couldn't tie in this break-in with the other one at her apartment. "It doesn't make sense for someone to search here, David. I haven't even been up to see Dad and Marleen for a long time."

"Why is that?"

"Huh?" She seemed to be making that dumb remark often lately. "Oh, well . . . job, marriage, you know, I've been pretty busy."

David glanced at Joani just in time to catch the slight flush that suffused her cheeks. He turned back and swiped at another shelf. "Your father didn't approve of Miguel, either, did he?"

"Either?" Her brows drew together, then relaxed in understanding. "Oh, I see. You place yourself on Dad's list of unsuitable suitors."

"I was never one of your suitors," David snapped. He rubbed a stain hard enough to feel friction heat through the cloth.

"Of course, you weren't," Joani said, sounding flippant. "Silly, immature school girls aren't your type."

David stopped wiping and turned to stare at Joani. They'd finished the living room and kitchen and were working their way through the boys’ bedroom. Her hair had come loose from the ponytail band, and feathery russet tendrils flew around her face each time she moved. Her green eyes flashed with fire. She looked so young and fragile, yet defiant, sitting in the middle of the floor slapping a handful of Lego blocks into a canister. "You were never immature," he said softly.

She lifted her emerald eyes slowly to meet his. For a moment neither said anything. "That day . . . You said I was acting childish."

"You—" David started to say she'd scared the crap out of him that day seven years ago. He'd never been so close to losing control. It made him angry, it made him hard, it made him feel guilty as hell coveting his best friend's stepdaughter.

The reminder of Joani sitting half-naked in his bed had caused him a lot of grief over the years. The bedspread pulled carelessly over her lower body and her pert breast pointed up, as if in a silent plea for him to touch, was an image that still plagued him.

He turned back to wiping the shelf so she couldn't see how even now the memory sent a hot, hard surge to his groin. He hoped she didn't hear the agitation behind his quiet laughter. "I was taken a bit by surprise, otherwise I may have handled the situation a little differently."

"How, David? Would you have thought of a better way to tell me you found me unattractive?" Her voice trembled. For the first time David realized just how badly he'd handled the incident.

"I was too old for you Joani," he snapped and rubbed the stain harder.

"Too old or too disgusted by the sight of a stupid girl throwing herself at you like a tramp?" Her voice climbed another level.

"Christ!" David tossed the cloth down and crossed the room. He grasped her by the arms and jerked her to her feet.

The feel of her soft breasts making contact with his chest sent a shock wave through his body. He wrapped his arms around her tightly. Then he kissed her with a wild desperation and need that had been bottled up in him since the day he started thinking of Joani as a woman.

He pulled back enough to whisper against her lips, "I wanted you then, honey. God, I haven't quit wanting you." Then he delved back into the moist recesses of her mouth, hungry to possess her body and soul. When her tongue darted to meet his, he nearly came undone.

"Show me, David. Show me." Joani realized she was pleading just as she had seven years ago, but she couldn't seem to help herself. He wanted her: she was blatantly aware of that glorious fact this time. She cupped his face between her palms and kissed him the way he'd kissed her. His groans of pleasure gave her the courage to nip, tease, and tug on his lips.

"Joani," he said, tearing his mouth loose from hers. She nearly panicked, fearing he was going to reject her again. "Should we . . ." He gave the bunk beds a cursory glance, and she couldn't restrain a giggle of relief.

She took his hand and led him down the hall to another room. Decorated in frilly blues and whites, this one was in as much disarray as the rest of the house had been. "This used to be my room."

"It's beautiful," David said, never taking his eyes off her. He pulled her back into his arms.

His lips covered hers again in an urgent, demanding kiss, and Joani knew he wouldn't reject her this time. A needy whimpering sounded in her throat when his hands moved up to cup her breasts. He flicked her nipples with his thumbs and her knees buckled.

David caught her in his arms and carried her to the bed. He stretched out beside her. She expected him to undress her. Her few previous sexual encounters progressed in that hurried fashion. But David didn't seem to be in much of a rush. She wondered if that meant he wanted her less, but abandoned the thought when his hands slowly roamed her body. She shivered when his large right palm cupped around the soft vee between her legs.

"You like that, honey?"

"Uh-huh." She felt tongue-tied. She'd never held a conversation while making love.

"Open your eyes, Joani," David commanded.

She blinked a couple of times, trying to focus. Impossible. The tingling feeling that coursed through her when his middle finger rubbed deliciously against the nub enfolded in her vulva was like a sedative that shut down all motor skills, except those associated with the places he touched. New, unknown sensations surged through her each time his fingers made another delicious pass. She arched and undulated, following his slow enticing strokes.

"Look at me," David whispered and licked at her lips.

"I-I can't."

He chuckled. "Okay, honey. Just think of me and enjoy." He took a taut nipple between his lips and gently suckled it. Even through the soft material of her blouse, his lips felt warm and stimulating, but she wanted more. Eyes still closed, she unbuttoned and parted the material, released the front fastener on her bra and made an offering of bare flesh. She smiled and looked down when he made a groaning sound and accepted her offer eagerly. The sight of him grazing her taut dark nipples with his teeth, then soothing the light abrasions with his tongue, was almost more than she could bear.

He resumed stroking her mound and suckled greedily on her breast. Unbidden, short panting breaths pumped in and out of her lungs. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut again, preparing for the "little death" she’d read so much about; couldn’t wait to experience firsthand.

David’s fingers and lips left her and she made a moan of protest. She kept her eyes closed, afraid of the disgust that might be reflected on his face. Then she heard the rasp of her zipper and waited for his next move with a shiver of anticipation. A sigh of pleasure and relief escaped her lips when she felt his fingers slide against her bare flesh beneath her panties. He opened her and touched her with a boldness she'd never known. Her eyelids shot up when one finger dipped inside her damp portal.

He chuckled again. "Finally got your attention, huh?"

She didn't know if he was teasing her or was just pleased by the way she responded. At the moment the only thing that mattered was the sexual awareness that awakened into a throbbing need when he slipped another finger inside her. His thumb continued to caress the sweet pleasure point as his fingers made a slow sensual foray that escalated in depth and acceleration with each reentry. She squeezed her eyes closed and pushed against the quickening demands of his titillating strokes.

The first spasm of pleasure caused a sharp shriek of surprise to burst from her lips, and her eyes popped open.

He looked triumphant, yet in passionate torment. All the love she felt for him for so many years bubbled to the surface. Somehow she bridled the temptation to speak the words aloud, knowing he didn't feel the same. She compensated by whispering his name in rhythm to the quivering climax coursing in rippling waves throughout every fiber of her body.

David held Joani until her body stopped trembling, then he tugged her jeans down over her hips. When she laughed and took over the job of undressing herself, he stood to remove his own clothes. The scent of her sex permeated the air and made his nostrils flare. Impatient to be inside her, his fingers fumbled at the buttons on his shirt, yanked at the snap on his jeans, then . . . stilled at the top of his zipper.

A door slammed, a dog barked, adult voices rang out, and children's laughter echoed down the hall.

"Oh, my God, Dad and Marleen are home!" A deep blush colored Joani’s cheeks when her gaze dropped to David's bare chest.

She jumped off the bed and scooped his shirt off the floor and flung it into his face. She commanded in a frantic, hushed voice, "Get dressed."

In jerky, quick moves she jammed her legs into her pants. She then struggled to right the arms of her blouse which were turned inside out, but finally managed to get it on and buttoned. When she looked at him triumphantly, David cocked a brow and nodded toward the bra and panties still lying on the bed. She blushed profusely, snatched them up, and shoved them between the mattresses.

It might have been funny if David wasn't feeling the effects of sexual frustration. He buttoned his shirt at a less than frantic pace because his trembling fingers wouldn't allow him to rush. Somehow he managed to finish the task and get the shirt partly tucked in before the bedroom door flew open. Conner Brenningan hovered on the threshold with a menacing glare. David felt like he was going through a reenactment of the scenario seven years ago.

"What the hell happened in here?" David winced when Conner's accusing glare landed on him. Obviously, the sexual scents weren’t as predominant as he imagined, or Joani’s father would be on him like a hound on a sick rabbit.

"Dad! I didn't expect you back for another week." Joani's greeting and fierce hug only deflected her father's attention for a moment.

"What's he doing here?" Conner nodded in David's direction. Joani was saved from answering when Marleen pushed her way past Conner.

"Good Lord. Did a hurricane come through while we were gone?" Marleen glanced around the room, then grinned like a possum at David while Joani hugged her, too. "We heard about Miguel," Marleen said softly and smoothed several strands of Joani's mussed hair around her right ear. Joani self-consciously tugged back the other side and blushed.

"H-how did you find out?"

"On her Walkman, of course. Which she brought along against survival regulations, I might add." The softened expression on Conner's face when he looked at his wife negated his sharp reprimand.

The park ranger came around about the same time," Marleen interjected, "with a message from David."

Joani gave him a quick, sharp look, but her brothers barged in and demanded her attention before she could comment. David knew she would have objected to him notifying her parents, but had called anyway because he felt she needed their moral support now more than ever.

"Look what I found, sis," the oldest boy said. He pulled a tiny green turtle from his pocket. "Mom said I could keep him in the aquarium. It's been empty, anyway, since the fish all died."

"The fish died, Taylor, because you and Jamie didn't take care of them properly. The turtle goes back into the wild if I see any signs of neglect this time," Marleen warned.

"It's my fault the fish died, Mom," Jamie said tearfully. "I-I forgot it was my week to feed them."

David felt a rush of envy when Joani rubbed the child's back and cradled his head against her breasts. "You'll not forget something so important again will you, Jamie?" she asked softly.

Jamie nodded and smiled warmly at his sister.

"David, this is a nice surprise. I'm glad Joani wasn't alone when she walked in here," Marleen said.

When Conner snorted with obvious disagreement, Joani remarked on Marleen's earlier observation. "May as well have been a hurricane for all the interest the police take in vandalism these days. Blamed it on some unknown group of teenagers."

Conner scanned the room and frowned. "Rather unusual for vandals to attack only one room."

"With David's help, I was able to get most of it cleaned up. I didn't think it would be a good thing for the boys to come home to see such a mess."

"Holy cow!" Taylor said, his eyes grew wide when he peeked around the grown-ups who'd been blocking his view.

Joani nudged the boys out of the room and took her father's arm. "Right now, I think I could use a break. Come on, Dad. I'll make us a glass of tea and fill you in."

With only Marleen and David left behind the room grew suddenly quiet. She leaned down and picked up a Regency romance novel off the floor. "This used to be Joani's favorite. She spent hours in here reading during the summer when she came to stay with us."

David couldn't resist the chance to know a little more about the time Joani spent in this room. He read the title of the book Marleen held. "Madcap Johnny?"

"The hero is an undercover operative for the English Government," she said.

"You've read it?" David eyed Marleen doubtfully. He'd known her a long time. He hadn’t had much contact with his old friend since shortly after the incident that brought him and Conner to fisticuffs seven years ago. Marleen had gone to work shortly afterwards in one of the DEA's office annexes. He'd never known her to be interested in reading novels, especially romance stories.

"No." She laughed confirming his knowledge of her habits. "But when I asked Joani what it was about, she verbally outlined the entire story for me."

"An undercover agent, huh?" David mused.

"She used to give me the third degree about what you were doing when you didn't come around for awhile. She had a crush on you, David."

"I know." David ran his hand over the unruly lock of hair and sighed. He wondered if Joani still harbored such feelings. Under normal circumstances he would have believed it were so, but, hell, she'd just lost her husband, her mother deserted her in her time of need, and she was on the verge of being charged with Miguel's murder. Other than that first cutting glance, she hadn't looked at David once after her father came into the room. That bothered David. Was it embarrassment or guilt that caused her to ignore him?

"I don't want you to do anything to hurt her, David," Marleen warned.

He felt like a stray dog in a protective den of wolves. One wrong move and he'd be attacked by the entire family.

Conner never had much use for him. Finding David alone with his daughter now with the evidence of their passionate kisses still marring her pretty pink lips wouldn't do anything to win her father’s approval, either. In Conner’s eyes, she was still Daddy's little girl.

"Joani came to you for help, didn't she? Is she in trouble?" Marleen asked and David knew she wasn't talking about being in trouble with him.

"Maybe. I don't know. I just hope I don't let her down."

"You won't. Come on, let's go see if we can con Joani into making enough tea for us, too."

David hesitated in the doorway. He gave the bed a longing look. The image of Joani responding with abandoned passion beneath his touch caused a twitch in his groin. He swore softly, then turned and followed Marleen down the hall toward the kitchen.

CHAPTER EIGHT

They gathered around the patio table on the back porch watching the boys clean up the aquarium for their turtle. This was the first time David had sat down with her family in a long time. He realized how much he missed taking part in their lives as a confidant, a friend, through troubled as well as good times.

He quietly sipped his tea while Joani related the events of the past few days to her parents. David noted she still hadn't looked at him but that once since her family arrived. When Conner spoke, David also realized she hadn't mentioned staying at his house the past couple of days. Knowing the way Conner felt about him, he figured that was probably best.

"You can't go back to your apartment, Joani. I insist you stay here until Miguel's murderer is caught," Conner said.

Joani’s eyes went soft and warm as she finally turned her gaze on David. Something moved inside his chest. She looked back at her father and said, "Dad, David and I—"

"We don't know that the same person is responsible for all the B and E’s," David interrupted. He didn't know what Joani was about to say to her father, but he didn’t think Conner would believe their sleeping arrangements had been chaste. Not that things would remain that way if she came back with him, but he didn’t want to destroy the present tenuous truce.

"If there's more than one maniac running around out there, that's all the more reason for Joani to remain where she'll be safe," Conner persisted.

She'll be safe with me, David wanted to say, instead to prolong this thread of camaraderie with Joani's father, he said, "You're right."

"But, David," Joani said, "the investigation—"

"Will be much easier to conduct on my own." David said. "Besides Horace said Miguel's body will be released in a couple of days. You have a funeral to arrange." His reprimand caused Joani's expression to change from dreamy to troubled. Disconcerted by her reaction, he stood to leave.

"You'll keep me informed, won't you?" Marleen asked.

"You bet," David promised and leaned down to give Marleen a friendly peck on the cheek. He noticed Joani suddenly seemed caught up in watching Taylor chase Jamie around the yard, spraying him with the water hose. He knew she was annoyed with him. Conner's eyes, drilling David the entire time, bared her father's animosity. David decided it best to forego kissing Joani, too, and simply squeezed her shoulder. "I'll call you later."

She gave him a fleeting, meager smile. "It would be very considerate of you to keep me informed, as well."

He hesitated to walk away with things strained between them. "I can still run you by to get your car if you want."

"That's all right. I know you've hung around here longer than you intended. Dad can drive me over later." Joani stood and turned her back on him. "I'd better go out and stop Taylor before he drowns Jamie."

David smiled when she tossed him a brief warm glance over her shoulder as she stepped off the porch. For once he was glad she wasn’t one to stay piqued for very long. Remembering the way she came apart in his arms earlier, he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off her as she leaned forward to twist the faucet handle that shut down the water to the hose. Her rear, molded against her jeans, sent a wave of desire rippling through him.

He watched her walk out to where the boys were wrestling in the middle of the yard and laughed when they tackled her into the wet grass between them. She’d make a wonderful mother, he thought. He realized he’d been staring longer than he should have when he heard a low chuckle from Marleen.

He could feel Conner Brenningan's gaze drilling him, and David turned to say his good-byes. Conner’s forbidding expression made him aware the man hadn’t missed the exchange between his daughter and David, either. He couldn’t feel animosity towards Joani’s father for being protective. After all, he held David entirely responsible for the incident that brought their friendship to a close seven years before.

David nodded ruefully and turned to leave. He wasn’t too surprised when Conner followed him out.

"Just how much trouble is Joani in?" Conner asked when they reached his Blazer.

David turned and leaned against the driver’s door. "She’s the only suspect the police have evidence against at the moment."

Conner dug his fists into his pants pockets and kicked at a clump of dirt beside the drive. "You have any leads?"

"Nothing concrete." Realizing how dismal he sounded, David added, "But I’ll keep digging until I come up with something."

"What can I do to help?"

David figured Conner, being an investigative reporter, would do his own investigation. His offer to work with him came as a surprise. "Joani has a list of the people at the house that night. You could run a background check on them."

"Okay."

David, reluctant to trust Joani’s care even with her father, said, "When the press learns her whereabouts, they’ll be on her like flies on jam."

"Since I’m the crime reporter for the only major newspaper in the city, that shouldn’t be a problem."

David turned to get into the Blazer.

"David?"

He spun back around. He wasn’t used to Conner calling him by his first name.

"I don’t think it’s wise for you to be seeing so much of Joani right now."

David narrowed his gaze on the man who had the same green eyes and russet hair as his daughter. Their personalities were similar, too. That’s why David knew that even if Conner Brenningan appeared mild-mannered on the surface, when it came to family, an inferno of emotions simmered just beneath the surface.

"Joani’s a big girl now, Conner. She can pick her own friends," David said.

"If it were a matter of just being friends, I don’t think I’d be so worried about her."

"You’ve nothing to worry about, as far as I’m concerned."

"No?"

"No. Just being friends isn’t exactly what I’ve got in mind, either." David swung the car door open and climbed into the driver’s seat.

Conner pushed the door shut behind him, and David rolled his window down. "I’ll stay away. For now," he added meaningfully.

"I’ve only one thing to say to you then, Devereau." David didn’t miss the significance of Joani’s father reverting to the use of his last name. "It’s always been fairly obvious to everyone how Joani feels about you. Make damn sure you don’t hurt her again."

* * *

Two days later, under an overcast sky and a light drizzle, David stood on the opposite side of the white carnation-covered casket from Joani. Not many followed the caravan out to Miguel’s final resting place—only Joani's family, employees, and a few close business acquaintances. Among them were Maria Ramera, Barton Watson, and Paul Everly.

After Conner sent him the background check on all three, David learned that Maria arrived in this country about eight years ago around the time Miguel did. Both came from the same city in South America. Nothing out of the ordinary turned up on Watson or Everly. Both were typical executive-types eager to make their own company successful—Watson, struggling to maintain his status quo, and Everly still trying to climb the ladder.

Francisca and Luisa, one of Luisa's neighbors had told him, were staying at Miguel's estate. David thought about going there to question the housekeeper about the wine served at the diner party, but remembered the hysterics of the two women the morning after the murder. He decided it best to wait until Joani was present.

He’d made brief contact two days ago with Charlton Everly, coming out of his downtown office on his way to the airport. Impatient to be on his way, he’d barely allowed David to detain him long enough to introduce himself.

"I'm due in the Bahamas for a meeting with a client, Devereau. Call my secretary to set up an appointment," Everly had said and briskly swept past David with his briefcase swinging.

David didn't intend to wait for an appointment. Everly would likely be at the gathering to be held at the estate following the internment. It seemed the perfect place to corner the busy businessman.

He'd seen Francisca and her mother sitting in the back row at the church. David figured to have a chance to speak to them later, as well. Knowing the animosity Miguel's secretary, Maria, held for Joani, he didn't know if she planned to attend the post-funeral gathering. He’d managed to confiscate a seat next to her in the back row of the church. She'd readily agreed to his suggestion they meet for drinks later.

"Ashes to ashes . . ." the priest’s monotonous voice droned.

David tried to observe the other mourners, but Joani's hypnotic green eyes kept distracting him. Her father and Marleen stood on one side of her, and a tall, dark eyed man stood on the other. Gray sprinkled the man’s sleek black hair. He stood straight, serene, and seemingly emotionless while his ebony gaze stayed trained on the casket.

Joani's mother, Laura, wasn't present. How much that added to the reasons for Joani's red-rimmed, swollen eyes David wasn't sure. She was a sensitive person. He could teach her a lot about how to deal with a mother who managed to be conspicuously absent in times of need.

The man beside Joani looked so stiff and formal, David wondered at first if he were a funeral attendant. When he turned in profile and placed a comforting hand on Joani's arm, David recognized Emelio Garcia, the deceased's uncle.

"Amen," the priest said in a closing prayer. The deceased’s relative handed Joani a single white rose and assisted her up the step to stand beside the platform where the casket lay. Her eyes misted with tears when her gaze lifted to meet David's. He felt an impulsive need to comfort her and hoped to convey some of his compassion by giving a supportive smile. The corners of her lips lifted in a negligible response as she laid the flower on top of the casket, and suddenly he remembered her saying she hated roses. Then she turned and allowed Garcia to guide her through the crowd of sympathizers.

David crossed the grass-covered slope away from the lingering group of people. Someone called out to him. He waited near his car for Maria Ramera to catch up. He could understand why Miguel was attracted to the statuesque woman. She moved with a long-legged, sinuous grace. Her burnished ebony hair, swept back into a tight knot, accented her flawless, bronzed complexion. He was slightly surprised that he wasn’t turned on by her beauty. Joani had spoiled him for other women it seemed, and he didn’t know if that was good or bad at the moment. He missed her like the devil and wished he’d never suggested she remain with her parents until after the funeral.

"I think my escort forgot about me. Could I catch a ride back to the estate?" Maria Ramera asked. Her flirtatious and mysterious eyes glinted like mirrors of dark glass.

"It doesn't seem possible."

"What?"

"That anyone could forget such a beautiful lady. Must be my lucky day," David quipped.

Her laugh held a deep lusty sound. Her long slender fingers with dark, red nail polish settled lightly on his arm. The non-effect her sensual overtones had on him reminded him of his fear of impotence the previous week. Thankfully, Joani disproved that theory with one kiss.

"Maria, I believe Emilio is waiting for you." Joani's voice dripped like shards of ice when she came up behind them. If her tone could have coated Maria in frost, the fire in Joani’s emerald glare would have melted it in two seconds flat.

"Would you be a dear, Joani, and tell Emilio I'll see him back at the house?" Maria simpered and curled her arm through David's.

Joani favored him with a brief glance that held as much venom as a cobra bite. She wasn't good at hiding her feelings, and jealousy was as plain as day on her expressive features. David realized if he allowed it, she'd be leading him around like a trained puppy. The unlikely image made him chuckle. She spun around and marched away.

The dismal events of the day began to press in on Joani as she walked back to join her father, Marleen, and Emilio who were standing beside the Limo. Becoming a widow, an accused murderer, and obtaining her first climax, all in the same week, somehow seemed ludicrous. She wondered if it were a sin that she'd just buried her husband and at this moment couldn't even remember what he looked like. What she allowed David to do to her on her childhood bed should probably be considered more disgraceful, but she couldn't seem to regret that it happened. That made her burden of guilt all the heavier. Seeing him with another woman cuddling up to him didn't help lift her spirits any.

"You all right, honey? You don't mind that I'm covering the story for my editor, do you?" her father asked.

"We’ve already talked about it, Dad. At least I can expect you to be fair in what you report. Maybe it will keep the other news hounds off my heels when they find out you're getting the inside scoop."

"If you want, I can ride back with you," Marleen offered as she hugged Joani.

"No, I'm fine, really."

"There's no reason you can't just go with us," Conner said.

"I believe my companion has deserted me, and I long for some company," Emilio spoke up. "My driver can return my car later. Besides," he took Joani's hand and smiled warmly at her, "it may be my only chance to speak with you alone, my dear. I'm scheduled to catch a five o'clock flight back to Nassau."

"Then it's settled." Joani said. She hugged her parents one more time before they turned to leave. She waited while Emilio instructed his driver.

She'd met Miguel's uncle, a prestigious banker, at her and Miguel’s wedding. Maria hung so close to him that day Joani had wondered if the two shared a past relationship. He didn't seem to be upset by Maria's defection now, however. Perhaps he was just hiding his disappointment. Men were good at camouflaging their feelings. David was a prime example: she never seemed to know what he was thinking, she thought, remembering the complacent look on his face a moment ago.

Joani smiled in spite of her depressed mood as Emilio returned and assisted her inside the limousine. After they were comfortably settled on the velvet covered seats and the chauffeur closed the door, she said to Emilio, "Sorry you had to be stuck with the grieving widow."

He cocked one dark brow. "Are you grieving?"

"Well, I . . ." Joani felt heat rushing over her face. She hadn’t meant to be flippant, nor could she be dishonest.

"Don't worry, my dear. Miguel wasn't exactly a lovable person, was he? No, no, you don't have to answer that any more than I have to explain why I decided to attend the wedding and funeral of a relative of whom I've not been overly fond. And in regard to your other comment, being stuck with a lovely lady is never considered a misfortune."

"You're very kind, uh . . ."

"Just call me Emilio, Joani. Uncle Emilio makes me feel too old, anyway."

"You look younger than Miguel did," she said, then flinched, wondering if she'd offended Miguel's memory in some way. When Emilio laughed, the tension she'd been feeling all day began to ease and she laughed, also.

Several people still lingering about turned to stare, and Emilio said, "Perhaps we should be on our way. Cemeteries are such dismal places for conversation, don't you think?"

His considerate attitude curbed Joani’s disappointment at having to ride back with him. She'd hoped to return to the estate with David and had prepared questions to ask him about the investigation. It was a legitimate excuse, one she'd intended to capitalize on, but she also wanted to find out why he hadn't even picked up the phone to call her over the last two days. Had Maria anticipated her intentions? Deliberately sabatoged Joani’s plans to be with David?

The woman had been good at doing that with Miguel. For a while after they came home from the honeymoon, Joani tried to arrange times she could be alone with Miguel. She'd hoped to figure out some way to work things out between them. Thinking back on it now, she realized Maria always arrived just in time to spoil her well-laid plans. When the candles were lit and dinner was served, Maria called. Papers needed to be signed right away, there was an urgent message from a business associate, or some dire emergency at the warehouse prevailed. The relief on Miguel's face was apparent. Joani soon realized he didn't want a reconciliation. That's when she began to suspect there was more between Maria and Miguel than a business relationship. Maria insinuated as much often enough.

Joani admired and at the same time secretly resented Maria; her confidence, her efficiency, her beauty. Joani told herself that a person couldn't help their looks, but Maria got a lot of help from the expensive salon treatments to enhance hers. Maria's sophisticated, haughty air irked Joani more than ever when she'd watched the woman slide closer to David as they drove away in his Blazer.

Joani sighed. Why Miguel wanted to marry her instead of Maria had always been a mystery to her. To Maria as well, it seemed. She made plenty of cutting remarks about Joani's looks and character when Miguel wasn't around.

Men purred like domestic animals when it came to that sort of woman, she thought. Now David appeared to be lapping up Maria's attention like a sultry old Tomcat.

"Joani," Emilio's serious tone snapped her from her reflections, "there's a rumor circulating in the Bahamas. It seems a group of investors are upset about missing funds from a recent transaction. They believe Miguel or someone in his company was responsible."

Joani laughed. "Miguel shipped merchandise, Emilio, not money, and he always complained he had trouble collecting from his clients. I don't see how he could manage to embezzle . . ." Her voice lost its conviction when she saw the resolute look on Emilio's face. "Are you suggesting Miguel was involved in smuggling illegal drugs or something?"

"Or something."

"I-I don't believe it, not Miguel. He hated drugs of any kind."

Emilio sighed as if he were dealing with a recalcitrant child. "Even so, money's missing, and they believe Miguel was responsible. I don't know all the details. I just thought you should know that there could be dire consequences if the money isn't returned to its rightful owners, and soon."

Joani felt the blood drain from her face. "Do you think these . . . these investors had Miguel murdered?"

Emilio took her left hand between his and patted affectionately. "You've been watching too much television, Joani."

"But you . . . you think now that Miguel's dead, they'll be looking to me to return their dirty money?"

"You own Miguel's company now, Joani. And a certain amount of responsibility goes along with ownership. I'm only here to advise you that if you know anything about these funds, you must see they're returned to the rightful owners."

Joani removed her hand from Emilio's. Until now she hadn't even thought about being Miguel's beneficiary. She realized Emilio's friendliness was a farce. He pretended to be playing emissary for some drug cartel, but she wondered if he didn't have a vested interest in the return of the money. She rubbed her temple. Her voice sounded raspy to her own ears. "Is my life is danger?"

His derisive chuckle didn't sound convincing. "Don't be melodramatic, my dear. All anyone is interested in is returning to business as usual. The sooner the capital is back in the bank, the happier we'll all be."

Your bank, Joani thought.

"I wouldn't mention anything about this to your friend Devereau." Emilio’s eyes turned hard and cold. "He's already worn out his welcome in the Islands. Let's just keep this little matter between the two of us, okay?"

Oh Lord! A chill raced down Joani’s spine. These people meant business, and Emilio was very canny. What proof did she have this conversation ever took place? None.

Only the people close to her would believe it happened. Would the knowledge place them in some kind of jeopardy, as well? What if this drug mob really did kill Miguel?

CHAPTER NINE

Joani couldn't help being nervous. Perhaps it was expected of a grieving widow, because hardly anyone reacted when she dropped a tray of empty coffee cups. She thought Luisa would back her up about the Chablis, but when she asked the housekeeper about it a moment ago, the woman became unreasonably flustered and refused to discuss the matter.

David helped Joani pick up the unbroken cups cushioned by the thick white carpet. "You okay?"

Their gazes locked for a moment, then she picked up the tray and stood. He followed her into the kitchen. Francisca was removing dishes from the dishwasher.

"Where's your mother, Francisca? Why isn't she helping serve?" David asked.

Her eyes grew wide, with a look of alarm. "M-My madre not well."

Joani sat the tray down on the island counter with a clatter. "I told Luisa to go lie down. I'm perfectly capable of serving a few cakes and coffee." And perfectly capable of running my own household staff without interference from you, she thought assertively.

"Is your mother sick often?" David asked, ignoring Joani.

"Not often," Francisca took a step back. Joani wondered why the girl seemed afraid of David. Sometimes he sounded like a growling bear, but this wasn't one of those times. His voice was gentle and persuasive.

David must have sensed Francisca’s uneasiness, too. "Why do I frighten you, Francisca?"

"Someone say you policía."

"Why in the world do you fear the police?" Joani asked.

Francisca glanced at Joani with an equal look of distrust. "Señor Estivez say something happen to him, policía make us go back to Mexico."

"That's not true. Tell her, David."

Instead of affirming Joani's remark, David asked, "Are you afraid of going back?"

For a moment the corners of Francisca’s full lips turned up. Her dark eyes softened and took on a dreamy, far away look. Then she began arranging another set of cups and saucers on a tray and said, "Mexico not so bad. I miss my brothers and sisters. If Señor Estivez not offer Madre mucho dinero to work for him, I find work in city to support family."

"As a prostitute," Joani stated with scorn. "Your mother wanted better for you than that."

Francisca paused with two cups held mid-way to the tray and glared at Joani. "Miguel was right. You are so naive. I ask you, what difference, prostituta for one or many?"

Joani gasped.

"This surprise you, Mrs. Estivez?" Francisca placed an insolent emphasis on the English title. "I call Senor Estivez by Christian name. He insist I do this in private. You not suspect I occupy guest house on nights he want me, did you Mrs. Estivez?"

Joani stood with her mouth agape. She reeled from Francisca's confession. In all the months she'd known her, the girl never said two words to her in a row. She'd been aware of Francisca's animosity, but Joani always thought it was because the girl was jealous. Joani wondered if she'd taken the time to get to know Francisca better, whether perhaps she could have done something to stop Miguel from taking advantage of the young girl. Guilt and shame swamped her. "Francisca, I—"

"You hated Miguel Estivez?" David interrupted.

"Si, I hate him," Francisca acknowledged venomously.

"Enough to steal Señora Estivez's gun from her purse and shoot him?" David pressed.

"I hate enough to kill him." Francisca emptied the last cup from the dishwasher and slammed the door shut. She then turned her icy gaze on David, all pretenses of fear gone. "But I not do it. When I come back to house, he is already dead."

"You came back?" Joani asked. "Then you must have seen me asleep on the patio chair."

"Si, you snore in chair, and Miguel is dead in pool."

"I don't snore," Joani objected halfheartedly and sniffed.

