THE WATER STRETCHED BEFORE HER, GLINTING with the afternoon sunlight. Eve found herself leaning forward toward the dashboard, struggling to get a desperate glimpse of the island up ahead.
They’d flown to the Mobile, Alabama, airport. Gabe had been her silent companion during that too-short flight. They’d barely seemed to get up in the air before they were heading right back down. Mobile had been a blur of traffic as they headed down Airport Boulevard, then to the interstate. But, all too soon, they’d left the bustle of the city behind them. Now, all she could see was water—and one seriously large bridge looming dead ahead.
“It used to be called Massacre Island,” Gabe said, his voice low and quiet and his eyes on the bridge. A tall beast of a bridge. A metal sign to the right indicated they were heading over the Intercoastal Waterway. “Seems way back when, French explorers came upon the island and found what looked like a large pile of bones. They thought they were looking at the mass grave of about fifty people.”
Their rented SUV started climbing over the bridge. Seagulls flew next to them, seeming to race their vehicle.
They slowly reached the high crest of that bridge, and Eve’s breath stilled. “It doesn’t look like hell.” Not some terrible massacre site.
She saw white beaches. Beautiful white, gleaming beaches that stretched and looped. She saw heavy marshes. Sail boats, their white sails a bright contrast to the dark water.
“The Massacre Island name didn’t exactly stick,” Gabe said as they descended on the other side of the bridge. “The French started calling the place ‘Isle Dauphine,’ and, over time, the name became Dauphin Island.”
She couldn’t tear her gaze off that island.
Home.
The one word whispered through her mind.
“The place has seen a lot of tragedy. That oil spill a few years ago hit the people here real hard, and hell, that recent hurricane sure didn’t do any good for them.”
“And finding out that a serial killer had been hunting here? Like that was good news?” The sharp edge of her own voice surprised her.
As they headed off the bridge, they passed a police cruiser parked near a big wooden sign that proclaimed: WELCOME TO HISTORIC DAUPHIN ISLAND.
Ice seemed to cover her cheeks, then fast, hot pricks of heat ignited across her skin, melting the ice away.
Gabe slowed the SUV. “Are you okay?”
Her hands had flattened on the dashboard.
To the right, she could see a heavy fishing boat returning to the island. Long nets hung near the deck of that boat.
Another marina waited to the right. So many ships—some polished and sleek, some old and showing the ravages of time.
“I—I need to get out.” She couldn’t breathe in that SUV.
“It’s all right.” He was trying to soothe her. She didn’t want to be soothed.
A scream was building in her throat, and Eve was afraid it would break free at any moment. And if she started screaming—
Will I ever stop?
“The condo is less than five minutes from here at a tower called Dauphin View. Hell, the whole island is only fourteen miles long. We can—”
“Stop the car.”
He yanked the wheel to the right, taking them into the parking lot of a gas station, and he hit the brakes, bringing them to a jarring halt.
At once, Eve jumped out of the SUV. The scent of the ocean hit her. That salty air surrounded her, and the cries of seagulls filled her ears.
Those cries sounded like screams. Her screams.
“No,” she whispered, shaking her head and shuddering. Some teenagers were walking out of the gas station. They frowned at her.
“Lady, are you okay?” one called out.
Before she could answer, Gabe was there. He caught her hands in his and swore. “You’re ice cold.”
No, she wasn’t. She was burning up. Burning from the inside. “B-Bakery . . .”
“What?”
Her heart hurt because it was beating so fast and hard. She tried to pull away from him, but he held her in an unbreakable grip, so Eve tilted her head to the left. “There’s a bakery there.”
He glanced to the left. “I don’t see one.”
“Down the street. About twenty feet. There’s a bakery there.” She knew it with absolute certainty.
His hold loosened on her, and Eve broke away. She tore from his arms and ran across the street. A car honked and brakes squealed.
“Eve!” Gabe roared her name.
Only that’s not me . . .
