Black Satin Page 8

  She started to head inside but heard a muffled thump from the rear of the boat. Without another thought she hopped onto the narrow ledge that ran along the outside length of the main cabin and tip-toed carefully to other end. She had no intention of falling in. Given his arrogance, Cole would probably assume she’d elected to join him.

  Her mind rapidly sorted through the myriad things she wanted to say to him. As she neared the back she was fully prepared to tell him exactly what he could do with his curt orders and assumption of her obedience. She hopped down to the back deck, mouth open, ready to let go with both barrels, but not a sound passed her lips.

  In front of her, in his full God-given glory, was a very healthy-looking, utterly naked Cole Sinclair. He was facing the water and had just propped one foot on the side railing as if to launch himself over the side. If he knew he had an audience, he didn’t let on.

  She had to say something to make him stop. She was primed for an argument and desperately wanted to say her piece. But her brain just wasn’t sending the proper signals to her mouth. It was much too busy processing every little, and not so little, detail of Cole’s incredible physique. It didn’t temper her anger any when she realized that she was a tad disappointed that she was only being treated to a rear view. As it occurred to her that by saying something she might get his attention as well as a peek at the rest of him, she opened her mouth, but at that very moment he dove over the side and disappeared beneath the silvery black surface of the cove.

  She raced to the edge, waiting for him to surface. After a long moment his head and upper torso shot up at least a hundred yards out. His hair was so dark against the even darker water that if it hadn’t been for the full moon, she’d never have spotted him. “Cole!”

  He’d been looking in her direction and didn’t move when she called his name. He had known she was there, the jerk.

  Bracing her arms on the side railing, she leaned as far over the side as she could. “I wasn’t finished talking to you yet,” she called across the moonlit water. “Do you think you might put off your swim for a few more minutes while we clear away the remaining details?”

  “No,” he called back. “Why don’t you drop your clothes and dive in?”

  SIX

  Kira’s mouth dropped open. Of all the … His tone seemed sincere, but she could picture his cynically amused expression, and her blood boiled. She pressed her lips together, trying to keep from shooting her mouth off. He was trying to bait her, and she wasn’t about to fall for it. No way would she let him lure her into the water with him, clothed or not. It didn’t help matters that she couldn’t erase the image of his “bait.” She cleared her throat. “No, thank you. I spend too much time in the water as it is. I don’t suppose you’d tell me what you’re planning on doing in the next forty-eight hours?”

  “Depends on where you are and what we’re doing when you ask,” he shot back.

  Despite attempts not to, Kira had to restrain the urge to smile. Cole had made blatant suggestions to her before—had all but announced he planned to get her into his bed. But he’d never teased her in quite this way. He was almost being … friendly.

  Maybe she did need some exercise. Her brain was obviously fogging up again. Cole Sinclair, friendly? Not likely.

  “Fine,” she called back. “I’ll give you the two days. But I’m not coming out here again.” She didn’t dare pause. “You meet me at the institute. I think it’s time you got up close and personal with the other dolphins. I should be done around six.”

  She turned and ducked into the main cabin. She knew if she catwalked back along the side, it would give him the opportunity to respond, or worse, given his obvious superb physical condition, swim back to the boat before she could get to the pier. She slipped out onto the back deck and jumped up onto the pier, then crossing her fingers for a smooth getaway and digging her keys out of her pants pocket, she hopped in her car.

  “Damn,” Cole muttered. He watched the headlights on Kira’s car shoot white beams across the cove in front of him, then turn and become swallowed up by the night. “Damn.”

  How had she so neatly outmaneuvered him? He’d thought his spur-of-the-moment idea for a swim was pretty ingenious at the time. Watching Kira’s expressive face and listening to her heartfelt description had started an ache in the vicinity of his chest. It was either dive overboard and take a cooling dip or yank her onto his lap. He’d chosen swimming because he doubted seriously she’d have stayed in his lap for long. And when they made love, it wasn’t going to be on the rough indoor-outdoor carpeting of the upper deck.