"Why didn't you call 911, Francisca?" David asked.

"I-I thought I hear someone in living room. I peek inside, but no one there. Then I'm afraid, so I go back to ask my madre what we should do. But she sleep deeply, and I cannot wake her."

"So you just waited around for your mother to wake up?"

"Si, but then I fall asleep, too, and next thing I hear is Madre scream."

"Why didn't you tell the police this?" Joani asked.

When Francisca remained silent, David said, "Because she thought her mother killed Miguel. Isn't that right, Francisca? You hadn't seen your mother before she left the house that morning, and because the chauffeur was there when you got to the main house, you didn't get a chance to talk to her before the police arrived. You left the guest house while your mother slept, but you went somewhere else before you came back to talk to Miguel, didn't you? Where did you go, Francisca?"

The young woman pressed her lips together in a thin line and dropped her head, staring at the tray as if she might conjure up some telekinetic power to hurl it at David.

"You told your mother that night what had been going on all those months you stayed at the guest house while she slept peacefully in the house Miguel bought for her, didn't you?" David's voice lost its gentle tone.

"Madre not kill Senor Estivez."

"How do you know?" David asked.

A feral gleam lit Francisca's eyes as she raised them and pointed a finger at Joani. "Because she do it."

For a moment Francisca looked like a voodoo queen pointing out the next sacrifice. Joani’s fears and doubts about what happened that night caused her stomach to churn. She ignored David’s hand when he reached out to her. Avoiding looking at him, she turned and ran from the kitchen. Not paying attention to where she was going, she bumped smack into Emilio.

"Where are you going in such a hurry, little one?"

She stepped back. Francisca's words had sounded more like a threat than an accusation, and she couldn't take any more threats today. "To . . . I need to lie down for a while."

"Yes, you must rest." Emelio walked with her into the foyer beside the stairwell. "I just came to tell you I'm leaving now. If you have problems with the police, Joani, you must let me know. I have some excellent lawyers on staff in the US."

He was pretending the benefactor again, but now she knew his motives. In the limo earlier, he’d made it abundantly clear the money was his primary concern. "Of course, it would be rather inconvenient if I went to jail right now, wouldn't it?"

He frowned. "Everything will turn out all right, Joani. You'll see."

Bitterness wasn’t going to get her anywhere, and right now all she wanted was to be rid of him. "Goodbye, Emilio."

"Don't forget what I said, Joani."

She didn't know if he was talking about the missing funds or his offer of help, but she didn't wait around to find out. She hurried up the stairs and into the bedroom she'd used while living at the estate. Flinging herself on the bed, she closed her eyes. Why hadn’t David followed her? Probably because he was still in the kitchen grilling Francisca, she thought. The man had such a one-track mind sometimes. Naturally, he’d think the case more important than restoring her wounded self-esteem.

* * *

Paul Everly stopped David as he came out of the kitchen. "Is Joani okay? She looked rather upset when she went upstairs."

"She’s had a trying day," David said dryly.

"Under normal circumstances I would agree, but somehow I don’t think Joani’s that distraught over losing her husband."

"You don’t know her very well, do you?"

"Well, actually no. I just met her the night Miguel was murdered. And perhaps my observations were prejudiced. I’m very attracted to her, you know?"

"No, I didn’t," David said sarcastically. "How well did you know Miguel? I understand you were competing with Watson Enterprises for Estivez’s overseas contracts."

"Not all that well acquainted with the fellow, actually. Through a mutual acquaintance, I heard Estivez wasn’t happy with Watson’s track record on fulfilling Bahamian contracts and figured I might as well take advantage of the situation. When I contacted Miguel, he invited me to a dinner party to discuss it. I was all pumped up to make a deal that very night. I didn’t know until I arrived he’d invited the competition, as well. If not for Joani, it would have been an uncomfortable and dismal evening. I think it was love at first sight."

If Maria hadn’t stepped up and hooked her arm though David’s, reminding him of the solemn occasion, he probably would have slugged the guy right then and there.

* * *

A few minutes later, Marleen tapped on the bedroom door and stepped inside. "Are you alright, Joani? Can I get you anything?"

Joani removed her forearm from across her brow and sat on the side of the bed. "Thanks, Marleen, but I'm fine. I just needed to be alone for a moment. Has everyone left?"

"Almost. Maria asked me to give you this." Marleen handed Joani a long white envelope. "Horace would like to speak to you for a moment before he goes."

"Is David still here?" Although Horace was a friend of the family, and he may only want to offer his condolences, Joani didn't want to face the investigator without David.

"He left earlier."

"Alone?"

"Emilio needed the chauffeur to drive him to the airport, so he asked David to drive Maria home. David asked me to check on you before he left."

"He did?" A crumb to a starving waif, Joani thought acidly. She tore open the envelope, pulled out and read the letter written on Estivez Trading letterhead. "Well, that’s that. Maria’s resigned. I guess I’m left with a business to run that I know absolutely nothing about."

Marleen sat down and put an arm around Joani. She leaned her head on her stepmother's shoulder. One tear, then another slipped down Joani’s cheeks and wet Marleen's dark blazer.

"Poor baby," Marleen consoled. Brushing the hair away from Joani's forehead, she rocked her back and forth. "This has been a horrible experience for you. Why don't I tell Horace you're not up to seeing him? I'll get rid of the rest of the guests, then we can go home."

Joani pulled away, reached for a Kleenex on the side table and wiped her eyes. She felt guilty for shedding tears of self-pity rather than mourning her deceased husband. She hadn’t loved him. She realized that the first day after she’d married him. If Miguel hadn’t died, in another month she’d have been a divorcee rather than a widow.

She sniffed and swiped at her runny nose with the tissue. Maybe she could conjure up some feelings for her late husband when she went through his things. She remembered another reason she needed to examine Miguel’s personal effects. Joani stiffened her spine and said, "I'll speak to Horace and see the rest of the guests out, then I’m going to stay here tonight."

"I don't think that's a good idea, Joani. You shouldn't be alone," Marleen said.

"I'm fine, really. I need to go through Miguel's things, and I'd rather get it over with as soon as possible."

"All right then." Marleen walked to the door and opened it. "I'll just tell Conner to take the boys on home. I'll stay with you."

"No! I mean . . ." Joani couldn’t tell Marleen she wanted to go through Miguel’s things to look for clues to missing money that belonged to a bunch of drug lords. "If you don't mind, Marleen, this is something I’d rather take care of alone."

* * *

David stopped at a place called the Catfish Bar & Grill, a few miles from the estate, to buy the drink he'd promised Maria. As they stepped through the threshold, he was amused when she carefully scanned the walls decorated with fishnet and driftwood. He figured the fried food odor was what caused her look of disgust and her nose to twitch.

Several biker types turned to stare. Their overt admiring glances skimmed Maria's trim figure. He hoped she didn't take it as an affront when one of them gave a low whistle. He didn't have the inclination to defend her honor, especially when she lifted her chin haughtily, looked straight ahead, then contradictorily twisted her hips with exaggeration as she walked by them.

"Nice place," she commented dryly and slid into one of the red vinyl booths near the back of the room.

A young woman in short frayed cutoffs and a T-shirt with The Best Catch of The Day written across the front came toward them.

"The ambiance is nice," he said.

When Maria looked up at the girl and laughed, Miss Best Catch pulled an order pad from a back pocket. "You've got just two minutes before happy hour ends. Drinks are two for one until six. Our specialty is—"

"I'll have a margarita," Maria interrupted.

"I see you're familiar with our specialty," the girl said. "You must be a regular. I'm new here so I don't know . . ."

Maria's dark eyes glowered at the bubbling young waitress, causing the girl's words to trail off weakly. She lowered her eyes to the pad and a light tinge of color flooded her cheeks. "A-and you, sir, what will you have?"

"A club soda," David said.

The girl’s brows knitted together. "I-I don't know if that’s included in the happy hour specials."

"That's okay, honey, one will be plenty." David watched the tenseness in her young face disappear when she smiled at him.

"I'll make sure it's a large glass." She twirled away, and David got a fleeting view of pink flesh through the frayed tear just below her back pocket.

"You seem to have a way with the ladies." Maria tapped her long red nails against the Formica tabletop, drawing his attention back to her.

"When they get to know me better, they aren't nearly so agreeable," he quipped.

"I'd like to get firsthand knowledge about that." Maria's voice held a quiet seductive tone.

David lifted his gaze to meet hers. An attractive woman makes a play for him and he's not interested. He must truly need a brain doctor. She smiled and he noticed for the first time that there was an unnatural-looking puffiness around Maria’s eyes. If she’d cried at the funeral, he hadn’t seen her. "What was your relationship with Miguel?"

"Don't tell me you're jealous of past lovers?" Her dark eyes grew wide with a mischievous glint.

"You were lovers?"

She emitted a short, scoffing laugh. "Maybe. What difference does it make now? He's dead."

"You don't seem too upset by it."

"I'm more upset than you'll ever know."

They sat back while the waitress carefully placed two frosted margaritas on the table, then put a coaster down before setting a large tumbler filled with club soda in front of David.

Miss Best Catch ignored Maria and gushed at David. "Can I get you anything else?"

"That'll do it for now." David took a twenty from his wallet and tossed it on the table. The girl's eyes grew wide when he said, "Keep the change."

"Gosh, mister." The girl, who couldn’t be much over the required age to serve drink, picked up the bill and stared at it with obvious awe. "No one’s ever given me such a large . . ." Her voice dwindled away when she looked up and caught Maria's caustic expression. She backed away and before turning to leave, said quietly, "Thank you, sir."

"Unbelievable. Such contrived innocence." Maria picked up her drink, took a sip and winced at the sour taste.

"You don't believe in innocence, Maria?"

"I lost my innocence long before I reached her age."

"To Miguel?"

A distant look clouded her dark eyes. "Not to Miguel, for him."

David frowned. "I don't understand."

"I know." She smiled. "Did you know that Miguel and I grew up together?"

Although David suspected as much, he shook his head, hoping she'd tell him more.

"Mendellin. Ever been there? Of course, you would have. Must be the best training ground in the world for drug agents. It’s a veritable breeding ground for vigilantes, organized cartels and drugs. Don't look so surprised. I know you're DEA."

"How?"

"Miguel investigated Joani's background before he married her. Your name appeared in the report as an old family friend."

David barely refrained from voicing an expletive. "Nice fellow."

"You can't blame Miguel. He's a smart business man who liked full disclosure before making an investment."

"Why didn't he just ask Joani?"

"I'm sure he did. But he wasn't the trusting type. The laugh was on him in the end, though. Joani's probably the only person alive who managed to pull one over on Miguel Estivez."

"How?"

Maria threw back her head and laughed. "You want details?"

"A summary will do."

"Miguel married Joani because he thought she was a virgin."

David could understand why one would think so. Even after she’d been married, it was hard for him to view her as an experienced woman. But he knew Joani would never lie about such a thing. "Very old fashioned of him to expect such in this day and age. Don’t tell me they’ve never heard of the sexual revolution in South America? "

She snorted indelicately. "Purity in his women was a requirement."

"And you?"

Maria laughed, again, but sounded bitter rather than amused. "Well, I held sentimental value, you might say. Joani? She was a different story. Once he learned she wasn’t the chaste little maiden, he lost interest."

David didn't intend to learn thirdhand intimate details of Joani's marriage. "Tell me about you and Miguel. What brought you two to the States?"

"Money, money, and more money. It always amazes me that you natural-born citizens don't realize this is the land of golden opportunity."

"Yeah," David said dryly. "Colombians have a knack for turning white gold into the yellow kind."

Maria’s dark eyes flared. "You capitalist snobs are never willing to admit that a foreigner is as capable at running a legitimate business as any American. You grouse and sympathize over the plight of the homeless, but even they rarely experience a day without any food or warm clothing on their backs. They’re the very things that give us," she jabbed at her chest, "the incentive to succeed."

David remembered the starving residents of the back streets of Colombia and silently agreed, but, he didn’t say so. "You’re saying all Miguel’s business dealings were on the up and up?"

"Miguel and I worked hard to make Estivez Trading a success. In some ways Miguel was a lot like his mother, although he would have denied it to his dying breath. He wanted nice things, too. And he was enterprising enough to know how to get them just like Juanita Estivez did. She couldn't make enough in her factory job to buy all the things she wanted, so she left Miguel to fend for himself at the ripe old age of five and went into business for herself."

Maria jerked open her black leather purse and took out a pack of Salems and a lighter. Her hand trembled slightly as she held the flame to the tip of the cigarette. David waited for her to light up before asking, "What sort of business? Drugs?"

She snorted derisively. "You have such single mindedness, Agent Devereau. Miguel’s mother went into the oldest profession in the world."

She took a long drag on the cigarette, tilted her chin and blew out a steady stream of smoke. David sipped several swallows of club soda and waited for Maria to continue. She didn’t seem to realize how effectively his single-minded insinuations provoked her into talking.

"My father found Miguel wondering the streets a few days after Juanita left, and he brought him to our home."

"Your parents took him in?"

"My father. My mother died when I was born. Papá treated Miguel like his own son. My father died several years later in a freak accident inside a cocaine-processing plant." She sniffed. "I guess this validates your opinion of Colombians, Agent Devereau, but I’m sure you know the employment opportunities for peasants are few, unless they’re willing to work for the cartels. Anyway, Papá lived long enough to extract a promise from Miguel that he’d take care of me. We were both sixteen at the time.

"Miguel refused to work in the manufacturing plant, and he never liked dirtying his hands in the fields, so we went to Mendellin to find a relative of Miguel’s who could have helped us."

"The relative refused?"

"Oh no, he offered us food and shelter . . . for a price. At first Miguel thought the cost too high, but after living on the street and begging for food a couple of months, the offer became more and more attractive."

"So you paid the price."

"Yes. I paid the price." She stamped out her cigarette in the tiny foil ashtray. "I think I'd like to go home now."

David drove her home and walked her to the front door of her apartment. She turned and kissed him, then buried her face against his collar and sighed.

"You're a very attractive woman, Maria. I just can't—"

"Please, David." She stepped back and smiled. "The worst thing a man can do is to qualify a statement like that with vapid excuses about why he can't. Have you seen a doctor?"

"For Christ's sake," David muttered. Before he turned to leave, he said, "There's just one other thing I'd like to know, Maria. Do you know who might have wanted to murder Miguel?"

"Miguel refused to make out a will. Thought he was invincible, I guess. If he hadn't been so pigheadedly old fashioned, he would have made me a partner a long time ago. I worked as hard, maybe harder than he did to make the business a success." Her voice held a bitter edge to it when she added, "Ask yourself who stood to gain the most? The house, the business all belong to Joani now."

CHAPTER TEN

David arrived back at the estate just in time to see Joani's white Mercedes shoot out of the driveway. He floored the accelerator and cursed as his speedometer crept up to seventy. He had a difficult time keeping her taillights in view as she rounded the curves on the two-lane road. She had no business driving so fast, he thought, no business driving such a powerful car. It wasn't the sort of vehicle he pictured Joani choosing for herself. The pearl white automobile disappearing around another curve was much too pretentious and just didn't suit the driver. Joani would look more at home in a sporty red Mustang. Miguel probably picked the Mercedes out for her. David cursed again when she braked suddenly and whipped into the westbound entrance ramp of I-Four.

Several miles down the interstate, she exited onto Garland Avenue, and he again wondered what she was up to. She wound in and out of traffic and made several turns that took her in a circle. It didn't make much sense. Having grown up around Orlando, Joani knew the streets like the back of her hand. She couldn't be lost.

Finally, she skidded to a stop and pulled into an alley between two warehouses she'd ignored on five previous passes. David cruised by and read the sign above the door: Estivez Trading. Anxious to find out what she was up to, David drove a block over, parked on a side street, and jogged back. He turned the knob on the warehouse door and, finding it unlocked, swore again. He intended to reprimand Joani for such carelessness later. A thud, a woman’s scream, and footsteps pounding against metal steps penetrated the hollow steel frame.

"Joani!" he called out.

He slammed the door back on its hinges, creating a loud clang that echoed throughout the building. David raced inside with his gun drawn. Somewhere in the distance of the dimly lit building another door banged shut. He started toward the back of the warehouse.

"David?" The sound of Joani’s voice spun him around.

A beam of light guided him to a stairwell on the left side of the building. He made his way around a stack of boxes and climbed to the first landing. The stairs made a sharp right turn at that point, so he couldn't see all the way up. He crouched. With his back against the wall, he cautiously eased up each step. Just before peeking over the top tread, he called again, "Joani."

"David? I’m in here." She sounded uncertain and wary. At the top of the stairs, a door with Office stenciled on the glass pane stood slightly ajar. He shoved it the rest of the way open, and with his gun extended, panned the small room for a perp.

"He’s gone," Joani said. On her knees, she hovered over a man lying face down beside the desk. She had a faded blue shop rag pressed against the back of his head. Blood oozed from the wound when she lifted the makeshift compress. Her face was ashen, her green eyes shimmered, but David determined at a glance that she wasn’t harmed. He knew Joani’s concern was for the man lying unconscious at her feet.

"Christ, Joani. What happened?" He shoved his gun into his back waistband and knelt beside her.

"I think he's alive."

"Call 911." David nudged her out of the way and checked the man’s neck for a pulse. A strong and steady beat pumped beneath his fingers.

"Do you know who he is?" David asked after she finished making the emergency call.

"Pete Grayson, the warehouse foreman."

"What in the hell are you doing down here all alone?" David managed to keep his voice level, hoping to remain rational; although, he seethed with a mixture of anxiety and rage. It could have been Joani lying on the floor hurt.

"Pete called and asked me to meet him here."

David pressed hard on the man's wound and Grayson moaned. He shoved David's hand away and turned over.

"Lay still, Pete, the paramedics are on the way."

Instead of obeying Joani, Pete sat up with David's assistance.

"What happened?" David asked, determined to get an answer to his question this time.

Grayson gingerly touched the injured spot on his head and groaned. As the blaring wail of sirens came to a stop out front, David saw him exchange a quick glance with Joani. Grayson frowned at the red smear on his fingers and answered, "I-I fell. I must have hit my head. Accident."

David cursed. The man was lying. He'd seen enough attacks to know when someone had been hit over the head with a blunt instrument. Grayson placed Joani in danger as well by bringing her here, and that, more than the lying made David angry.

"Go show the medics in," he ordered Joani. "After Grayson is taken care of, someone's going to explain to me what's going on here."

* * *

After the ambulance left with Grayson, Joani allowed David to guide her outside. He took her keys when she missed the slot on three tries and locked the warehouse door. She had pleaded with David not to call the police, pointing out that as long as Pete stuck to his story about taking a fall and bumping his head, there was little the police could do, other than write up a report.

The police searhing the premises was the last thing she needed. If they searched the warehouse and found the money before she did, the cartel might blame David. He had already worn his welcome out in the Islands, Emelio had said. What if they decided he’d done the same here?

Joani had also pointed out to David that she wouldn’t be able to tell if anything was missing unless they inventoried the whole building; something that, to her, looked like an impossible task. There were rows upon rows of boxes of various sizes labeled for different destinations around the globe. Although he’d been pretty surly about it, surprisingly, David had given in to her request not to call the police with little argument.

"I should go to the hospital," she said for the fifth time.

David gripped her upper arm and made her do an about face when she reached for the door handle on the Mercedes.

"The paramedics are taking Grayson to the hospital for x-rays just as a precaution. You called his wife and she'll meet him there. He doesn't need you fussing over him too. He'll be fine."

But would she? Joani wondered. David tightened his grip and led her to his car parked a block away. She tried another tactic. "I shouldn't leave my car there, someone might steal it."

"You locked it?"

"Of course, but—"

"It has an alarm?"

"Yes, but—

"Then we wouldn't be so lucky." David yanked open the Blazer door and urged her to climb in. She still wore the slim-line black suit she'd worn to the funeral and had to tug the short skirt even higher to make the step into the four-wheel drive vehicle. She felt his hand on her arm tense. His gaze lingered on her thighs where her skirt had ridden up to an immodest level as she settled into the seat.

Delighted by his reaction, she deliberately took her time straightening her skirt. She thought that maybe if he got his mind on other things, he’d lighten up a little and forget about asking why she had made the trip downtown in the first place.

"Buckle up," he ordered.

When he slammed the passenger door and turned his back, Joani stuck her tongue out at him. By the time he opened the driver’s side, she had a smile plastered back in place. She hoped her amicable expression would loosen the narrow-eyed, suspicious looks he’d been giving her. It didn't.

She had been quite relieved that David arrived when he did, but she didn’t like the surly attitude he’d exhibited since. She just couldn't understand how he’d managed to follow her, though, since she'd gone to so much trouble to avoid something like that happening. From the moment she’d pulled out of the estate driveway, she'd had an eerie feeling someone was tailing her. That’s why she’d taken such a circuitous route.

Her first thought had been that Emilio didn't trust her to return the money, if she found it, and had someone watching her. He couldn't know she wasn't brave enough to go against a powerful drug cartel. What had happened to Pete tonight could have happened to her. She shuddered, something worse might have happened to her if David hadn’t shown up when he did. Joani wished that she could tell him about the money, but she remembered Emilio’s warning and knew it was something she’d have to deal with alone.

"What was so important that Grayson couldn't wait until tomorrow to show you?" David asked as he turned the truck onto the main thoroughfare.

"I don't know. He probably needed my signature on something. Miguel always insisted he or Maria check and sign all shipping orders themselves."

"Grayson didn't just fall and bump his head, Joani."

"I know," she sighed, figuring it wouldn’t do any harm to tell him the truth about that. "Someone else was there. I thought at first it was Pete coming out of the office door. The lights were flipped off, then a shadowed figure moved out of the darkness, shoved me aside, and ran down the steps. I stumbled over Pete's body and screamed. By the time I scrambled for the light switch, I thought I heard you call my name." She'd never been so glad to hear a friendly voice.

"Christ, Joani!"

"I know," she said, understanding his unspoken reprimand for going to the warehouse alone.

Joani hadn't lied concerning Miguel's idiosyncrasy about signing shipping orders, but she didn’t believe that was what Pete had called her about. Going into the downtown area after dark and alone had frightened her a little, but Pete had made it sound urgent that she meet him. Maybe, she would have asked David to accompany her, if he'd not been off with Maria. She realized she'd snorted aloud when David glanced at her and frowned.

She leaned back in the seat and closed her eyes to avoid his glaring glances. Lucky for her he had to keep his eyes on the road.

Joani felt she should have gone to the hospital with Pete, regardless of David's objections. When Pete asked her to meet him at the warehouse, he'd sounded excited, said there was something he wanted to show her. If she’d gone to the hospital as she’d wanted to, she could have questioned Pete later.

Joani wondered if the cartel had Miguel’s phone bugged. That might explain why someone broke in and conked Pete over the head. Possibly they got away with whatever it was he'd wanted her to see. She almost hoped the money was stolen by the cartel—or re-stolen, she thought, remembering that Emilio accused Miguel of stealing it first. Joani felt the beginning of a headache.

If she got her hands on "the funds", Emilio would be the first one she'd call. She’d seen movies like The Godfather, and it had left an impression of how she figured most groups of organized crime worked. No doubt drug cartels carried out vague threats such as the one Emilio delivered with as much proficiency as any organized crime syndicate. She’d never forgotten the scene of the severed horse’s head one of the characters found in his bed. A nauseous feeling came over her at the image of one of her brothers finding their beloved Collie, Spider like that.

Having the cartel find the money on its own would be best. If David ever found out she turned over drug money to them instead of the DEA, he'd be furious. It would sever the thin thread of their renewed friendship. She’d do almost anything to avoid that happening. Anything except take a chance on David or her family being harmed.

"What is going on in that little head of yours, Joani?"

She stiffened and sat up straight. No way could she share her thoughts with him, so she went on the defensive. "I resent you calling me small-minded."

David gave her a puzzled glance, then his eyes went back to a frosty gray color, and he returned his attention to driving. "Don't deliberately misconstrue my meaning."

"You used to say I was immature and complex. Although I never did see how I could be both. Anyway, it fits that you think of me as small-minded, as well."

David cursed and swung the Blazer into his driveway. Joani had been so deep in thought she hadn't paid any attention to where they were going. "David, why did you bring me—"

He slid out of the driver's seat and slammed the door. She was getting darn tired of him cutting her off mid-sentence. When he opened the passenger side and unbuckled her seat belt, she crossed her arms before her and sulked. "I want to go home."

"Later," he said and turned and walked away.

There was little Joani could do but swallow her pride and go inside. She should have known better than to think he’d given up on questioning her further about the incident at the warehouse. Conducting the interview on his own turf would put him in control. Why were men such control freaks?

She trailed David into the house, resisting the urge to stick her tongue out at him again like a rebellious child. Perhaps she was childish, if she could think of no better way to retaliate than using such adolescent behavior.

She followed him into the kitchen, forgetting her vexation as she admired the way he walked. She guessed it was what romance writers called a swagger, the way his shoulders and hips bunched and moved gracefully in and out of alignment. When he stopped suddenly, she bumped into him, earning another narrow-eyed glare over his shoulder. She ignored him and seated herself at the kitchen table.

Instead of watching him stalk like an angry bear around the kitchen, she stared out the sliding glass door. The full moon cast a brilliant light over the sloping yard that led down to a small lake, much like the night she sought refuge here seven years ago. A night for fairy tales and moonlight dances. Grad night, the night she should have been out with her friends, enjoying the last get-together of her senior year, she’d lain in David Devereau's bedroom crying her eyes out.

Joani wasn't completely unhappy he'd brought her here. Even now, she enjoyed being with him better than anywhere else. She dreaded going back to the quiet, empty mansion and back to her chore of sifting through Miguel’s effects. She needed to remember to stay on her toes, however. She thought it wise to follow Emilio's advice. The subtle threat about what would happen if she confided in David was etched in her mind.

David had a way of dragging information out of people, and if she wasn't careful, he'd have her telling him everything. She wished he'd bothered to be as persistent seven years ago. Maybe then they could have remained good friends.

She mentally shook herself. There was no point in passing the blame. The incident had been more her fault than his. Her very first assertive action wound up in disaster. David couldn't help it if he wasn't attracted to her any more than the young boy was that she was supposed have been with that night.

"Do you want some coffee?"

David had been silent so long, the sound of his voice made her jump. She settled back into the blue vinyl-covered chair and realized while she reminisced, he'd been re-warming a pot of coffee that looked murky enough to be left over from early morning.

"No, thank you."

"Tea? Soda?" He pulled open the refrigerator and his head disappeared behind the door.

"Diet cola, if you have it."

His head bobbed up over the top of the door. "Root beer do?"

How stupid could she be? Macho, trim-waisted men like David probably didn't stock diet colas. There would be only one reason for him to keep such an item: frequent female weight-conscious guests. When he closed the refrigerator, he held up a can of diet soda triumphantly. Joani stared at the discovered item and nodded solemnly.

He popped the top and handed her the can of soda along with a glass. She quietly watched the foam rise to the top of the glass. Then too impatient to wait for it to settle, took a tiny sip, laughing when the bubbles tickled her nose.

After filling his coffee cup at the counter, David turned around and smiled at her. "Guess fate must have stepped in when I picked up diet root beer by mistake."

That revelation made Joani feel much better. She returned his smile as he brought his coffee to the table and sat opposite her. He stared at her for a long moment, his expression unfathomable. Then he said, "I'm glad to see your mood has improved."

"My mood? You've been the one snapping like a box turtle all evening."

"Box turtles don't snap. They clam up in their shells just like you've been doing. If you don't open up and tell me what you and Grayson were really doing in that warehouse tonight, I may be tempted to break that tough shell with my bare hands."

Her smile returned. "You wouldn't lay a hand on me."

"Wouldn't I?" David slammed his hands against the wood surface, stood, and hovered across the small table.

Joani imitated his actions, bringing them face to face. "No, you wouldn't," she said with confidence. One thing she knew about David Devereau: he wasn't a violent man. Not with women, anyway.

"Damn you, Joani," he said, lips so close she could smell the pleasant scent of coffee as his breath brushed gently over her face. "I don't know whether to shake you or make love to you."

"I'd much prefer the latter," she said softly and lifted her face so their lips were a fraction apart. He cupped the back of her head, bringing her closer. His lips covered hers. The kiss deepened, heightening her unsettled feelings that always lay just beneath the surface when he was near.

She brazenly took advantage of his invading tongue and sucked gently. He suddenly pulled back. She closed her eyes and trembled. She couldn't bear to see rejection or pity in his eyes. Why was it every time she took an assertive action, it turned out to be ineffective or disastrous?

"Do you think we could move into a more comfortable position? I can't get my hands on you like this without falling flat across the table."

Her eyes popped open, and she cautiously watched him move around the table, awed by his admission that he wanted to put his hands on her. She wondered if she'd heard him correctly. When he slowly began to unbutton her blouse, she knew she hadn't misunderstood. Her heart began a staccato beat that threatened to puncture her chest as it picked up momentum.

David pushed the material away from her shoulders. His breathing seemed almost labored as he unfastened the front closure on her bra and exposed her breasts. Joani followed his gaze and saw her dark nipples standing erect. He stared at them so long, she wondered if he'd changed his mind about wanting to touch her. At that prospect, covering herself seemed the proper thing to do. She started to cross her arms in front of her, but he stopped her.

"No, darling." He lifted his gaze to meet hers.

Joani saw the same dark dilation of his pupils she'd noted the other day when he'd made love to her with his hands, gifting her with her first climax. The memory sent a shard of excitement racing straight to her womb.

"The only thing covering these tonight will be me," he said and gently cupped the underside of her breasts with his palms. She closed her eyes and whimpered with pleasure when his thumbs brushed across her pebbled nipples.

"David?" she asked tentatively when he stepped closer and she felt his tumescence brush against her stomach.

"Hmmm."

"C-can I touch you, too?" His hands stilled, and she almost cried out in protest.

"Joani, I don't—"

She avoided looking at him and tried to step away, but he wouldn't allow it. "I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—"

He shook her slightly and pulled her so tight against him she could hardly breathe. "Don't ever say you're sorry when we're making love. What in the hell are you apologizing for?"

"I-I talk too much."

"Sometimes," he grinned, "but I like for you to tell me what you want. As I started to say, before I was so rudely interrupted, I don't think this table would make a very good bed. If I let you touch me now, we may not make it into the bedroom."

He lifted her in his arms, then leaned down and suckled at her breast. She cried out this time, not afraid to voice her thoughts. "Oh David. That feels so good. Nothing’s ever felt so good."

He chuckled, kissed her lips, then jostled her in his arms for a better hold as he moved down the short hallway to his bedroom. He placed her in the middle of the bed and carefully removed her skirt and half-slip, leaving her in her black lace panties and thigh-high hose.

"God, you're beautiful." He stepped back and started to unbuckle his belt, then stopped. "Would you like to do this?"

"Oh yes, David, could I?" She sat up eagerly.

David groaned. "Yeah, but only if you hurry."

When she realized his eyes were on her jiggling breasts, she laughed. His reaction increased her confidence. She grinned and deliberately slowed his unveiling, taking delight in each expletive he made when her hand touched a sensitive spot on his body.

"Jesus," he whispered when he stood naked before her. His hard arousal throbbed and beckoned. She boldly leaned forward and brushed a light kiss over his proud tumescence.

"Christ," David bellowed, and pushed her back across the bed. He braced himself on his arms to keep his full weight from landing on top of her.

He quickly removed her panties, leaving her thigh-high hose in place. She ran her silk-clad feet slowly up the back of his legs. He shuddered.

He teased her moist passage with his male member. Liquid heat built inside her like hot lava bubbling to the surface of an active volcano. If he didn't enter her soon, he'd drive them both mad. "David?"

"I'm sorry, honey. Next time I promise to go slower."

"David, don't ever apologize when we're making love." She mimicked his command and pushed upward. His swollen shaft filled her and sent convulsing shivers rippling through her body.

