Текст книги "Death of a Pirate King "

Автор книги: Josh lanyon

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Oh yeah, I remembered only too well how that went.

Studying me, Jake said, “You don’t like Paul, do you?”

I hadn’t thought about it before. “Not particularly.”

He nodded like that didn’t surprise him.

I drained my glass, looked at my watch. “I should get going.”

“Yeah, me too.”

We paid for our drinks and walked out together. As we strolled around the building to the parking in the back, I said, “I think Nina’s movements on Sunday would be worth looking into.”

“We’ll check into it,” Jake said. “I’m not ruling anyone out yet, and she’s a squirrelly broad, no question.”

The car alarm chirped in welcome as he stopped beside the conspicuously innocuous vehicle – with the police lights in the back window.

I said, “Night,” and pulled my keys out.

He said abruptly, “You know that Kate lost the baby?”

I said awkwardly – realizing I hadn’t mentioned it before, “Yeah, I’m sorry.” And I was. I didn’t wish Kate or that kid any harm. In fact, I had almost called Jake when Chan told me about it, but I’d thought better of it. It might have looked like I believed the only obstacle to our own relationship was that baby; the truth was, it had merely been the final roadblock.

He said unemotionally, “Since we have a choice this time around, she’s not sure if she’s ready to start a family. She’s at a place in her career where taking time off could set her back years. She’s in line for promotion.”

I didn’t want to hear this. I didn’t want to feel sorry for him – I didn’t want to feel anything at all. But I couldn’t decently walk away, so I asked reluctantly, “How do you feel about that?”

I could just make out his lopsided smile in the parking lot lights. “I want a family. But she’s worked hard for this. It’s her call.”

I’d thought the whole point of the marriage was so that Jake could have family and a “normal” life. Maybe it was a real marriage, despite the fun and games with Paul Kane. Maybe Jake did love Kate. It was to his credit that he seemed to place as much importance on her career as his own – or at least understand that she would.

But I had no idea what to say to him. Good luck with that? He was talking to the wrong person. But he was looking at me like he expected something – needed something.

I said gently, “Drive safely, Jake,” and walked away.

Chapter Thirteen

I groaned when I saw Guy’s Miata parked outside Cloak and Dagger. How the hell much of this was I supposed to deal with in one night?

Then it occurred to me that my lover coming safely home to me should not, technically, fall into the stressful-shit-I-had-to-deal-with category. Yet there it was: the old familiar feeling of not wanting to face this – and I knew there would be something to face. I’d known since Guy had proposed a romantic weekend in Mexico, and I’d felt nothing but dismay that there was something waiting for me to face.

I let myself into the store, walked upstairs, and opened the door. Guy stood at the window, staring down at the empty street below.

“I didn’t know whether to expect you or not,” I said, as he turned to face me.

“I spoke to Peter,” he said. “We need to talk.”

Well, the good news was he didn’t apparently care where I’d been, so I didn’t need to admit I’d been having drinks with my own ex-lover. I dropped down on the chair next to the sofa. All at once I was very tired. “Sure,” I said. “We could start with you explaining why you’re pen pals with a kid who tried to kill me.”

He inhaled like I’d tackled him out of the blue. “Peter did not try to kill you, Adrien. He is not a murderer – and that’s not merely my opinion. The jury agreed. He was swept along with something that got out of control, that’s all. He’s young, he was naive. He was every bit as manipulated as Angus. You’ve forgiven Angus, haven’t you?”

Had I? Yeah, apparently I had. I replied, “Angus never tried to kill me.”

“He involved you in something that could have got you killed. It’s the same thing, nearly.”

“No, Guy, actually it’s not.”

He didn’t bother to argue; his expression said it all.

I said, “Even if we put that aside for a minute, if you can’t see how far out of line his coming here was…I don’t know what to tell you.”

“You’re completely overreacting.”

Now that was almost funny, considering that I’d been thinking Guy had spent the last week overreacting about Jake. I said, “I disagree. I think most people would disagree.”

“Most people.” He shook his head like that was unworthy of me.

Maybe it was.

Reaching out, he absently picked up the crystal-encased gold doubloon he’d bought me early in our relationship. He frowned at it as though he’d suddenly spotted a flaw in the lustrous surface. He said, “I know Peter.” He raised his eyes to meet mine. “I’ve known him longer than I’ve known you.”

“Yes. I recall.”

“He needs a friend right now. He needs help.”

