Chapter Eight #3
“I had the same thoughts.” He closed his computer and set it aside, giving her a better view of his nicely muscled torso.
Instead of a rigid six-pack, his body illustrated how he’d lived his life.
Lean and healthy. A long scar across his shoulder showed the result of a past injury.
On the other shoulder, he had a small tattoo of the University of Oregon mascot—a duck in a sailor cap—that made her grin.
A pattern of dark, springy chest hair arrowed down to his belly button. “What can I do for you, Mollie?”
She dragged her attention back to the matter at hand. “I haven’t been completely honest with you.”
“I know,” he said. “Erin mentioned the FBI video.”
What was he talking about? Was she so preoccupied with his hairy chest that she was hearing things? “The FBI video?”
“Of the explosion on the yacht. According to Erin, you received an anonymous delivery before you went into WITSEC. I’d like to follow up with some research to find out if the undercover agent who contacted you stayed in touch with the Peligro Cartel.”
She waved her hand to erase his words. “Already taken care of. That was five years ago. My dad insisted on tracing the video back to the source. His contact with the undercover agent wasn’t approved. The feds kicked Dad off the case.”
“Why did the agent send it?”
“I guess he had gotten too involved and felt bad about my sister’s death.” She pressed on. “I have something else to tell you.”
“Another lie?”
“I didn’t purposely deceive you. This is just something I didn’t mention.”
He patted the edge of the mattress. “Sit.”
“Don’t want to.” Mollie bit her lower lip. She was acting as skittish as a scared virgin.
“I promise,” he said, “I don’t bite.”
She reached into her pocket and yanked out the note. Waving it like a flag of surrender, she said, “I found this in your SUV. It was tangled up in the safety belt strap.”
She tossed it toward him, and he had to lean forward to reach it. The comforter slipped lower. There were no pajama bottoms that she could see. Before picking it up, he pulled both hands away. “I shouldn’t touch it. It’s more important to preserve the fingerprints.”
“I’ve already had my hands all over it,” she said as she picked up the note by the corners and held it closer to him so he could read the message that stated the time and the place for their meeting.
He squinted. “What’s the Clover Clubhouse?”
“A place we used to go to hang out,” she said. “It’s in Aunt Irma’s backyard.”
“The signature.” He raised his gaze to look at her. “Is that Madison’s handwriting?”
“She always made a pointy-topped M instead of rounding the edges.” He was so close that she could see the shards of jade green in his irises. Unusual eyes. Incredible.
When he leaned across the bed and reached into a drawer in his bedside table, she confirmed her earlier notion about his lack of pajamas and focused on his hands.
Inside the drawer, he grabbed a used manila envelope, legal-sized.
“Put the note and envelope in here so we don’t mess up the prints.
I’ve got a forensic guy in town who I work with. ”
“Good.” She slipped the note inside, closed the flap and handed him the manila envelope. “I don’t want to give it to the FBI.”
“Why not? Their labs are better than private companies’. It’s possible they could get trace DNA from the note. Not likely, but possible.”
“I like your friend Jesse Jamison, but I haven’t had good experiences with the FBI. They keep everything secret, and this is my evidence, addressed to me.”
He returned the manila to the bedside table drawer. “I understand. The feds can be difficult to work with. That’s why I called on Jamison. I trust him.”
“I don’t know who I can believe.” She turned away from him but remained seated on the bed. “If that note came from my twin, if she signed that M, she’s been lying to me for five years, letting me and Dad think she died in that explosion.”
She felt him place the flat of his palm against her back. “Do you think it’s from her? What does your heart tell you?”
“I’ve always believed she’s alive. No matter what anybody else says. I feel her presence.”
He stroked the line of her spine, reached higher and massaged her shoulders. “Why would she ask you to come alone?”
“I don’t know.” His touch soothed and excited her at the same time. Her emotions were already in turmoil from returning home and receiving this note that enforced her belief that Madison was alive and trying to make contact. “I have to go. Have to find out.”
“I’ll be with you, Mollie.” His voice lowered to a whisper as he moved closer. “I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”
Without considering consequences, she twisted around on the bed until she was facing him. Eyes closed, she clasped his naked body in her embrace. Sensing him rather than seeing him, she came closer and closer. Her mouth joined with his. Their kiss flooded her with relief.
She hadn’t realized how much she needed this physical contact with him. She deepened the kiss. His tongue engaged with hers. She didn’t want to stop, not now, not ever.
If she didn’t end this kiss, she’d keep going until they’d made love. More than once. Maybe more than twice. I can’t do this. I’ve only just met him.
She dragged herself out of the bed, pivoted and stumbled toward the bathroom that bordered both their rooms. “G’night, Spence. See you tomorrow.”
In her blue bedroom, she closed the door and crumpled to the floor. That might have been a terrible mistake. But it felt so right.