  Cole started to pull himself across the cove with long, lazy strokes. He forced his mind to the conversation that had preceded her abrupt departure and away from all thoughts of bedding Kira Douglass. For now.

  He’d known she was behind him on the boat just before he’d dived in. That she hadn’t simply taken him at his word and left surprised him, although he didn’t know why. She’d never taken his word for anything yet—why should this time have been any different?

  He took a deep breath and began swimming faster with short, pounding strokes. After ten solid minutes he dove under, then burst up through the surface, expending a final surge of energy. Exhausting himself in the water wasn’t helping. He couldn’t ignore the fact that he hadn’t exactly been irritated by her refusal to be pushed around. As a matter of fact, he’d been tempted to turn and face her on the back deck. Only he knew damn well they’d end up doing the exact thing he’d been trying to avoid when he’d stripped in the first place. The very idea of her studying his naked body had aroused him so intensely, he’d been completely thrown off by it. In the end he’d simply gone over the side. Any hope that she’d either been embarrassed or irritated into leaving had been quickly dashed when she’d called his name out into the night.

  Cole reached up and gripped the railing on the side of the boat with both hands. But instead of pulling himself on board, he hung there for several long minutes, willing the water to quell the arousal that was still raging even after his strenuous workout. Giving up, he swore softly and hauled himself over the edge.

  “Damn,” he muttered again as he traipsed into his bedroom moments later, heedlessly dripping water all over the floor. He glanced at the large box in the corner, then heaved a sigh as he tilted his head back, rotating shoulder muscles still stiff with tension no amount of exercise would ease. He grabbed a T-shirt off his bed and used it to towel himself off, then tossed it on the floor behind him and climbed into bed. After punching his pillow several times, he gave up and flopped over on his back. Even the cool feel of the white percale beneath his back and the clingy black satin draped across his chest did little to soothe him or entice sleep.

  He muttered an oath, then several more, then let a whole string loose. But even that tried-and-true form of stress reduction did little to ease the strange tension that had invaded his mind and body. With a last earthy curse he pillowed his head on his arms and stared up at the ceiling. He let his mind drift and gradually fell asleep with visions of shattered diamonds playing at the edges of his mind.

  “Felicia! No!” Cole shot forward, adrenaline pumping hard through his body, his heart pounding so rapidly, he knew it would burst. Fear, horror, then agonizing pain sliced through him like a razor-sharp sword. Dear God, what have I done? “No! Damn you, Marcos!” They were too far away; he couldn’t get there. No matter how fast he swam, it was too late. Dead. All dead. How many of them had there been? He watched helplessly as the small bodies blown into the air by the vicious explosion rained down around him in scattered, indistinguishable parts. “No … sweet Lord, no,” he sobbed.

  It wasn’t until he tried to swim to them and became hopelessly tangled that he realized he was sitting upright in his own bed. Awake.

  “Damn!” he shouted, willing his heart to slow down and the ghastly images to fade from his mind. When he thought he was under control, he ripped off the sweat-soaked sheet tangled around legs that had been tr
eading water in his dream. Climbing out of bed, he moved into the small bathroom and splashed cold water over his face and chest. Not bothering to dry himself, he stepped back into the bedroom. One look at the mangled remains of his bedclothes kept him moving until he sat on the rear deck.

  Even the balmy midnight air felt good against his overheated naked skin. Raking his fingers through his hair, Cole let his head drop forward to rest in his palms, his elbows on his knees. He should never have gone to bed before dawn.

  A rough sound of disgust echoed across the cove. Stupid, stupid. He hadn’t had the nightmare in months. And going to sleep at night had not been the only reason for its return. The other was a certain brunette with eyes and lips that plucked at the soul he wasn’t sure he had.

  “Damn her,” Cole muttered, even as he admitted it was his own fault.