Their movements were impatient and intense, but exquisitely coordinated. They quickly reached a climax together, releasing simultaneous cries of pleasure.

After coming down from the physical high that no drug invented could ever hope to match, David continued to caress her body after he rolled to her side. He leaned over and kissed her breasts, her throat, her eyes, her nose, and finally lingered over her lips. He couldn't seem to get enough of the sweet scent and taste of his Joani. His.

He'd known for days it'd just be a matter of time until he made love to her. He just hoped he hadn't pushed her into it too soon. Picking the same day she buried her husband hadn't been the smartest move he'd ever made. He plopped back on his own pillow and silently bemoaned his insensate rush.

"I'm sorry, Joani. I should have given you more time."

When the bed shook slightly, he looked over and saw she was laughing. Her eyes were still closed.

"What's so funny?" A smile tugged at his lips as well.

"I don't think I like apologies any better after making love than I did during. But obviously we've both had them bottled up inside us way too long. Why don't we get all our apologies out of the way right now, then we won't ever have a reason to voice them again?"

"Okay, you go first."

"Isn't that just like a man?" she complained with a wide grin.

"Okay, I'll go first. I'm sorry about your, er, Miguel." He couldn't bring himself to call the man her husband.

"Me too."

"That's cheating."

"Okay, but I should tell you, I'm sorry Miguel is dead, but I'm not grieving for him. Any feelings I had for him died a long time ago. So, I'll apologize for something that's been bothering me for years. I'm sorry I made a fool of myself seven years ago when you came home and found me here."

"Me too," he laughed.

She poked him in the ribs with her elbow. "That's cheating."

He rubbed his ribs and said solemnly, "I'm sorry circumstances prevented me from making love to you back then."

"You are?" she asked in awe and turned to face him. His arm covered his eyes so she couldn't see his expression. "But you yelled at me, told me to get dressed and quit acting like a stupid star-struck adolescent."

"You were an adolescent."

"I was eighteen."

"And I was pushing thirty. Did it ever occur to you that I could have lost my job if something like that got back to my superiors?"

"Oh lord, I never thought of that. Is that why you never came around anymore? Come to think of it, when I'd ask Marleen about inviting you, she'd always have some excuse about you being away on a case or say you had other plans." She sat up abruptly. "My God, David, did my father threaten you?"

"It was a long time ago, Joani, and at the time it was best for all concerned that I distance myself from you."

"He did, didn't he? I guess I always suspected Dad said something to keep you away, but I kept telling myself if you'd wanted to see me, you would. But to ruin your career over something that wasn’t your fault . . .. Oh, David, tell me what happened after I left that night."

David guessed they'd need to discuss it sooner or later. There were things about that night that still puzzled him too, like why had Joani been lying naked in his bed? She'd often used his place as a sanctuary when he was out of town, or out of the country.

She needed a quiet place to study when her baby brothers wouldn't give her peace. She'd chosen to live with her father and stepmother before her senior year because her mother was a bitter woman who'd become too critical, too demanding, and gone too frequently on so-called business trips, leaving Joani alone.

David knew all these things about Joani's life. He’d listened to her problems, sympathized with her, and given her a key to his place. She'd never used it when he was scheduled to be home, but she couldn't have known he would come home that night, since the case he'd been working on was wrapped up much quicker than anyone could have expected.

"Tell me what my father said to you that night, David." She prodded him in the ribs.

"It wasn't what he said." David smiled now at the memory of Conner Brenningan barging into this very bedroom with the wild look of a raging animal on the attack. Of course, it wasn’t funny at the time. David had just found Joani lying naked in his bed and was ranting at her for an explanation.

"I don't understand," Joani said. "I left because you were both glaring at me—him with disappointment, you with hate."

"I never hated you," he denied, surprised she could think such a thing.

"Well, you were certainly angrier than I'd ever seen you."

"You're right about that, but not at you. At myself. I wanted you, and your father knew it. Hell, it was probably written all over my face as I watched you walk out the door. That's why, when he punched me in the nose, I didn't hit him back. I knew I deserved it. It really wasn't necessary for him to warn me to stay away. I knew it was for the best."

"In less than a month you married Crystal Amesworth, the social queen of Orlando. Did you love her, David?"

"Not enough, I'm afraid. Six months later, Crystal killed herself and the baby she carried."

"Oh, David, I'm so sorry. I heard about the accident, but I didn’t know about the baby."

"It wasn't my baby," he said bluntly.

Joani didn't say she was sorry again. Instead she scooted to the top of her pillow, slid her arms around his neck, and pulled him to her. She’d still not explained the incident that kept them estranged for the past seven years. However, David realized she’d had no trouble getting him to reveal his most guarded secrets.

He'd never told anyone about Crystal's baby, but for some reason he felt better for having told Joani. He relaxed and fell asleep cradled against her soft breasts.

* * *

The next morning, Joani was awakened by an off-key baritone voice loudly bolting out "Elvira". The noise came from David's bathroom. She stretched, feeling languorous, and immensely pleased with herself. David had kept his promise and made slow, tender love to her not once but twice during the night.From the way he responded to her touch, she knew she’d given as much pleasure as she’d received.

She rolled onto his pillow face down, inhaled his masculine scent, and sighed. She was happy, happier than she'd ever felt in her life, and suddenly restless when David’s voice dropped to a croaking bass that sounded like a bullfrog in agony. "Hmm umppa hum hum, hmm umppa hum hum, Elvira!"

She slid from the bed, opened the bathroom door, and fought her way through the fogged room. She peeked around the plastic curtain at David as he stood beneath the shower; his eyes closed, head back, rinsing his hair. Water cascaded over his chest and made a rippling path down his flat stomach and lower.

"Mucho, macho man," she hummed softly and grinned.

He captured a mouthful of water and made a Tarzan-like gargle. She laughed. "Hey, Jungle Boy, you're using all the hot water."

He moved from under the shower and slung his head about, spraying her face in the process.

"Watch it!"

David grabbed the shower curtain when she let it go. While she was distracted wiping water out of her eyes, he admired her full breasts, her slender waist, and her shapely legs. "Join me." He held out his hand to her. "We'll share the hot water."

"Only if you promise not to sing."

"Don't worry, darling, I plan on making you do all the singing now."

Joani took his hand and stepped over the rim of the tub. David gathered her in his arms and pulled her beneath the shower with him. He loved the way her wet body slid provocatively against his when he kissed her. He stepped back and lathered his hands. Massaging a slippery path over her torso, he proceeded to prove his prediction correct. No voice had ever sounded sweeter to his ears than, when a short while later, in a high soprano, she sang his name over and over again.

The shower episode left Joani feeling contentedly lethargic. At the same time, David seemed to have gained energy. She took her time dressing, while he finished quickly, gave her a smacking kiss on the lips and went to make coffee.

When she joined him in the kitchen, he glanced up from the morning paper, smiled, then went back to reading. She'd watched her father do the same thing hundreds of times when Marleen walked into the kitchen in the mornings. Joani traced a finger over David’s electrical appliances and wondered if he'd ever come to love her the way her father loved Marleen.

She might not get the chance to find out, she thought. She still had a murder charge hanging over her head, as well as a drug cartel threatening her very existence.

"What's that long sigh for?" he asked.

"Huh? Oh, I was just wondering how Pete is doing. I think I'll call the hospital." Joani picked up the receiver and dialed. After inquiring about Pete's health, she was informed he'd already checked himself out.

"Well?" David lowered the paper when he peeked up and noticed the concerned look on her face.

"He left the hospital early this morning," she said, still staring at the phone.

"You knew he'd probably only be there overnight."

"Yes, I know."

"Then why do you look so worried?"

"I think I'll try him at home."

Joani talked to Pete's wife. She thought it strange Galenia didn't know Pete had already left the hospital. "He probably went straight to the warehouse, Galenia. Don't worry, I'll go check on him. Yes, I'll make sure he goes straight home."

David folded the paper and dropped it on the table when he saw the worry lines bunch across Joani's brow. He went to her side and put his arm around her waist. "You want to call the warehouse first?"

"No, I think I'll just go on down there." When David picked up his car keys, she said, "There's no need for you to go."

"You're riding with me, remember? Let's go."

When they arrived at the warehouse, the college kid who was working there for the summer, and another man Joani didn't recognize, was sitting on the loading dock.

"Good morning, Mrs. Estivez." The tall slender one with sandy hair and light blue eyes greeted Joani. "I'm really sorry about Mr. Estivez."

"Thank you . . . Joe, isn't it?"

"Yes ma'am, Joe Harper, and this is another University of Central Florida student, Wayne Jeffries. He just started working here last week."

Joani shook hands with the man who looked much older than Joe, too old to be a full time college student. Though his name sounded American, his eyes were so dark you couldn’t see the pupils, and his skin color had the same olive shade as Miguel and Maria’s. She was curious which one of them hired him.

"We wondered if the warehouse would be closed today, but since Pete didn't call and tell us not to come in, I thought we should come on down and see," Joe said.

"Pete isn't here then?" David asked.

Though Wayne Jeffries glared at him, it was Joe who answered, "No sir. Are you the new owner?"

"This is David Devereau," she said and the men shook hands.

Joani didn't understand the remark about a new owner, and was about to ask when David said, "Let's go inside."

"Do you know what needs to be done?" David asked Joe.

Joani wondered if David thought she wasn't capable of running the business and jumped in when Joe affirmed that he could handle the day's pending shipments. She asked him a few general questions, then said, "I'd appreciate it if you'd go ahead and take care of things until Pete gets back."

"Isn't he coming in?" Joe asked.

"I'm not sure. Probably not today. He had an accident here at the warehouse last night and has a slight concussion."

Joe cast a furtive glance through the side window at Joani's Mercedes. "I wondered why your car was here."

"Yes, Mr. Devereau was kind enough to drive me home." His home. She hoped she wasn't blushing, even though she could feel the heat creep up her face. Apparently, Joe didn't notice. He’d mentioned something about a new owner. She hadn’t set him straight about who David was exactly, but it wouldn't be unusual for a buyer to be on the premises looking things over.

Joe assured her he could handle things until Pete returned, and seemed pleased by her confidence in him. He collected a bill of lading and told Wayne to begin loading the delivery truck that was backed up to the dock.

Joani waited for Wayne Jeffries to disappear around a stack of boxes toward the back of the warehouse and said, "Joe, when you get a moment, I'd like to talk to you."

"Sure thing, Mrs. Estivez. But I'd better get this shipment out first. Watson Enterprises expects delivery today."

"Watson Enterprises?" Joani frowned.

"Yes, ma'am. I see on the manifest some packages came in over the weekend and are scheduled for delivery today."

"Okay, do what you need to do, then come to the office. And Joe," she said, pausing as she started up the stairs to the office, "don't call me ‘ma'am’ anymore. My first name is Joani. I’d prefer you use it from now on."

"Yes, ma'—er, Joani." A broad grin spread across Joe's face, then he went off to carry out his duties.

"You're a very clever businesswoman, Joani," David said, guiding her by the elbow up the stairs.

It pleased her David thought of her as a businesswoman. Given the fact he'd said she was clever, too, she felt rather smug by his assessment until he qualified his statement.

"The kid is smitten. He'd do anything you ask him to do now. You just gave him a feeling of importance by telling him to call you by your first name. Let's just hope it doesn't go to his head."

"There you go making contradictory evaluations about me again." She thrust the door to the office open, walked inside, and plopped down in the chair behind the desk. "On the one hand, you praise my business acumen; on the other, you criticize the way I use it."

"I wasn't criticizing you, honey." David closed the door. He walked around the desk, whirled her chair around and placed his hands on the arms. He leaned over her. Joani's heart rate picked up speed when his lips brushed hers. "I just don't want a young college kid getting any fancy ideas about my woman."

"Your woman! How old-fashioned," she snorted. "Ouch! Get off my lap you big ox."

"Not until you tell me you like the idea of being my woman, old fashioned or not." He held to the chair arms to keep her from taking his full weight. He sank a little deeper onto her soft thighs and demanded, "Tell me."

"Okay, okay. I like it."

"Like what?" He kissed her nose.

"I like being your woman. Don't you have somewhere you need to be? I've got work to do." She deliberately dropped her hand on his growing arousal and laughed when he threw back his head and gave a playful groan.

He placed his hand over hers and pressed, adding to his sweet agony. "Where I need to be is inside you." He kissed her quick and hard when he heard footsteps pounding up the metal stairs. "But I guess it'll have to wait." He slid off her lap. "I know you're still worried about Pete. Give me his address. I'll run over and see if he's made it home yet."

"Thank you, David. I could call, but I don't want to worry Galenia if he's still not home. Do you think he could have passed out or something somewhere along the way?"

"Maybe. If he's not home, I'll backtrack to the hospital and see what I can find out." He leaned down for another quick kiss. "And stop thanking me. We're in this together."

Joani suddenly felt guilty about not telling David everything. "David, I . . ."

Joe tapped on the glass pane. "Can I come in, Joani?"

David rolled his eyes and whispered, "See what I mean?"

"You're just jealous."

"Damned right, and with good reason."

"You have no reason whatsoever. I'm your woman, remember?" For that, she received a smile from him that warmed her all over. While David opened the door to admit Joe Harper, she copied Pete's address from the Rolodex onto a piece of paper.

David took the address and left. He didn't kiss her in front of Joe, but she knew by the hungry look he gave her he wanted to. They both realized it wouldn't be wise to flaunt their relationship only a day after she'd buried her husband, especially since she was the prime suspect for his murder.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Joe’s cheeks pinkened when Joani looked up at him and smiled.

"Have a seat, Joe."

He moved to one of the gray leather chairs in front of the black marble topped desk. Miguel's taste in decor didn't vary much from that at the estate, but instead of white and black it was gray and black. Joe shifted in the seat several times before settling back with his elbows resting on the arms of the chair. His fingers came together at his waist and he tapped nervously on a large silver-eagle belt buckle.

"Nice buckle." Expensive too, she thought.

Joe lifted the edge of the buckle and said, "I used to rodeo when in my younger days."

Joani almost laughed. Joe didn’t look a day over twenty. "Something like that must take a good deal of—" she started to say stamina, but seeing the assuming gleam of in Joe’s eye, changed her mind—"dedication."

To appear more business-like, Joani picked up a pen and began scribbling on a pad. "Would you tell me what you know about my husband selling the business?"

"I guess I spoke out of turn earlier." Joe's face returned to its pinkish luster. Joani wrote, Nervous or Shy.

"How did you know Mr. Estivez wanted to sell?" Joani didn’t let on she knew nothing of Miguel's plans.

"I, er, well, I sort of overheard a conversation he was having with Ms. Ramera a couple of days before he, er . . ."

"Before he passed away." Joani thought if Joe squirmed anymore he’d wear a hole in the seat of the chair.

"Right. Uh, well, I wasn't eavesdropping or anything, you understand. They were talking rather loud, sort of—"

"Arguing?"

"Maybe, at least Ms. Ramera seemed to be, er, pretty upset."

Joe looked past Joani's shoulder and cleared his throat before adding, "I don't rightly know if I should be repeating what I heard."

"I won't press you to talk about it if you don't want to, but my husband and I were separated, Joe. It wouldn't be logical for him to share his business decisions with me," she hesitated a beat and added, "or his personal life."

"Oh." Joe's face lit like a beacon on a hazardous road sign. "Mr. Estivez wasn't exactly a pleasant person, was he?

"As his employee, you would know that as well as anyone. I take it you got along well with his secretary, Maria Ramera?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Joani smiled at his slip into formality and he must have realized it because he cleared his throat and glanced away before continuing. "Mr. Estivez chewed me up one side and down the other one day when I dropped a package for Watson Enterprises. It was marked fragile, so I may have deserved the reprimand, but the names he called me didn't set too well. A customer came in about that time and Ms. Ramera stepped in and sent me to take care of him. Otherwise, I might have been looking for another job."

Joani sat back and studied the young man. He seemed to have overcome his shyness all of a sudden. "You thought Mr. Estivez would fire you over a broken package?"

"Maybe. Didn’t take much sometimes to set him off. Well, you know what I mean."

Joani knew exactly what Joe meant, but she wasn’t about to get into that. Rather than comment on his remark, she nodded and said, "You must need this job very badly."

"Putting myself through school would be almost impossible without a full time job through the summer. I got four sisters, all younger than me. My dad says they've got him about one step away from the poor house. He told me it was up to me to set an example and show them what a person can do if he puts his mind to it."

Joani couldn’t tell if Joe was resentful or proud. "Well, I haven't decided what I'm going to do with the business yet, but in the event I decide to sell, I'll try and make sure that you and Pete will be taken care of by the new owner."

"I appreciate that, Joani. I really do. What about Ms. Ramera? Is she still running things?"

"Running things?"

Joe cleared his throat again. "I know she was Mr. Estivez's secretary, but she pretty much handled the day-to-day operations around here."

"I see."

Joani tried not to let her dislike of Maria show. She decided not to mention Maria’s resignation yet. "I'm not sure what position Maria will hold here in the future, if any. Nothing’s been decided."

Joe stood. "Well, don't you worry about it, Joani. I'm here to help you if you need to know anything."

"Thank you, Joe."

"Well, I guess I'd better get back to work." He paused before turning the doorknob. "Ms. Ramera seemed to be upset that day because Mr. Estivez hadn't told her he was selling out. I heard her say she'd see him in hell before she'd let him renege on the deal he promised her." Joe cleared his throat. "Later that day, they were talking to each other like nothing ever happened. So I don't figure Ms. Ramera meant anything by what she said."

Joani tried to be objective about Maria. After all, she'd worked for a difficult employer. Miguel wasn't an easy person to deal with on a day-to-day basis.

"Joe." When he turned she looked him directly in the eyes. "I'm sure you're probably right about Ms. Ramera."

"Yes, ma'am, er, Joani." Dimples appeared on each side of his cheeks when his smile returned.

After the door closed behind Joe, Joani sat back and tapped her pencil against the pad. Her impressions of the young man vacillated between good and bad. In one column she’d written possible positives: Shy, Ambitious, Protective, Proud, Infatuated. In the second column she’d written possible negatives: Nosy, Defensive, Resentful, Infatuated.

She wasn’t sure if his infatuation was a figment of her imagination. Certainly his loyalty to Maria was pretty strong, but if Maria defended him to Miguel, that was understandable.

One of the things Joani had been taught in her assertiveness training class was to make lists and draw conclusions based upon her evaluations. Joani decided, however, she wasn't decisive enough to put a tag on the young man's personality and didn't even understand why she'd tried. She had much more important things to take care of at the moment. She pushed the list aside and began going through Miguel's desk.

For the next few hours, Joani continued to rummage through the files, check behind drawers, under chairs—a character from one of her favorite books stashed money taped to the bottom of a chair—anywhere that might lead her to the missing funds. In between she fielded phone calls from clients who offered condolences when they discovered she was the deceased's widow. Then, thinking they had the ear of someone who could do something about it, they complained for the recent delay in shipments. She made them promises about deliveries she knew nothing about and after digging through the records, had just about given up on learning, when Maria phoned.

"I heard about Pete. I don't suppose he'll be up to working for awhile," Maria said.

"He was discharged from the hospital this morning. I'm sure he'll be back to work soon." Joani felt as if she were suddenly becoming an expert at stretching the truth. She didn't even know if Pete made it home okay. Why hadn't David called to let her know something?

"I'd intended to take a couple weeks off before starting my new job," Maria said. But I suppose I should come back there until you can find someone else. You must have more pressing matters to take care of."

"That's . . ." Joani started to refuse outright, but she glanced around at the mess of papers strung across the desk. One reason things were so cluttered was due to her investigation for the funds. She'd mixed up the complaining clients' files with the ones she'd been plundering, and now she didn't know which was which. She sighed.

"That's very nice of you, Maria," she said, deciding the best thing to do was leave the ball in Maria's court. Joani wasn't going to humble herself and ask her to come back.

"Does that mean you want me to come or not?"

Maria wasn't being cooperative. "I'll leave it up to you, Maria. Things are, uh, a bit hectic around here right now."

Another line started ringing on cue.

"Look, do whatever you like. I'm rather swamped right now." The ringing continued, creating a hollow sound in the silence that followed, making Joani impatient. "I have to get that."

"You should have gotten a temp helper for the phones. Call Con-Temp Services this afternoon and request someone capable of handling the typing and filing, too. Make sure the person you hire dresses properly. The warehouse may not be a particularly plush environment, but I can't abide anyone working an office in jeans and T-shirts." With that, Maria hung up.

For a moment Joani gaped at the receiver, then she glanced down at the faded jeans and T-shirt she wore. The woman was as fixated about neatness as Miguel had been. "Tyrants," she huffed and jabbed at the button on the ringing line. "Estivez Trading!"

"Christ, Joani, what took you so long to answer?" David barked.

"David!" Joani was too anxious to hear from him to take offense. "Did you find Pete? Did he make it home okay?"

"You sound frazzled."

Joani brushed an errant lock off her face and leaned back in her chair. "It's been a little chaotic around here."

"You should have called a temporary service for help."

"What about Pete?" Joani snapped.

"When I got to his house, his wife was busy packing."

"Packing?"

"Yeah, she said Pete called and told her he was going to his hunting club camp in Ocala National Forest to recuperate. She said he assured her he was well and she should take the baby to visit her mother while he was there."

"David, her mother lives in Argentina."

"I know that now. I followed her and watched her board the South American flight out of O.I.A."

"Doesn't that seem strange to you?"

"Yeah, we'll talk about it when I get back."

"Where are you now?" Joani asked.

"On a corner booth near Grayson's house. I thought I'd see if any of the neighbors know where this hunting camp is located. Won't hurt to make sure Grayson really is okay, will it? Besides I still want to know why he called you into the warehouse last night."

"There's no need to do that, David. To interrogate the neighbors, that is. Miguel belonged to the same club. I can take you there."

There was a long pause, then David said, "Joani, I think you and I should have a long talk tonight."

"After five, I'm all yours," she quipped. She winced when two lines lit up and the phones rang again.

"Look," David said. "I have a few stops to make and was going to go by the agency to, er, request an extension on my vacation, but if you need some help around there, it can wait."

Joani glanced toward Maria's office. She hadn't searched in there yet. "Everything's under control, David."

"All right. I’ll pick you up later and we can run up to the camp."

"Great." She hung up and gathered the files to return them to the cabinets in the adjoining room. She'd just finished re-filing them and started searching through Maria's desk when Joe's voice boomed out from the intercom. "Call on line one for you, Joani."

"Thanks, Joe." She must have been so absorbed in her search she hadn't heard the phone ring. She depressed the button. "Joani Estivez, how can I help you?"

A deep chuckle came over the line. "Very professional sounding, Joani."

"Emilio?"

"Yes, my dear. I couldn't reach you at home, so I decided to try the office."

Joani didn't think he'd called for a friendly chat. "Look, Emilio, I'm doing everything I can to find your money. Please don't pressure me."

"If it were only left up to me, I'd never do that, my dear. But you know how unnerved some business men become when their cash flow is being stretched."

So drug dealers were calling themselves businessmen these days, she thought. "Do they think I can just wave a magic wand and make the money appear? I’m making every effort to find it for them. They should be more appreciative."

"I assure you they'll be very generous when it's back in their hands."

"I don't want their generosity, Emilio. I just want them to leave me alone."

She detected impatience in Emilio’s voice when he said, "Joani, you must realize this is not a game of hide and seek we're playing. There's a great deal at stake here for everyone concerned. Families could suffer if things aren't settled soon."

Joani sucked in her breath. She knew Emilio wasn’t talking about the families of the cartel. "My family has nothing to do with this."

"As they say, it's always the innocent who suffer."

She tried to steady her voice with little success. "I-I need time, Emilio. I just learned about this money yesterday. Surely they don't expect miracles."

"A multimillion dollar discrepancy isn't something one tolerates with patience, Joani. You have until the end of the week."

In the silence that followed, Joani imagined the "or else" that went along with Emilio's ultimatum. When she realized he'd hung up, she dropped the receiver back into its cradle, propped her elbows on Maria's desk and buried her face against her palms.

Millions of dollars.

Good Lord, she'd been thinking in terms of a few thousand. How did someone steal millions without anyone noticing until it was too late? This couldn't be just a case of skimming the profits; it must have been a major heist. Could millions be made from one drug transaction? Joani rubbed her eyes to ease the stinging sensation. She didn't have time for tears.

A week. No, the end of the week was only five more days. How in God's name was she going to find the money? She didn't have a clue where to begin looking for such a staggering sum. It wasn't something someone could put in a shoebox and stow away in a closet, which was exactly where she'd been searching before Pete called her last evening.

It couldn't have been what Pete wanted to see her about. There might be enough room in the warehouse to stow all that money, but it wouldn't be very smart to do so. She massaged her forehead with her palms. Miguel may not have been a very likable person, but he was smart. Smart enough to steal the money out from under Emilio’s nose; smart enough to hide it someplace safe. Someplace where he could keep track of it easily.

Where was the safest place to keep money and have a running accounting of it, but in a bank? All she had to do was figure out which one—out of the thousands of such institutions he could have used—and how to access it.

"Hide and seek." Joani guessed hysteria was what caused her to giggle. Her voice hitched when she whispered to the empty room, "Ch-Child's play." Jamie and Taylor said she played hide and seek better than anyone they knew. She just wished the cartel would play as fair as her brothers and give her as much time as she needed to finish the game. She desperately needed a lead.

The phone rang, but this time instead of answering, Joani turned on the answering machine to pick up. Then, grabbing her purse, she ran down the stairs to find Joe.

She located him on the dock checking off items on a clipboard list as Jeffries loaded them into the back of a van. After asking him to lock up at five, she hopped into the Mercedes and headed toward the Ocala National Forest.

CHAPTER TWELVE

A thick layer of clouds had rolled in and a slight drizzling rain started, making it dark and difficult to see. Before Joani located the dirt road that led to the campsite, she'd turned onto a similar-looking steep ditch-lined lane, driving miles before she realized her mistake.

She'd visited the camp only once before, when she came with Galenia, Eadda, and a couple of the other wives. It was a tradition that the wives were invited up to the male domain, presumably for a cookout, but in reality to give the place a good spring-cleaning in preparation for the next season.

Miguel was obsessed with cleanliness, so there wasn’t much for Joani to do to his immaculate bunk area. She wondered how he’d managed to keep his black hunting boots spit-polished while in the muddy backwoods. The image of him stopping every few feet and rubbing them with a clean white handkerchief made her smile. Poor Miguel.

Even though he'd given her plenty of reason to dislike him, she could only pity the man who never seemed to enjoy life. She'd rarely seen him smile. Usually, only when a business acquaintance made a barb that required an amused reaction. Then a fine row of white teeth were shown for effect, but his eyes never changed. They remained dark and unfathomable.

In contrast, David smiled a lot. She liked the way his mouth quirked up on one side when he tried to hold back a spontaneous laugh, and the deep barrel sound when the laugh came out full blast, and the way his expressive gray eyes lit up and crinkled at the corners. The unruly curl would bounce out over his forehead when he guffaw—

Joani’s reverie was brought up short when bright beams of light hit her in the face as a car came over a rise ahead. The headlights bounced and swayed, indicating the car hit a pothole in the road at a high rate of speed. Joani flashed her lights to get the other driver to dim his and slow down. Instead, the car picked up speed.

She eased to the side of the road to allow passing room. As the lights grew larger and the distance closed, the car angled directly toward her. She flashed her brights again, but the driver didn't respond.

Five hundred feet, three hundred feet, the car didn't adjust its path. At a hundred feet, she realized the car would hit her if she didn't get out of the way, and fast. Nowhere to go except into the ditch, she threw the Mercedes into gear and stomped on the accelerator. The loud crunching sound, told her it was too late.

The rear quarter panel received the brunt of the impact. Metal to metal, the other car pushed her car in a sliding, sideways path down the steep ditch. The Mercedes tilted precariously on two wheels. When for a heart-stopping moment it looked as if it would flip over, Joani desperately fought the angle of her front wheels to keep the vehicle upright.

Thankfully, it settled on all four wheels, and the rain-softened dirt slowed her descent. The Mercedes came to a halt when it burrowed into the embankment on the other side of the ditch. Her head snapped forward, then bounced back against the seat's headrest, but her safety belt kept her snugly in place. All in all, a rather soft landing, Joani thought.

The air bag didn't inflate, which seemed a small blessing. She'd always had a phobia about being suffocated by one of those air-filled plastic pillows. She had no idea how the things were deflated, and being trapped by the bag, with no one around to help her, would have been a living nightmare. Of course, she wasn't far from hysterics, anyway.

Shaking, heart pumping erratically, Joani gripped the steering wheel so hard her knuckles hurt. She looked into her rearview mirror and watched the taillights of the other vehicle fade in the distance.

"Maniac." Her tremulous whisper echoed back at her in the silence. "I'll have you arrested."

She released a nervous laugh. Everything happened so fast, she didn't even get a look at the color, let alone the make and model of the car. It was ridiculous to imagine she could bring charges against a hit-and-run-driver she couldn't even identify.

Joani twisted the key in the ignition, but the Mercedes only gave a sick whir, then clicked until she let off the switch. She leaned against the headrest, closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead. What now? she wondered.

Her eyes popped open when she remembered the seldom-used cellular phone she carried in the console compartment. In spite of the beep, beep, beep, and flashing low battery indicator when she turned it on, she tried to dial David's number. He would be furious with her for coming up here alone, but she didn't have any choice. After three tries, it became obvious her attempts to get through were useless.

She let loose a rare expletive and yanked on the door handle. The car was pitched toward the passenger side, making it a difficult task keeping the door open while sliding from behind the wheel. She propped the door open with her left foot and pulled the hood latch before stepping out. Her left tennis shoe sank into an inch-thick bed of mud. The suction of the mud held fast when she tried to pull it back. Groaning, she eased the other foot out into the nasty black muck and took several sucking steps forward.

The door slammed behind her. She looked up over the rim of the ditch to get her bearings. The first heavy drop of rain hit her squarely in the eye. She wondered why she deserved this punishment.

The only infraction she'd committed lately was sleeping with the man she loved. With her husband barely cold in the ground, in His book, that was probably a biggie.

She moaned when another fat drop of water, then another and another, pelted her in the face and dampened her hair. By the time she made her way to the front of the car, the rain was coming down hard and fast. The right corner of the hood was embedded in the dirt embankment, hindering her efforts to open it. Lightning flashed and thunder rumbled.

Water accumulated rapidly in the ditch and the diluted mud rose and swirled around her ankles, drenching the bottom of her jeans. She didn't think it was a very good place to be when another clap of thunder followed a sharp flash in the distance.

She fought the suction of the mud to the upward slope of the ditch and crawled her way to the top. When a bolt of lightning hit a nearby pine tree and sent a ball of fire rolling upwards, she took off at a run.

Joani had come to consider the flashes of lightning as a Guardian Angel after she'd run about a mile; otherwise she'd probably have wound up in the ditch again due to the inky darkness that surrounded her. When another brief flash revealed the camp shack in front of her, she raced to the two concrete blocks placed in front of the door for steps.

As she banged on the door, she yelled, "Pete."

After what seemed an eternity of waiting, she realized he either wasn't there, or he simply chose not to answer.

Her clothes stuck to her and she was shivering by the time she reached the side window. Thankfully, it wasn’t locked.

She crawled through and located a light switch, flicking it several times before it occurred to her that the electricity had probably been disconnected until the next hunting season. If she thought the darkness heavy before, it was doubly so inside the shack. She must have a case of the jitters, she thought, for the drenching would normally have only brought relief from the ninety-something summer heat. Instead she was shaking like a leaf.

Walking in the direction of the kitchen, she stumbled over a bundle and screamed as she landed hard on her hands and knees. The same thing happened last night at the warehouse when she tripped over Pete.

Joani made a frantic search and discovered the object this time wasn't a body, but some sort of duffel bag. Aided by the now less frequent, more distant flashes of lightning, she fumbled her way into the kitchen and opened nearly every cabinet drawer before finding a box of utility candles.