She rushed past a church, past a row of houses, and then she saw the bakery. The scent of fresh cinnamon rolls teased her nose, and she hurried up the porch steps. The bakery was a converted house, with an overflowing parking lot as folks rushed after the sweet scent that hung and tempted in the air.
Eve shoved open the door. A bell jingled lightly over her head, and for an instant, she almost lost her balance as the world seemed to go off-center around her. There was a long, snaking line of people leading up to the bakery counter. The hum of voices filled the air.
I know this place.
The bell jingled again. “Jessica!” Her name was louder, far more demanding.
She felt a hand on her shoulder as he whirled her around to face him.
It isn’t Gabe.
And it slowly dawned on her that the name the man had just called hadn’t been Eve.
Jessica.
She was staring up into a pair of warm brown eyes. The man’s handsome face had been kissed by the sun, and his brown hair held streaks of blond, no doubt also from the sun. He smiled at her as she stared up at him, and slashes—not dimples, but slashes—flashed in his cheeks. “I’ll be damned . . . it’s you!”
The bakery had gone dead silent around them.
Eve shook her head.
The bell jingled again. Over the man’s shoulder she saw Gabe’s tense face. Worried, his blue eyes locked on her.
But then the man who’d called her Jessica, who wore a policeman’s uniform, leaned forward and kissed her.
His mouth touched hers with familiarity, with skill, but—it felt wrong. She struggled against him, pushing frantically with her hands and twisting her head away.
“Jessica?”
“Get those fucking hands off her, now!” Gabe’s voice. And he wasn’t waiting for the brown-eyed man in the cop uniform to comply. He grabbed the guy and shoved him back.
Eve’s hand slapped against the nearby wall as she drew in deep, shaky breaths of air.
“Buddy, you don’t want to assault the chief of police,” the man snarled.
Gabe took up a stance right in front of her. “And when a woman shoves you away, you damn well need to learn how to back off!”
Everyone was staring at them. Eve’s frantic gaze flew around the bakery. The two little old ladies behind the counter had frozen, their mouths wide-open.
“We’re causing a scene,” Gabe said flatly. “Let’s take this outside.”
Before, Eve had been so desperate to get inside the bakery. Now she was stumbling as she pushed her way out. The sunlight seemed even brighter, even hotter when she stepped onto the porch.
“Jess, I thought you were dead!” The cop was following on her heels. “Everyone did. Hell, I’ve got FBI agents who’ve been breathing down my neck for months. Ever since you vanished after the party at the marina . . .”
“You’re Trey Wallace.” Gabe was right beside Eve. They’d now moved a few feet away from the bakery’s sprawling porch and were in the shadows of a massive oak tree. A light breeze blew over Eve’s face, but that breeze didn’t cool her down.
“Yeah, I am, and who the hell are you?” Trey demanded.
Gabe reached into his back pocket and pulled out his ID. “My name’s Gabe Spencer, and I own an organization called LOST.”
“LOST,” Trey repeated softly. A hint of a southern accent rolled faintly through his words. Not a thick twang, a rough growl. Deep and dark. “I’ve heard of that group. You—you find the missing. You found my friend Kenneth Longtree’s daughter when she went missing during a spring-break trip to Mexico.”
Gabe nodded. “I remember her.”
Trey’s gaze shot to Eve. “Did he find you, Jessica? Is that what happened? He found you and brought you back to me!” He took a step toward her, his arms outstretched.
Gabe stepped into his path and shoved a hand against the guy’s chest, his fingers barely missing the badge clipped there. “Easy there, slick. In case you didn’t get that message before, the lady doesn’t want you touching her.”
A furrow appeared between Trey’s brows. “Why aren’t you saying anything, Jessica?”
“I—” She cleared her throat and tried again. “I don’t know what to say.”
Those brown eyes narrowed. “Your voice is different.” Now he looked suspicious. His gaze raked her. “Your hair’s different. The color’s too dark. And you . . . you’re too thin.”
Maybe he was about to say that he’d mistaken her. That she wasn’t Jessica.
