Unfair Advantage

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX





Dani made the drive home in just less than three hours.



Buddy seemed happy to get back to the woods. Although he could romp in the courtyard at their new place, here he had much more freedom. She brought him in long enough to ea, and for her to shower, change into a cami top, yoga pants and a pair of canvas slides. Then, she opened a bottle of Fume Blanc, poured some into a glass and the two of them went back out. Dani sat on the porch, sipped wine and watched the growing puppy play.



Her mind kept wandering back to Larkin. She tried to concentrate on making some plans for her future. Against her will images of him teased.



She’d turned her phone off at the doctor’s office this morning and hadn’t switched it on yet. Had he called? Probably not. He had his hands full with the investigation.



Dani set her empty glass on the rail. Buddy stopped, dropped the stick from his mouth and stared toward the road. Seconds later she heard it too, a vehicle coming up the drive.



Somehow it didn’t surprise her to see Larkin’s macho-red truck.



It pissed her off just the same.



He parked beside her Camry, climbed out, duffel in hand. Her temper spiked.



“Presumptuous bastard.” Dani rose, strode to head him off. She stopped between him and the walk leading to her cabin. “It’s a long way back to the city, Larkin. I’d advise you to get started.”



He set down the bag. “We’re taught how to interpret suspects’ body language and voice characteristics. Anger doesn’t hide vulnerability and guilt. It draws attention to them.”



His unruffled cool made her especially fractious. “I’ll catalog that for future reference, detective.”



“You’re running scared, Dani. And deep down you feel guilty for taking off without telling me.”



He looked so big and powerful, a tower of masculine confidence. She hated to admit what he said could possess truth. Inner Bitch took over. “Think what you like. I have other plans tonight. Go home, Larkin.”



His jaw tightened. Something flickered in his eyes. It seemed he saw through the bluff. “Trying to hurt me won’t change how you feel about me.”



He’d done it again. Stripped her naked and defenseless. Hot emotion spiked within her. She couldn’t handle this now. Not when her own life yawned ahead of her like a dark chasm. Tears threatened. She whispered, “It’s done.”



Dan turned, began walking back to the cabin. Vaguely she became aware of Buddy close at her leg as she ascended the steps. Sight tear-blurred, she reached for the screen door. A big hand flattened upon the wood frame, closed it.



“Look at me.” His soft command accompanied the sharp, yet liquid sensation his proximity evoked.



Dani forced back the urge to yank at the door. “Please go away.”



“Please turn around.”



She braced herself, pivoted. His broad chest and shoulders filled her field of vision. It insulted both their intellects to continue protesting her feelings for him at this point. Without lifting her gaze to his, she queried, “What do you want from me, Larkin?”



“Let’s start with your calling by my first name. Maybe we could sit out here and discuss this like adults.”



She decided to face this head-on. “I was having wine.”



“I drank myself half blind last night, so I’ll pass on that. But, I’d love some of your coffee.”



Like polite new acquaintances they moved around each other. She told him to give himself a tour while she started the coffee. She refilled her glass, gave Buddy his vitamin and some of the boiled chicken breast she kept on hand for a treat. When the brewing finished, she poured Roarke a mug. He took it, picked up her wine, said, “After you.”



Outside they settled in the wooden chairs, rested their respective libations on the rail. The rapidly growing puppy sat close by her instead of playing. His mismatched eyes fixed upon her. Dani stroked his wolfish head. It released the scent of the rosemary and bergamot shampoo she’d bathed him in the night before.



After a silence, Roarke spoke. “For years I avoided having a serious relationship because I wasn’t ready for the commitment. I believe in it. Which is why I didn’t want to fail.”



When he said nothing more, she recognized quid pro quo. “I knew only I could get me out of the one horse town I grew up in. Everything I did orchestrated my plan to escape. Make it big.”



The cool evening wind rippled the lake surface, swayed the trees. He reached for his mug. “I made a false effort to put down roots. Bought the house, but I’ve had it three years and it’s still half in moving boxes.”



It scared her, however, Dani decided to change the confession exchange to questions. “What’s changed now about your commitment avoidance?”



She couldn’t help observing him from her periphery. His head turned. The weight of his gaze flowed over body like molten honey.



“Dani, you’ve changed everything.”



In spite of her starting this, she feared facing inquiry.



His voice lowered, softened. “Before your accident, did the idea of taking on a relationship scare you because you believed it would somehow sabotage you?”



Dani sighed, rubbed Buddy’s ears. “Yes. I thought of it as dead weight.”

“Your turn.”



She wouldn’t have considered it possible that questioning him would make her as vulnerable. It did. “‘Everything’ is broad. What have I changed?”



He lifted the mug to his lips, returned it to the railing. The sun had slipped below the trees. Darkness began to take the land in its grip.