  His first instinct was to leave a note for old Sandy, letting him know he’d need another security guard for his pier—although it was his opinion, one he’d shared many times with the grizzled conch, that no one would bother with anything out here anyway. He shook his head at the fanciful idea that he could escape his demons by running. If there’d been any chance at that, he’d have left the Keys two years ago.

  He knew better. He would face them and live with them every day until he died. The best he could do was make it as bearable as possible.

  Besides which, the only thing of value he had left was his word. And he had given it to Sandy. And Repo. And to his lasting regret, he’d also given it to Kira Douglass. Not in so many words, but in his own mind the commitment was made. If he went back on his word, he was left with nothing. Nothing to separate him from the human beings he had spent almost a decade of his life trying to bring to justice. Nothing to prove to the only ones he had cared about that their lives weren’t lost because he had lost all human emotion.

  A familiar ache clenched inside his chest, and Cole knew that for this night, he would be unable to keep the demons away. But before he allowed himself to replay all the violence and horror once again, he forced his mind back for just a moment to those diamondlike eyes and warm, caring smile. If she was partly at fault for lowering the walls, she could help prepare him to deal with the consequences.

  Several hours later, exhausted emotionally, Cole watched a glorious sun break over the horizon and thought about what he had to do in the next two days. The contacts he was going to reestablish. He thought of the man who’d been trying to lure him back for over a year. Reese would be thrilled. And all for a damn fish. A vision of Kira telling him about a boy locked in a room, entreaty pouring from her eyes and lips, flashed in his mind. He let his head drop to his hands once again. “Jesus, Sinclair,” he muttered. “What have you gotten yourself into this time?”

  Kira ripped the apron off and threw it into the corner of her office with a succinct oath. Rio’s appetite wasn’t improving, and she was finding it almost impossible to hide the strain she was under from her employees. “Dammit, Cole, where the hell are you?” she asked her empty office as she quickly stripped off her shorts and bathing suit. He’d said two days, and she’d given them to him. Not that she had any real choice. She glanced at the clock. Eight. The rest of the staff had left hours ago. Where was he?

  She hadn’t realized just how heavily she’d been counting on him. But as six o’clock had come and gone, her mood had slowly shifted from forced optimism to anger. Now she just felt stupid. What had gotten into her, anyway? She snorted in disgust as Cole’s naked backside flashed across her mind for the millionth time. She’d let her own bruised ego get in the way of P.J.’s best interests. If anything happened to him …

  She was startled out of her thoughts by a knock on her office door. He had come after all! She hastily pulled on and tucked in her tank top and zipped up her clean pair of white shorts. As she reached for the knob with one hand, she quickly ran her hand through her hair with the other. She aborted the move just as she pulled the door open. “Well, it’s about ti—” She broke off midword as she saw who stood outside her door. “Paul? I thought you left hours ago.” She knew he had, but was too startled to say anything else.

  His expression changed from its initial curiosity over her greeting to a sheepish smile. “Yeah, I did. I went out with some friends, and we decided to take Frank’s boat over to one of the deserted keys to party. When I went home to change, I realized I’d lost my house key and figured it must have dropped here. I saw the light under your door and decided to pop in so you wouldn’t hear me and be alarmed.”

  His explanation was entirely plausible, so why wasn’t she buying it? He seemed nervous. Plastering what she hoped was a casual smile on her face, she said, “I’ll help you look. Are your friends waiting?” As she spoke she left her office, locking the door as she slipped out, though for the life of her she didn’t know why. There was nothing of any importance in her office except client files. She mentally shrugged and walked quickly to the main reception area.

  Kira tossed a glance over her shoulder to make sure Paul was right behind her. He was. She couldn’t read anything unusual in his expression, but the chill trickling down her spine kept her alert. “Where do you think you dropped them?” she asked once she reached the main desk.

  “I looked in here already,” he answered, his glance averted as he apparently scanned the room again.

  “Let’s go back and check the lockers.” They went around the desk and into the small room that housed the lockers used by the employees. Paul pulled his open, and a pile of junk literally fell into Kira’s arms. On top was a crumpled piece of neon-green paper. Without thinking, she shoved the load in her arms into the empty locker next to Paul’s and snagged the green wad of paper off the top.

