* * *
6:32 p.m.…
His name was Bran. And Maddy couldn’t make heads or tails of him.
On the one hand, he seemed warm and affable. He’d listened to her jabber about anything and nothing most of the afternoon—her usual MO, just as she’d admitted—and he’d withstood it all stoically. Never telling her to can it. Even joining in with that whole movie trivia contest, smiling and laughing and teasing her until his chocolaty brown eyes glinted with laughter. On the other hand, he epitomized the phrase “cold as ice.” Not only had he taken out Lead A-hole with one pragmatic shot, but she was pretty sure he hadn’t given the matter a passing thought since.
A man of contradictions.
And she didn’t know if that turned her on or scared her out of her gourd. She was beginning to lean more toward the latter. Of course, that could be due to the fact that the sun was setting, and the adrenaline that had fueled her overconfidence all day long was now sliding out of her ass as surely as the glowing orange ball was sliding into the ocean in the west, leaving a cold, eerie void in its place.
It had begun to sink in. All the things she’d seen. All the things she’d done. A chill whispered up her spine like the frosty breath of a wraith. She rubbed her hands over the goose bumps on her arms and tried to maintain her brazen front.
“I feel like I should be cryin’. Or screamin’. Or pukin’ my guts out,” she admitted, almost to herself.
“I wish you were,” he muttered.
She turned to stare at him, frowning. “Now why in the world would you wish forthat?”
“Because then you wouldn’t be alone when it finally happens. I’d be here to help you through it.”
“Oh.” This time she didn’t attempt to hide the shiver that shook her from head to toe. Even so, Bran missed it. He was too busy handing over the metal suitcase to one of the six mysterious, mean-looking men who’d suddenly appeared in a fifty-foot ocean cruiser. The new arrivals had been short on time and even shorter on words, apparently, because no introductions had been made.
They’d simply thrown a couple of bumpers over the side of their boat before tying up to theBlackGoldand asking Bruce for some tools. After fixing one of their motors, they’d demanded to be given “the package,” and now they were on their way, untying, pushing back, the two giant motors on their cruiser coughing to growling life.
She couldn’t be happier What’s-in-the-Box was off her father’s yacht. She hadn’t the first clue what was actuallyinthe box—glorybeandpraiseJesus!—but given that it seemed to be the source of today’s hullabaloo, she knew she wanted absolutely no part of it.Mymamaanddaddydidn’t raise no fool.
“So what can I expect?” she asked him when he turned back to her.
“What do you mean? When everything that’s happened today finally hits you?” The sky played jazz behind him. It was a cacophony of colors shooting this way and that, and the low light turned the tops of the waves silver, the tips of his dark-brown hair golden.
“No.” She quickly shook her head, not wanting to go there. Not yet. Even though, according to him, it would be better if she did. “From the interrogation…er…debriefin’ on Key West? What cantheyexpect?” She motioned over her shoulder to where the crew of theBlackGoldstood at the railing, watching the cruiser get up on plane, twin jets of water rooster-tailing out behind the boat as it roared away from them.
“You’ll have to answer a lot of questions and probably sign a bunch of forms promising, upon pain of death, that you’ll keep your traps shut about what happened here today. But then I figure you’ll all be on your happy way to Houston with nothing more than agraziefor your trouble.”
“And that’ll be the end of it?” she asked. “No tapped phone lines? No mysterious visitors showing up and telling me the snow this year is better in Innsbrook?”
He smiled. And it gleamed over his features like a full moon on a cloudless night. All big and bright and beautiful, reaching up into his eyes, warming them, chasing away some of her burgeoning fear and doubt. “James Bond.ForYourEyesOnly, right?”
She nodded.
He squeezed her arm. “It’ll be like it was a dream, Maddy. I promise.” When he released her, his touch left behind a ghostly imprint. A phantom tingling sensation in the exact shape of his hand.
“Nightmare,” she corrected, covertly covering the spot with her hand, as if to hold in the sensation.Okay, young lady, you’ve done gone off the deep end.
“Probably more accurate,” he conceded.
She searched his face, and something there had her blurting, “And will I ever see you again?” She realized how that sounded—exactly like she’d meant it—and quickly corrected herself. “Anyof you again?”
He got very still, his expression turning enigmatic. “Probably not,” he admitted after a couple of interminable seconds.
She blew out a breath. “I reckon I should be grateful for that, huh?”
“You’re not?”
She curled her upper lip, feeling…something. Traumatized, maybe? Exhausted, certainly.Withabig-O side helpin’ of stupefaction and a bizarre-O attraction to a stranger for dessert.“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “I guess so.”
And then for a long time they just stood there, staring at each other. She had the weirdest urge to reach up and brush back the whorl of Superman-esque hair that had fallen over his brow. Just to test its texture. Just to see if it was as soft as it looked.