Gabe’s fingers tangled with hers. Trey’s gaze dipped, noting that movement. “She doesn’t remember her past,” Gabe explained. “She walked into my office in Atlanta a few days ago. She wanted my help to find out just who the hell she really is.”
Trey’s gaze was on their fingers.
“Because, maybe,” Gabe continued quietly, “she is Jessica Montgomery. The woman the FBI thinks fell prey to the Lady Killer.” He paused a beat. “Or maybe she isn’t. But we’re down here because we thought the people who knew Jessica the best—the people here where she lived—would be able to tell us the truth.”
Trey’s stare finally lifted from their locked hands. His eyes met hers. “We need to take this back to my office. Gossip on this island runs like wildfire.” He motioned back toward the bakery. “And we’ve already given them enough of a show for the day.”
His police cruiser was parked a few feet away, its door hanging open.
“I saw you run across the street,” he murmured to Eve. “At first I thought you were a ghost. You’ve sure as hell haunted me enough days and nights.”
She swallowed.
“Jessica—”
“Eve,” she blurted. “Please . . . just Eve.” Because she didn’t feel right answering to another woman’s name. She’d talked with the nurses at the hospital, and they’d come up with that name together. Sure, it might just be random, but it was hers. Eve because I was a blank slate, and Gray . . . because the skies had been so gray and stormy after I woke in that hospital.
But Trey shook his head. “I know you. You think I’d forget the only woman I’ve ever loved? It’s you. It’s you.”
Her frantic heartbeat filled her ears because he was staring at her with absolute recognition on his face.
SHE WAS BACK.
She could have stayed away. Could have run, but she’d come home.
To me.
Jessica knew exactly what she was doing, and he could hardly wait for the true fun to begin. She’d changed in the last few months. Those months that she’d spent away from him. There was more of a fight to her now, oh, he knew that. He had the bruises to prove it.
He’d turned her into a fighter. He’d taught her to dole out pain. To hurt others.
He’d always wondered if, deep inside, she might be more like he was. Now, he knew the truth.
You are perfect.
No fear. No shrinking violet. Even with her mind twisted, she was fighting her way back to him.
She should be given a reward for that. Some help, so that she realized she was truly on the right path.
A path that led to him.
And he knew just how to show her the way. A demonstration would be necessary, but where . . . where could he find the right tool to help his Jessica? Especially on such short notice.
I like to hunt longer, to build up the anticipation.
But for Jessica, he’d make an exception.
“THE FBI TOOK over a huge chunk of my precinct and the town hall.” Trey sat perched on the edge of his desk. Gabe noted that the man’s eyes kept drifting to Eve. Lingering on her far too much.
Eyes up, buddy.
“When those bodies were found on the old golf course, hell, it sure stirred things up down here.” Trey exhaled. “It’s supposed to be paradise, you know? That’s how we bill it to the tourists. Come get away in paradise. We don’t tell them to escape to hell.”
Yeah, he could see where that wouldn’t fly with the tourism industry. “How many FBI agents are still here?” Gabe asked. He’d have to make contact with them ASAP.
“Two. And they have a team of techs digging up that old golf course, looking for more bodies.” His hand curved around the edge of his desk. “The golf course used to be part of the old country club here on the island. It shut down years ago, but the owners didn’t want to see some high-rise take its place, so they just kept the property empty. The course backs right up to the beach. The view there is killer.”
It had been.
As if realizing what he’d just said, Trey coughed a bit. “We, uh, left the area alone, thinking it was safe. My unit is small and we just patrolled there occasionally. We had no idea that some twisted jerk was dumping bodies out there.”
“Especially since he was hiding them so well,” Gabe noted.
Trey nodded. “When Hurricane Albert hit early in the season, the storm took away nearly eight feet of that beach near the golf course, and during the clean-up, we found—”
“Bodies,” Eve finished softly.
Gabe thought she looked too pale, but she was definitely holding it together. Not surprising. He already knew how strong she was.