I had this sudden Ebenezer Scrooge moment. Are there no prisons? Are there no workhouses? Maybe Lisa was right. Maybe I had grown hard, bitter. In any case, I seemed fresh out of the milk of human kindness.

I said, “He showed up here deliberately, Guy. He was challenging me, letting me know he was back, staking his claim.”

A look of distaste crossed Guy’s face.

I said, “Yeah, it is very high school. I agree. And we’re both too old for this shit.”

“I think you may have misinterpreted –”

I laughed. Shook my head. “I didn’t misinterpret anything. He wants you back, and he wanted me to know that. He believes you still have feelings for him – and I’m not so sure you don’t.”

“I told you at the start there was nothing…serious between Peter and me. That is to say, I’m fond of him, I consider him a friend, and I want to see to him through this…difficult time. He needs someone, Adrien.”

I need someone, I thought. But what I said was, “And you need to be needed?”

“Everyone needs to be needed,” Guy answered succinctly. “Even you.” He replaced the pirate coin in its place on the bookshelf.

When I didn’t respond, he asked quietly, “Are you asking me to choose between you?”

I’d been massaging my temples against what felt like a looming headache. Migraine. Brain cloud. I looked up. “Wow. I guess I didn’t realize it would be that tough a choice. No, I’m not asking you to choose.”

“What does that mean?”

I gave a helpless laugh. “Damned if I know. I think…we seem to have reached impasse. I feel betrayed by your friendship with Verlane. I realize that’s not logical. I realize that if I’d made the mistakes Verlane has made, I’d want my friends to stand by me, hope that someone would help me when the time came. I just…”

“What?”

I met his eyes. “I just need to come first for someone, Guy.”

He said, “Is it fair to ask for that when I don’t come first for you?”

Fair question. I’m not sure why it felt like I had suddenly run out of highway. I replied, “Probably not.”

Neither of us seemed to have anything to add.

At last he moved. “Maybe we both need some time.”

“Yes,” I said, and I rose, as though seeing a guest to the door.

We went out on the landing, I followed him down the stairs; saw him out the side door. He hesitated. I knew he was trying to decide if he should offer to give his key back. I didn’t want him to, but I couldn’t seem to make myself say anything.

He said, “I’ll call you.”

“I’ll be here,” I said.

And he smiled as though we both knew that wasn’t true.

* * * * *

“Morning,” I called as the glass door swung open with a cheerful jangle of bells.

“I will never understand men. Why can’t they just say what they want?” Natalie deposited the large pink box of pastries on the counter with strudel-smooshing force.

I glanced up from the register. “What’s that mean?”

“That!” She jabbed her finger at my nose. “That look. That’s exactly what I mean. It’s like you think it’s a trick question.”

“It is a trick question,” I said, “because if we just tell you what we want, you won’t like the answer. And then it will be loud and messy and take up a lot of time we don’t have.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Lisa asked you to talk to me about Warren, didn’t she?”

“God, no.” I opened the pastry box. “Is it somebody’s birthday?” Hopefully not hers – or anyone else’s I was now related to.

She said huffily, “I thought I would like a doughnut this morning.”

I blinked. “There must be twenty-four doughnuts here.”

“Twenty-eight. You get two free ones with each dozen. Have one. Anyway, they’re not all doughnuts.”

“I see that.” There was quite a nice selection of baked goods. I took a chocolate doughnut with sprinkles. “I thought carbs were out this month?”

“I don’t give a damn about carbs,” Natalie said viciously, and I raised my eyebrows, before returning hastily to counting out the register.

We always do a brisk business on Saturdays, and that day was no exception. In between helping customers – which she did charmingly – Natalie brooded and somehow managed to eat four doughnuts, two cheese Danishes, a cinnamon pecan roll, and a bear claw.

“I’d offer to take you to lunch,” I said when twelve o’clock rolled around, “but I’m afraid you’ll explode.”

“We can’t close the store anyway,” she said. She fastened me with a darkling eye – well, as darkling as a blue-eyed blonde who looks like a Ralph Lauren model can get. “This is why we need some help in here, especially since you’re busy out sleuthing half the time.”

“We’re going to get some help,” I promised. “And it’s not like I’m going to continue sleuthing –”

“So you are on a case!” she said triumphantly. “I knew the minute I heard about that murder at Paul Kane’s mansion. I knew it.”

I’d been so busy brooding over Guy and the situation with Peter Verlane I’d walked right into that one. I said, “You make it sound more organized than it is. I just agreed to ask a few people some questions, that’s all.”

“I’ll tell you right now, the wife did it,” Natalie said.