"Now what?" She swiped at the trail of water dripping down her face and tried a few more drawers before she turned up matches. The first one went out before she could ignite the candle. Her hands still shook, but she managed to keep the second match going until the wick caught. She melted a few drops of wax in a saucer and wedged the candle’s bottom in place.

Joani smiled. Comparing the candlelight to a sunbeam in a dark cave, she slumped into one of the ladder-back chairs and whispered a silent thanks to the Man Upstairs.

Now that she had shelter, the low rumble of thunder that indicated the storm had moved on to plague another area was a minor comfort considering she was still soaking wet, hungry too since she’d spent the lunch hour searching for Emelio’s money..

Not one to wallow in her misery for long, Joani decided to concentrate on her reason for being here. She hoped it would only be a matter of time until David figured out where she'd gone.

"He’ll come for me," she assured herself. It’d take him another hour, maybe two, to check at her apartment and phone her parents before he’d become too worried. And if he didn’t come, after all, she’d just have to spend the night and walk back to the main highway in the morning.

In the meantime, she had come to find Pete and get some answers. Pete wasn't here, so what now?

She looked around and saw the duffel bag she'd tripped over. Ignoring the squishy sound her sneakers made on the wood floor, she gripped the strap on the heavy canvas bag and slid it into the kitchen beside her chair.

She thought about the hit and run, and wondered if Pete had been the one driving the car. Maybe she was overreacting. Perhaps it had been an accident. Pete had no reason to hurt her, did he? Joani didn't believe the cartel was that anxious to get rid of her—at least not until she found their money. Besides, if the driver wanted her dead, he would have stuck around to complete the job.

Her hand froze on the wide zipper of the duffel bag when a beam of light flickered across the front window. It had been too restricted to be lightning and, it was too soon for David to arrive, she thought.

A wave of panic surged through her veins when she heard the low rumble of an engine. Maybe the driver decided to come back and finish her off after all.

She jumped up and grabbed a butcher knife from the block holder on the counter.

"No, I can't." The thought of sticking the long blade into flesh and bone made her cringe. She dropped the knife and dumped the others from the block. She picked up and weighed the wooden object in her hand.

Maybe, just maybe, if she used enough force, it was heavy enough to knock someone out. A car door slammed and she blew out the candle and waited.

Joani tried to ignore the thump-thump-thump of her heart that seemed loud enough for the intruder to hear when the doorknob twisted and rattled. In a few moments, he gave up. She held her breath and waited for the sound of the car starting up. When it didn't come, she released her breath, then gasped in gulps of air. She feared she'd hyperventilate if she didn't calm down. She forced slow, even breaths and strained to listen. Nothing.

No screeching crickets, or croaking frogs, normal sounds after a summer rain. Maybe the surging swish of blood inside her ears drowned out the ordinary noises. He was still out there. The car's engine noise would be too loud to miss.

When a shadow fell across the window she'd entered earlier, Joani jumped. She pressed her free hand over her fluttering heart, and quietly flattened her body against the wall. As the window crept up by increments, so did Joani's arm holding the weapon.

The figure swooped through the opening so quickly, her mediocre weapon only grazed the intruder's right shoulder. Joani recognized the cursing voice, dropped her weapon, and dove on top his prone body.

"Da-Da-David!" From fear or the penetrating dampness of her garments, Joani's teeth chattered.

"Joani," David said in an even voice, "I want you to get off me real slow and easy."

He maintained a rigid posture that annoyed her, until she became aware something cold and hard pressed against her stomach. "Y-You w-were going to shoot me?"

"Joani, we'll discuss this later. Are you here alone?" David sounded testy and not at all glad to see her.

"Y-yes."

"Okay. Now listen to me. The bullet is in the chamber and my finger is on the trigger. Just don't make any sudden moves, okay? Place your hands on the floor on each side of me and raise up slow and careful."

Joani did as she was told. As soon as her stomach cleared the handgun, David released the clip, disengaged the bullet in the chamber and laid it on the floor beside him. Then he hugged her so tight the air swished out of her lungs. She hugged him back with equal fervor.

"Jesus, Joani. I could have killed you."

"I-I know. I c-could have killed you, too." She kissed the shoulder she'd bruised with the knife block. She thought he mumbled a grumpy expletive before he pushed her away.

"Good God, you're soaking wet." He rolled her over and stood. Pulling her up in front of him, he began unbuttoning her blouse.

She slapped his hands away. "R-Really, David. I'm not in the mood for that now."

"Me either," he grumbled. "Right now I'd rather spank you than make love to you. Get out of those wet clothes. There must be something dry around here you can put on."

Joani wasn't in the least worried David would strike her. And she was too relieved to see him to argue. She just wished he'd be a little less cranky. "There are blankets on the cots over there."

"Where? I can't see a damned thing in the dark."

Joani lit the candle again and pointed toward the other side of the room. While David retrieved one of the blankets, she stripped off her jeans and T-shirt.

He didn't comment on her decision not to remove her underwear when he draped the blanket around her shoulders. Instead he pulled her into his arms and hugged her again. "You gave me quite a scare, lady."

"I didn't mean to hurt you."

David scoffed, and rolled his eyes. "What did you hit me with anyway, a fly swatter?" He found the piece of wood lying in the middle of the floor and picked it up.

"It's a knife block."

"Next time you want to defend yourself, Joani, use one of the damned knives," he scolded.

"But, I . . . er, well, all’s well that ends well, right?" she grinned tentatively, not wanting to get into a discussion about her squeamish nature.

"No, that's not right." David shook his index finger in her face.

She giggled, more amused than frightened by his gesture, which didn't do anything to assuage his temper.

"What caused you to come up here by yourself? And how the hell did your car wind up in the ditch with a huge dent in the left rear fender? Don't tell me you damaged it when you slid into that ditch either, because the dent's on the wrong—"

"A car ran into me," she said real fast, meaning to slip the words into the midst of his tirade so he wouldn't notice how unsteady her voice was.

"And they didn't stop to see if you were all right?" he bellowed. "Did you see the other driver? What kind of car was it?"

"David, David," she said, shaking her head. She stood and wrapped her arms around his neck, letting the blanket drift onto the chair behind her. "I'm okay. I-I just want you to hold me for a few minutes."

David gradually settled his arms around her. She could feel the tension easing out of his body. He pressed closer, sharing his strength, his warmth.

"Christ, Joani, you gave me quiet a scare." The repeated statement was a soft whisper against her ear.

"I know. I'm sorry."

He patted her back. "Let's see if there's something around here you can wear besides a blanket, and I'll take you home." He tucked the blanket around her again and stepped back. His foot caught on the canvas strap.

"What's this?" He toed the duffel bag.

"I don't know. I was about to look through it when I heard your car outside. Maybe it belongs to Pete."

David unzipped and dug into the bag. "This should cover you okay." He held up an extra-large T-shirt with "Fighting Gators" displayed across the front. She put it on while David looked through the rest of the items in the bag. The clean shirt reached almost to her knees.

"What are those?" she asked, pointing at two notebooks he removed from the bag.

"This one," he said, flipping the pages open on the small one, "is a passport belonging to Peter Crandall Grayson. And this . . ." He turned the other over in his hand and gave Joani a puzzled look, "is an appointment book." He looked inside and mumbled something Joani couldn't hear.

"What?"

"Isn't this yours?"

"It can't be. I left mine at my apartment . . ." Her voice trailed off when he lifted the appointment book so she could see the initials in the lower left hand corner.

"Then how did it get here, Joani?"

"I-I don't know. I must have left it somewhere and Pete meant to return it. He probably thought I'd need it. That must be why he wanted to see me last night." She laughed. She hoped David didn't notice how edgy she sounded.

"Then why not just say so when he called you?"

"How should I know?" she snapped. Joani didn't trust herself not to blurt out the whole story about Emilio's threats.

If the appointment book at her apartment wasn't hers, it had to belong to Miguel. It would have been easy to mistake the one she found under the couch the morning after his murder for hers. They were identical except for the initials. She'd been in too much of a hurry that morning to notice. Miguel's appointment book might be a good place to look for clues to where he'd hidden the money. She didn't know why she hadn't thought to look for it sooner.

She softened her voice. "Look, could you drop me by my apartment? I'm really beat and I still have to arrange for a wrecker to pick up my car."

"Sure." David stuffed the things back into the duffel bag and stood. They didn't speak again until they were on the main highway headed back toward Orlando. Typical of Florida thunderstorms, the rain had now gone away as quickly as it’d begun. The late afternoon sun came out and cast the clouds into lovely pink and purple outlines against the cerulean blue sky.

"David?" Joani asked, unable to bear the silence any longer. "How did you find out so soon I'd gone up to the camp?"

He didn't answer, but his jaw tightened and his eyes became evasive.

"You didn't know I was there, did you? We were supposed to go up together."

"Yes we were, weren't we?" he said with sarcasm.

Touché, Joani thought. "How did you know how to find the place?"

She'd about given up on him answering when he said, "Maria gave me directions."

"You went to see Maria this afternoon?"

"Yes."

"I see," she said coolly, piqued that he offered no further explanation.

They lapsed back into another silence that lasted until David pulled his Blazer into the driveway of her apartment building.

"There's no need for you to come in. I'm sure you have more pressing things to do." Joani couldn't help the bitterness that crept into her voice. She resented the fact he'd not mentioned one of the few stops he needed to make that afternoon included a visit with Maria.

"We both know I'm not going to leave you alone, Joani. So you might as well get used to it."

Joani wished she could wave her hand in the air and magically wipe away the cocky half grin that tilted the corners of his lips. He knew she was jealous and didn't hide his knowledge from her. "Suit yourself." She slid out of the car without waiting for him.

He caught up with her at the front door. "Let me." He took the keys out of her hand and inserted them into the lock. Instead of stepping back and allowing her to enter, he pushed the door open and ordered as he walked inside, "Wait here."

She tapped one foot on the brick steps and simmered until he returned, signaling her to enter. Thankfully, the cleaning people and been by and the place looked normal once again. "Really, David. You've been living a cloak-and-dagger life too long."

"Could be." He swung the door closed behind her and spun her around into his arms. "Want some help with your bath."

Tempted, but still peeved at him, Joani twisted out of his arms. "No thanks. I know the kind of help you have in mind."

"You didn't object this morning." When she gave him a withering glare, he spun her toward the bathroom and smacked her lightly on the bottom. "I can take a hint. While you get cleaned up, I'll call the tow truck and make a few other calls."

"To Maria?" Joani mumbled thinking he couldn't hear her. He twirled her around and against his hard chest so fast her lungs expelled air sharply into his face. His lips covered hers in a ruthless kiss that made her dizzy. Within moments, his mouth turned pliant and gentle. He staked a claim with his tongue to the inside of her mouth and ravaged a slow path around one row of teeth to the other, stroking the lining of her lips and tongue in between. When he leaned away, her eyes remained closed, but she followed his lips with hers.

He said in a quiet cowboy-like drawl, "I don't trifle with my woman's affections. You remember that, okay?"

"Okay," she agreed, in a breathless voice Marilyn Monroe would die for, if the famous movie actress weren't already dead. It was difficult to stay angry when her body felt boneless, so she smiled at David.

"Go on, a good soaking will make you feel better."

Her hand rested on his chest and she felt the heavy thudding of his heart. Satisfied she wasn't the only one affected by the kiss, she obeyed when he turned her once again and gave her another carefree smack on the bottom.

On her way into the bathroom, she paused and gave him a sexy smile over her shoulder. "When you finish your calls, I don't suppose I'd mind a little help."

His wonderful, deep laughter reached her from the living room until drowned out by the noise of the warm shower beating down over her head.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

David pulled back the shower curtain and watched the shampoo cascade off Joani's hair and run down her back. She looked like a beautiful water nymph. God, he'd give anything if he didn't have to tell her about the phone call he'd just received from her father. He'd like nothing better than to step into the shower and ravage that sweet body of hers.

He'd known something was wrong when, instead of being upset by David's presence in Joani's apartment, Conner Brenningan sounded relieved.

"Joani?"

She turned around and rubbed the water out of her eyes. She smiled and held her hand out to him, then she looked down at his clothes. "Take ‘em off, cowboy, and join me."

"Get out of the shower, honey. We have to talk."

She gave David a puzzled look, but shut off the tap and stepped into the towel he held open for her. She didn't say anything while he rubbed her skin dry, then wrapped another towel around her wet hair and began rubbing it dry as well.

"You're still angry with me, aren't you?"

"What?"

"About going up to the camp alone. I know I worried you David, but I don't need a lecture—"

"I think you know how I feel about you traipsing off like Goldilocks, forgetting there are bears in the woods, so there's no point in rehashing it again."

"Okay, but you don't have to keep punishing me with your silent treatment."

"You think that's what I'm doing?" He threw the towel he'd been drying her hair with over the bar, put his arms around her waist and kissed her on the nose. "I guess you've forgotten how quiet I get when I've got something on my mind."

"I didn't forget," she said and slid her arms around his neck, letting the large bath towel fall.

He frowned and stepped back. He picked up the towel and put it back around her, tucking the corner in above her breasts. She gave him a puzzled, sort of hurt look. She'd understand as soon as he explained about the call from her father.

"Get dressed, Joani. We have to drive out to your father and Marleen's house."

She crossed her arms and glared at him. "You're not going to palm me off on my folks because you're worried I might do something stupid like going back out to the camp, so forget it. Just go on home or wherever it is you want to go and I'll be fine. I've been taking care of myself for quite awhile now and I don't need—"

He swore. "Your father called a few minutes ago."

"I don't care if my father and you both think I need a keeper, and I'll tell him—"

"Jamie's missing." At the stunned look on her face, guilt overwhelmed David. He hadn't meant to blurt out the news about her younger brother like that, but she'd become exasperating at times lately. He didn't understand the change, but he couldn't deny it was preferable to her tractable nature that people tended to take advantage of in the past.

"My baby brother?" When he nodded she asked, "How long?"

"Your father said he wasn't on the bus when it was ready to leave from school, so Taylor got off to look for him. When he checked the building and the grounds and couldn't find Jamie, he called home. Marleen and Taylor drove around for a while looking for him before they called Conner. He called the police."

"Oh my God! He’s been missing for hours and no one notified me until now."

"Your father said he figured he’d find Jamie at one of his friends’ houses. He didn’t want to worry you for nothing."

"But it isn’t for nothing, is it?" Joani pressed her trembling fingers against her lips. She spun about and faced herself in the mirror. Her green eyes flickered from despair to anger. "How could they? I've got to get over there."

"They?"

She hastily ran a brush through her wet hair. "Jamie wouldn't just run away."

"Joani, don't jump to conclusions. He probably just played hooky from class and forgot the time."

"But he would have called home."

"Maybe he's scared of the trouble he'll get into."

She shook her head and her voice hitched. "Never. Marleen sounds tougher than she really is, and the boys know it. She's never meted out a harsh punishment."

He took the brush from her, placed it on the vanity and put his arms around her, not knowing what else to say or do to ease her worry. She buried her face against his shoulder and sobbed softly. He stroked her wet curls and whispered, "Don't worry, baby, we'll find him."

She pulled back and swiped at her eyes. David snatched some tissues from the box on the counter and handed them to her. After blowing her nose and dabbing her tears away, she asked, "Would you wait in the living room while I get dressed? My family will need me."

David started to insist on staying with her, but thought it must be a woman thing, her wanting to be left alone to pull herself together. He brushed her lips with his. "Sure, honey, if you need me, just yell."

* * *

As soon as David walked out, Joani rushed into her adjoining bedroom through the other door. She found Miguel's appointment book on the night table right where she'd left it. Sitting on the side of her bed, she flipped through the pages frantically looking for a clue. Her brother’s very life could depend on whether or not she found the missing money.

Names, dates, and phone numbers were all she saw. If the lead to where the money could be found was there, it was in some sort of code, because nothing looked out of the ordinary.

She skimmed the list of phone numbers written in the back of the book and found Uncle Emilio's. Using the extension beside her bed, she dialed his number in the Bahamas.

Joani didn't even apologize for waking him up. "Where is my brother?"

"What? Joani, is that you?"

"You promised to give me a week, you bastard." Joani's voice trembled. "He's just a child, for God's sake. He's probably scared to death. I'm trying my best to find your damned money. You don't need to take it out on an innocent child."

"Joani, calm down. I assure you I don't know what you're speaking of. What child?"

"My brother, you s.o.b," she cried, then slammed the phone down on the cradle three times in frustration. She fell back across the bed, buried her face into her pillow and cried until David tapped on her door.

"You okay, honey?"

She sniffed a few times then sat up and wiped her eyes with the back of her hands. Taking a steadying breath she said, "Be out in a jiffy, I'm almost ready."

She shoved the appointment book into a tote along with a change of clothes, then quickly dressed in a pair of blue jeans and a lightweight summer blouse.

* * *

"I'll bet Jamie will be home, safe and sound by the time we get there." David prayed he was right as he whipped the truck into the northbound lane of I-4.

The brave, tremulous smile Joani gave him wrenched at his heart. He'd never been one to offer false hope, and he felt guilty for having done so at least twice since they learned her brother was missing. He realized his motives were selfish. He couldn't stand to see her hurting. After that he simply wrapped his right hand around hers and squeezed it every so often, offering the only honest act of comfort he could give and keep his mind on the road at the same time.

When they arrived at Conner and Marleen's, Joani sailed into the house past the friends and neighbors—mostly women, the men were out searching. They found Marleen on the back porch rocking her other son, Taylor. The sleeping boy was much too big to be held on his mother's lap.

Joani gave Marleen a fierce hug, pulling back when Taylor gave a grumpy protest for being squashed between them and woke from a sound sleep.

"Have you heard anything yet?"

Tears filled Marleen's eyes and she shook her head sadly. She blinked several times and cleared her throat. "Your father called the sheriff's department. He went with some deputies and a group of volunteers who’re searching several miles in each direction from the school. It's just that they have so . . . so little to go on."

Marleen's voice broke and they hugged each other once more for a long moment. This time Taylor wrapped his thin arms around his sister as well.

"Don't worry, Marleen. I'll get him back, one way or another," Joani promised. "No one gets away with hurting my family."

David barely caught her whispered words. Joani, he thought, was much too honest to give the sort of empty reassurances he'd been spouting earlier to her. Actually, what she'd said didn't sound all that assuring when he thought about it. She'd acted strangely from the moment he'd told her about her missing brother, making him wonder what was going on in that cute noggin of hers. He certainly intended to discuss her paranoid remarks later. Right now he felt he should do something to help find Jamie.

"We should organize a search along the river nearer the house. If Jamie were trying to find his way home, he might be somewhere close by." Marleen's expression brightened, but Joani seemed unimpressed. He wished he'd not made those empty promises earlier; then maybe she'd have more faith in his ability to help now.

"I think you should stay here. If someone calls. . ." Joani's voice trailed off when Marleen gasped. David knew the possibility of Jamie being kidnapped was brought home to her at that moment. Joani made an attempt to back-peddle. "Er, maybe you're right, David, it wouldn't hurt to take a look around. I'll get some flashlights."

"I think your father took them all with him," Marleen whispered forlornly.

"There's one in the glove compartment of my truck, Joani, and a county map. Bring it, too. I'll put Taylor to bed." David lifted the boy, who was again sound asleep. "Maybe you could fix me a thermos of coffee to take along, Marleen."

She smiled and kissed David on the cheek, as though grateful to him for giving her something to do.

David had Taylor tucked away in bed by the time Joani came back with the supplies. He spread the map out on the kitchen table. The curious neighborhood women gathered around to watch. They all acted relieved to have someone take charge.

"The school's over on Hyatt Street." A beefy woman pointed to a spot on the map.

"It's only three miles by highway. I jog it every morning," a physically-fit woman in leotards said proudly. David figured she must have come here straight from her workout at a gym.

"It couldn't be more than half that far on a direct route through the woods," another piped up.

"Then he would have been home by now," Marleen said softly.

"Not necessarily," David said. "The terrain would be much more difficult to traverse. And it's easy to get confused and walk in circles if you're lost."

"Jamie has a compass. Conner taught him how to use it on our camping trip." Marleen's voice broke.

"Maybe he didn't have it with him today." Joani patted her stepmother’s shoulder.

Marleen shook her head. "He’s so proud, ever since we came back from our trip, he’s carried it in his pocket. He likes showing it off to the other children."

"Then that's something in our favor. At least we don't have to worry about him going in the wrong direction."

Marleen's tentative smile was such a positive response it was contagious. Everyone else grinned at him as if he'd just announced the eleventh commandment . . . except Joani.

David frowned and folded the map. The women gathered around Marleen and began to chatter excitedly. Joani followed him out the back door.

She handed him a can of bug repellent. "Use it, or you'll be eaten alive by mosquitoes. She stepped back to avoid being hit in the face with the vapors. "This is very sweet of you, David, to give Marleen another ray of hope."

"Call your father, Joani, and tell him what I'm doing."

"Marleen will call him. I'm coming with you." She took the can and sprayed it on her hand, then dabbed it around David's face and neck.

"You believe I'm on a wild goose chase, don't you?"

"I don't know, David. Maybe."

"Then why bother to come along?"

"I know these woods like the back of my hand. And besides," she flicked the flashlight on, shooting the beam briefly over his face, "you don't have a compass."

* * *

Drifting clouds revealed the face of the moon ever so often, giving them additional illumination. They'd gone about a quarter of a mile when David spotted a shadow creeping stealthily along the bank of the river. There was always the danger of meeting poachers around the area. David hoped they weren't about to confront one who might shoot first and check his prey later. He stepped in front of Joani to give her a measure of protection.

"Eeyii," a young boy's voice cried out in alarm and the shadowed figure took off running.

"Jamie!" Joani screamed and nearly knocked David down to get past him.

Jamie ran to Joani, but instead of enveloping him in her arms, she shoved him behind her. "Where are the dirty scoundrels?"

"What?" David and Jamie chimed together.

She dropped to her knees and hugged Jamie. "If they hurt you, I'll . . ." her voice trailed off when David shined the light into her face.

"Are you okay, Jamie?" David asked.

"Did you see that gator? I almost tripped over him. He must have been twenty feet long."

"Where have you been?" Joani shook him then hugged him again.

"I got lost. Let go, you're squishing me," Jamie complained.

"Sorry." Joani stood and ruffled her brother's hair.

"Don't do that. You know I hate it."

"I know," she said and teasingly ruffled his dark curls again.

"Is Mom mad at me?"

"Your mother is very worried, Jamie," David said.

"Dad, too," Joani added. "He's got half the county out looking for you."

"Gosh, then I'm in a lot of trouble, huh?"

"Don't be silly," Joani admonished. "They'll be so glad to see you they won't even think about anything but how grateful they are that you're safe. It'll probably be left up to me to discipline you."

David passed the light briefly over Jamie’s face and noted the boy’s expression brightened at that bit of news.

"Oh, just look at your poor face," Joani fussed.

Jamie yelped and batted at the vapor of bug repellent Joani sprayed over him. "Geez, Sis. You gotta do that?"

"Yeah, I gotta do that. You look like you've got a bad case of the measles, your face is so blotched with bug bites.

"Oh shoot, I can take it." He looked back over his shoulder into the darkness. "Did you see that alligator? He must have been thirty feet long."

"Forget the alligator, Jamie. I want to hear how you wound up lost out here so late at night. You can talk while we head back," David said.

"Oh, well, it all started because I took Turtlehead to school for show and tell."

"Turtlehead?"

"That's what Taylor and I named our pet turtle. Turtle . . . head. Get it? Fits, don't it?"

"Very appropriate," Joani said, stepping past a palmetto frond David held out of her way. "But I've got a feeling you're avoiding the issue here.

"Oh, uh, well I have PE last period. We play softball on Fridays. If Tommy Smitz hadn't struck out, it never would have happened."

Joani groaned and took David's hand when they came to a dead log in their path. "Just get to the point, Jamie. We're almost home."

"I just put Turtlehead down for a minute when it was my turn at bat. I hit the ball way out in left field. Ran all the way to third base before Frankie Middleton could chase it down and throw it back to the infield," he said proudly. "Then Tommy Smitz got three balls and then struck out. By the time Jefferson Monroe came up to bat, I'd been standing on the plate so long that the end of period bell rang. About the same time, he knocked one over the fence driving me home."

"I do hope this story has a point other than to let us know about your prowess on the baseball field."

"Anyway," Jamie said, ignoring his sister's sarcasm, "Turtlehead must've got tired of waiting on me and decided to go for a walk. By the time I found him trying to worm his way through the chain link fence, and got back to the front of the school building, the bus had left. The woods to the back of the school reminded me of the camp we went to in North Carolina. Mom wouldn't let us out of her sight long enough to find out if we could do any of that survival stuff Dad was trying to teach us. I knew I could do it, Joani. I was almost home."

"Somehow I don't get the full picture of why you wound up in the woods."

"I think what Jamie thought was it'd be a test of his mettle to find his way home alone."

"See? David knows how it is."

Joani stopped short. "David! I can't believe you're condoning his actions."

"I didn't say I condoned what he did, but I do understand. Whether you believe it or not, I was a boy once myself."

Jamie giggled and Joani jerked on his hand sharply. "Don't you dare laugh, you little brat. What you did is unforgivable and dangerous. What if you’d fallen into a gopher hole and broken your leg? What if you’d been bitten by a rattlesnake? What if that alligator hadn’t slithered back into the river and had decided to chase after you instead? They eat small animals, you know."

"Joani's right, Jamie. I know you can take care of yourself in the woods under normal circumstances, but there are other predators to consider than the four-legged kind. There are a lot of bad people just waiting to catch a young fellow like yourself alone." David watched Joani glance around nervously.

"You mean me being lost and all?" Jamie said.

"Yeah, it's not a good idea to go off like that, when no one knows where you are."

"We were all so worried," Joani admitted and David felt her shudder.

He tightened his grip on her hand, and urged her to move on. The back yard’s floodlights were in sight and he wanted to get Jamie settled back with his family. Then he would take Joani home and grill her until she told him what had her so afraid. Even now after her brother was home safe, he could feel her wariness.

"I'm sorry," Jamie said meekly.

"Well . . ." Joani hesitated and David knew Jamie's trembling voice got to her, but he was proud of her when she refused to be manipulated. "Just use your head next time. You should have called your Mom to come pick you up, like Taylor did."

"Taylor?"

"Yes, he stayed to look for you and missed the bus, too. I honestly don't know why he didn't find you before you went traipsing off by yourself."

"Gosh, Taylor was worried about me," Jamie said as if in awe.

"Your whole family cares very much for you, Jamie. You have a lot to be thankful for," David said, feeling a bit envious.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Joani glared at David when he tossed his keys down on the kitchen counter with a clatter. Instead of taking Joani back to her apartment, he’d driven straight home. Distracted by thoughts of examining Miguel's appointment book some more, she ignored David’s sulky mood.

"You want the shower first?" he offered.

"I’m thirsty."

"Help yourself to whatever's in the fridge." He scowled. "I'm headed to wash off this bug spray."

She sat her tote bag on the breakfast bar beside the phone. When she heard the shower come on, she took the appointment book out and thumbed her way through it.

Dates and times for meetings were alongside the names of business associates, written with such legible neatness, Joani cringed. It reminded her of Miguel’s eccentricities for clean orderliness in all aspects of his life.

She turned the last page and sighed. Still, nothing struck her as out of the ordinary. If Miguel kept the secret of the money in his daily log, it was in code. It could take her days, weeks to figure it out. She needed more time.

Making sure she could still hear the shower going in the bathroom, she lifted the phone receiver and using her credit card to avoid a charge on David’s phone, she dialed Emilio’s number.

"Emilio? Yes, my brother is fine. No, no, he was lost in the woods . . . Yes, I know you said you had nothing to do with his disappearance, but you must realize how upset I was, and you did threaten my family."

Joani strained her other ear, but could no longer hear the shower. She eased her way to the hallway, grateful David owned a portable phone, and was rewarded by the sound of him humming behind the closed door. She relaxed and slowly walked back into the kitchen.

"Listen, Emilio, could you give me a little more time to . . . stop threatening my family," she shrieked. Glancing quickly over her shoulder, she again lowered her voice. "I think I can find your money, but a week just isn't enough time to go through all Miguel's records. No, of course, David doesn't know—"

Joani halted abruptly as she turned. David stood before her wearing a very dark expression and little else. Add war paint, she thought, and he'd look exactly like a medieval warrior ready for battle.

Scowling at her and wearing a white jockey shorts breechclout, he stood with his feet spread wide, his hands fisted against his hips, and his shoulders bunched as if preparing to attack. His jaw ticked. Under different circumstances Joani might have found that tiny movement fascinating.

"Er, I'll call you later," she said, and quickly severed the phone connection.

When David's expression didn't soften, she slumped onto a barstool and watched him warily. From his glowering expression, she didn't have to wonder just how much of the conversation he'd overheard. Threading her fingers through her thick hair, she smiled and hoped her uneasiness didn’t show.

She expected an outburst of major proportions; in fact, she'd much prefer that he rant and rave at her, because the calm deadliness in his voice seemed a much greater threat.

"Who were you talking to?"

Joani searched for a way to explain. Perhaps he'd not heard everything. Sticking to the truth as much as possible seemed a better alternative than lying outright. "Emilio wanted to know if Jamie was alright."

"Really?" David lifted a brow, looking skeptical. "How did he find out the boy was missing?"

She shrugged. "On the news, I guess."

She opened the refrigerator to get the drink she'd pretended to need earlier. Popping the top on a can of grape juice she found hiding behind a six-pack of diet colas, she chattered nervously, "I hope Marleen taped it, so she can show it to Jamie later. I don't think he realizes what a scare he gave us. Did you see the way his chest puffed up from all the attention? And Dad and Marleen were babying him like he'd just got home from a trip to Grandma's house. Jeez, I-"

David slapped the table, causing her to jump and spill a dollop of the purple juice on the floor. She snatched a paper towel off the roll on the counter nearby.

"Cut the crap, Joani. All evening you've been acting strange—for God's sake stop cleaning the floor and talk to me."

"It might leave a stain," Joani smiled up at him nervously.

David took her by the arms and lifted her to a standing position. "The floor's linoleum. It has suffered a lot worse spills for much longer. So stop the delaying tactics and out with it! Tell me what's going on. Are you in some kind of trouble?"

"Oh, David, I—I can't, they might hurt . . ." She clapped her hand over her mouth, aghast that she'd almost blurted out the truth.

"Hurt who, honey? You? Your family? Who are you trying to protect? I heard you mention a threat—" he stopped abruptly and stared at her. He narrowed his eyes. "It's not just your family you’re protecting, it’s me too, isn't it?"

His gray eyes turned smoky soft. He laughed and pulled her into his arms, hugging her tightly. "Good Lord, honey. This is a first. I don't believe anyone's ever tried to protect me before."

She slid her arms around his waist and hugged him back. "You understand, then, why I can't tell you?"

"Hell, no!" he bellowed, but his voice held no vehemence. He rocked her in his arms. "Since the treats involve me, I'd have to guess it has something to do with drugs and money."

She tensed in his arms, but didn't answer.

He sighed. "Maybe a little more specifically, a drug cartel’s money."

She gasped and stepped back. "How did you know?"

"Finally we're getting somewhere. I've been around the business a long time, honey. You've got to trust me to know how to handle this."

"Oh, David, I do trust you." She buried her face against his shoulder and slipped her arms back around his waist. "I don't want you to be hurt. I don't want anyone to be hurt. I just want to get their darn money back to them and get on with my life."

David was so moved by her desire to protect him, he felt a constricting sensation in his throat. He considered telling her about his investigation, but he figured the less said about it the better. Joani may trust him with her life, but she was a long way from trusting him with her heart. He was pretty sure she was in love with him, but not once had she said the words. If he told her now that he’d been on the drug case involving Miguel prior to his death, he knew she’d think he’d been using her all along. "Tell me what Emilio Garcia’s up to."