“What was left of them, anyway,” Trey muttered. “But the FBI folks told me that sand slowed down the decomposition rates so they were able to make fast IDs on the remains and to figure out just what the freak out there had done to them.”
Gabe saw Eve flexing the fingers of her right hand. The fingers that had been broken. Then she lifted her hand, and the tips of her fingers skimmed along her neck.
Along her scar?
“My team is coming down to the island,” Gabe said, aware that his voice came out too rough. “I’d appreciate your cooperation as we investigate.”
Trey’s brows climbed. “You think you’ll be able to find out more than the FBI?”
Yes, he did. “I have a former FBI agent working for me. Dean Bannon will be here tomorrow—and my forensic anthropologist, Victoria Palmer, will be with him.” He rolled back his shoulders. “Victoria is the best in the business. If she can get access to the remains—”
“They’re not here any longer.” Trey’s lips thinned. “But she can see all the reports I have. And . . . and the FBI is still searching in the sand. Trying to see if there are any . . . more bodies.” He’d hesitated there at the end.
Eve stiffened. “You mean they are trying to find Jessica Montgomery’s body, right?”
“You—she—fit the killer’s profile.” Trey’s voice was quiet, and his gaze was still far too watchful as he focused on Eve. “With more women still unaccounted for, they have to search. They can’t give up.” A pause. “I can’t give up.” His gaze slid back to Gabe. “So, yes, you’ll be getting your cooperation from me. I want to do everything in my power to stop this bastard. No one kills on my island. No one.”
Gabe nodded. If the police chief hadn’t agreed to help him, he would have found a way to go around the guy. Dean already had an in with the FBI team working the case. But it was good to know they’d be getting cooperation.
“We’ll be staying at the Montgomery condo,” Gabe said as he rose and reached for Eve’s arm. “Pierce Montgomery knows that we’re trying to uncover her past and stop the killer, and he—”
“He doesn’t want you to be Jessica.”
The cop’s words stopped Gabe. He glanced back at him. He’s watching her again.
“I saw him, after you vanished,” Trey explained. “After we all started putting the pieces of the puzzle together and we realized what had happened . . .” He straightened. Walked toward her with a slow stride, almost as if he were afraid he’d frighten her if he moved too fast.
If you go in for another kiss, man, you’re done.
“Pierce was torn up. The guy was shattering right before my eyes. Hell, you were all he ever had. Sometimes, you told me that scared you. Because you were afraid of what would happen to him without you.”
You.
Eve shook her head. “You can’t know that I’m her. Pierce—he wasn’t sure. Like you said, my voice is wrong, my—”
Trey reached out and brushed back her hair.
Gabe was the one to stiffen now.
But Trey was just staring at the scar on her neck. “He slit your throat. Just like he did to the others.”
She pulled her hair back to cover the scar.
“Pierce is afraid. He knows it’s you, though, or he never would have given you access to the condo. Jessica’s home.”
“Do you have any of Jessica Montgomery’s possessions?” Gabe asked, making sure to keep any emotion out of his voice. The cop had enough emotion for them all. “We need a DNA sample for comparison—”
“And since you were adopted,” Trey murmured, “you can’t just be compared with Pierce.”
Surprise flashed over Eve’s face. “You . . . you knew?”
“We didn’t have secrets.”
Jealousy ate at Gabe. This was what he’d feared. That there was someone else out there, someone waiting for Eve. Someone that she loved.
He’d wanted her so much the night before. So much that need and lust had clawed right through his control. If Wade and Pierce hadn’t interrupted, there would have been no going back.
Part of him wondered if it was already too late.
I don’t want to give her up.
“I don’t have DNA samples,” Trey said. “No possessions. But I can prove in five seconds if you’re Jessica Montgomery.”
Gabe knew he wasn’t going to like where this was going.
“How?” Eve asked.
Trey smiled at her. “Easy, sweetheart. All you have to do is strip.”
Gabe lunged for him.
“Hold up!” Trey’s hip rammed into the desk as he backed away from Gabe. “Jesus, man, calm down! I didn’t say she had to strip for me!” He motioned toward the door on his right. “There’s a bathroom in there! She can change and use the mirror to check herself.”