“That seems to be the consensus of opinion. Why do you think she did it?”

“Well, for starters, did you see him? He was old enough to be her father. And he looked like a frog.”

“Yeah, but love is blind,” I said.

“No, it’s not!” she scoffed. “Not for girls like her.”

Now this was interesting. The feminine perspective. “What do you mean, girls like her?”

She made an exasperated little clucking sound. “Adrien. She is a total bimbo.”

“Hey, bimbos have feelings too,” I said. “Look at Anna Nicole Smith.”

She just shook her head.

“Okay,” I said, “but Anna Nicole Smith didn’t knock her elderly husband off. So why take that risk – especially when the wife is always the immediate suspect?”

“Maybe she couldn’t wait.”

“Why wouldn’t she be able to wait?”

Natalie shrugged. I thought it was an interesting point, though. What if there was some time factor involved? Like…what if Ally’s lover had given her some kind of ultimatum? Or what if she was pregnant again? Or what if Porter – as Paul Kane had hinted – was planning to change his will?

I said, “But why do it in such a public way? Why not just arrange a quiet little accident?”

“Maybe she didn’t know how. Or maybe she thought someone else would be blamed.”

I stared at her. She had something there, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on what it was. Would Ally have any reason to believe someone else would be suspected before her in her husband’s death?

Natalie said, “That detective in charge of the case: is he your Jake?”

My mouth dried. The words felt arid and dusty as I forced them out. “Who told you his name?” Like I had to ask.

“Lisa pointed him out on television the other night, and I recognized him as one of the cops who was in here the other day.”

I opened my mouth, and then shut it. Jake had to know he was fighting a rearguard action. And I was through lying to my own friends and family. “Yeah,” I said. “We used to be friends. A long time ago. He’s married now.”

“Bastard,” she said.

I shook my head. “Not really. He never lied to me. I just didn’t ask the questions I didn’t want to know the answers to.”

It wasn’t like I hadn’t always known this was the truth, but as I it said aloud, I absorbed that I was finally able to accept it without being angry at myself or Jake.

Natalie went to lunch, came back, and I spent my break surfing the Web finding out what I could on Langley Hawthorne. It was mostly a tangent. I started out doing some more searching into Nina’s background, but a couple of references to Hawthorne’s accidental death diverted my attention.

There wasn’t as much information as I would have expected. Despite his wealth and his interest in movies and moviemaking, Hawthorne had kept a low profile. His relationship with his daughter was apparently always a stormy one, but he had doted on her. When he died, she inherited the bulk of his fortune.

That wasn’t particularly noteworthy; what caught my attention was the manner of his death. He’d fallen off his yacht and drowned off Catalina Island. Hawthorne and a handful of close friends had been drinking heavily that evening – which was apparently not unusual – and the Los Angeles Coroner’s Office had ruled the death an accident.

Even more intriguing was the lineup of guests on that fateful night. In addition to Al January and Paul Kane, Porter Jones and the first Mrs. Jones had been present – as had Nina. This would have been after Nina’s affair with Porter had ended. Or, more exactly, after her father had insisted Porter break it off with her. To my way of thinking, at best that would have been one very awkward get-together.

I considered it for a bit, then I phoned Lisa.

After we got past the pleasantries and unpleasantries – Darling, I didn’t realize it was still a secret – I said, “Lisa, at lunch the other day, you said something about hiring a caterer for this SPCA banquet. Have you already done that?”

“You mean at the lunch we didn’t have the other day?”

“That’s the one. Have you already hired a caterer?”

“We’re moving the venue to the Bonaventure.”

I said, “Would you do me a favor and see if you can set up an interview with Nina Hawthorne? She owns Truly Scrumptious Catering.”

“But we don’t need a caterer, Adrien. The hotel will take care of all that.”

“I know, but could you pretend that you’re holding it wherever you talked about before?”

“I suppose so. Why?” She sounded mildly suspicious.

“I’d like to sit in on the interview.”

Silence.

“Why?” she said, and it was her no-fooling voice.

“I’d like to see what she’s like.”

She said tentatively, “Are you thinking of hiring her for some event?”

Oh God. Did she think Guy and I were about to tie the knot?

I said, “Sort of. I’d just like to get a feel for her and her company.”

“All right, darling,” Lisa said, highly amused. “I’ll set something up, and you can tell me what it’s all about later.”

I hung up, and Natalie tapped on my office door.

“Paul Kane called while you were on the phone.”

I sighed. “Thanks.”