Roarke shifted in the chair. It creaked under his weight. “I never believed in anything paranormal. You proved me wrong. I thought first that I couldn’t do commitment justice, then I hated the notion of having a family in a world where some asshole was free to kidnap, rape, torture and kill. You caused me to rethink that. Focus on the good to be done.”



Dani digested that, sipped Fume Blanc. Her nerves pulled so taut she expected a snap. “Your turn.”



“You sound like you’ve had enough. Is there a decent restaurant close? I’d like to buy you dinner.”







Mayan had sat for several hours on a bench outside the police station where her journey terminated. She perched on the hard seat in her borrowed clothes, the attaché across her knees. For that space of time she considered everything the contents of the case represented, could mean for her. Then after a sudden fit of weeping, she pulled herself together and rose.



Inside, chaos greeted her. Amid the sensory overload she approached a desk. A woman with short apricot hair, a weary expression, dressed in a uniform asked, “May I help you?”



Somewhere close a scuffle broke out. Voices rose, chairs scraped. Mayan leaned over the high counter. “I have information about the man you’re hunting.”



The furor of response that garnered surprised Mayan. It seemed as if detectives appeared from thin air, escorted her into a small room. One, a middle-aged man with serious, but kind eyes pulled out her chair.



“My name is Detective Wesley Daniels.” He rounded the table, settled opposite her. “We appreciate your coming in.”



Mayan sat. The case felt huge as she placed it in her lap. Self-conscious, she glanced around. “Could you and I speak alone?”



Detective Daniels hesitated a split second, then, “Of course.”



The other cops filed out. She exhaled a shaky breath. “I know they’ll watch and listen. It’s just difficult to speak with so many people around.”



“I understand.”



“Detective, my knowledge of the man you want comes from … questionable circumstances.”



He didn’t flinch. Square-jawed, big and solid, he replied, “Allowances can be made.”



Something about him struck a visceral chord. Mayan trusted the detective. For the record questioned, “May I have your word on that?”



He nodded. “I give you my word. What do you know?”



Mayan told everything. At the end, her breath came in shallow pants. She placed the case of money on the table, pushed it across. “That’s blood money. His prints must be there somewhere.”



Mayan had to write things down, sign forms. During which she learned the FBI had taken over the case, and that the children who’d been murdered had without doubt fallen to Him.



Her heart broke all over again. This time for herself, her own foolishness.







Ashlyn closed her shop, spent over an hour bringing herself up to speed. Sales approached a point where she almost had to open the bigger store. Considering that, she shut off lights in the offices, set the alarm, and emerged through the back door. Keys in hand, Ashlyn turned.



A masculine figure stood backlit by the security lights of Johnson’s deli.



“Sorry. It’s okay. Detective Fielding, remember me?”



Feminine receptiveness packed a powerful jolt. “I remember,” she responded. “Just can’t imagine what brings you here.”



His voice sounded deeper, stronger. “I think we both know.”



Ashlyn walked forward, gazed up into his face. “Follow me home.”



Fifteen minutes later when she parked in the small garage of her house, Ashlyn experienced an electric flood of anticipation. She got out of her Camaro, walked to the door leading inside the house. Fielding entered behind. She heard him twist the lock.



Ashlyn dropped her purse and keys to the floor, pivoted.



Only the sound of the tabletop fountain and her own rapid respiration filled her ears. He stepped forward. She jumped into his arms, wrapped her legs around his slim waist. Intense lust assaulted her senses. Ashlyn tried to eat him alive.



Fielding carried her through to the living room. She realized where they were as they sank to the carpeting. Ashlyn bit his lip, dug her nails into his neck.



He pushed her down, onto her back. On fire, she began to roll up and grab him.



“Stay there,” he requested, “You’re too beautiful to be real. I’m gonna touch every inch of your body with my mouth. See if you vanish.”



Ashlyn lost her heart.







Roarke sat beside Dani in the cramped booth and gave thanks for close quarters. He could smell that damnably elusive floral scent of her skin and the scent of her hair. Her hip and thigh touched his. Roarke experienced a grade school reaction to the proximity.



After they ordered an antipasto plate and wine, he put his arm around her. “I feel like I’m on my first date.”



She lifted her face. Roarke gazed down at her. His gaze dipped to her mouth. Conscious of their public surrounding, he lowered his head, brought his lips to touch hers.



Arousal struck a lightning blow. Roarke turned more to her. His hand curved round her shoulder. He had to pull back from the kiss. So he sat back in the booth, let his hand under the table slide up her thigh.



“We could have them pack our dinner to go,” she whispered.



Roarke noted her dilated pupils. Her gaze shifted from his eyes to his mouth. He suggested, “Let’s play for a while.”







Brand made new reservations, checked out of the hotel, then phoned a limo service. The chauffeur picked him up at the precise time. Brand loaded his bags and laptop himself, climbed in.



After a long silence, the driver initiated conversation. “Finnegan’s B&B? That’s in New South Essex, right?”



He gazed out the window, replied, “Certainly is.”