Joani told him about Emilio’s threats and the time limit he’d said the cartel placed on her for getting the money back. David said, "If the cartel was really involved, then nothing would stop them from taking care of business."

"Taking care of business?" She leaned away and gave him a perplexed frown.

"Joani, a cartel doesn't play around. Someone skims money from them, they kill him. End of story."

"Then they killed Miguel?"

"Maybe. But one bullet in the back isn't usually the style employed by people who want to send a message to warn others they’re not an easy mark."

"But Emilio said—"

"Emilio?" David snorted. "Emilio's nothing but a two-bit money man. The cartel members might deposit their money in his bank, but it's highly unlikely they'd go through him to recover their funds. Unless," he paused, "they suspected him of having something to do with them missing in the first place. And if they did, I imagine he'd be dead by now as well."

"I don't understand, David. What's going on?"

"I don't know. But I think we'd best put our heads together and find out. Is that Miguel's appointment book?" David nodded at the book lying open on the breakfast bar.

"Yes, but I’ve already looked through it. There's no reference to the money that I can see."

"Let's have a look. Maybe you're missing something."

Joani perched on the barstool and David slid his arms around her and rested his chin on top of her head. She liked the feel of his warm strength surrounding her.

Miguel used initials and abbreviations a lot. She turned the pages and put names to the ones she recognized. After they came to the point where there was nothing left in the daily log except blank pages, David reached over her shoulder and flipped to the back of the book. He stopped on the section reserved for special dates to remember during the year. He pointed at Joani's initials penciled in with BD beside.

"That's not your birthday," David said.

"Yeah, I know. But Miguel apparently thought it was. He sent me flowers that day and presented me with the keys to the Mercedes. He got angry when I tried to refuse the car, so I decided it wasn't worth arguing about. I'd already decided to leave him and I didn't want to make an issue of it. I thought I'd just leave the car parked at the estate after I moved into the apartment."

"What happened to change your mind?" David reached over her shoulders and began flipping through the appointment book again.

"Well . . ." Joani shifted and rubbed the side of her face against his arm.

This time that odd tightening in David’s throat was accompanied by a similar reaction in his lower extremities. He kissed the top of her head and resisted the urge to take her, right here, right now; on the barstool, on the table, on the floor. He mentally castigated himself for his base desires and concentrated instead on her words.

". . . don't see how he could have expected our marriage to last though, the way things were between us. I guess I was somewhat of a coward, so I didn't tell Miguel I was leaving. Sometimes there was no rhyme or reason for the way he would react to a particular situation and I just wasn’t up to a confrontation. Someone stole his Vet and he hardly blinked an eye, but one smudge left on his black marble coffee table and he'd have a hissy fit."

David’s hands stilled on the page.

Unsure what he was thinking or feeling, Joani said, "You sure you want to hear this?"

"I'm sure," he said, but he held her firm with his upper arms around her shoulders when she tried to turn. When she hesitated to continue, and he added with a hint of humor, "I promise not to have a hissy fit."

Joani could almost felt his arms relax against her, and he started turning pages again. She continued, "Actually, the rest wasn't so bad, not considering the way I'd dreaded facing him. And it wasn't as if I were afraid Miguel would physically abuse me, or anything."

"I'd have killed the bastard," David muttered.

Joani thought that a bit redundant, considering Miguel was already dead, but it was the thought that counted. She twisted around and kissed David on his tightly set jaw. "Thank you."

David lifted her chin with his index finger and planted a gentle kiss on her mouth. She responded eagerly as he awakened the flames within her. His erection bulged against her hip and she knew he was equally affected. When he finally pulled back, she rasped, "Want to finish this later?"

"No." He grinned; that mischievous, flirtatious grin Joani was long familiar with. "When I take you to bed, it could take all night and we have priorities at the moment."

"Oh, all right." His promise of later curbed her disappointment. "On with the story. The cab driver was putting my bags into a taxi when Miguel came tearing into the driveway. He blocked the taxi's path and ordered the driver to take the luggage back out of the trunk. I don't know how he found out I was leaving, because I hadn't told anyone, not even Dad and Marleen."

"You should have trusted your family. Or you could have called—"

"I didn’t want to involve anyone else. This was a problem I had to deal with on my own."

She decided to ignore David's snort of disapproval and picked up with her story where she’d left off. "Miguel jumped out of the car with a bouquet of roses in his hand. White, of course. The same as he’d given me on my birthday. He threw the roses down on the pavement and stalked toward us." Joani chuckled.

"What's so funny?" David flipped several pages as if he were preoccupied with the book.

"The look on the cab driver's face. I guess he thought he was about to be caught in a domestic quarrel. He tossed my bags into the yard and backed onto the lawn around Miguel’s limo without ever once looking back."

"Look at that!" Joani popped her hand onto the middle of the book, halting him from turning more pages.

"What?"

Joani quickly turned back several pages, searched for the item she was looking for, then started laughing. David's hands, now resting on her shoulders, tightened. He must think she'd lost her mind, but the irony of the information struck Joani as funny and she only laughed harder.

"You gonna let me in on the joke or not?"

She wiped the moisture from her eyes and wound down to a hiccupping, closed-mouth snicker. "Sorry. Ha-hummm," she stifled another outburst. "It just occurred to me that the roses Miguel brought weren't for me."

"You are going to tell me how you arrived at that deduction?" David asked dryly.

"This is the day I left. Right there, see that?" She pointed at a line on the daily log, then added, "Just below the meeting with EME, are the letters F/bd."

"Maybe you could be a little more specific."

"I picked June sixteenth to leave because Luisa had asked for the day off to take Francisca to the doctor for a checkup. Knowing now how Francisca felt about Miguel, she probably didn't tell him they wouldn't be there that morning."

"F\bd, Francisca's birthday. Hmmm. And from that you conclude the roses were for her?"

"Yes," Joani, said dryly. "But Francisca's birthday is May twenty-nine. I know because Luisa baked her a cake that day. It was Memorial Day and I was off from work. Miguel never took off, not even when his employees were on holiday."

"For such a meticulously efficient man, Miguel certainly had a difficult time keeping birthdays straight."

Joani snorted. "I'm sure Maria had something to do with that."

"Maria?"

"Sure. Don't you know a secretary’s responsibilities include reminding her boss of personal events as well as business? Order flowers, shop for presents, pick up the kid at the soccer game his father should have attended, schedule appointments to squeeze in the family when it's absolutely necessary, and call the wife and tell her he'll be working late when there's nothing to do."

"Somehow I get the impression you're speaking from experience."

"I am," Joani leaned forward and resumed turning pages.

"The government job?"

"Uh-huh."

"You got fired, I heard."

"Yeah, sort of."

"Sort of?"

"Well," she sighed and sat straight when David moved to occupy the stool beside her. "Congressman Franklin's wife told me she could keep my job for me if I wanted. But after what I did, I figured the Congressman might do something lethal to me."

David grinned. "What did you do?"

"I called his wife on Friday and told her that her husband had a special surprise for her and she should meet him at the Ship's Inn, room two-ten at seven sharp."

"You didn't."

"I did." Heat rose up Joani's cheeks. She'd never done anything so nervy before or since. She didn't feel particularly proud of what she'd done, but things hadn't worked out so badly for the Congressman's family, so she didn't dwell on it. Mrs. Franklin had thanked Joani. She claimed her husband hadn't become so attentive in years. Apparently she didn't mind the indiscretion as long as he promised not to repeat it.

Joani looked up when David pushed a strand of curls behind her ear and kissed her on the cheek. "You've become quite a woman, Joani Brenningan."

His gray eyes darkened and she recognized the look. It was the same one she'd seen every time they'd made love. His lips descended on hers and she let the book close with a slap. This time when he kissed her, Joani knew they wouldn't be doing any more research tonight.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Beneath lowered lashes, David watched Joani shift and glare at the digital clock beside his bed. "Where do you think you're going, sweet thang?" he drawled lazily and wrapped his arm around her, hauling her back to his side. It wasn't quite daylight yet.

Joani nuzzled his neck, kissed his chin, and laughed when his hand wandered from her hip and gently tweaked her buttocks. He pressed her forward, making her aware of his aroused condition. "You're an insatiable, dirty old man."

"Insatiable for you, honey." He rolled onto his back, bringing her with him. The musky scent of a long night of sex clung to the sheets, giving proof of his statement. David lost track of how many times they'd made love. A couple of weeks ago, he wouldn't have given a plug nickel for his prowess in bed. He wondered if Joani had any idea what an aphrodisiac she was for him.

Remembering that her insatiable appetites had matched his own during the night, David gloated with male pride, knowing he’d been the cause. His shoulder muscles bunched with pleasure beneath her palms. The soft feel of her body as she slid up to reach his lips made his flesh prickle with renewed desire. While they shared a languid morning kiss the alarm went off.

"Christ!" David yelped when Joani dug her elbow into his side in her hurry to shut off the piercing noise.

"I have to leave early this morning," she said apologetically. "I want to go by the estate and speak to Luisa and Ramon about finding other positions. There’s no point in keeping the estate open since I don't intend to ever live there again."

"Honey, it's only six. Can't it wait until later?"

"You forget, David. I'm a working girl."

"Work? You said you were through with Watson Enterprises."

"Yes, but I have other responsibilities now. There's Estivez Trading to run."

"But I thought Maria was going to take over for you."

Joani shot off the side of the bed. David realized his blunder and grinned tentatively, hoping she wouldn't be too angry with him.

"You conniving male chauvinist!"

Angry she definitely was, he decided. She stood with her fists balled against her naked waist and her feet spread as if ready to do battle. She looked like a beautiful war goddess. "Look, honey—"

"Don't 'look honey' me, you—you macho-brained, sex-crazed... oooohh." Her voice broke and she spun around, plopping down onto the side of the bed. Burying her face in her hands, she said, "Oh David, how could you?"

David felt like the heel of the century. He moved behind her and rubbed her shoulders. "Honey, listen . . ."

She scooted away from him and he slid out from under the sheets to sit beside her.

"I guess I messed up, huh?"

"You asked Maria to come back, didn't you? You didn't even trust me to be capable of handling the business on my own."

"No. No, honey. It wasn't that at all. Actually, I sort of felt sorry for Maria."

"Maria?" She lifted her face and stared at him with shimmering green eyes. David swallowed. One thing about Joani, she was always willing to give people a second chance. He hoped he didn't screw up this one.

"Did you know Maria thought Miguel would leave the business to her?"

"Well," Joani sniffed. "I guess I can understand that; she worked for him for a long time."

"Leave it to you to make excuses for others," David mumbled.

"What?"

"Nothing. Uh, it was a little more than the length of time she'd been with Miguel. It seems she's the one that managed to get financing for him to start the business." No need to go into the gory details, he thought.

"Then she should have demanded a fair share of the business to start with."

"You're a lot smarter than Maria, Joani."

"You really think so?" She blinked several times.

He silently cursed. He didn't know if she was near tears because of his interfering stupidity or his praise. "Smarter than I am, too?" He hadn't meant to admit that aloud.

"Now you're making fun of me." She turned away and straightened her shoulders. Her pert nipples thrust out before her and caused a twitch in David's lower region. He shifted his gaze to the glowing numbers on the clock.

"Joani, I've never made fun of you. You know that."

She sighed and David allowed himself the brief treat of watching her breasts heave up and down. Tempted to touch them, he instead went to the bureau, took out a pair of jeans and slipped them on. Joani wrapped the top sheet around her naked body. David began picking up her clothes they'd tossed carelessly across the floor last night in their haste to make love.

"I'll do that." She snatched the panties he held from his hands, dropping the sheet when she stood.

"I take it back, maybe you’re not as smart as me," he chuckled.

When she swatted at him, he gripped her by the arms and kissed her, slipping his tongue between her teeth when she gasped. A cocky male satisfaction overcame him when her arms crept around his neck and she kissed him back.

"Don't do that. You know I want to be angry with you," she said, with little conviction in her voice, when the kiss ended.

"I know."

He kissed her again.

* * *

When they arrived at the estate the gate stood open. The white Limo sat in the driveway instead of the garage where Miguel insisted it should be kept when not in service. Already the help had become lax in their duties, Joani decided.

"Looks like you won't have to talk to Luisa and Francisca about finding another job," David said, when they found no one inside the house.

"Maybe they're down at the guest house." Joani slid open the sliding glass doors and cautiously circled the patio area without looking at the pool. David knew she was thinking of the night Miguel was murdered. "Oh look, David. The windstorm last night must have blown the tarp off the pontoon. I'd better go put it back on."

"I'll do it. You go ahead and check out the guest house."

David walked to the end of the dock where the pontoon was moored, gripped the edge of the tarp where it lapped over the back half of the top. He began working his way, dragging it back toward the front of the boat. When he reached a point where he could see inside, a figure bolted out, nearly knocking him off his feet.

He chased the man and tackled him to the ground as he jumped off the dock. When the man went limp beneath him, David turned him over. "Well, well, just what the hell are you up to, Grayson?"

"I-I came to see Mrs. Estivez," Pete panted.

"Yeah, did you plan on giving her the kind of greeting you did yesterday out on that deserted road?"

Grayson's brows furrowed. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Let me refresh your memory," David lifted Pete Grayson to his feet and socked him in the jaw, sending him sprawling onto his backside again.

"Holy Toledo, man! Are you crazy?"

"Crazy as a bed bug." David grabbed Grayson's shirtfront with both hands.

"David, stop it!" Joani came running down the slope toward them.

"Saved by the bell," David muttered, and shoved Grayson back down.

"Good Lord, David, Pete just got out of the hospital with a concussion. You could do him serious harm by knocking him around like that."

"Hell, Joani! The man could have killed you when he ran you off the road, and you're worried he'll have a relapse?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Well, of course you don't, Pete," Joani said. "It was a woman driving the car."

"What? I thought you said you didn't know who was in the other car." It was difficult for David to keep a calm voice. Maybe he was going crazy as a bed bug, and Joani was driving him there.

"Well, I didn't then, but after thinking it over, I realized it must have been a woman. At least the silhouette on the driver window had long hair. Come on, Pete, I'll help you to the house."

"Here, I'll do it," David grumped.

"Be careful, David," Joani admonished when he pulled Pete roughly to his feet and shoved a supporting arm around him.

David decided it was time to put a stop to Joani's pampering Pete after she set a cup of instant coffee before him and went to the sink to wet a towel for his swollen jaw.

"Fix me a cup of that coffee, Joani. I'll get some ice." David expected Joani to object, but she simply gave him a puzzled look when he took the cloth from her.

Pete wasn't as forgiving. He glowered at David when he slapped a dishcloth-covered ice pack against the warehouse foreman's face.

"I know you were up at the camp yesterday, Grayson. How did you wind up in Estivez's pontoon?"

Instead of answering David, Pete turned to Joani and said, "I didn't know it was you who came up to the camp, or I would have waited. I thought you drove a white Mercedes."

"She does." David earned a glare from Joani for speaking on her behalf. "What kind of car did you see?" He hoped he'd get a line on the bastard, or bitch, whichever the case may be, who had caused Joani to wreck.

"I don't know." Pete rested his arm on the table and pressed his jaw against the cold cloth.

"What the hell do you mean, you don't know? You just said the car you saw wasn't a white Mercedes."

"I meant," Pete clenched his teeth, "I spotted the car coming when it rounded a clearing in the road several hundred feet away. I only got a brief glimpse of it before it disappeared behind the scrub again, and it was too far away for me to see anything except that the vehicle was a dark color."

Silence prevailed while David mulled the information over. Then a chunk of ice fell out of the dishcloth and landed on the table with a loud clunk.

"Here, Pete, let me rewrap that for you," Joani said sympathetically, renewing David's resentment for the man.

"What the hell were you doing up at the camp in the first place? Who are you hiding from?" David asked.

"I don't know."

"Damn." David lunged across the table and gripped Pete by the collar.

"David!" Joani screeched and tugged uselessly at David's fingers.

"Sit down, Joani," he cautioned. "I've heard just about all the runaround from Pete Grayson I intend to. I want some straight answers about what's going on and I want them now."

He gave Grayson a little shake for emphasis.

"I-I told you the truth. I don't know anything. I just got scared after I found the money."

"Come on, David, give him a chance to explain," Joani said. He slowly released his hold on Pete and eased back into his chair.

David shot Joani a cursory glance to make sure she was okay. Then, he refrained from winking at her when she gave him a guileful looking smile. Obviously, Joani wasn't nearly as weak-stomached as he’d expected. He realized she was playing good cop and it took all he could do to keep a straight face.

As gruffly as he could manage, he demanded, "Let's hear it all, Grayson."

"I went to the warehouse after the funeral to make sure the next day’s scheduled shipments were ready to go out. When I got there, I found a computer carton lying open in the storeroom and money spilling out of it. A lot of money. I-I served three years in the State pen for a minor drug offense. I knew if I were caught anywhere near dirty drug money, I'd be in a shitload of trouble. Mrs. Estivez was the only person I knew I could trust, so I called her. Then someone whacked me over the head and that’s the last thing I remember until you found me."

"Why didn't you tell us about this money then? Did you think you could steal drug money and get away with it?"

Pete jumped to his feet, toppling the chair he sat in. "Christ, Devereau, you're a damned pain in the ass."

"So I've been told," David said dryly.

"I'm not a thief," Pete protested.

"Come on, Pete," Joani soothed. "David didn't accuse you of taking the money."

Pete flashed Joani an appreciative look and she skillfully added, "I'm sure you had a very good reason for not telling us about the money that night."

David righted Pete’s chair and he hesitantly settled back into it. "I didn't know who the hell Devereau was then, and I still don't who the hell he is."

David dug out his badge and ID from his hip pocket and flipped them open. "Special Agent for the DEA."

"Christ almighty!" Pete hung his head, and for the first time, David felt sympathy for the man.

"Look, Grayson. There's no evidence that you knew anything about the money. Right now we don't even have proof that the money is dirty, although it's hardly likely anyone would ship legit funds that way. The point is, if you turn the money over now and tell us whose name was on the bill of lading, the bureau won't have any reason to charge you with anything. Hell, you might even get a commendation for bringing this case to a speedy close."

Pete snorted and Joani reached over and patted his hand. "Agent Devereau does have a tendency toward melodrama, but in the long run, he's right. You have to tell us what you know."

"I don't know who the shipment was from."

This time David snorted. It earned him a warning glance from Joani that indicated she thought it was time to quit playing hardball.

"But you took the money from a shipping carton," Joani coaxed.

"Yeah, but whoever was in the warehouse before me tore off the mailing label. That's why I went up to the office to get the bills of lading, so I could inventory the next day's shipments. I figured I might be able to find out who the box belonged to."

"And Joani’s appointment book?" David asked.

"Huh?" Grayson appeared puzzled.

"We found it in the duffle bag at the camp, Pete," Joani said. "Where did you get it?"

"Oh, I thought that belonged to Mr. Estivez. It looked just like the one he wrote in all the time. I found it in the carton with the money. I put everything inside a mail bag and hid it in the men’s room, then called you. That’s when someone knocked me out."

Joani grinned triumphantly at David and this time he did wink to let her know he approved of the good-cop approach she'd taken to get at the truth. He'd been so impressed with her, he'd nearly forgotten about the money.

"You signed out of the hospital the next morning so you could go by the warehouse before anyone arrived and pick up the money. Where is it, Pete?" Joani asked softly.

"In the boat."

* * *

The men walked down to the dock while Joani cleaned up the cups. A moment later, she walked outside to follow them. Her mouth dropped open when she came face to face with a swimsuit-clad couple walking arm-in-arm toward the pool.

Francisca wore a hot pink bikini that looked suspiciously similar to one that belonged to Joani. The young woman's guilt showed on her face when she jumped back and covered her cleavage with both hands.

"Señora Estivez! We weren't expecting you." Francisca's embarrassment only lasted for a moment. She straightened and her piercing dark eyes took aim on Joani with an unmistakable fierceness. The girl hated her and obviously wanted Joani to know it.

"I-I, er," Ramon stuttered until Francisca turned her fierce glare on him. "Francisca and I didn't think you'd mind if we took a little swim. We called your apartment to see if there were any special chores you needed done. With no one staying here, there's very little to do, anyway."

Joani couldn't tell if Ramon's words were meant to be critical of her lack of supervision or a slur on her sleeping arrangements. People in glass houses, she thought. If she weren't mistaken about the lovey-dovey way he and Francisca had been cuddling up to each other before, she didn't think he had much right to cast stones about the latter.

She ignored both their comments. "Where is your mother, Francisca?"

The girl defiantly dropped the towel she held onto a patio chair and walked onto the diving board before she answered. "She is ill."

"Again? Has she seen a doctor?"

Ramon looked nervously from Francisca to Joani. When Francisca began bouncing up and down on the diving board and it appeared she wasn't going to answer, he said, Si, Señora. I took Señora Sanchez to see Dr. Freemont yesterday."

In Joani's concern for Luisa, she ignored Francisca’s inappropriate conduct. "Is she all right?"

"Si, si." Ramon was distracted by Francisca's perfect swan dive into the pool.

David and Pete walked back just in time to watch, and Joani was just a little chagrined that they weren't any more immune to young girl’s antics than Ramon. Joani had never learned to master anything so graceful. For some reason, she'd never been able to penetrate the water more than a foot before she popped back to the surface.

Miguel lost patience with trying to teach her while they were in Cancun. He called her an awkward, ugly blowfish, and accused her of sucking in too much air before she jumped. The dead man’s float was the only water gambit she'd learned to do properly, and she doubted anyone would be impressed by that.

"Ramon, about Luisa?" she prodded.

"Er, si, Señora, she just a little tired from too much vino blanco."

"I beg your pardon?" Joani shot David and Pete a puzzled glance when they both laughed.

"Wine, Joani. White wine, to be precise," David said.

"My mother is not ebrio, she not drink much," Francisca said. Her young body had a sleek dark sheen that seemed to hold the men enthralled as she slowly stepped from the shallow end of the pool.

Joani would liked to have said something cutting to Francisca, but she liked Luisa too much. "Of course not. Many times Luisa and I shared a glass of Chablis before dinner, but I've never known her to drink more than one or two."

David scowled. "Did you both share the same bottle of wine the night of the party?"

"I'm not sure," Joani said. "I didn't get a chance to visit with Luisa before the other guests arrived, but she did bring me Chablis for dinner, instead of that god awful dry stuff that Miguel insisted she serve."

David looked thoughtful for a long moment. "If you don't want to be late for work, Joani, we'd better go."

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

"What will happen to him?" Joani asked, after they left Pete in the custody of another agent at the Federal Building and drove out of the parking lot.

"I'll go back after I drop you off and take his statement, talk to my superior, and then we'll probably send him on his way. I told them he turned the money in voluntarily."

"Thank you," she said.

David’s mouth curled wryly. "I'm not a complete ass, Joani. If he found the money like he said, Grayson hasn't done anything illegal." Without giving her a chance to reply, he asked, "What are your plans for today?"

She hesitated, knowing Maria would be at the warehouse when she got there. "I guess I'll just get a feel for the business. You know, kind of like job shadowing."

"You're not still mad at me for asking Maria—"

"I'm a grown woman, David," she cut him off. "I could have refused her offer to come back. There's no need for you to feel guilty for wanting to help me out."

"You're a marvel, Joani. You know that?" Instead of sounding complimentary, his words seemed almost sardonic. She wondered if she'd ever understand him.

"I’ve been thinking, David. Maybe Luisa and I drank some bad wine? That's why we became ill the night of the party."

He made a scoffing sound. "I don't think the wine was naturally tainted."

"Because of the traces of sedatives the police found in the water glass?" When David didn't reply, Joani added, "If the wine was doctored, it would mean someone at the party dosed it." She didn’t want to think anyone she knew hated her that much. "You know, Luisa often drank wine out of a water glass, said she didn't feel right about using the fine crystal. But who would do such a thing?"

David pulled into the alley beside the warehouse and turned off the ignition. He stared at her for a long moment then said, "The same person who killed Miguel."

"I know," she said softly, realizing what a stupid question it was to ask.

"I'll take a ride over to see Luisa. If we can find that wine bottle, we'll be able to prove you were drugged that night. It would show why you slept though the gunfire, especially if someone used a suppresser of some sort."

"I thought suppressers were illegal."

David chuckled, leaned forward and pecked Joani on the forehead. "So are drugs and murder."

He jumped out of the driver’s seat and rounded the vehicle to open her door. Joani felt like a twit. David must think her brain was a vacuum. Her father was a crime reporter, for gosh sake, and her stepmother had been a policewoman. Joani wasn't completely ignorant in the ways of the world, although, she had quit reading Conner Brenningan’s column years ago because it depressed her so. Because Marleen worked mostly undercover and her dad worried about her so much, she’d rarely discussed her job with Joani.

Joani resolved right then to start reading more contemporary novels, suspense thrillers. Regency romances didn't add much to her repertoire for modern day conversation. She wasn't living in the nineteenth century as much as she liked to dream about doing so. No wonder Laura had so easily talked her into marrying Miguel. If she'd been more of a nineties-type woman, she may have been able to see through his thin veneer of charm.

"You must think I'm awfully naive," she said as she slid out of the passenger seat to stand beside David.

"I think," David flicked the end of her nose, "you're awfully sweet." He slipped his arms around her waist and drew her close to him.

"David, someone might see us," Joani said in a breathless whisper, but she didn't move away. She reached up and brushed the hair off David's forehead, then leaned forward for another taste of his lips. They retained an enticing flavor of minty mouthwash and coffee. She jumped away from him when a male voice boomed out from the doorway behind her.

"Good morning, Joani, Mr. Devereau." Joe's gaze glanced off Joani and narrowed slightly when he looked at David.

"Morning, Joe." David's eyes glinted with mischief.

"How's it going this morning, Joe?" Joani asked.

"Great. Ms. Ramera has everything running smooth as clockwork. She already gave me a schedule on the shipments that go out today." Joe sounded somewhat surly, and he turned his attention to the clipboard in his hand as if she and David were taking up his valuable time, even though he'd been the one to go out of his way to come out and greet them.

He'd been much friendlier the day before, Joani thought. She remembered having a similar reaction the first time David brought Crystal to the annual Christmas party Marleen and her father gave. She'd been seventeen and so certain he'd been waiting for her to grow up—which probably spurred the desperation she'd felt the night of her prom.

"I've got to go, Joani. I'll see you later."

Joani watched David climb back into the Blazer, wishing he'd at least given her a parting peck on the cheek. She was the one, though, that had been worried about propriety in the workplace.

"Where is Maria?"

"Upstairs, taking care of a distraught customer," Joe answered briskly, as if Joani were slacking her duties.

Let him think she and David were late because they'd just come from a hot and heavy tryst. She didn't care. She walked to the driver's door and David rolled down the window. "I'll call you later," she said, and motioned for David to lean forward. She kissed him on the cheek. Then, ignoring his surprised expression and Joe's scowl of disapproval, she marched inside the warehouse.

When Joani stepped into the upstairs reception area, she heard voices coming from Miguel's office. It looked like Maria had staked her claim on the executive office already. Joani tapped lightly on the door and pushed it open. Two surprised faces looked at her from behind Miguel's computer. She wrinkled her nose at the bouquet of red roses adorning the desktop.

Maria sat in Miguel's high-backed chair with Paul Everly leaning intently over her right shoulder. They looked like a profile for the cover of Business Weekly. Maria was beautiful, with dark hair, a sandalwood skin tone. She wore an intense, efficient expression on her face. Everly, tall and broad shouldered, blond and fair complected, towered over her. He wore a natty dark suit—the cover-boy executive look—and an easy smile.

Joani realized the man had no visible flaws, physical or emotional—but then, to Joani, that could be viewed as a flaw in itself. She'd ruled him out as a suspect in Miguel's murder, not only because of no known motive, but because of his controlled temperament.

"Joani," Paul said smoothly, and rounded the desk. "I didn't get a chance to speak with you before leaving the services the other day. I'm so sorry about Miguel. We'll all miss him terribly."

He enveloped her hands with long, slender palms that felt softer than her own.

"Thank you. Good morning, Maria."

Maria nodded, and rudely went back to whatever drew her interest on the computer. Her dark brows were drawn tight across her forehead. "Damn!" she fumed.

"Something I can help you with?" Joani offered. She might as well try to get along with the woman.

Maria gave her a thin condescending smile. "Not unless you're a computer expert."

Joani caught the scathing glance Everly shot Maria. Perhaps she was wrong about Everly, she thought. For a brief moment he looked like a man who could commit mayhem.

"Maria was just trying to trace a shipment for me that seems to have disappeared, but I'm sure it will turn up soon," he said.

"Computer equipment?" It was an innocent enough assumption, since Everly was in the computer business, but Joani thought of the package Pete found loaded with money.

"Just some empty cases. Inexpensive stuff that can be easily replaced. Besides, it's insured. If it doesn't turn up in a few days, I'll file a claim. I wouldn't worry about it if I were you. This sort of thing happens all the time. Doesn't it, Maria?" It occurred to Joani the man protested far too much.

"Yes, all the time," Maria agreed sourly. She flicked off the computer before Joani could see what was on the screen.

Joani felt like an interloper in the office she fully intended to lay claim to for herself. She lifted her chin and said, "Well, if you're through using my office, I'd better get to work."

Her assertiveness training leader would be proud of her, she thought. She dropped the mail she'd picked up from the estate onto the large marble top desk and stared pointedly at Maria.

"Your office? Why you—"

"Come, Maria. Walk me out, will you?" Everly interrupted. "It was nice seeing you again, Joani. Perhaps we could meet for lunch soon. I'd like to discuss your plans for the company."

"Plans?"

"Didn't Miguel tell you about our negotiations for a partnership?"

"I'm afraid Miguel and I didn't discuss his business much."

"I'm sorry, I'd forgotten about your estrangement. I guess Miguel didn't mention the financial difficulties he was having, either. Maria can tell you."

Right, if she had a good sturdy crowbar to pry the information loose, Joani thought, watching the smug expression on Maria's face.

"I'm afraid your husband didn't foresee the pitfalls in signing exclusive rights contracts. Limits one's flexibility, you know." Paul shook his head sadly.

Joani remembered Miguel saying those exact words when she'd confronted him about renewing Barton's contract. Maria's smugness caused Joani to feel ignorant for being so uninformed. "No, I don't know much about it," she admitted softly.

"Well, there you go. Surely you can't expect to run a business alone that you know nothing about. Have dinner with me this evening, and we can discuss provisions for a partnership agreement. We could have a great future together, Joani."

Maria's mouth gaped open. For a moment Joani started to accept, but from the way he was leering at her, Joani didn't think he was only talking about a future in the import/export business. Possibly that's what disturbed Maria as well. "Thank you, Paul, but I haven't decided what I'm going to do with Estivez Trading yet. I'll need to review the financial records myself before making a decision."

Maria snorted and waved a hand at the computer. "Well, good luck. Unless you can figure out the password, there isn't much chance you'll get what you'll need anytime soon."

"What do you mean?" Joani sat down in the seat Maria vacated and switched on the computer.

"Miguel locked the files, the bastard."

It was the first time Joani had ever heard Maria say anything derogatory about her former employer. The screen lit up with a blinking cursor after the message, Enter password. Maria leaned over her shoulder. Joani resisted the impulse to wave away the secretary’s potent fumes of musky cologne. It didn't mix well with the nauseous scent of the roses.

"I've tried every nickname, address, birthday, anniversary and special occasion any normal person might use that I can think. But then, Miguel wasn't very normal, was he, Joani?"

Maria gave her a knowing look and Joani wondered just how much about their marriage Miguel had confided to his secretary. She bit her tongue to keep from commenting on the lie Everly told her about them searching for a shipment record. She knew those files could be accessed from the computer in the receptionist’s office, because she'd used it the day before to track shipments for the irate customers who had called.

If he was displeased with the turn of the conversation, he hid it well behind that synthetic smile. "Come, Maria, I'm sure Joani has much to do. Please think about my offer, Joani. I'm sure we can work around the missing records if need be."