I called Kane back and got his PA. After a brief wait, she put me through to Kane.

He greeted me in that mellifluous voice, “I was beginning to wonder if you were ducking my calls.”

I remembered that he had called the previous afternoon, and I’d never got back to him. Granted, I’d been a little preoccupied with the detonation of my personal life, but it did seem a little blasé now that I thought about it – especially when I believed it possible he was the intended victim of last weekend’s poisoning. Was I unconsciously hoping someone would take Paul out?

“Sorry,” I said. “I’ve been a little busy. In fact, there’s something I wanted to discuss with you.”

Amused, he said, “This sounds ominous.”

I said, “Has it crossed your mind that you might have been the target last Sunday?”

It was so abruptly quiet, I wondered if we had lost the connection. He burst out laughing, and I had to hold the handset away from my ear.

“Bloody brilliant! You truly had me for half a mo.”

“Yeah, but I’m not kidding,” I persisted. “I’ve been doing some digging, and I couldn’t help but notice Nina Hawthorne catered your party.”

“Lose a lot of clients to poison, does she?” He was finding it all terribly humorous, pip-pip.

“I don’t suppose all her clients share the history with her you do,” I said.

He stopped laughing. In fact, he was silent for a few seconds. He said, “I gather from your tone you’re aware that Nina and I have had a somewhat tumultuous past.”

“I know you had a child together, and that –”

“Yes,” he broke in crisply. “Quite. Well, you are thorough. I give you credit for that.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m not trying to open old wounds, but it occurred to me that the drink you handed me for Porter might easily have been mistaken for your own.”

After a moment he said, “She wasn’t there. At least –”

“At least what?”

“No. It’s ridiculous.”

“What’s ridiculous?”

“Nothing. I appreciate your concern. Truly. But…not necessary, I assure you.” Before I could respond, he went on, “Look, the reason I’m giving you a tinkle is I’m having a little get-together at the marina tomorrow. Valarie will be there, and it would give you a chance to speak with her.”

“Sundays are awkward,” I said. “I’m supposed to occasionally give my assistant a day off.”

But Paul persisted – charming and intractable as ever – and I finally agreed just to shut him up.

“Marvelous!” he exclaimed after giving me the details. “We’ll see you then.”

“All right,” I said without enthusiasm.

He chuckled at my tone, then said with unexpected seriousness, “Adrien…thank you. I appreciate your concern. I do. But the loss of our child actually brought Nina and me together. Allowed us to be friends again.”

“Of course,” I said. “I didn’t realize.”

“How could you?” he said easily. “But I am genuinely grateful for your friendship.”

“No problem,” I said.

With friends like me, who needed enemies?

Chapter Fourteen

The faded marina sign was missing an uppercase O. But Watch for    Posing Drivers! seemed pretty good advice given the number of Mercedes driven by guys in yacht caps.

I parked and walked past the clubhouse and Olympic-sized swimming pool. Gaily colored pennants whipped overhead. Gulls mewed, swooping and diving over the bobbing pier. The smell of ocean and diesel permeated the air; sunlight glittered blindingly on the blue water.

It looked like a good day to be out on the high seas. Or the low seas. The harbor was already full of boats heading out toward the breakwater – and even the vessels moored at the dock seemed to be crowded with mateys intent on enjoying the sunshine, salt air, and – in more than a few cases – the hair of the dog.

I found the slip number Kane had given me without trouble. His luxury yacht, Pirate’s Gambit, was a sleek seventy-eight-footer with a black hull. A pirate flag flapped briskly on the bow.

“Avast ye!”

I looked up and Kane was leaning over the railing, a bottle of champagne – very expensive champagne at that – in one hand. He was smiling down at me. Not for the first time I was struck by how really attractive he was. He had it all, really – well, all that Hollywood cared about: looks, charm, personal magnetism.

And he wasn’t a bad actor, either. I wondered if his bold and unapologetic sexuality had anything to do with the fact that he wasn’t a bigger star.

I walked up the boarding ramp and Kane came agilely down the ladder from the upper deck to greet me.

“Perfect timing,” he said, lightly squeezing my shoulder as he moved past me. “Everyone’s topside. Go say hello.”

I climbed the ladder to the smaller open deck. “Everyone” turned out to be Valarie Rose and Al January comfortably ensconced in lounge chairs. They were drinking champagne and arguing amiably. Valarie wore an emerald green swimsuit, and January wore orange shorts and some kind of Aztec print sports shirt.

“Welcome aboard,” Valarie called. “I hope you brought your swimsuit. I feel a little underdressed.”