But Eve shook her head. “Check myself? Look, I don’t have any tattoos. My scars are all . . . fresh. The doctor said—”
“No, shit, of course, you don’t have tattoos. You went to get one on your eighteenth birthday and you passed out when you saw me get mine.” He jerked up the sleeve of his shirt, revealing a dark, sculpted anchor tattoo that rose from about two inches above his wrist to just under his elbow. “You were supposed to get a dolphin on your back. Only you hit the floor when the needle hit me, and when you woke up, you ran from that needle.”
Trey spoke with an easy familiarity. I know all of your secrets. They’d come to Dauphin Island hoping someone would shed light on Eve’s past. Gabe just hadn’t expected the riot of anger and jealousy to hit him.
I want to know her secrets. He wanted to have the easy familiarity with her.
Why the hell am I jealous? Eve needed to get her life back. She needed her memories, and if this guy could help her . . . then I have to step the fuck off.
Eve should be happy. Whole.
Gabe took a step back.
“Check your left upper thigh,” Trey told her quietly. “You’ve got three small moles there. Or, hell, maybe they’re freckles, but they are there. Flat, smooth. And they form a triangle.” His breath heaved out. “I’ve seen them plenty of times.”
Gabe hated the guy. Get it together, Spencer. This is Eve’s life. If the police chief can help her . . .
“And you’ve got another one of those little moles right on your pinky toe.” Trey laughed, the sound low and intimate. “Cutest little damn thing I ever saw—”
She has those marks. Gabe had seen her feet. And when he’d had her under him in that bed, he’d seen the little freckles on her thigh. He had kissed them.
“But you want some concrete evidence, is that it? The marks aren’t enough?” Trey cocked his head. “Well, Jessica never had braces, and her dentist—hell, that guy retired years ago and I doubt you’d be able to find any dental records, so good luck with that.”
He needed more than luck. It’s no coincidence that she and Jessica have those same freckles, in the exact same spots. Gabe didn’t think Eve was trying to con anyone. He thought that she was Jessica Montgomery, a woman who’d escaped from a killer.
But he’d realized that it didn’t really matter what he thought. It was what she thought that mattered, and he didn’t think she’d accept her identity as Jessica, not until her memories were back.
That is why we’re on this island. To get those memories back.
Eve was standing there, her eyes huge, her body trembling faintly. She looked far too fragile right then, and he wasn’t sure that she was up to any more big revelations right at that moment.
She’d been attacked the night before. She was too raw, and he was far too ready to kick the ass of anyone who even looked at her sideways. Like that feeling is normal. His protective instincts were in overdrive where Eve was concerned.
Gabe wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “I think we need to head to the condo.”
She nodded.
They turned for the door.
“I’m telling the truth. I knew it when I kissed you. I knew it when I saw you,” Trey called after them. “Things might have ended between us, but you know I’ll always care about you. You can trust me.”
Things might have ended.
Yes, that had been in the report his employees had created. Jessica and Trey had broken up several weeks before her disappearance, but Pierce had acted as if they were still together. Gabe needed to understand exactly what had occurred between the two of them. And if Jessica still loved the cop. He looked back at Trey. “You and Jessica Montgomery were involved.”
“Obviously,” Trey muttered.
Eve was stiff at Gabe’s side. “Who broke it off?” she asked.
Trey hesitated, but then he replied, “You did. Said we were always better friends than lovers, and that it was time for a change.” He put his hands on his hips. “You know how folks say you don’t realize what you’ve got until it’s gone?”
He was closing in on Eve again.
“The last few months have been hell.” Emotion roughened Trey’s voice. “When you were gone, I learned what my real priorities were fast.”
Eve edged closer to Gabe.
Her hand brushed his arm.
And for some reason, his anger eased. The tension he’d felt, the jealousy, receded. He could breathe without wanting to drive his fist at the cop.