  “Have you seen this iguana?” she read out loud from the bold copy slashed across the brightly colored page. There was a grainy black-and-white, or actually, black-and-lime-green photo of a narrow-eyed man holding a large iguana. She choked back the simultaneous urge to laugh and gag. Even if Iggy hadn’t been in the picture, she’d have recognized that iguana anywhere. It was Elvis. Trying for a steady voice, she continued, “Large reward for any information that leads to reuniting me with my companion, Elvis.”

  Paul groaned and rolled his eyes. “Just when you think you’ve seen it all.” He reached out and took the flier from her hands, crumpled it up into a ball, and tossed it back in his locker. “I went down to a club in the lower keys last night and found this thing on my windshield when I left. Can you believe it? Next thing you know, we’ll have a wave of Elvis sightings.”

  Kira blanched at the thought and quickly buried her head in one of the lockers beside Paul’s. What had Cole done with the beast anyway? She knew she should be ashamed for not even thinking to ask him about it. But she figured with all that had been happening lately, she was excused.

  “Bingo!”

  Kira looked up in time to see Paul extract a silver key attached to a leather thong from the bowels of his locker. “Good. I hope this hasn’t ruined your evening,” she added, leaning against the locker door to close it, hoping he’d take off quickly.

  “They’ll wait for me.”

  “Don’t tell me, you have the keg,” she said, trying for a teasing tone.

  “Nah, I’m the only one who can navigate Frank’s boat around the reefs in the dark.”

  Kira stilled and tried to keep her face carefully blank. “I see.” She didn’t meet Paul’s eyes in the sudden quiet that filled the small room.

  After a second that stretched out painfully long, Paul began to shove everything back into his locker, mumbling something about promising to clean his locker soon.

  Kira intervened. “I’ll do this, go on. Wouldn’t want to risk them leaving and running aground somewhere.”

  Paul laughed with a bit more force than she thought her comment warranted. “Never happen. Listen, thanks for the help. I’ll, uh, see you on Monday.”

  Kira pasted on a smile and waved good-bye. She stood for a moment after he l
eft, wondering if she’d read too much into their conversation. Her gaze fell on the crumpled green sheet. She snatched it up, folded it, and shoved it into her pocket. She quickly slammed the door to keep all the junk from tumbling back out and hurried back to her office. It wasn’t until she got to her office door that she realized she’d locked her keys inside.

  “Hell,” she muttered. “I’ll never make a good spy.”

  “Not if you don’t keep your voice down.”

  Kira screamed and jumped a foot in the air. When she regained half a breath, she turned to find Cole leaning negligently against the wall in the shadowy hallway. “You scared the stuffing out of me.”

  “That’s why they hired me as a spy, and not you.”

  Her anger fled as a frown flashed across his face. She hadn’t missed his use of the word “they,” and apparently neither had he. A million questions were stalled on the tip of her tongue, begging to be asked. But with miraculous fortitude, she ignored them. Given the fierce scowl shadowing his features, it was a sure bet he wouldn’t have answered her anyway.

  “What took you so long?” she asked. “I was beginning to think you weren’t coming.”

  “Contrary to what you apparently think, I do have other commitments. You aren’t paying me for round-the-clock obedience.”

  “I wasn’t aware that was a commodity that could be bought from you,” she shot back. Was it impossible to be near him without being constantly on the defensive? “Besides which,” she continued, a phony smile curving her lips, “as far as I know, we haven’t agreed I’m paying you at all. Have you decided on a price? And if so, how much extra does it run for the obedience?”

  The return of the nightmare two nights before had convinced Cole as nothing else could that, no matter the cost, he would not—could not—afford to react to Kira Douglass again. Yet one smart-ass response delivered through those wickedly curved lips, and he felt his carefully reconstructed walls shake as if they’d been made of papier-mâché. He did manage to restrain the urge to smile.