Joani smiled sweetly. "Thank you, Paul. Now if you two will excuse me, I do have a lot to . . .er, think about." She started to say she had a lot to do, but she didn't feel like being on the receiving end of another of Maria's catty looks. After talking to Joe, Joani knew Maria had the business for the day well under control.

Paul fished a card out of his wallet and handed it to her. "Call me, anytime." He'd placed emphasis on the anytime and flashed his even white teeth.

Joani exhaled a breath of relief when they closed the door behind them. When she breathed in again, the scent of roses wafted out to her.

The roses looked lovely in the milk-white vase against the black marble surface, but Joani couldn't endure the smell. It seemed like every sad occasion in her life coalesced with roses. They reminded her of funerals, forgotten birthdays, and absentia apologies from loved ones.

She lifted the bouquet from the vase and tossed it into the trash bin beside the desk. Then, she tied the plastic liner to keep the odor from escaping. Brushing her hands together, she sat back down and called the garage about repairs on her Mercedes. It would be days before the dented fender could be shipped and then another two or three for painting. She decided to call a car rental agency.

Having settled her transportation problems, Joani turned on the computer and typed in a few random numbers and letters onto the screen. After three failed tries, the system locked up.

Finding the correct combination in such a haphazard method was probably impossible, anyway, she thought. She took the letter opener from the desk drawer and began going through the mail.

She tore open the bank statement on the account that Miguel had set up for her when they'd gotten married. She'd never touched the five thousand dollars he'd deposited there for a spending allowance, preferring to use the bank account she'd maintained since before their marriage. She hadn't wanted to hurt his feelings by telling him so, though, for she’d harbored hope that somehow they'd work things out between them.

It was a source of pride with her that she'd used her own earnings to pay for the things she needed or wanted. At least, it had been until she learned that Miguel finagled the job for her with Watson Enterprises.

Joani stared at the columns of figures that didn't make any sense. She was glad she didn't use a bank that made so many errors. The statement showed funds going in and out of the account like a sieve, but the daily balances always returned to the original five thousand. It suddenly occurred to her that this could be a key to Emilio's missing money.

She grabbed up the phone receiver and punched out David's number. Then spotting the card that must have fallen onto the floor from the bouquet of roses, she slowly lowered the receiver. Bahama Gardens was the same florist that Miguel had always used.

The office door flew open and she shoved the card onto her lap beneath the desk. Joani gave Maria an admonishing look, but the woman didn't even apologize for bursting in without knocking.

"Barton Watson is here to see you," Maria said. Without giving Joani an opportunity to answer, she motioned and Barton whisked into the room. Maria gave her a snappy grin and closed the door softly, leaving Joani alone with her former employer.

"Joani, it's good to see you."

"Barton. Please have a seat," Joani politely offered, without standing to shake his hand across the wide desk.

"You're looking well, my dear, considering, er, the tragic events of this past week."

She couldn't give him the same compliment. He looked older than usual, with dark circles and heavy bags under his eyes. His hair seemed grayer than his slightly rumpled suit and she'd noted a slight shaking of his hands before he curled them around the arms of the chair.

"How's Eadda?" she asked.

"Much better. I think given time she'll come around." Barton seemed to be taking particular interest in the room’s furnishing; his eyes didn't alight on Joani until he finished speaking.

She felt sorry for his wife. It must be very hard losing a son. However, she didn't know of anything she could do to ease the woman's suffering. Joani didn't have any basis for empathy other than the horrifying thought of losing one of her brothers. "Is there anything I can do?"

Barton smiled wanly. "Maybe you could give her a call and let her know you’re okay. She’s worried about you."

"Me? Oh, because of Miguel. Of course, I’ll call. If she’s feeling better, there's something I'd like to discuss with her, anyway."

Joani figured if anyone would know where Miguel’s domestic help could find employment, Eadda would. She fingered the card on her lap and decided to press for Barton to get to the point of his visit. "What can I do for you?"

He cleared his throat, wiggled his fingers on the arms of the chair and said sheepishly, "We are still doing business together, aren't we? I mean, I know the new contracts haven't been signed yet, but I brought them with me." He fumbled in his breast pocket and pulled out a thick envelope.

"Fine, if you'll just leave it with me, I'll look it over later."

"But, you’ve already seen what's in it," he sputtered.

"I know, but that was when I was looking at it from your prospective. Now that I'll be handling things from the other side, I'll want to be a bit more cautious. You understand, don't you?" She wasn't going to admit that she hadn't understood half what was in the legal document. Her assignment had been to get Miguel to sign the danged thing, not decipher the fine print.

What she needed was a good lawyer, and for more than business if Miguel's murderer wasn't found soon. Of course, if she didn't get Emilio's money in another day, she might be pushing up daisies right along with her deceased husband.

"Well, yes, I suppose." Barton ran a pale hand over his face. "Joani, I've been thinking. I know you were always more interested in doing PR work than dealing with the business side of things. If you decide to sell the company, I'd like to make you an offer."

"Really, Barton. I didn't think things were going that well for you. Financially, I mean."

His face turned a dark red. "I've never been without resources, Joani. And if I owned Estivez Trading, it would cut out the middleman and give me a wider range of profits. I could recoup any losses I've suffered in recent months more quickly."

"I see." Joani curled her fingers around the card on her lap. "Well, I haven't decided what I'm going to do with the business yet."

"Fair enough," he said and stood. "But you will take a look at this soon, won't you?" He nodded at the envelope containing the contract as he laid it on her desk.

"Soon," Joani promised.

Barton walked out and she ripped open the florist envelope and read the card.

Little boys get lost all the time. Your family must be worth a fortune to you.

It appeared to be a message of sympathy for the trauma Joani had gone through the evening before while her brother was missing, but she had no doubt the unsigned card was a subtle warning from Emilio.

She jerked up the phone and called Marleen. After her stepmother assured her she'd personally seen the boys to their classroom that morning, Joani felt some relief. How long would they be safe was the question. It wasn't that she didn't trust David. She did, but it would only be a matter of time until David went off on another covert operation in some foreign country. He wouldn't always be around to protect her; more importantly, to protect her family. She didn't know how much of the money was in the package Pete found, but after seeing the bank statement, she was certain that it wasn't all of it.

Emilio was going to be very upset when he found out the DEA already had custody of part of the money, but there wasn't anything she could do about that. She just hoped he'd be satisfied with what he could get.

She called the bank and requested copies of statements for the last six months. They promised to have them ready for her by late afternoon. The rental car should arrive by then. She thought she heard a soft click before she hung up. She jumped up and opened the door to Maria's office.

"Could you hold just a moment, sir?" Maria covered the phone and gave her a disgruntled look for the interruption. "What do you want, Joani?"

"N-Nothing," Joani said and quickly closed the door. She leaned against it and laughed nervously. She'd been ready to light into Maria like a mad terrier on a bulldog and the woman hadn't even done anything wrong. Joani wondered if she weren't starting to take this assertive business a bit too far.

Later that afternoon, the bank manager informed Joani that the transfers were made to a numbered account in the Cayman Islands. He wouldn't or couldn't tell her who owned the account. She left the bank building feeling sorely inadequate for the task of tracing the whereabouts of the funds, but somehow she knew the secret lay in Miguel's computer files.

The ones no one had the password for.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Joani spread the statements out on the desk. The same method was used over the last three months: money in, money out; each transfer just under ten thousand dollars. Together they totaled less than a million dollars. She didn't know how much was in the stash Pete found, but she'd bet the two combined didn't account for the amount Emilio claimed was missing. Could he be lying?

The intercom button beeped. "Joani, I'm looking for Ms. Ramera."

Joani wondered where Marie had gotten off to. She hadn't seen her since returning to the office. "I guess she went to lunch, Joe. Is there something I can help you with?"

"Nothing serious, Joani. Just a slight problem I thought Ms. Ramera would like to know about."

Joani wondered if she'd made a mistake allowing Joe to call her by her first name. Somehow it seemed to lack the respect that he exhibited toward Marie when he called her Ms. Ramera. Joani tamped down her uncharacteristic pique, and said sweetly, "Perhaps, if you'd tell me what it is, I could help."

"Well, er, I don't know. It could be nothing to worry about."

His hesitation made her snap, "Just spit it out, Joe. I can't do anything about it if I don't know what the problem is."

Apparently surprised by her peevishness, the words tumbled out rapidly. "There's a couple of packages missing that belong with the shipment going out for Watson Enterprises."

A couple of packages? The package Pete found had 'Handle With Care' written on the side of the box—computer parts were labeled just so—but whoever ripped it open had destroyed the company label. She and David had searched, but hadn't come up with anything to prove ownership. But that only accounted for one package. "I'll be right down."

"Joani, that's not—" She hung up the receiver before he could finish.

In her rush to solve the mystery of the other missing package, she nearly bumped into Maria at the top of the stairs.

"Problem?" Maria asked.

"Nothing I can't handle," Joani assured her, and held out a hand in protest when Maria started to follow her.

She would talk to Maria later about her disgusting habit of snorting. If the woman intended to work with her, the least she could do was show some respect.

Respect was something Joani felt she was getting too damned little of around here, and she intended to give some verbal attitude adjustments. Starting with the dock crew, she thought, when several of the men stopped what they were doing and leered at her. "Don't you men have work to do?"

One of the men actually whistled and the other snickered. She attempted a stern glare, then smiled in triumph when both men turned abruptly and resumed loading the truck backed to the edge of the dock.

"Joe's in the shipping office, Ms. Estivez."

She whirled about and nearly bumped into the man she remembered as Wayne Jeffries. He stepped back and glared past her shoulder. Heat crept into her cheeks. She glanced from the stern-looking Jeffries—whose biceps strained at his faded blue T-shirt—then back at the workers, who now seemed too busy to notice her, and realized the reason for their sudden disinterest.

"Thanks," she mumbled halfheartedly.

Jeffries leveled his dark fathomless eyes on her. "Dock workers can be a crude bunch sometimes, Ms. Estivez. Joe shouldn't have asked you to come down here."

"It's quite all right, Mr. Jeffries," she spoke pleasantly. Wayne Jeffries didn't appear to be one of the ones who needed an attitude adjustment.

"Wayne, please." His smile barely moved his lips. Again she wondered about his age. Joe had introduced him as a fellow student at UCF, but he definitely hadn't entered college straight out of high school.

"Call me Joani then," she said, then berated herself for forgetting the lack of respect she might elicit by allowing another employee to use her first name.

"I just wouldn't feel right about doing that, ma'am. Now if you'll come with me." He led her into the shipping office that looked about the size of a coat closet. Joe hung up the phone, whipped around the desk and began clearing a stack of papers out of the chair opposite his desk.

"You really didn't need to come down, Joani."

She smiled sweetly and settled onto the straight-backed chair. "So you said."

"It's all straightened out now. I just figured Ms. Ramera should know what was going on."

"Joe?"

"Yes, ma'am?" Finally she was getting some respect.

"You realize I run this company now, don't you?" Her voice dripped honey.

"Of course, and a fellow couldn't ask for a better boss."

"And you understand," she continued, ignoring his condescending remark, "that as owner of this company, I'd like . . . no, I insist on being informed of any problems."

She cast a quick glance at Jeffries' lounging beside the doorway. It was hard to tell, but she thought she noted a slight twitching of his lips before her pointed look made him retreat.

She got up, closed the door, then sat back down. She wondered if Jeffries needed Joe for something, and decided to get her talk with her temporary foreman over with quickly. When Pete returned, Joe would go back to the loading dock. Not that she wasn't grateful for the young man's help, but she got the distinct impression he thought of her as the damsel in distress rather than his employer. He'd done an outstanding job as far as she knew . . . she frowned. She really didn't know for sure, but she intended to remedy that situation.

"An owner needs to know what's going on in her business." She purposely used the gender identification.

"I know that, Joani, but it was a minor problem and I truly didn't see the need to bother you." Joe rushed on to explain. "I talked to Mr. Watson and he said the packages only contained empty monitor casings, nothing of any real value. He told me not to worry about them, that he'd send over replacements."

The steno chair creaked when Joe leaned back and crossed one leg over his knee, in a display of manly confidence. Obviously pleased with himself, his boyish grin nearly caused Joani to lose her resolve to be firm.

She cleared her throat and stood, giving her a negligible feeling of control by being able to look down at him. "I commend you on your handling of the situation. But from now on, whether Ms. Ramera is here or not, I'd appreciate being advised of any slight problems that should arise." She deliberately emphasized the term he'd used earlier.

He sat up straight, dropping his foot to the floor. Color flooded his face. She turned to leave before she started to feel sorry for him.

When she opened the door, Jeffries straightened from the opposite wall where he'd been leaning, arms crossed. Joani wondered if he'd been eavesdropping on her conversation with Joe.

"I'll walk you back to your office, Ms. Estivez."

"Thank you, Mr. Jeffries, but I'm quite capable of making my way back alone."

"Yes, ma'am. I believe you are." He smiled and winked at her. She straightened her shoulders and brushed past him, shooting the two dockworkers a quelling glance before she turned up the narrow corridor of flats piled high with cargo that led back to the stairs.

She found Maria standing behind her desk studying the row of statements.

"Really, Maria, those are personal." It irked Joani that the woman didn't even have the good manners to be embarrassed by being caught snooping.

"Quite a hefty income, Joani. Miguel must have been a lot more generous than I gave him credit for. Where did you transfer it? Switzerland?"

Joani reached across the desk, collated the statements into a pile and tamped them against the desk into a neat stack. "What makes you think the money came from Miguel?"

"Well, well, well. Don't tell me your law enforcement officer makes that kind of dough. But then, traveling in the sort of company the DEA keeps must offer all kinds of opportunities."

Joani slapped the papers against the desk. "I don't like, nor do I intend to stand here and listen to your nasty insinuations about David. Now if you don't mind, I have work to do." Joani glowered at Maria until she moved from behind the desk.

"Learning to put out fires, Joani? It's an exciting business, isn't it?" When Maria smirked at her again, Joani decided it was about time she demanded some of that respect she desired from all her employees.

"Putting out fires is what the hired help is supposed to do. Where were you, by the way?"

Instead of being offended by Joani's show of command, Maria released a short barking laugh. When Joani continued to glare, the secretary sobered, and said, "I was downstairs searching for the shipment Everly claimed is missing."

"Claimed?" Joani lifted a brow.

"I can't find any paper trail to back up his assertion that a package was sent here from the Bahamas."

"So," Joani slumped down into the chair, "it seems we have a rash of missing shipments."

"Really? Who else?"

"Watson Enterprises. Two computer monitor hulls. According to Joe, Watson doesn't seem too upset about it. He's sending over replacements."

"Good, then that only leaves one irate customer."

"Everly didn't seem that concerned to me earlier."

"Not to you, when he's trying to finesse you into a deal for the business. Are you going to take him up on it?"

"I don't know. Barton made me an offer as well."

"I see." Maria kept her eye on the marble desk as she slid one finger down the edge and paced the length of it. "I don't suppose you'd consider another offer."

Joani lifted her eyes to gaze at Maria's stiff profile. "If it's competitive, why not?"

"You know," Maria said and a bleak expression appeared in her eyes, "if Miguel hadn't cheated me out of it, half this business would have been mine."

"How exactly did he cheat you?" Joani asked cautiously, remembering that David mentioned Maria helped Miguel get started.

"It's a long, rather boring story." Maria rapped her knuckles lightly against the desk and the reflective expression disappeared. "But I have a little money saved, and if you'd give me some time, I'm sure I could come up with the financing for the rest."

In spite of her dislike of the woman, Joani couldn't help but admire Maria’s determination, even though she suspected her financing would probably come from Emilio. Joani began to think that she might have misconstrued that relationship. Otherwise, why wasn't Emilio leaning on Maria for the return of the money instead of her? "Why would you want to take on a failing business?"

"Failing?" Maria sneered. "Everly was just giving you a line. He thought I'd go along, because I'm supposed to go to work for him, but I told him you were much smarter than you looked."

"Thanks, I think." Paul Everly must have given Maria the same job he'd offered Joani the night of the dinner party.

Maria shrugged. "Anyway, as soon as you got a look at the financial records, you'd know the truth."

"But the financial records are all locked up in there." Joani nodded toward the idle computer.

"Yeah, but a good hacker could unlock them, don't you think? Besides, those statements," she pointed at the papers in Joani's hand, "only prove how much money Miguel was raking in. Perhaps not all of it was legitimate, but I know for a fact the amounts that belonged to the company since I made the deposits and paid the bills."

"What do you mean, not all of it was legitimate?" Joani wondered how much, if any, Maria knew about Emilio's missing funds.

Maria shrugged again and turned to trail a finger of the other hand across the desk. "Like I said, I made the deposits and paid the bills. There's some funky transactions on the last two bank statements for Estivez Trading that look very similar to those," she glanced at Joani’s statements, "only quite a bit larger. I asked Miguel about them. He said he was handling some shipments for a friend. That's why the money was going in and out of the account.

"Right after that, he brought in some suspicious looking invoices for me to file away. Some sort of brokerage deal. Gold exchange, they read." At this point Maria snorted before adding, "Banks are required to report deposits of over ten thousand in cash, you know."

Joani didn’t know. So that’s why the transfers on her account were for less. "I suppose invoices are needed to back up a larger exchange in case of an audit."

Maria nodded.

The rest of the money. Joani's mind began to tumble over the possibility. "Could I have a look at those statements and invoices?"

"Don't see why not. You're the boss."

Joani didn't know if Maria was mocking her or not, but she decided to overlook it. Just as she was wondering why the woman was suddenly being so cooperative, Maria delivered her piece de resistance.

"You know, of course, Joani, that if your DEA friend should get hold of this, and they prove some kind of illegal operation was going on here, you stand a chance of them confiscating all the assets Miguel left you, including the house?"

Joani barely suppressed the urge to laugh. If Maria only knew how eager she was to unload the responsibility of that pretentious monstrosity. If it weren't for the threat hanging over her family, Joani would gladly turn over the entire estate today. Obviously Maria thought she was playing her, and Joani decided to go along. "Maria?"

Already on her way out the door, Maria turned to face her.

"Work up a presentation, and I'll take a look at it."

For the first time, the woman gave Joani a halfway friendly smile.

* * *

David strolled into the office about the time Joani was stuffing the bank statements along with the paperwork Maria gave her into her tote. She vowed to pick up her briefcase the next time she went by her apartment, which wouldn't be tonight, she thought as she lifted her face to receive his kiss.

"You look like you've had a rough day," she said, and smoothed the flip of hair off his forehead.

"I've had better."

Cigarette smoke clung to his clothing, reminding her he'd been cooped up in an interrogation room most of the day. "Did things go okay with Pete?"

"Fine, fine. The locals wanted a go at him for a while, so they were still grilling him when I left. But I don't anticipate them coming up with much more than what Grayson already told us."

She remembered Maria's warning about a business being confiscated where there was a known illegal operation. Maria didn't know about the money Pete had found in the warehouse, otherwise she'd probably wonder why the police hadn't already conducted a search at Estivez Trading. "Will they be wanting to take a look around here?"

"Probably not." He seemed distracted and Joani figured he didn't want her to know he'd used his influence regarding the matter. The deep worry lines on his forehead and tense hold he had on her waist were a testament to his stress.

"Honey, I'm afraid I have some bad news."

Her hand froze where she'd begun tracing a path over the grooves above his brow in an effort to make him relax. "The boys?"

"Huh?"

"My brothers, Jamie and Taylor, something's happened to them?" She imagined the faint odor of roses and fear coiled in her stomach.

"No, no, nothing like that." His frown lines deepened. "Your brother getting lost the other day has really got you jumpy."

She took a slow breath and tried to relax, but he'd said bad news. It could be something had happened to her Dad or Marleen. Maybe he was only trying to break it to her easy. "What's wrong?"

"Horace called me today. He got the ballistics report back on your gun sooner than expected. They're swearing out a warrant for your arrest."

Joani's knees buckled and David drew her tighter in his arms. Her reaction was more from relief than shock. Her family was okay. For now. "When?"

"He said he'd give you until tomorrow morning to turn yourself in."

She looked at the worried expression on David's face and said, "It'll be okay."

"My God, Joani." He pulled her head into the curve of his neck and buried his face against her hair. "I should be the one reassuring you."

"You do reassure me, David. I couldn't go through this without you. Will you take me home and make love to me?"

He drew back and smiled at her ruefully. "You have to talk to your lawyer first. After that, I don't intend for either of us to get much sleep tonight."

The desperation in his kiss showed Joani the kind of night she had to look forward to. They clung to each other for a long time while he rocked her back and forth.

"I don't have a lawyer, David."

"You do now." He picked up her tote, threaded his fingers through hers and flipped the florescent lights off as they walked out. "I talked to Rena Colter and she's agreed to represent you."

They were halfway down the stairs when Joani came to an abrupt stop. "Rena? Your girlfriend, Rena?"

David didn't like the rebellious glint in Joani's eyes. He tightened his grip on her hand again and tugged her out to his car. Joani's accusation wasn't worthy of a reply, since she had to know how he felt about her.

"I have to lock up," she said coolly. Removing her keys from the bottom of the tote, they caught on the bundle of papers he'd seen her stuff into her bag when he arrived. They scattered across the pavement.

"What are these?" David asked, picking up the bank statements before she could reach them.

"Just some business papers."

"Very interesting," David said, scanning the fluctuating figures as he held them out of reach when she tried to snatch them from his hands.

Eventually, she gave up getting them back. She sighed, locked the warehouse door, and turned to look at him with a resigned expression. "I think it has something to do with the missing money."

"And you didn't intend to tell me, did you?"

"David, I . . ." He watched her swallow several times and then a fine sheen of tears appeared in her vivid green eyes. She buried her face against his chest and her tears dampened the front of his shirt.

"Don't, honey. I didn't mean to yell at you." David silently cursed himself for being so insensitive. She had enough on her plate without him adding to her distress. He gave her a reassuring hug, then opened the car door and urged her into the passenger seat.

"Come on, we'll discuss this later. Your Dad and Marleen are waiting with Rena at my place. You'll like her," he said noting her brooding silence. "Rena’s got a good track record in criminal cases."

"Has she ever had a defendant accused of murder before?"

"I don't know," David said honestly. "But right now our major concern is to get a judge to set bail. Rena has a good reputation in court and a lot of pull in the local judicial system."

* * *

After coming to a stop in his driveway beside Rena’s red BMW, David leaned over and slid his hand around the back of Joani’s neck. He kissed her gently. "It'll be all right, honey."

"David, if—if I don't get through this thing . . . I mean if I'm convicted—"

"Stop it, Joani," he said harshly. It tore him apart to see her accepting defeat. "Everything is going to turn out okay. You'll see. I'll find out who's behind this and clear your name before you ever come to trial."

David hoped to God he could keep that promise. Instinct told him they were damned close to solving this case, and his instincts had never let him down before.

"You're right," she said and gave him a brave, tremulous smile. "You're right.

* * *

Before entering, Joani watched the family group that waited for her in David’s living room. Her mother should be called, she thought. It wouldn't be nice to let her hear about her daughter’s arrest on the evening news. She wondered if the cruise ship had ship-to-shore connections.

Her father sat on the couch with Jamie on his lap, whispering back and forth as if they were attending a wake.

Marleen flipped though the pages of a firearms magazine that David kept lying on the coffee table. She didn't appear interested in reading.

Rena Colter, the woman Joani had made up her mind ahead of time not to like—for no other reason than she'd been David's lover—was playing a hand game with Taylor. Both seemed to be enjoying it.

Pacifying Emilio by returning the money to protect her family was no longer an option for Joani. Truthfully, she trusted David to find a way to keep her family safe. He’d likely feel he’d failed her somehow if she went to jail.

In spite of her impending arrest, Joani felt very lucky to have so many people who cared what happened to her. Her only worry was Rena Colter. How dedicated would she be to Joani's defense if she wanted David back? The woman would be a fool not to. He was compassionate and loyal, not to mention incredibly handsome and sexy.

David nudged her into the room. All turned toward her with doleful expressions. She smiled to alleviate the tension. Her father had his arms around her before she'd taken two steps into the room. Of her parents, he’d always been the most supportive. He just hadn’t always been around when she needed him. Now he was, and she was grateful.

"You okay, honey?"

"I love you, Dad."

David must have realized how close she was to tears, for in a business-like tone he recommended they go into the kitchen and he'd make a pot of coffee while they talked.

Seated around the kitchen table, Joani answered Rena's questions about the night of the murder. She was surprised by the young lawyer’s gentle prompting to relate everything that had happened since. Joani hesitated for a moment before taking out the card that had come with the roses. "This came with a vase of flowers delivered by a local florist. It appears to be another warning from Emelio."

She could see the flash of disappointment David seemed to barely suppress. She hoped he realized she'd been too distracted about news of the arrest to think to tell him about it earlier.

"Let me see that." He took the card.

"I-I didn't think about fingerprints or anything."

"It wouldn't matter anyway, Joani," Marleen said. "The card was probably written by the florist. But we might be able to at least trace it back to the person who ordered the flowers."

"I doubt it would help. There's nothing written here that anyone could interpret as a threat." David handed the card to Conner, who passed it on to Rena and Marleen after reading it.

"I agree," Rena said. "It's not much, but with David's knowledge of Emilio Garcia's reputation for dealing with the Cartel and the questionable money found in Miguel's possession, we may have enough to at least convince a judge and jury of reasonable doubt."

Joani thought Rena Colter was very clever. And not once had she seen her lawyer give David anything more friendly than a benign smile.

The attractive redhead stood to leave after giving Joani a rundown on what to expect the next day. If Rena harbored any residual feelings for David, she kept them well hidden.

Joani decided she liked her lawyer.

"That about wraps it up for tonight. Get a good night’s sleep, Joani. I'll meet you at the sheriff's office at nine-thirty tomorrow morning."

She exchanged a look with David that reminded Joani she wouldn't be getting that night's sleep. "Thank you, Rena. I appreciate all you're doing."

"Marleen and I must be going, too," her father said when his wife came out of the bedroom with Joani's brothers in tow. The boys had been playing computer games while the adults talked. Knowing her brothers, though, Joani wouldn’t put it past them to have been eavesdropping the whole time.

The seriousness of the situation hit Joani when Jamie wrapped his arms around her and said, "I love you, Sis."

"I love you too, Knothead."

Taylor kept her from crying when he hugged her and whispered in her ear. "Me and Jamie are working on a plan to bust you outta the joint."

She smiled. "Thanks, Birdman, but I don't think that will be necessary."

"We'll meet you at the sheriff's office in the morning, honey," Marleen said when it came her turn to hug Joani.

"You take care of my daughter," Conner warned David.

"I plan to," David said, draping an arm around Joani's shoulder and returning Conner's challenging gaze.

When the door closed behind them, David turned her in his arms. It was clear he intended to make her forget about what she must face the next day.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Later, Joani lay quietly snuggled against David’s side. She hadn’t been able to sleep. She wanted to savor every moment spent with him, just in case—she swallowed—in case things didn't go as well tomorrow as everyone seemed to think. They’d lock her up and leave her there until the trial. People charged with murder didn’t often get bail.

"You okay, honey?"

Joani shifted her head from David's shoulder to her pillow. "I thought you were asleep."

"Want to talk?"

"Not about my immediate future. That's been rehashed enough for one evening." She tried not to sound bitter. It wasn't David's fault she was about to be arrested for her husband's murder.

"Okay," he said. Several moments of silence passed before he asked, "Why did you marry Miguel?"

Joani had often asked herself that very same question. "Why did you marry Crystal?" she countered.

She felt a slight rumble beneath where her hand lay on his chest. Then his laughter began to bounce around the quiet room like the low thud of a rubber ball—a deep, jarring, masculine sound.

"What's so funny?"

"Sorry, I couldn't help but be reminded of the old 'you show me yours and I'll show you mine' routine."

"Well," she dropped her gaze to the covers pulled just over her naked breasts. "I never thought much about why I married Miguel. I honestly don't know. It wasn't for any of the traditional reasons like security, companionship, or love." She'd loved but one man and he now patiently waited for her to explain why she married another.

"At the time, my life seemed to be in limbo. I'd just returned to Orlando after losing my job with the congressman. Miguel and I literally bumped into each other when I stepped off an elevator at the SunTrust Building downtown. I'd just been turned down for a position at a marketing firm. My third rejection of the day, I might add. It's difficult to get a job when you've been fired from your previous position."

David sat up, unmindful of dragging Joani’s share of the covers with him. He ran an impatient hand through his already disheveled hair. "I suppose old Miguel came to the rescue. First you, then Francisca. The man must have made a veritable career of saving damsels in distress."

Joani couldn't deny the fact she'd been feeling sorry for herself at the time, but she had other resources, a family who could and would have looked after her. She wasn't even in the same class of dependency as Francisca. Surely David didn't think that she'd ever resort to the same desperate measures Francisca had been willing to take to make a living.

He'd said his wife had been carrying another man's baby at the time of her death. That kind of thing was bound to make a man cynical and distrustful of females. Joani sighed.

"Miguel treated me like a queen, at least until the day, or rather, the night after we were married. H-He . . . on our wedding night, er, I disappointed him . . ." Joani’s voice trailed away when David made a monosyllabic response that sounded like a curse.

The next part of the story was the toughest, but now that she’d started telling it for the first time, she wanted to finish.

"He came from the shower and told me to go get cleaned up, he was calling the maid to change the sheets. When I pointed out that we hadn’t done much to dirty them, his face turned red and he curled his hands into a fist. For a moment, I thought he was going to hit me. He pointed his finger at me instead and told me no virgin acted like such a slut."

She laughed nervously, when David made no comment. "Now mind you, I don’t consider myself a slut. I only had that one affair while in college."

"With someone as green about sex as you, I suppose."

Joani grimaced, wondering if her lack of experience made her less desirable in David’s eyes. It would be ironic, since the man she’d married had felt just the opposite. "Yeah, I suppose we were green at that," Joani admitted. "If you want to hear about—

"Not now."

He sounded so snippy, Joani wondered if she’d been wise to start this conversation, but she knew David would never be satisfied now until she finished telling him about her failed marriage. "I didn’t know at first how to respond to Miguel’s accusation. You know, if I denied being a slut, then I should be a virgin. If I admitted I wasn’t a virgin, then I was—

"I can’t believe the bastard still held such outdated expectations. I mean . . ." David gave her a quick look of apology.

"I know what you mean, and believe me I felt the same way. I guess that’s why I laughed at him and told him the truth. I couldn’t remember ever saying anything to give him the impression I’d never slept with a man before. But, as it turned out, that’s exactly what he thought I’d told him."

David shot her a look over his shoulder. His eyes flicked briefly over her breast before he rasped out, "I know you better than to believe you lied to him."

Feeling exposed in more ways than one, she tugged on the covers until David released a small corner that she used to cover herself with. "No I didn’t lie to him, not intentionally, anyway. What I’d told him one night, when we fell asleep on the couch watching an old Humphrey Bogart movie, was that I’d never had a man sleep with me before. It was meant as a pun. You know, no one ever slept—"

"I know," David snapped.

Joani frowned. She wanted to reach out and touch him, but fear that he’d shrug off her touch kept her firmly planted on her pillow. She knew she wouldn’t enjoy hearing such intimate details about his marriage, either. The best thing to do was to wind things up quickly.

"Anyway to make a long story short, he was handsome, considerate, and gave me more attention than an aficionado at a bullfight. When a woman's feeling vulnerable, it's hard to resist that sort of thing."

"Really?" David gave her an uncertain glance, then tossed back the covers. Unaware of the warming effect the sight of his naked body had on her, he trudged rigidly toward the bathroom. A moment later, Joani heard the shower running.

She’d offended him. . . or, could it be disgust that made him react that way? One way or another, she intended to find out. She shoved back the covers and followed him. Sliding open the shower curtain, she stepped in beside him. She glanced down his body and was glad to note he was no more immune to her nakedness than she was to his. She returned her gaze to his and saw the uncertainty and need flaring in his smoldering gray eyes. Her feelings overwhelmed her, and come what may, she suddenly felt the need to say the words that were never far from her lips.