“I’ll do everything I can to help you,” Trey told her softly, but Gabe saw that the man’s hands were clenched into fists. “Because I won’t lose you from my life again.”
SHE NEEDED TO breathe. Only it felt as if her lungs were filled with water and she was drowning, choking on nothing.
“Eve?”
They were in the condo. And, jeez, but she hadn’t expected it. She should have, though, considering how much money the Montgomery family seemed to have.
First off, it wasn’t just a condo. It was a penthouse . . . one that would have given Gabe’s place in Atlanta a run for his money. It was a gorgeous, insane place filled with furniture that she didn’t recognize. Floor-to-ceiling glass windows wrapped around the penthouse, giving her nonstop views of the island. On one side she could see the Gulf of Mexico’s waves hitting the sandy white beaches. On the other side she could see the gleaming inlets on the bay side of the island.
So much beauty.
And I can’t breathe.
She rushed for the balcony. Shoved open the doors. The wind brushing over the ocean waves hit her, and she sucked in a deep breath.
I’m Jessica. I’m Jessica.
She heard the faint tread of Gabe’s footsteps behind her. Then his hands curled over her shoulders. “You remembered him,” Gabe said, voice quiet, barely carrying over the crash of the surf.
Eve shook her head. “But he remembered me.” The man had been no more than a stranger to her, but he’d known her body. She had those freckles on her. On her upper thigh. On her foot. There was no way for Trey Wallace to know that unless . . . “I’m Jessica.”
She was supposed to feel better now. She had a past. A family. But instead of feeling better, she was terrified.
Jessica was hunted. Jessica was tortured. Jessica was left for dead.
“I’m Jessica,” she said again as she turned in his hold. Her back brushed against the edge of the balcony. They were on the seventh floor of that condo complex, the highest building on the island, and they were totally alone up there. She should have felt safe.
She didn’t.
“I’m Jessica Montgomery, and the man who tried to kill me is out there.” She was convinced that the Lady Killer was the man who’d attacked her in Atlanta. Was he going to follow her back to Dauphin Island, too? The part that scared her the most . . . “I don’t know who he is. He could come right up to me, and I. Wouldn’t. Know.” Terror clawed at her. How was she supposed to trust anyone that she met? She could be staring straight at a killer and she wouldn’t know it.
His hands rose as he cupped her chin. “He’s not going to hurt you.”
That was so easy to say. “I’ve been afraid of him since the moment I opened my eyes in that hospital. I was afraid, and I didn’t even know why.” Trey had just confirmed her identity. A cop—a police chief!—had said she was Jessica Montgomery. So where was the relief? Where was the—dammit, the feeling of something other than the fear? The gnawing in her gut that wouldn’t stop? She’d expected more. “He knew me, and it changed nothing.”
Gabe gave a hard, negative shake of his head. “I’ll call Pierce. I’ll tell him about Trey—”
“We were lovers.”
Gabe’s nostrils flared. “Trey was involved with Jessica.”
“I’m Jessica!” Even though the woman felt like a total stranger. Too rich, too beautiful, too perfect Jessica—who’d been taken by a killer. Tortured. Murdered.
No, Jessica survived . . .
“He knew me.” She was absolutely certain about this. “I could feel it in the way Trey touched me. The way he looked at me.” Too intimate.
Gabe’s hand fell away from her.
“He wanted me to remember him, but I couldn’t.” I’ll always care about you. Trey’s words echoed in her mind. “And when he touched me, the only thing I felt . . . it was fear.”
Gabe’s brows slanted down. “He scared you?”
He terrified me. “I didn’t want him to touch me. I didn’t want Ben Tyler touching me. I only want you.”
But he backed away.
The surf kept pounding below.
“Trey said that he and Jessica—that he and I were done,” she fumbled, trying to make sense even as her mind seemed to splinter on her. I’m not Eve, I’m Jessica! But Jessica was still a stranger. No, worse, she seemed like a ghost. “If I’m not involved with Trey, then that means there isn’t some lover in the background for me. There’s no one waiting—”
“Eve . . .”