I sat down in a blue and white striped deck chair. “Sorry,” I said. The breeze off the water was chilly, but the sun felt good. Not so good that I was tempted to take my clothes off, but pleasant.

“How’s the investigation going?” January asked, pouring a glass of champagne and handing it to me.

I murmured thanks, took a sip, and set the glass next to the railing. “I don’t think the police are ready to make an arrest,” I said. “But it’s not like they’re keeping me up to date.”

Although my Friday night meet with Jake had been surprisingly close to it.

“I can’t imagine what the holdup is,” Valarie said. She was attractive in a no-nonsense way: good figure, good bones, good teeth, good skin. “We all know who did it.”

January gave her a tolerant look. “Then I guess the holdup is, the police don’t have enough evidence to make their case yet.”

I asked, “Are you so sure Ally is guilty?”

“There! You see, I didn’t even need to say her name,” Valarie said. “You know exactly who I mean. We all know she murdered Porter. It’s not socially correct to say so, but we all know it.” She leaned back in her lounge chair, tilting her face up. The sun glanced off her large green sunglasses.

January looked across at me and smiled ruefully.

“You don’t think anyone else had a motive?” I asked Valarie.

She lifted her head. “To commit murder?” Behind the big shades, she looked amazed at the idea.

Beneath us, the ship’s engines rumbled into life. Paul Kane climbed up to join us, taking a chair next to Valarie.

“What do you think?” he inquired of me, nodding to the cockpit.

“Beautiful,” I said. “How many crew members?”

“Captain and one deckhand this afternoon. I take her out on my own when I’m in the mood.” He grinned, his teeth very white. “I fly my own plane too.”

“Paul’s a full-service action hero,” Valarie purred, and ran a possessive hand down Paul’s tanned arm. He caught her hand and kissed it playfully.

Well, blow me down, me hearties. I’d sort of guessed – and if you browsed the headlines of the celebrity gossip rags in the supermarket checkout – or even gave in and read a few pages while waiting for the line to move – it was common knowledge that Kane was bisexual. Nor would it make any sense for him to sit home nights when Jake was playing Make Room for Daddy with Kate. I’m not sure why I thought he would keep secret the scandalous truth of his appetite for women.

Meeting my gaze, Paul smiled again and said, “Take your shirt off, Adrien. We’ve paid extra for the sunshine.”

I glanced down at my white polo shirt. “Mother Superior warned me about boys like you,” I said.

January laughed, and Paul licked his lips. “She didn’t tell you the half of it.”

That pretty much set the tone for the rest of our voyage. Kane – to the apparent amusement of my other two companions – flirted relentlessly with me during the three hours we cruised the open water. It was harmless, but I couldn’t help wondering what lay behind it. I hadn’t previously got the impression that Paul found me irresistible – and all the winks and little smiles and brushing of feet and hands – didn’t alter my opinion. Paul was doing his considerable best to charm me, and I wasn’t sure why. Did he think I was considering abandoning my part in the investigation? Could he have placed that much faith in my sleuthing skills?

There was more champagne at lunch, which consisted of Caesar salad, pasta shells stuffed with ricotta cheese and spinach, and chicken Vesuvio in garlic white sauce. It was a lot of food – rich food – and I was very glad I wasn’t prone to seasickness.

Oddly, although it was ostensibly the reason for this get-together, we barely talked about Porter’s death. Instead, the three of them discussed various ideas for filming Murder Will Out.

“I sense Jason has a dark past,” Paul said of Jason Leland, the protagonist of the two mysteries I’d written about a gay Shakespearean actor and amateur sleuth. “I think his past casts a long shadow.”

“A secret sorrow,” Al January said – with a straight face, as far as I could tell.

“Uh, sure,” I said. In all honesty I thought Jason was suffering about as much secret sorrow as Jackie Holmes, the Man from C.A.M.P. But I already knew from talking to writer friends that no one was ever happy with the screen adaptation of their work. My main interest was getting money for the bookstore expansion. That’s what I kept telling myself.

“I have some concerns with the London setting,” Valarie said. “What would you think about moving it to The Oregon Shakespeare Festival?”

“Ashland’s beautiful,” Al agreed.

And on they went. After a time they stopped asking for my input, and I stretched out on one of the lounge chairs. I hadn’t had much sleep lately, and the food and drink and flattery – the warmth of the sun and the lulling motion of the water – had a soporific effect.

The next time I opened my eyes, we were heading back into the harbor and the three of them were talking quietly about Porter.