"I love you, David."

It seemed an eternity that he simply stared at her. She stiffened and prepared herself for his rejection. When he opened his arms and pulled her into his embrace, she was so relieved that she ignored his lack of response to her soul-baring declaration. She gloried instead in the reassurance that he still wanted her—at least, physically.

"Know what scares the hell out of me?" he whispered.

She leaned back and searched his face with feelings of tenderness. Never would she have expected her brave, macho lawman to admit to being afraid of anything. "What?"

"That you're pretty damned vulnerable right now."

She smiled. So that’s what he was worried about. "Since you've never tried to bowl me over with charm, I can’t say you wormed your way into my heart with your graciousness."

His gaze shifted to the towel bar at the end of the shower and his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. She brushed her lips over his chin. "I've loved you for a long, long time, David. If you'd given me half a chance, I'd have been with you ages ago."

David suddenly whirled her beneath the shower’s spray and kissed her. He kissed her again and again, as he lifted her legs around his hips. On the heels of his possessive, forceful entry, her climax shot through her like a charge of electricity. In deep masculine tones, David joined her capitulating cries of pleasure.

* * *

Joani was surprised when she stepped out of the bathroom after drying her hair to see David getting dressed. It was a little past eleven p.m. "Are you going somewhere?"

"We're going somewhere." He indicated the clothes he'd laid out on the bed for her. He sat on the end of the bed and slid his left foot into one boot and stomped it into place. He picked up the other one and held it aloft when he caught her just standing with a brush in her hand, gaping at him.

"I've been thinking," he said and smiled, before shifting his attention to putting on the other boot. "If we can get our hands on that stolen money, we might be able to convince a judge we need you to lure Emilio back to the States. Then we can place him under arrest for money laundering and drug smuggling."

Joani slid into her underwear and jeans and stepped in front of him with her T-shirt hanging around her neck. "I know what you're trying to do, David."

"Oh, yeah?" He placed his hands on her hips and urged her closer. When his head dipped toward her bare stomach, she diverted him by tilting his chin upward with her fingers.

"You think that having a tangible suspect in custody will cause enough reasonable doubt to sway a jury into a Not Guilty verdict." She frowned. "Don't forget, they found my fingerprints on the murder weapon."

He stood and pulled her arms through the T-shirt as if he were dressing a child. "Which is no surprise, since you already admitted to handling the gun."

For the first time that evening, an inkling of hope edged its way into her troubled thoughts. "Maria said that maybe a hacker could break the code to Miguel’s computer."

"Or," David said, "a computer expert. Let's go."

* * *

Joani rolled down the window of the Blazer and let the wind blow in her face. In spite of David's optimism, which she knew was mostly for her benefit, she felt a need to savor these final moments of freedom.

As they breezed along Orlando’s back streets onto Interstate Four, she breathed in the night scents of fresh cut grass, fresh bread from the Merita bakery, and fresh . . . diesel fuel off the tractor-trailer ahead of them. She rolled up the window and ignored David’s amused glance.

The guard at the entrance to Shelter Island barely looked up from his evening paper as they breezed through the gate a few minutes later. Joani wondered for the second time how David managed to breach the country club community’s tight security. The night they’d come to visit Barton, she'd figured he must have known the guard, but a different man sat in the booth tonight. "How do you do that?"

"Pass," he said, indicating the small sticker she hadn't noticed before in the lower corner of his windshield.

"But I thought only residents had passes."

"Or someone who has permission by a resident to visit anytime." He pulled beneath the same tree they'd parked under the night they'd visited the Watsons.

David had guided her halfway up the driveway to the colonial style mansion before Joani thought to ask, "Who lives here?"

"My mother."

Joani barely had time to shake off the surprise before a stout woman wearing an outdated hair net, bathrobe, and fuzzy pink slippers answered the door.

"Why, Mr. David, I don't believe my eyes." The woman hugged David with the same enthusiastic fierceness Joani’s father used on her when they hadn’t seen each other for a long time.

"Hello, Maggie. Is she still up?"

"Yes sir. I just served her a cup of tea in the study. Working at the computer as usual." Maggie gave a disapproving shake of her head and closed the door behind them.

"Since modern inventions allow my mother to add longer hours to her work day, she’s become something of a computer buff," David explained in a resentful tone. Joani wondered how many hours David had been robbed of his mother’s time when he was a child because of her dedication to work.

"If you’ll wait in the living room," Maggie said, "I'll tell her you're here. Could I get you and your friend a cup of coffee or tea?"

"Not for me, Maggie. This is Joani. Maggie’s run my mother's household and raised me from the time I was about knee high." David held his hand out level with his waist.

"Mr. David raised himself," the woman scoffed. "All I did was slap a bandage on a few scrapes, and patch up a torn shirt every now and then."

"And arrange rides to baseball practice, plan birthday parties, and sit up with me when I came down with a severe case of the measles," David added with a tender smile.

The elderly woman's devotion was reflected in the glimmer in her eyes. "Could I get you some tea then, Miss Joani?"

"Thank you, no." Joani had to wonder why a son would be sent to the living room to wait for his mother instead of joining her in the study. Why wasn’t David’s mother the one who held his hand and soothed his brow when he’d been sick? Disgust for a mother who left such care to a housekeeper ruined Joani’s objectivity.

She sat on the smooth velvet couch and couldn’t help comparing the furniture in this room to that which decorated Miguel's home. The colors weren't as stark, but the cool creams and other neutral beige shades were equally formal. Not the sort of place to bring up a child, she thought.

Joani started to reach out to David when he made another pacing path in front of her, but a tall statuesque woman stepped into the room. The stubborn tilt to her chin, the amber glow in her eyes resembled her son’s. She wore a pale yellow silk wrapper and satin slippers with heels that looked like something out of an old Joan Crawford movie. The woman had the same regal bearing as the late actress, as well.

"It's very late to be visiting, David." She leaned forward and David gave her cheek a brief kiss, nothing like the exuberant greeting he’d had for the maid.

Joani expected a witty retort to come rolling off his usually glib tongue. Instead he said, "I'm sorry Mother, we'll only stay a few minutes."

David reached out to Joani and she moved to his side. "Mother, I'd like you to meet Joani Brenningan."

By the arch of an eyebrow and the slight sniffing sound made by the woman, Joani knew Mrs. Devereau recognized her, probably from the picture that had been plastered across the evening broadcast the day after Miguel’s murder. Wishing to be cordial for David’s sake, she held out her right hand to his mother. "I'm very pleased to meet you."

The brief contact the woman allowed could hardly be considered a handshake. She seated herself on one of the chairs facing the couch. David and Joani sank onto the velvet cushions behind them at the same time.

"This is the first time you've visited since your return to Orlando." Admonishment was evident in the undertone of his mother’s voice. David’s fingers tightened around Joani’s. She hadn't noticed before how cold they were and she placed her other hand over the top of his.

"David's been very busy," Joani defended.

Mrs. Devereau quirked a brow and glared at her. "You look a trifle disheveled, Miss Brenningan. The restroom is at the top of the stairs and to your right. Perhaps you'd like to freshen up a bit."

On the verge of refusing the offer with a pithy remark, Joani clamped her mouth shut when David agreed. "Your hair is a bit mussed."

She knew a dismissal when she heard one, and the fact David wanted to get rid of her, as well, set her blood temperature on the rise. She said through a tight smile, "I didn't bring a comb."

"You'll find whatever you need in the vanity drawers," Mrs. Devereau said condescendingly.

"You're so kind." Joani caught the teasing light in David's glance as she left mother and son alone.

Joani raced up the stairs, jerked open each of the vanity drawers until she located a package of combs. After giving her hair several useless jerking strokes, she stuck her tongue out at her reflection. Combing her unruly curls made little difference. David’s mother couldn’t know that, but David surely did, she thought, and gave one more attempt to tame her russet mane.

She expected his mother to be finished with whatever she wanted to say in private, but realized that wasn't the case when her foot hit the bottom tread of the stairs, and she overheard Mrs. Devereau speaking.

"Good Lord, David, she's accused of murdering her husband. Someone like that lacks moral fiber."

"You mean in lieu of someone who murders herself rather than her husband."

"Don't start that again. An accident, David. Crystal had an accident."

"For God's sake, Mother, would you please wake up to the facts? She hit a bridge abutment doing ninety miles an hour after her lover told her he didn't want anything else to do with her."

"How could you possibly know—"

"Because I beat the damned truth out of him after I discovered a message she'd forgotten to erase off the answering machine. Hell, maybe she left it there on purpose for all I know."

The room was silent for a long time. Joani's heart ached for David. She started to step into the room when she heard a soft sob and moved back. Mrs. Devereau wouldn't appreciate being caught crying by an uncouth murderess.

"I'm sorry," David's voice drifted out softly. "I know how much you liked Crystal. But she's dead, and even if she weren't, we would have been divorced by now, anyway."

"It's all because of that ridiculous agency. If-if you'd just been home more. You could have, you know. I-I suppose you’re serious about that Estivez girl."

Joani didn’t like being referred to as a girl, but she waited breathlessly for David’s reply. When none came, his mother continued, "If a mature woman like Crystal couldn’t cope with your career, how do you expect a young, vibrant—

"I haven’t asked."

And wouldn’t, Joani thought with a sagging heart. She’d been foolish to tell David how she felt. Now he would feel guilty for not asking her to marry him. What kind of future did she have to offer him, anyway?

"You could give it up, you know."

He could give up breathing too, Joani silently snorted, but it would have the same catastrophic results.

"You own controlling shares, David. I remember how you used to take such a keen interest in the business. Those summers you worked at Devereau Industries, everyone commented on your aptitude for grasping even the smallest detail. Your father was so proud. He always meant for you to take over someday. "

"Someday," he sighed.

"It's because I'm CEO, isn't it? I could step down if—"

"Look, Mother, I don't want to rehash this with you anymore. I was still in college when Dad died, and you did the right thing by taking over. You’ve done a wonderful job with the company and I wouldn't think of asking you to quit."

"But, you don’t understand," Mrs. Devereau’s voice had a croaky sound. "I’ve been meaning to—

Joani saw the relief on David's face when she took that moment to step back into the room. His mother stood and turned her back while dabbing at her eyes. Joani was too concerned for David to worry about the woman's embarrassment at being caught at an awkward moment.

She twined her fingers around David’s and he smiled as though grateful to have her there. She felt like wrapping her arms around him and kissing him right then and there, but didn't want to cause his mother to have a heart attack on the spot.

"Mother," David said. "I need your help."

The woman whirled around and stared at him as if he'd just declared he thought she were keeper of the Holy Grail. "You know I’d do anything you asked me to, David."

From the sound of her voice, it must have been a first. She shot Joani a brief, rather congenial look, as if acknowledging the husband-killer may be partially responsible.

David explained the problem with Miguel's computer without telling his mother the purpose of breaking the password. Being a career woman of the nineties, she must have assumed the information was needed for business. Mrs. Devereau shot a list of queries that were obviously in her area of expertise.

"Is it a particular software that's locked or the computer itself?"

"The computer."

"You have a modem?"

Joani remembered seeing a phone line attached to the back of the hard drive. "Yes."

"Baud rate?"

"Uh, I don’t know."

"Probably at least a 56k. Does it have a PC interface?"

"Huh?"

"Can you access it from another location?"

"I think so. Yes, I'm sure, because Miguel used to log on from his computer at home sometimes."

"Good." She looked at David.

"Go by and power up the computer, then call me. I’ll give you instructions on how to find the info I need to access it from here. Then, I can start working on the code first thing tomorrow morning."

"We’re in a bit of a rush here. I don’t suppose you could—"

"I’ll get on it right away." A smile briefly rimmed her lips.

"I, uh, thanks, Mom." David looked almost as surprised as his mother by his slip.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Just before daybreak, Joani walked into the office holding two cups of coffee. After coming to the warehouse to turn on the computer, they stayed, hoping David’s mother would get results quickly. Joani sat the cups on the table beside the wide black leather couch and looked down at his adorable face.

The worry lines in his forehead were smoothed, and his lips were slightly parted with a fullness about them that gave him a more youthful, almost boyish, appearance. She found the old excuse he’d used about their age differences making them an unsuitable match laughable now.

Her manuscript lay cradled against his chest. She’d decided to allow him to read it, knowing he was still curious. The young girl who previously only had spurts and starts of assertiveness seemed like another person. She’d finally gained enough confidence in herself to go after the thing she wanted most: the man she’d always loved. That she’d soon have to give him up was almost more than she could bear.

Her heart turned in her chest. Unable to resist touching him, she lightly brushed back those constantly wayward strands of blond hair from his forehead. His eyes popped open with a startled look, then, when he focused on her, he relaxed and smiled.

"Anything on the monitor yet?"

"No, but it’s time to wake up, sleepyhead." She sat on the edge of the couch. He propped his back against the arm and scooted to one side. After she handed him his coffee, she said, "I talked to Eadda Watson a little while ago."

David looked at her over the rim of his cup. "A little early to be making calls, isn’t it?"

"Well, I knew that Eadda has trouble sleeping, anyway. Besides, I was afraid I might not get a chance to take care of this later. She agreed to meet me in a couple of hours and discuss finding positions for Luisa and Ramon."

"I see," David sat his cup down and pulled her into his arms. "Joani . . ." He started to say she shouldn’t be worrying right now about other peoples problems, but her altruistic nature was a part of why he cared for her so much. He fingered the manuscript and smiled.

She’d finally trusted him enough to share her innermost thoughts, albeit through the written word. He hoped she wouldn’t change her mind about him when she learned the full extent of his investigation.

The old Joani wouldn’t. She was still the same in some ways: trusting, loyal, caring; but now she was much more confident, and a lot less tolerant of other’s mistakes.

Her father spent a good deal of time away from home and her mother mostly ignored her. The night of her prom, being stood up at the last minute by her date, hadn’t helped improve her feelings of insecurity. Embarrassed because her father and Marleen were so pleased she was finally going out with a boy, she’d kept the broken date from them. Instead of going to the prom alone, she’d gone to David’s house to kill the hours. Already picturing herself in love with him, she’d undressed and crawled between his vacant sheets to fulfill some sort of teenage fantasy. He’d read that in her story. The rest he already knew.

He wasn’t supposed to have come home that night, but he’d gotten an earlier flight out of the tiny Caribbean Island where he’d just completed an assignment. Otherwise, the whole ugly scene with her father—who’d found out about the broken date when the young man, apparently suffering from a guilty conscience, called to check on Joani—wouldn’t have happened.

The new Joani was less reserved, but more cautious. She’d admitted that she loved him only that one time. She’d given him a taste of the apple and now he craved the whole orchard. He wanted a long-term commitment from her. He realized that now, but this wasn’t the time or the place to push.

"I’ve been thinking," he said. "Horace Ackerson knows Marleen pretty well. Lee Wade, Horace, and her were a tight group when they worked together at OPD."

"That’s true. What did you have in mind?"

"With her influence, I might convince Horace to give us a few more hours. If this money trail develops into something concrete . . ."

"How do you expect to convince him?"

David hated getting her hopes up for nothing should Miguel’s hidden files turned into a dead end, but he was grasping at straws. "It would help if we had our hands on those computer files. I was hoping Mother would have come up with something by now."

As if in answer to David’s wishes, the computer clicked. They both rushed over to see the monitor light up and a menu appear on the screen.

"She did it! Oh, David, your mother must be the smartest woman in the world." Joani threw her arms around his neck and kissed him hard on the lips.

"Right now, I’m inclined to agree with you," David laughed. After giving her a quick hug, he hunched down in front of the computer and began scanning the menu choices.

The phone rang and Joani talked with David’s mother, praising her abilities, while he fiddled with the keyboard. Within minutes he had the needed information.

"Let me talk to her." When Joani passed the receiver to David, he said, "Mom." The name came to his lips more easily this time. "I need you to do me one more favor."

She told him how to get the funds wire-transferred back to Joani’s local account. He thanked her and hung up.

"Well?" Joani asked, curiosity and hope glowing in her green eyes.

"Well," he mocked teasingly. "We have a long day ahead of us, sweetheart, but it looks a hell of a lot brighter now than it did."

He picked up the phone and dialed Marleen, then Lt. Ackerson. Then he turned the phone over to Joani. "Call Emilio and see if he wants his money bad enough to fly in this afternoon to pick it up."

Joani made the call and Emilio agreed to meet at the warehouse at three.

David instructed Joani to go home and wait until he called her. He figured with the evidence he now had, he could get Horace to go along with their plans. If not, the agency would surely take steps to keep Joani out of jail long enough for them to wrap up their case.

She glanced at her watch. "I’ll go home, but just long enough to get cleaned up. Eadda’s coming around eight."

"Okay. A man will be here wiring the place with a camera. I’ll tell him to set things up in here first, so no one will be getting in the way." He gave her a firm, quick kiss and then added, "Honey, we’re gonna nail this bastard to the wall."

* * *

"Miguel’s been squirreling away quite a bit of money that he didn’t make legally," David said, after waiting patiently for Horace to assess the printouts. He knew local police didn’t like interference from the Feds, but he wasn’t going to take no for an answer. "As a courtesy, I came to you first on this, Lieutenant. I’d appreciate your cooperation."

"Emilio Garcia has been threatening Joani every since his nephew’s death to get the funds back," Marleen interjected.

Horace quirked a thick brow. "I’m working on a murder case here. From the way it sounds, Emilio had more reason to keep Miguel alive than to kill him."

"You know how these cartels work, Horace," Marleen jumped in again. "They use incidents like this to warn off anyone else who might decide to tamper with their drugs or money. Human life holds no value to them, not even blood kin."

Marleen believed that pushing the cartel theory was the best way to get Horace to listen to reason. The bigger the fish, the livelier the bait, she’d quipped.

"You’re probably right," Lt. Ackerson said. "But I was thinking more along the lines that with Miguel dead, the chance of getting the money back was reduced drastically."

"Not if Emilio thought someone else knew where it was," David said. He’d been afraid Horace would be too smart to fall for his line of reasoning, but he had to give it his best shot. "He must have thought Joani knew about the funds; that’s why he’s been threatening her."

"Did she know?"

"Hell no!" David shot forward in his chair and slammed his fist on Horace’s desk. The man didn’t even flinch. Marleen gripped David’s arm and urged him to calm down.

"You’ve known Joani since she was a child, Horace. She’s not a murderer," Marleen pleaded.

Horace opened a drawer and took out Joani’s gun with an evidence tag dangling from the trigger guard. He placed it on top of the desk. "What I know is the ballistic tests prove this is the gun that killed Miguel Estivez. It belongs to Joani. Her fingerprints were found all over the handle."

Marleen picked up the gun for a closer look. "This isn’t Joani’s gun."

Both men gave Marleen an astonished look.

"Joani already admitted the gun belongs to her," Horace said. "We verified the registration."

Marleen frowned at the handgun. David and Horace watched her carefully examine the weapon from butt to barrel.

"It does look like hers, except the barrel has a darker, shinier finish. The rest of the gun has a matte coating."

David practically jerked the gun out of Marleen’s hand to get a closer look. "I didn’t notice the difference before."

"It was in the plastic bag when you saw it. That’s probably why," Horace said. "I just assumed either the gun was bought that way, or Joani had the barrel changed herself."

Marleen rejected that theory. "Joani hardly ever took the gun from her purse to even look at it. Why would she need to have it worked on?"

A different barrel explained a lot, David thought. "The barrel was probably switched after the shooting."

"The weapon was disassembled and tested throughout. How do you explain trace metal and gunpowder residue found on every part?"

"That’s easy," David grinned. "It was fired again after the exchange was made. How many rounds were missing from the clip?"

"Two," Horace said, and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "We never did locate the another bullet."

David slid the hammer back on the weapon to get a closer look. "Where have I seen that emblem before?" he asked.

Marleen and Horace leaned forward to get a look at the trademark near the end of the barrel. The letter M was engraved in the center of a small circle.

"The trademark belongs to Magnum Custom Firearms. One of our deputy’s has a hobby of repairing handguns. He’s had a catalogue from them lying on his desk for months with an emblem just like that on the cover," Horace said. "I’ll get someone to contact them and see who in the area orders parts from them, but it’ll probably be Monday before we can find out anything."

It’s a hobby of mine. Blued parts are going out of style, you know. I guess Black Teflon is more economical to produce. Barton Watson’s words rushed back to David.

"I don’t think we’ll have to wait that long." Ignoring Marleen and Horace’s puzzled expressions, he twirled the desk phone around and brought it in front of him. He didn’t have time for explanations, he thought, as he tapped out the cell phone number of the detective in charge of surveillance operations at the warehouse.

"Jeffries? Devereau. Has Eadda Watson shown up around there yet? Did she come alone? Good. Do you have the video equipment running yet? I know, it takes time to wire everything in place, but dammit, this is important! Okay, okay, just listen. You said you have the one working at the front entrance. I want you to keep a watch out for Barton Watson. If he shows up, detain him. I don’t give a damn how!" David gripped the phone a little tighter, wishing he were there himself. "Charm him, knock him out, or run over him with the damned forklift. Do whatever it takes, but don’t let him near Joani. Do you understand?"

David barely waited for Jeffrie’s positive response before slamming the receiver down and dashing out the door. He didn’t have time to explain to Marleen and Horace, and didn’t wait to see if they followed him.

* * *

Joani froze when she saw the vase of roses on her desk. A thank you from Emilio, no doubt, for finding his money. Her stomach rolled at the heavy scent. She laid down the paperwork she’d picked up from Maria’s desk on her way in—she planned on alphabetizing them before doing the filing—lifted the card off the card holder and verified her assumption.

"Blast the man."

She picked up the white vase, and was about to dump the contents into the trash when she heard the door thump against the wall behind her. She jumped guiltily.

"Eadda!" Joani returned the vase to the desk. "You startled me."

Eadda gave her a thin-lipped smile, but didn’t say anything. Joani wondered if she’d been wise to ask the grieving woman to make the trip downtown. Her clothes were wrinkled, the pupils of her eyes had a huge, glassy appearance, and her dull gray hair looked like she’d barely taken time to run a brush through it. Barton must have lied when he said his wife was over her depression.

Joani waited for Eadda to sit, but instead she started pacing back and forth across the room, tapping the straps of the bulky tote bag cradled against her side. Her voice became surly when she said, "Why did you call me down here?"

Joani wondered if the poor woman were suffering from memory loss, as well. "You said you’d help me find positions for Luisa and Ramon. We may not have much time, so I’ll be brief with an outline of their qualifications. I would have typed something up for you, but—"

Eadda dropped her tote to the floor and whirled about. She leveled a handgun directly toward Joani.

Joani stumbled backward. Thankfully, the executive chair was there. She landed with a soft thump onto the thick leather seat. Gripping the arms of the chair, she stared into the deadly opening at the end of the handgun. "For goodness sake, Eadda, put that thing away. You could hurt somebody."

Eadda threw back her head and laughed. "I’ve already hurt somebody with it, my dear. And now you give me no choice but to do it again."

Joani narrowed her eyes on the weapon and noted the make was similar to her own 9mm. She sucked in her breath. Her gaze continued to hold to the gun with a wary respect. "Y-You killed Miguel? But why?"

"Ha!" Eadda shouted and walked closer.

The opening at the end of the barrel took a more menacing appearance, becoming larger and larger in Joani’s eyes as Eadda moved toward her. If the tip of the gun came any nearer to her nose, she’d be looking cross-eyed. She leaned against the back of the chair as far as she could. Eadda came within a few inches from touching Joani with the cold metal.

Delay her, Joani thought. David would be back soon.

"Eadda, I don’t know what this is all about, but it isn’t necessary. Put down the gun and we’ll talk."

"Don’t you try to patronize me!" The gun wavered when the woman’s hands trembled.

Joani started to rethink her strategy. If she didn’t choose her words carefully, she might be shot simply by accident. Eadda moved away, giving Joani a little breathing room.

The disturbed woman sat down gingerly on the edge of the chair opposite Joani. Her back ramrod straight, Eadda extended the gun and rested the butt on the edge of the black marble surface of the desk. Thankfully, that steadied the weapon.

"You figured it all out, didn’t you? I told Barton you would. He said no one would ever find out, but I knew you were too smart, by far, not to notice your gun barrel had been changed."

Barrel? Joani frowned. Then she realized the barrel of the gun pointing in her direction had a much duller appearance than the rest of the weapon. She swallowed. If she’d been as observant as Eadda gave her credit for, she could have been cleared of Miguel’s murder. Could and probably still would be cleared if anyone noticed the different barrel on her gun. Not that it would matter much, if she didn’t live to know about it.

She took a quick glance at the air conditioning vent and wondered if David’s technicians had installed the surveillance monitor yet. If so, then perhaps this meeting was being recorded. Even if she didn’t live to celebrate her vindication, at least she might get enough on tape to convict the real murderer.

"Did Barton shoot Miguel, or did you?"

"If you must know the truth, Joani, Barton is a wimp, a miserable excuse for a husband and father." Disgust was evident in Eadda’s tone. "He didn’t even do anything after I told him Miguel murdered our son."

"Murder? But I thought Frankie died in a car accident."

Eadda looked bewildered, and for a moment seemed distracted with the effort of trying to recall the events of her son’s death.

Joani leaned forward and inched her hand around the vase of roses, nearly gagging at the heavy scent. If the hard milk glass didn’t knock Eadda Watson out, then perhaps the smell would, Joani thought wryly.

"My husband is a wimp," Eadda repeated as if trying to get back to the conversation. "He simply switched the barrels on the guns after I," she thumped her chest, "I killed the man who gave our son the drugs that poisoned him."

"I don’t understand. Miguel didn’t even like his friends to use drugs around him. Why would he give them to a young teenager?"

"I-I don’t know." Eadda rubbed her temple.

"Do you have a headache?"

"Headache? No, no." She dropped her left hand and raised the gun in her right.

Uh, oh, Joani thought. Another slight miscalculation. She edged the vase carefully toward her. "Do you like roses?"

"Roses? Yes, yes, doesn’t every woman?" The gun lowered slightly and Joani breathed a little easier.

"You can take these with you when you go."

"They’re beautiful." Eadda reached over and touched the velvet red petals. A dreamy expression crossed her face. "I put red roses on Frankie’s casket."

"Frankie had a nice funeral," Joani said, grasping for something to keep the woman talking and herself alive a little longer.

"Yes. I always wanted the best for my son. Barton said I spoiled him. That’s why he put Frankie to work at Watson Enterprises, running errands. It was the biggest mistake I’ve ever made. I should have insisted that Frankie quit when I overheard him talking to a friend about the stash of cocaine he’d found in one of the packages he’d picked up from Estivez’s warehouse."

"Eadda, if Frankie picked up the package for his father’s business, the drugs were being shipped to Watson Enterprises," Joani pointed out.

"No!" Eadda shook her head. "Frankie said the package was a mistake. He’d picked up merchandise that belonged to Miguel. I wanted him to go to the police, but he talked me out of it. He was worried about being arrested because he’d taken some of the drugs for himself and his friends. I couldn’t let my own son go to jail, could I?" Her voice sounded doubtful, as if she’d questioned her judgment a hundred times before.

Joani didn’t mention that the boy probably lied for his father’s benefit. The woman had enough on her plate without having it pointed out that her husband, not Miguel, was responsible for Frankie’s drug supply. Eadda lifted the gun, and Joani feared that her time had run out.

"I knew you wouldn’t say anything to the police until you talked to me. You’re so considerate, Joani. I always liked you. That’s why this is so hard. But I must protect my family. Barton promised to look into adoption now. We’ll find another son to carry on the family business. A boy with dark hair and blue eyes like my Frankie. Won’t that be nice?"

"Very nice," Joani smiled thinly. It was now or never.

"Stand up," Eadda commanded.

"Why?"

"Just do it!"

Joani stood, but kept her fingers wrapped around the vase. "You won’t get away with this. David knows you were going to meet with me this morning."

Eadda looked at the paperwork on the desk, then across the room at the lone file cabinet in the corner. "I’ll make it look like a robbery, just like when I hit Pete."

"You’re the one who knocked Pete out?" Joani eyed the tall, big boned woman and realized it was physically possible.

Suddenly she remembered Eadda drove a dark blue Lincoln Continental. "Why didn’t you finish me off when you ran me off the road?"

"Oh, I never wanted to harm you, dear. Just give you a little scare to make you forget about finding Pete. I knew he’d run like a rabbit once he found the money."

"He didn’t run, Eadda. He turned the money over to the FBI."

"Well, that just proves my point."

Eadda was making Joani dizzy trying to follow her reasoning.

"Your boyfriend’s been snooping around, asking too many questions."

"Questions?."

"Devereau traced my car to the body shop. I got the man to tell a little lie to cover my tracks, said I just brought it in for detailing. He doesn’t like the feds any better than most, since he does a little drug transporting across the state line every so often. But I don’t think your boyfriend believed him, anymore than I believe your innocent request for me to come here this morning."

Joani knew David had called around, attempting to find out about any dark sedan’s being repaired, but there were hundreds of body shops in the area. If he’d found out anything positive from the few he’d had time to call, he would have told her. Eadda wasn’t making much sense, Joani thought, but at least she was talking instead of shooting. "What were you after that night you came here, Eadda? You didn’t take the money."

"Of course, not. I’m not a thief. I just took the box that had the drugs in them. Someone had mislabeled it for Watson Enterprises. I tore the labels off and destroyed them along with that vile white powder."

Joani couldn’t believe the woman still believed Barton innocent of smuggling drugs.

With the weapon still trained on Joani, Eadda stooped down and picked up her tote. She pulled out a plastic soda bottle filled with a cotton-like substance and attached it to the end of the gun. "Just a precaution. In case someone’s working in the buildings next door, this should muffle the sound enough not to draw attention."

Like a similar device must have suppressed the noise enough not to wake her the night Miguel was killed, Joani thought. She remembered the piece of plastic trapped in her heel beside the pool the morning she found Miguel. One more piece of evidence, if she lived to tell anyone.

She lifted the vase as if to get one last whiff of the arrangement. Her stomach churned when she drew in her breath. Eadda’s arm came up with the gun. With every ounce of strength she possessed, Joani hurled the vase at Eadda.

The crash, a pop-pop-popping noise, and loud masculine shouts were like hollow sounds coming at Joani from the opposite end of a long tunnel.

In slow motion, she reached up to touch her arm where she felt a slight stinging sensation. Dampness seeped between her fingers. She looked down and saw the blood, then closed her eyes and slid to the floor like a limp dish towel.

CHAPTER TWENTY

"She looks so pale."

"She just got a little scratch on the arm. The bullet barely grazed her. If you hadn’t insisted, the paramedics probably wouldn’t have even brought her to the hospital."

Joani woke up to the sound of the voices drifting back and forth above her, but she didn’t feel like using the energy to open her eyes. The last thing she remembered was David lifting her in his arms and laying her on the black couch. She felt the hard smoothness of the bed she lay on now, and knew she wasn’t on the couch anymore. Her arm ached, but she wasn’t in severe pain.

David had a tight grip on her hand, and she felt comforted to know he was there. She concentrated on the two men talking in hushed tones. She knew David’s voice well enough, but it took her a moment to realize the other man who’d spoken was Wayne Jeffries.

"She was out cold." David objected.

"She fainted."

When silence prevailed for a moment, Joani figured David must be giving Jeffries one of his daunting looks.

"What are you complaining about, Devereau? We got everything on film." Jeffries’ words rose several notches.

"Shhh. Keep your voice down." A moment of silence followed, then David said, "I just wanted Joani safe. She could have been killed."

"How was I supposed to know Mrs. Watson was a threat? Everything looked fine when I got the video from the office hooked up and running." Jeffries seemed to have difficulty maintaining the quiet tone. He drew an audible breath and continued in a slightly lower rumble, "When she first arrived, the woman may have appeared a little restless, but Joani didn’t seem alarmed in any way. Then Watson showed up at the front door. You told me to detain him at all cost. I had to leave the observation post in order to do that."