“You’re the man I want, Gabe. Only you.” And he was just standing there. She needed him to say something. Too much was happening inside of her. Emotions were gutting her. She wanted to scream. She wanted to rage. She wanted—
Him.
Eve surged forward. She grabbed his shirt, fisting it in her hands, and she rose onto her tiptoes. Then she kissed him. Wild. Hard. Hot.
She kissed him.
She knew it was too late to turn back. Too late to let go.
It was too late for them both.
HE COULD SEE them, up on that balcony. With his binoculars, he had a perfect view of them. But then, he’d always had a perfect view. He could see her clearly—every moment. Always.
He’d made certain of that.
She was kissing Gabe Spencer. Wrapping her arms around him. Holding onto the man as if her very life depended on him.
But it didn’t.
Your life depends on me. You can’t forget that, not like you’ve forgotten everything else.
Gabe’s arms locked around her.
You should have pushed her away, asshole.
But Gabe was taking her back in the penthouse. He was going to fuck her.
When they vanished from that balcony, he jerked down his binoculars, swearing. You can’t have her. You—
“Uh, excuse me?”
A woman’s voice. Soft, one tinted lightly with what sounded like a drawling Texas accent.
“Could you possibly help me?”
His teeth locked as he turned toward her.
But then he saw her. The light shone off her blond hair. She’d perched a pair of sunglasses on the top of her head, and her eyes, hesitant, hopeful, met his.
Her eyes were green.
Not that perfect, deep green of Jessica’s, but close enough.
Close enough . . .
They always were.
Oh, you just might work wonderfully . . . The tool he’d needed had just walked right up to him.
“I heard there was a lighthouse around here,” she said, waving her hand. The light caught the expensive diamond tennis bracelet that she wore. “How do I get there? I mean, where—”
He caught her wrist in his hand. You shouldn’t wear jewelry like that. Not in the water. It just attracts predators . . .
Sometimes, you didn’t see the predators until it was too late.
She looked at his hand, then back up at him. She smiled, a bit nervously, a bit flirtatiously.
He was handsome, he knew it. His looks made things easier. The women didn’t hesitate when they were approached by a handsome man. Not the women he hunted. Women used to using their own looks to get what they wanted.
“I’m afraid you have to travel by boat in order to reach the lighthouse. It’s about a forty-minute boat drive.” He gave her a smile. “There’s a lighthouse tour that leaves from the main marina each day, but I think you missed that boat. I saw it head out about twenty minutes ago.”
“Oh.” Her plump lips curled down in a pout.
His gaze slid over her. She wore a white bikini, and a wraparound skirt that twisted into a tie at her hip. She was slim, but curved in all the right places.
And the blonde looked as if she were the right age . . .
“You vacationing down here alone?” he asked her, keeping his voice light.
“Alexa!”
She jerked at the call, glancing over her shoulder. “No, my best friend and I are on a getaway.”
And the best friend was closing in. A pretty redhead with blue eyes.
Not my type.
But Alexa . . . she had potential. He’d have to do a little research on her and make sure she was just right.
“Maybe I can give you a ride out to that lighthouse sometime,” he offered, letting his fingers trail lightly over her wrist.
He felt her pulse jump beneath his touch.
“I’ve got a thirty-foot boat that I think you’d love . . .”
“Alexa?” The best friend was coming closer. She hadn’t spotted him yet. That was good. It wouldn’t do for anyone to see him with the lovely Alexa. Not if he decided to use her.
He dropped Alexa’s wrist and pushed his sunglasses onto his nose. “Where are you going to be tonight?”
Her smile spread. She thought he was interested, and she was loving the attention. One of her shoulders rolled in a light shrug. “I heard there was a band playing on the West End of the island. I thought I’d check them out.”
Perfect. That would give him plenty of time to learn more about her. With his resources, he’d know everything necessary about her within a few hours. “I’ll see you then.” He eased away from her. “And maybe later I can give you that ride . . .”
A ride she’d never forget.
The last ride of her life.