Eyes Of Fire

“You could.”

“Could? What does that mean?”

“Well, the police will come out, question you and question all your guests. You won’t find out who attacked you, and you might well empty the island.”

She hadn’t thought of that. “But—but what about the danger to my guests?”

“I’d bet my life that the attacker is very specifically after you.”

“Great. Then I’m in danger.”

“Yes. You’ll have to be extremely careful.”

“And how am I supposed to do that?”

“Stay close to me.”

She folded her arms over her chest. “That could be difficult when you’re running around with your well-endowed—and not-so-well-endowed—women.”

“Did I arrive here with a woman?”

“No, but they always seem to appear around you.”

“But I’ll be watching you.”

“But—”

“Look, if the police come, they won’t be able to do a damned thing but file a report. Your innocent guests will leave the island. And you’ll still be in danger.”

“That’s your opinion.”

“You’re right. That’s my opinion. Hank Jennings disappeared searching for the Beldona, as well, didn’t he?”

She frowned, thrown by his abrupt change of subject—or determination to return to the original one. “Did you know Hank Jennings?” she asked, trying to keep her voice level.

“I heard about his disappearance,” he said, his eyes on the map once again.

“Naturally you heard about it. I wrote to you, asking for help. You didn’t come. But then, you didn’t show up after my father disappeared, either, and you’d become bosom buddies with him.”

He didn’t offer her a sarcastic reply, which she might have expected. He didn’t even remind her that she had asked him to leave Seafire Isle.

He just shook his head, taking a long swallow of beer. “I didn’t get your letter for nearly a year after your dad disappeared,” he told her. His voice seemed a little husky.

The beer, she thought.

“I was down in the Everglades on a sting operation when it came.”

“Well, that would have been years ago now. Are you always so quick with your correspondence?”

“A neighbor was picking up my mail. The letter wound up on her counter, then fell behind her stove, and she finally found it over a year later, and by then…” He shrugged.

It sounded like one of the worst stories Sam had heard in her life but, oddly enough, she believed him. Not because the story was believable, but because of the way he told it.

“She was picking up your mail, huh?” Sam murmured.

“She was sixty-six. I don’t think there was any ulterior motive behind the accident. If you’d really wanted me, you could have called.”

“It’s difficult to call someone who has ignored your rather desperate appeal for help.”

“You know damned well I would have done anything I could to help your father.”

“Well, at least I don’t have to feel like such a fool for attempting to reach you last year when Hank disappeared. But what happened then? Was your neighbor collecting your mail again?”

His glare assured her that he didn’t find her amusing. He shook his head, lifting the beer, taking another long swallow. Then he looked at her, his eyes silver and very sharp. “I was out of the country last year, working for private concerns. My mail was all held at the South Miami post office—feel free to check on that.”

“Oh.”

He exhaled in exasperation. “I was in Africa, river diving for industrial diamonds.”

“I didn’t ask you for a detailed explanation.”

“You don’t seem willing to believe one, either.”

She shrugged. “So what are you doing here now?”

Once again he lifted his shoulders, and she knew she was going to receive an evasive reply. But he suddenly stared directly at her. “Unusual things have been happening in this area with some frequency.”

“My father disappeared, Hank disappeared. Other than that, not a damned thing besides your run-in with the drug dealers years ago has happened here.”

He arched a brow. “Nothing unusual has happened? What about just now? Or was that your usual evening? Were you just indulging in some kind of kinky sex in there tonight? Should I have kept out of it?”

Sam refused to dignify that with an answer. She walked across the room to the treasure map, studying it as she spoke. “I haven’t had the first unusual thing happen here—until your arrival.”

“Your father’s disappearance wasn’t unusual?”

She spun on him, fighting a wild tug-of-war to keep her emotions under control. She had loved her father. She’d never even known her mother; Justin had been all she’d had. And he had made her the center of his universe. When he had first disappeared, she had refused to believe it, yet as the days went by and no sign of him was found, she had known that he was dead. He would never have stayed away from her if there had been a breath of life left in him.

“My father is dead,” she said softly.

He didn’t deny it. He merely asked quietly, “And don’t you want to know why?”

She shook her head stubbornly. “I do know why! The sea is a vengeful mistress.”

“What about Hank?” Adam demanded. “Didn’t he disappear just the same damned way—without a trace?”

She threw up her hands. “They both went out alone in small boats. Adam, the sea doesn’t always give up her dead.”

“Yeah, well, if I understand things correctly, she didn’t give up so much as a jagged piece of lumber after the disappearance of either man.”