"I know, I know. I’m not blaming you, Jeffries. I should have remembered how unstable the woman acted the first time I saw her. I should never have allowed Joani to meet with her alone."

"Christ, Devereau. You’re not God."

Joani opened her eyes then and stared at the man who dared to speak to David that way, the quiet reserved man she’d thought was her employee. Then the cold hard truth struck her.

"You’re a LE officer?"

Jeffries flashed her an apprehensive smile and glanced at David before answering. "Detective, OPD. I’ve been working with DEA for the past two months."

"Since you became employed at Estivez Trading?"

He nodded.

David’s hand tightened around hers, but she couldn’t bring herself to look at him. He’d been investigating her husband even before Miguel was killed—maybe investigating her too. The dedicated Agent Devereau must have felt like fate played him a winning hand when she showed up on his doorstep and asked for his help. Her connection with Miguel’s uncle was, no doubt, invaluable.

David likely hadn’t meant for her to fall in love with him, couldn’t know that it’d already been too late to worry about. She’d like to think that somewhere along the way he’d fallen in love with her just a little, too. Maybe he had, but he didn’t trust her, not enough to confide in her, anyway. Now she couldn’t trust him either, and it hurt, but it also made her angry. She moved her hand from beneath his.

"Are you feeling okay, honey?"

She’d always known David’s work involved subterfuge. How else could he work undercover? She just never suspected he’d use such devious methods on her. Even now he was probably wondering how to tactfully get her out of bed and back to the office before Emilio showed up.

"I’m fine." She wrestled the covers down to her waist and sat up, surprised the effort didn’t make her dizzy. "Just a little scratch," Jeffries had said.

"What time do we need to be at the bank?" she asked.

"Thirty minutes." Jeffries beamed at her, obviously pleased.

"She’s not going," David stated, as though his decision was final.

Oh, he was so clever, she thought. Reverse psychology was just the ticket to get her back on her feet. For a moment she considered calling his bluff, but she wanted to get the sting over with as soon as possible. She wasn’t about to let Emilio Garcia get away with the misery he’d put her through.

"If you two will get out of here, I’d like to get dressed."

"You’re not well enough for this," David objected.

"It’s just a scratch. The doctor said so." She didn’t even remember seeing the doctor, but she didn’t think Jeffries had lied about her condition.

"Joani, we’ll find another way to handle Emilio. You’ve been through enough today already." He sounded so sincere she almost turned to reassure him. Thankfully, her father came bursting into the room before she could weaken.

"You were supposed to take care of her," Conner bellowed and pointed an accusing finger at David.

Guilt flashed across David’s face, but he looked Conner squarely in the eyes. "I know. It’s all my fault she got hurt."

Her anger melted a little. No matter how he felt about her, she knew he’d rather have taken the bullet in her stead. "David couldn’t have known Eadda was ready for the nut house, Dad. None of us did. Anyway, I’m the one who insisted on meeting with her."

Her words or the sight of his daughter sitting on a hospital bed with a bandage around her arm took some of the wind out of Conner’s blustering sails. His gaze traveled from her injury to her face and his expression gentled. "Are you okay, Sweetheart?"

"I’m fine, Dad. It’s just a scratch." Joani felt like the hero from an old western movie. Just a scratch, ma’am.

The door flew open again. Her brothers rushed past Marleen, who held a small overnight bag in her right hand. David stepped back to allow Jamie access to her beside, while Taylor pushed in next to his brother. She hugged them each and held up her arm so they could get a good look at the bandaged war wound. She leaned back on the pillow, prepared to answer the barrage of questions.

"Does it hurt?" Taylor asked.

"Nope, it’s just a scratch." If she kept repeating those lines, maybe she’d get good enough to audition at MGM or Universal Studios. God knows, she’d probably need a job when this was all over. No doubt the business, along with everything else Miguel had owned, would be confiscated.

"Did you lose a lot of blood?" Jamie piped in.

"Is that why you passed out?" Taylor wanted to know.

"No."

"Heard you knocked her out," Jamie said, and threw an animated left hook.

"I threw a vase of roses at her."

"You hate roses!" Taylor exclaimed.

"I know. That’s why I threw them."

Everyone laughed, except David. He looked to be in more pain than she was. Probably worried about keeping to the schedule, Joani thought.

"I don’t mean to be rude, but if everyone would leave, I’d like to dress and get out of here. Marleen, fetch my clothes, would you?" She must be really getting into her part. How many people used the word fetch nowadays?

"I brought you a clean dress." Marleen sat the small overnight case on the end of the bed and ordered, "Okay, everyone out."

"Want me to stay and help?" David leaned close and whispered, a small smile finally edging away his gloomy expression. He must be relieved she wasn’t dallying any longer, Joani thought.

"That’s okay, Marleen can help me."

His smile faded and Joani felt the room dim. She rubbed her forehead.

"Joani, I think you and I need to talk—

"Not now, David," she said sharply and dropped her hand. Shifting to the side of the bed, she shrugged away when he tried to help her sit up. "I-It’s getting late and we don’t want to miss Emilio."

He glowered at her for a long moment. She lifted her chin and glared back. Finally, he glanced at Marleen. "I’ll be right outside if you need me."

After he swung open the door and walked out, Marleen said, "Whew. What was that all about?"

"N-Nothing." Tears welled in Joani’s eyes and Marleen slowly put the dress she’d pulled from the case down on the bed. She slid her arm around Joani and the dam of tears broke. Joani sobbed against her stepmother’s shoulder, "H-He used me."

"David? I can’t believe it." Marleen sounded incredulous.

Joani told her about the drug smuggling at Estivez Trading and David’s investigation. "He’d been watching Miguel and his uncle for months, and didn’t say a word to me." She stiffened and added with a hiccupping sob, "M-maybe he believes I was involved, too. After all, the money was deposited to an account in my name."

Marleen laughed. She kept on laughing even after Joani moved out of her embrace. "I don’t see the humor."

"I-I’m sorry," Marleen snickered once before sobering. "It-it’s just that the whole thing reminded me of how your father and I got together."

"I don’t see the relevancy," Joani sniffed. "You both were pitifully obvious about your feelings during the three years you were separated. Your eyes lit up like diamonds whenever I’d mentioned Dad, and he’d get this deep scowl and his eyes would get a faraway look when I talked about you."

She smiled when Marleen gave a pleasurable-sounding sigh.

Joani had been proud of her rare assertive endeavor of matchmaking. "I knew all it would take would be a little push in the right direction."

"Ah, my little friend." Marleen tucked the loose strands of Joani’s russet hair, the same color as her father’s, behind her right ear. "You certainly did your part to bring us together. But fate made it inevitable that Conner and I be reunited in spite of your matchmaking efforts."

"Fate?"

"Perhaps." Marleen chuckled.

Joani drew her brows together in disbelief. "I never thought you were the superstitious sort, Marleen. You wouldn’t have gone to the same vacation resort if I hadn’t given you the brochures and encouraged you to make reservations."

"True, but then, if I hadn’t gone, I probably would have accepted the case the DEA wanted me on at the time."

"There, you see," Joani scoffed and slid from the bed to her feet. She picked up the yellow cotton twill jumper. "Fate had nothing to do with it."

"Wait, I brought a blouse to go under that. I figured you’d want your wound covered when you went to meet Emilio."

Joani’s eyes widened. "You knew about that before I told you."

Marleen held up one hand. "Scouts’ honor, I only learned about it a little while ago. I can’t vouch for your father. You know how canny his bloodhound instincts are. The doctor gave you a sedative and David filled me in on the details of the sting operation while you were asleep. That’s why I went home to get this outfit. I knew you’d want to see this thing through, no matter how much David objected."

"Good thinking." Joani wasn’t surprised that her stepmother had such blind faith in her. While Marleen assisted her into the surplice-styled blouse, Joani studied her. Two inches taller than Joani, long blond hair tied back in a ponytail, with stray tendrils flying around her face, Marleen looked young enough to be her sister. Ironic that she’d been more of a mother to Joani than Laura had ever been. "What did you mean when you said we reminded you of how you and Dad got together?"

Marleen sighed and gathered the jumper by the bottom hem, lifting it over Joani’s head. "I’m surprised I haven’t told you about it sooner, but you were only fifteen at the time and your father and I didn’t want to worry you."

Joani tugged the jumper over her hips and straightened the loose fitting sleeves of her blouse. The bandage didn’t show. "Told me what?"

"I was working undercover at the time. Investigating your father."

"Dad! I don’t believe it. He’d never do anything illegal."

"Exactly what I told the DEA."

"Oh," Joani exclaimed. "And you couldn’t tell Dad for fear of being taken off the case. I can understand that. You wanted to protect him."

"Yes. And the DEA is very strict about confidentiality. An agent never breaks the code of silence."

Joani slowly lifted her eyes to meet Marleen’s. "You think that’s what happened to David? He was caught up in a no-win situation?"

"Something like that." Marleen took out the brush she brought along and started brushing the tangles from Joani’s hair.

"Well," Joani sighed. "Even if I could forgive him for that, I’m still not sure how he feels about me."

Marleen lifted the long tresses over Joani’s shoulder and hugged her. "Just look in his eyes, Joani, and you’ll know. A man can lie when he needs to, but the eyes will always tell."

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

"The camera only covers a limited area. So whatever you do, stay behind the desk. Try to get Emilio to open the briefcase and acknowledge what the money is for." David waited for her to ask questions, complain, or tell him she wanted to call the whole thing off. He knew the latter was mere wishful thinking on his part. When Joani simply nodded, he asked softly, "Are you sure you’re up to this Joani? If not, we’ll call it off."

"I’ll be fine, really."

He knew he’d been pestering Joani about how she felt, but she’d seemed inattentive, distracted, ever since they left the hospital. Her shoulders drooped and her usually festive green eyes were cast downward with the forlorn appearance of one who’d just lost her best friend. "Don’t worry, honey. I’ll be keeping a close eye on the monitor. If you even blink, I’ll know. Just stay—

"Behind the desk. I got it the first time, David."

She appeared so sweet and vulnerable when she finally looked at him that he felt like chucking the whole project and taking her some place safe. She’d already been through one dangerous and traumatic experience today. She had more gumption than anyone he knew. If anything happened to her—

"Garcia just pulled up," Jeffries voice boomed over the intercom.

David leaned down and gave Joani a feather-like kiss on the lips. "When this is over, we’re going to sit down and have a long talk."

For the first time today her eyes lit with familiar green sparks, showing a return of spirit in the woman he loved.

Loved? He’d had such deep feelings for Joani for so long, he hadn’t even recognized this new form of affection until now.

He opened his mouth to tell her how he felt, but Jeffries barked sharply over the intercom, "You better get down here, Devereau. The bastard’s got company."

"Go," Joani urged. "I’ll be fine."

Giving her another kiss, brisk and quick this time, he strode quickly to the door and swung it open.

"David."

"Yes?" He paused and looked back in time to catch a glimpse of the anxiety that she tried to mask.

She bit down on her bottom lip, and for a moment he was tempted to slam the door and lock it against the world. Her bravado returned along with a slow smile. In a level voice, she cautioned, "Be careful."

"Anything for you, sweetheart." He winked, then hurried downstairs to the observation room set up in the shipping office. He wished he could be closer, but there wasn’t anywhere upstairs large enough to hide himself and the equipment without being detected. He made it inside the small office just in time to watch the trio walk toward the front of the building. Two wrestler types flanked Emilio on each side.

"Do you think he expects trouble?" Jeffries asked.

"Maybe. He knows about my relationship with Joani, so he could have decided not to take any chances. I tailed him for a while in the Bahamas. He’s one arrogant bastard. Has an old-world view of women. I doubt he thinks one would have the temerity to defy him." David’s lip curled. Emilio must have never come across a woman as brave as Joani, he added silently.

"Okay, one of the goons is circling the building toward the back. I guess he’s mine, huh?" Jeffries grinned like a Cheshire cat at feeding time.

"Go get him, tiger. And get your tail back here, pronto. I may be needed upstairs at any moment."

David watched Emilio and the other heavy walk inside and disappear from sight. They only had the two monitors, but Jeffries would make sure they took the stairs on his way to eliminate the one wandering about outside. David turned his attention to the monitor covering Joani. She looked a little nervous, fidgeting with a paperweight and glancing directly at the camera.

"Keep your eyes away from the ventilation vent," David admonished, even though she couldn’t hear him now. He’d switched off the intercom so no outside noise would be picked up by Emilio.

However, David could pick up the sounds from the office through the camera’s audio, and he heard the expected tap at Joani’s office door. She took a visibly deep breath, then sat forward in her chair and said, "Come in."

"Stay calm, baby. I’m right here if you need me." As if she sensed his words, she settled back in the chair and seemed to relax.

"Joani. You’re looking lovely as always," Emilio gushed with Latino charm.

"Thank you, Emilio," Joani said, and lowered her eyes demurely.

"I hope you don’t mind, I brought an associate of mine along. This is Leo." Emilio introduced the heavyweight.

"How do you do? Won’t you have a seat?"

Emilio took a seat in front of the desk. When Leo moved out of the view of the camera, Joani cast a look in the direction near the closed door, giving David an indication of where he stood.

Emilio chuckled. "My friend is very restless. He prefers to stand."

"Fine." Joani reached beneath the desk, pulling out the black leather briefcase. "Here’s your money."

"That’s my girl," David whispered. "Forget the formalities and get right to the heart of the matter. Now, get him to open it." Pretending Joani could hear him eased some of the tension David felt from having to leave her up there virtually alone with the drug smugglers.

Emilio didn’t seem too interested in the leather case, though. His eyes took a slow tour of the room.

Joani slammed the briefcase a little harder than necessary flat upon the desk when his gaze came near the ventilation vent.

He smiled at her benignly. "Where are the roses I sent you?"

So that’s what Emilio was looking for. "Damn the roses," David grouched.

"I found a much better use, er, place for them."

David tensed and stood when Joani made the slip. Emilio didn’t seem to notice so David eased back down on the hard stool and gave another useless reprimand. "Careful, Joani. Stick with the program."

Joani pushed the briefcase across the desk in front of Emilio. When he hesitated, she urged, "You better check it, I took the bank’s word for how much is in there."

"She’s a real pro," David said proudly to the empty room. Where the hell was Jeffries? he wondered.

"My dear, you should never take anyone’s word where money is concerned." Emilio laughed, as if negligence was the sort of thing he expected from a mere woman.

David visualized little puffs of steam coming out of Joani’s ears and chuckled. "This is no time to be assertive, darling."

She smiled innocently when Emilio looked at her. He snapped the latches on each side of the case, lifted the lid and moved the stacks about. Then he picked up one bundle and thumbed through the large bills.

David swiveled to the other monitor when movement there caught his eye. He glimpsed Joe coming through the front door. "Christ!"

He couldn’t leave the monitor now. They were so close to getting the evidence they needed. There wasn’t any way David could catch Joe before he reached the top of the stairs. He’d have to rely on Joani knowing how to handle the situation. He had confidence she’d send the young man away if he came knocking on her office door. David shifted his attention back to the monitor covering her.

Emilio was speaking. "I’d like to make you a deal, Joani. You keep the money as sort of a payment of good faith and I’ll give you the same deal I had with Bradford."

"I’m afraid I’d have to know a little more about the deal first." Joani laughed wryly, but glanced quickly toward the vent.

"Actually, I have someone else who’s anxious to take over Bradford’s end. All I really need you to do is look the other way when certain shipments come through."

"And what will happen when Bradford finds out you’ve let Everly take over as your collector?"

Emilio looked irritated, but he laughed anyway. "You’re much smarter than I gave you credit for."

Smarter than David gave her credit for, too. He didn’t even realize that she’d suspected Everly. She was gathering more evidence than he’d ever dreamed she could.

"Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it," Emilio said with a condescending smile. "I’ll take care of any friction that might arise in that department. The first lesson one learns in business is you have to go with the lowest bidder. But I’m not averse to spending the money I save to assure a safe delivery of the merchandise."

"Merchandise, as in cocaine?" she pressed. Emilio merely lifted a dark brow and smirked, obviously too clever to answer that one, so she asked another, "What about Maria?"

Emilio’s eyes snapped to attention then narrowed. "What about her?"

David swore. "For Christ’s sake, Joani, you’ve already got enough. Don’t push it."

Joani seemed unruffled by Emilio’s piercing glare. "I believe Maria thinks you are going to loan her money to buy me out. Won’t she be disappointed if you set me up in business instead?"

"As you can see, Maria talks too much. I imagine that’s why Miguel never trusted her."

"What makes you think I’m any more reliable?"

He waved his hand over the money as if that explained it all. "Of all the women in Miguel’s world, he obviously trusted you the most. And for obvious reasons, I’m inclined to agree."

"And if I don’t want to make the deliveries for you?"

"Just agree to whatever the bastard wants and get him out of there," David huffed nervously. Joe’s dreaded knock came at the door, making the adrenaline in David’s veins pump furiously.

Joani’s face lit up with such obvious hope that David wondered if she thought it was him on the other side of the door. Her expression turned distressful when Joe twisted the knob and poked his head inside without being invited.

"Hi ya, Joani. I thought I heard you—" The young man’s words trailed off as his gaze bounced from the money, to Emilio, and then to Leo.

David didn’t like the way the bodyguard’s hand was shoved inside his coat pocket when he stepped into the camera’s view. Joani must have noticed it, too, for she got up and walked toward Joe, moving casually between him and the bodyguard.

"Dammit, Joani, I told you to stay behind the desk!" David drew his service weapon and raced toward the stairwell. Then he forced himself to slow his pace. He wouldn’t do Joani any good if he went barreling in like an amateur. Trying not to make any noise, he crept up the stairs.

"For Goodness sake, put that thing away," Joani screeched, and David knew without a doubt Leo had drawn a gun.

With a silent prayer to keep Joani safe, David crouched and rounded the corner of the outer office. The inner door stood open and he could see Joani backing up in front of the Joe. If she lived through this, David thought, he’d strangle her himself.

"Move away from him, Joani. He’s seen too much." Emilio’s words gave Leo the go ahead to act.

David had a split second to react. He dove into Joe’s back with enough force to send both him and Joani sprawling to the floor. Rolling to the side, David came up in a crouch, shielding them with his body. He jerked his gun forward and shouted, "DEA, drop your weapon."

"Shoot him, you fool," Emilio ordered.

Thankfully, Leo hesitated a second too long and David fired, striking the heavy man in the right shoulder.

Jeffries appeared and gave the command, "Freeze, police."

Lt. Ackerson backed him up with gun drawn.

Leo’s hand went slack and his gun slipped to the end of his index finger. Apparently Jeffries’ delay had been due to him taking time to notify backup, for the room filled with uniformed OPD officers.

"Ouch, ouch, ouch." Realizing Joani had been repeating the complaint for quite some time, David looked down and saw he was kneeling on her injured arm. He shifted to the side and looked helplessly at her blood stained white blouse.

"Your arm!"

"Ohhh. Glad you noticed," she griped, as he helped her to sit up.

Jeffries handcuffed Emilio, while one of the other officers read the Miranda rights to both. When Emilio was being led out the door by one of the uniformed officers, he paused beside Joani and lifted his foot. David grabbed the banker’s ankle when he tried to kick her and shoved him backward.

Before the officer could regain control, David’s fist shot out and caught Emilio on the chin. He fell to the floor and David straddled him. He drew back to deliver another blow, but Jeffries caught his arm in mid-swing.

"Christ, Devereau, let’s take ‘em in alive."

David’s breath rasped, more from anger than the exertion. He glared with hatred at the man who’d tried to hurt Joani.

"David," she pleaded.

"Come on, man. Your lady needs you." Jeffries patted David on the shoulder and pulled him off Emilio.

David whirled around. In spite of the shock apparent in Joe’s wide-eyed, pale face, David admired the way the young man was bravely comforting Joani.

Kneeling beside her, David drew her into his arms, pulling her away from the good looking college kid.

"Your arm?" He remembered when she winced.

"It’s okay. I’m okay. Are you okay?" she asked in a giddy sounding, singsong voice. Her good hand dug into David’s waist as if she might restrain him from attacking Emilio again as the criminal was escorted out past them.

David helped her to stand. "You’re bleeding. You may have pulled the stitches out."

"I don’t think so. It doesn’t hurt anymore."

"You need to go back to the hospital."

The room grew crowded as more officers filed inside. Jeffries barked out orders for them to clear the area. David was reluctant to turn Joani over to someone else’s care. His gaze met Jeffries, and the detective grinned with understanding. He waved his arm. "Go on man, take care of her. Everything’s under control here."

* * *

Joani woke up alone in David’s bed. He’d pulled the blinds and left the table lamp on, so she couldn’t tell if it was daylight or dark outside. He’d taken her by the hospital. The doctor had re-bandaged her wound. As she’d thought, no stitches had come loose, but he’d given her a sedative, and threatened to keep her overnight if David didn’t promise to take her directly home and put her to bed.

By the time David had helped her change into a nightgown and pulled the covers over her, she was already drifting off. She wasn’t sure if he’d actually whispered words of love to her when he’d brushed his lips across hers, or if she’d imagined it.

Joani touched her lips. Was the kiss a dream as well? She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and turned. A bouquet of mixed lilies sat on the nightstand. She raised up and lifted the attached card from the holder. She fingered the velvet petals of the lilies, then opened the card. Love, David.

She wondered if David knew the lily was the Oriental sexual symbol for the female "cup" holding the essence of life. More likely they were a symbol of goodbye, a farewell offering.

Now that Emilio had been caught, David would go on to another assignment. She sighed and laid the card on the table.

Love, David. It didn’t mean anything. Friends often used the word love. Was that all he had to offer? Her heart ached from the possibility he was capable of giving her nothing more than friendship.

"Feeling better?"

Joani jumped. David moved out of the shadows of the far corner. He must have been asleep, for his eyes were puffy, and he had red finger-pressure prints on the side of his face.

"Much better," she said. How long have I been asleep?"

David glanced at his watch. "About twelve hours."

"You’ve been here all that time?"

"Except when I was busy convincing everyone you were okay, and sleep would do you more good than their company. I’m afraid we’re in for a deluge of visitors today. Your mother just left a little while ago."

"Mother, here! But her cruise was supposed to last for another week."

"One of the Nassau papers picked up your father’s article in the late edition on the arrest of Miguel’s murderer. Her friend, Peter saw it and showed it to her. She hopped the first plane out of the Islands early this morning and came directly here. She was very worried about you, Joani."

"I suppose." Joani knew somewhere beneath her mother’s waspish exterior must lay a smidgen of concern for her only daughter. Otherwise, why would Laura cut her vacation short to come find out if she were okay?

Laura would be piqued, however, for finding out through her ex-husband’s article all that had been happening in Joani’s life lately. She’d worry about that later. Right now she had more important things on her mind than how she’d placate her mother.

"Thank you for the lilies. They’re beautiful."

David smiled and her heart skipped a beat. "I remembered to send you no roses," he said.

"Oh, David." Joani felt weepy, but managed to maintain control. It must be the medication, she thought.

He sat on the bed beside her. "Don’t tell me you have an aversion to lilies, too?"

"No, no. I love lilies, and . . ." I love you, she started to add, but said instead, "It was very thoughtful of you."

"I’m not the only one." He indicated the colorful array in vases sitting on the dresser. Red, yellow, peach, but all were roses.

"Want me to get rid of them?"

"No, not yet." Funny, the sweet scent didn’t seem as offensive as it usually did. She twined her fingers through his. She refused to be unassertive any longer.

She couldn’t let him walk out of her life completely. Something wonderful had built between them these past few days. She couldn’t just let it go without a fight, and she’d been contemplating a plan that might suit him.

"David, I’ve already told you how I feel about you."

"My memory’s a little fuzzy. Maybe you’d better remind me." His eyes glittered with the flirtatious cockiness she was constantly trying to interpret. She didn’t intend, though, for the moment to be one of amusement.

"I’m sure you remember very well, and—" She didn’t get a chance to finish. His kiss was thorough, and quite long. It was the kind of kiss that curled a woman’s toes and melted her insides. Relief, excitement, happiness—Joani felt all these emotions and more. Much more.

He whispered against her lips. "I remember, and we’ve got a lot to talk about, honey."

"I know." She placed her palms on each side of his face to stop his next kiss. She might as well get her cards laid on the table right away. "I’ve made a decision."

"Oh, yeah?" He grinned broadly.

"Yeah. I’d like to move in with you." When a frown crossed his face, she hurried on to explain. "I don’t expect a free ride. I’ll pay half the bills and take care of the cleaning and such when you have to be away. When you’re home, I’ll, of course, expect you to do your share."

He still didn’t look too happy with her offer. If anything, his expression darkened more. "What in the hell are you talking about? You think I want you to be my live-in lover? You go your way, I go mine sort of thing?"

Her confidence faltered. Maybe she’d misconstrued his feelings. She turned away, reached over and touched the bright yellow petal of one of the lilies. "I see. Well, it’s okay. I-I mean, it was just an idea. You’re away a lot, anyway, and the house just sits here empty . . ."

She was rambling and she knew it. He placed his hand on her shoulder, but she couldn’t look at him now. Her eyes were filling with tears and if she remained still, she thought she could blink them away. She didn’t want his pity.

"Joani, I do want you to move in, but not—"

"I-I understand completely."

"I doubt that." He swore gruffly, then she heard him take a deep breath. "I hadn’t intended to do it this way, but Joani—look at me," he commanded.

She blinked several more times in an effort to clear the moisture, but it just made the tears spill over onto her cheeks. He tilted her chin up, forcing her to look at him. How humiliating, she thought.

"Of course, if you don’t want to become my wife, I’ll take whatever I can get."

"Y-Your wife?" She swiped away the silly tears. "You’re asking me to marry you?"

"Does a cat have whiskers?" David grinned.

"Oh, David. I love you so much." She threw her arms around him and kissed him with so much enthusiasm, he fell across her.

"Watch it, your arm!"

"It’s okay. Here," she scooted over, "lie beside me.

Careful not to hurt her , he stretched out and slid his arm beneath her neck. "I love you, Joani. I thought you knew that."

"Oh, I thought you did. But then after I found out about the investigation, I just didn’t know what to think."

"I’m sorry about that, Joani. I wasn’t given a choice in the matter. But I didn’t make love to you to further my investigation. The one thing had nothing to do with other."

"I know. And I talked to Marleen about it. I think I understand why you couldn’t tell me."

He squeezed her so tight the air swished out of her lungs, but she was too happy to be in his arms to complain. The proposal may have been a bit unconventional, but Joani couldn’t have been happier if she’d been wined and dined and wooed with candlelight and flowers. She just hoped David wasn’t doing this because he felt obligated to it. "Are you sure about this, David? I mean, if you’re afraid of disappointing me, don’t. I can deal with it."

"Then deal with this, sweetheart. I want you so damned much most of the time it’s almost painful. All I think about lately is us making a home together, a real home. Kids, too. Two or three at least. I don’t want a child growing up in the type of isolated, lonely environment I did. And if you’re worried I won’t be around to help you bring them up, don’t be. I’m giving the DEA my notice today."

Joani was so surprised she sputtered, "B-But, David, you love police work."

"I imagine once I get the hang of it, I’ll enjoy ferreting out corporate raiders, embezzlers, and technology thieves as well. According to Mother, big business is plagued by such crime."

"You talked to your mother about this already?"

"I hope you don’t mind. I guess I should have discussed it with you first."

"Don’t be silly, David." Joani hoped his mother wasn’t feeding him a line just to get him into the family business.

"Anyway, when Mother came by last night to see how you were—

"You mother was worried about me?" The woman must be warming up to her, Joani thought.

"Yeah, with Mother it’s hard to tell, but I think she really likes you. I know she admires you for what you did to bring Emilio to justice, because she told me so."

"Really?" Maybe there was hope for the woman after all, Joani thought. "But what did she say to change your mind about taking a position in the family business?"

"We had a long talk and one thing led to another. I guess I didn’t realize before how much Mother was looking forward to retirement. She’d decided to sell the company if I hadn’t changed my mind about taking over as CEO within the next year.

"My parents worked hard to make Devereau Industries a success, Joani. Surely I can do no less than keep it on an even keel for our children. With the communication what it is today, I’ll have to take few business trips. And even then, you could come with me."

"Good idea. I’ve heard stories about men who go off on long business trips alone," she teased. She was quite satisfied with his decision to take over the family business. And she had no doubts David would be as successful a businessman as he had been a DEA agent.

"Remind me sometime to tell you about my celibate lifestyle before you showed up on my doorstep a couple of weeks ago."

She gave him a bewildered frown, and he laughed and pulled her suggestively against him. She took a quick peek at the bouquet of lilies when his hands wandered down her waist and caressed her bottom. Her cup of life wept.

"I’ve been rambling on about our future, but you never did say you’d marry me," David said.

She smiled. Not doubt about it, she was about to make the most assertive commitment of her life. But David had kept her waiting all these years. She thought it served him right to have to wait a few minutes for her answer.

She noticed a bouquet half hidden by the colorful array and her heart jumped. "Who sent the white ones?"

"Huh?" David squinted to look at the flowers Joani was pointing at on the dresser. "Oh, Maria."

"Maria?" She breathed easier. "I guess white would be her choice. I just never expected her to be concerned for my well being though."

"Oh, she’s very concerned. She grilled me for information on whether the government had intentions of confiscating your business."

Joani laughed. "And what was the verdict?"

"Well, I didn’t tell Maria of course, but Rena and I discussed it earlier. Since you cooperated fully with DEA and your testimony will be so valuable in Emilio’s trial, Rena figures she’ll be successful at petitioning the government to allow you to keep Miguel’s properties."

Joani thought about that for a moment. She couldn’t care less about the business, but she might as well make the best of it. "If that’s true, you know what I’m going to do with Estivez Trading?"

"What?"

"Sell it to Maria."

"You constantly amaze me. I got the impression you didn’t like her very much."

"Maybe not, but I can’t think of anyone as capable of making a go of the business. Anyway, she deserves it for being so loyal to Miguel all these years. Of course, I’ll have to hold the mortgage, but the monthly payments are going directly into a trust fund for children who’ve suffered either directly or indirectly from drug abuse."

"Sounds like a very good plan."

"I never was cut out to run a competitive business, anyway."

"I agree."

"I’ve been thinking about my future, though. Maybe I should go try out for the police academy," she teased.

"I don’t think I like the sound of this."

"It makes perfect sense. With my new assertive attitude and the experience I’ve had with undercover work—

"One case does not make you a veteran, Joani."

"I’ve heard the FBI exams are mostly psychological questions, anyway. Should be a breeze."

"Joani!"

She took pity on him.

"Of course, there are other alternatives."

"Yeah, you could marry me," he said peevishly.

She ignored that and went on to explain,

"If Devereau Enterprises would match the proceeds from Estivez Trading, I imagine I could set up a non-profit organization. I’m good at PR work. Soliciting other donations shouldn’t be too difficult. I could study the many drug programs and decide which groups are most worthy."

"Sort of like an administrator."

"Exactly."

"Sounds like a plan, but what about us?"

"I imagine there’ll be a lot of legalities to iron out. You think Rena would be interested in handling the legal details?"

"No doubt she’ll be thrilled," David closed his eyes and rested his arm over his forehead.

"And David, you know what else?"

"I can’t wait to hear," he said dryly.

"I love you. And I want to be your wife more than anything."

He removed his arm and looked at her. She recognized the flirtatious look in his gaze, then the dark heat of passion that slowly took its place.

"Thank you, honey. I love you, too. I’ve just got one more request."

"Anything."

"You’re injured and I don’t want to hurt you. But I think now that you’re such an assertive individual you might initiate a position that will keep your arm out of harm’s way."

Joani laughed and shifted to that position. As she settled over him, she sucked in her breath and proclaimed, "You know, David, assertiveness definitely has its rewards."

THE END