“…but if Porter really was dying…” That was Valarie.

January said, “Porter trusted Marla.”

“Why not?” Paul said. “Marla knew where the skeletons were buried.” His voice changed. He said, “Hello, Sleeping Beauty.”

I glanced over and the three of them were watching me. Their expressions were a curious mix. “Sorry,” I said, sitting up. “Too much sun and champagne.”

“Did you have more than a glass?” Paul commented, amused. “Not that I blame you for flaking out. We occasionally put ourselves to sleep.”

After that there was very little conversation. Valarie went below deck and changed into white slacks and a sweater. January and Kane chatted desultorily. It was just after seven-thirty when we put in at the harbor and prepared to disembark.

Paul put a hand on my arm. “Stay for a bit, Adrien. I’d like a word in private.”

January said good-bye to me, patted Paul’s shoulder. Valarie kissed his cheek, murmuring, “Are you sure you can’t cancel your plans for tonight?”

“I’m sure, my flower.”

“Well, watch out for the crazies.” She caught my glance, and said, “Oh, that wasn’t directed at you – although I do think you’re nuts to go along with this last brainstorm of Paul’s. You know, what you two are doing could be dangerous. Someone tried to run Paul off the road on his way down here this morning.”

I turned to Kane, who laughed at my expression. “No one is trying to kill me,” he said.

Valarie gaped. “You mean someone has threatened to –? Paul!”

He was shaking his head, gently steering her toward the gangplank. “Bad driving isn’t a crime. The perils of amateur sleuthing: Adrien sees murderers behind road signs.”

He waved them off, then turned smiling lazily to me. “Alone at last! Let’s go down to the salon.”

I followed him below deck to a beautifully appointed lounge paneled in teakwood with panoramic picture windows of the harbor and the sky flushed with sunset. The plush carpeting and rich furnishings were in burnished earth tones. I’d been in nice hotels that weren’t as lavishly decorated.

“What’s your poison?” Paul asked, going to the bar.

Funny guy.

“Nothing for me, thanks.”

His mobile mouth quirked. He poured himself brandy and joined me over on one of the long L-shaped sofas.

“Jake tells me you have a thing for pirates.”

As “things” go, my affection for swashbuckling films is pretty tame, but his tone – and the understanding that he and Jake had discussed and laughed at me – turned it into something else.

“Aye, aye, Captain,” I drawled.

He chuckled, studying me with his bright, inquisitive gaze. He took a swallow of brandy, savoring it.

“Is Jake behaving himself?” he asked.

“As far as I know.”

He smirked at the implications. “He’s not scaring you off the case?”

What was going on here? There was something very odd in this casual, almost – but not quite – friendly inquisition.

“No.”

“And you haven’t changed your mind about pursuing this…investigation?”

“No. Should I?”

He shrugged. “The police are very close to making an arrest, you know. The evidence is stacking up against Ally.”

His main concern had not been justice for Porter – it had been that Alonzo viewed him as a suspect. Not that I could fault him for that, since my concern had been that I was a suspect. I said, “Did you know Porter had cancer?”

“Yes.” He looked momentarily grave. “I was one of the few people he confided in.”

“I assume Ally knew?”

He opened his mouth to answer, but turned his head at the sound of footsteps coming down the winding stairs that led into this lounge.

Boots. Jeans encasing long legs and lean hips. Wide shoulders in a black leather jacket. Jake.

“There you are,” Paul said lazily.

Jake stared at me. In some alternate universe that dumbstruck expression would have been funny. Not so much in this one.

“Oh, don’t run off,” Paul said as I rose. “We could make a threesome of it.” He chuckled. “Dinner, that is.”

“Another time,” I said. “Dinner, that is.”

I had to step past Jake to get to the doorway. He had recovered from his shock and watched me without expression.

“Adrien,” he said quietly.

I nodded at him. “Good night,” I told Paul. “Thanks for the boat ride.”

I heard Paul laughing as I climbed topside.

The air was chill and smelled of brine and something dank. Overhead, the palm trees rustled eerily, black against the blaze of sunset. The hollow thud of my footsteps followed me down the pier as I walked toward the parking lot.

It wasn’t a shock…exactly. It was more the realization that Paul Kane had deliberately kept me onboard so that I would see Jake arrive.

Or so that Jake would see me?

Either way it was puzzling. Maybe I wasn’t exactly clear for whose benefit that little performance had been staged, but I was dead sure it hadn’t been an accident. That meeting had been directed as any scene in a play.

Why?