go for the answers, anyone else for her to turn to, she wouldn’t have come here.
After looking nervously over her shoulder, the memory of her attacker’s warning to stay clear of Nick still prominent in her mind, she tapped lightly.
“Nick, open up. It’s Kelly.”
Nothing. Not even the sound of someone moving around inside. She rapped again, this time with more force.
Then, when there was no answer, with desperation.
The panic she’d barely kept under control broke loose inside her and she pounded harder. Had he lied about where he was staying?
And, if he wasn’t here, what was she going to do? Where would she go? Who could she turn to?
“It’s a little late for social calls.”
Though the slow drawl of Nick’s words had barely broken the night’s silence, she jumped.
As she spun to face him, her hand climbed to her throat, remained there.
He leaned against a pillar not more than five feet away, his stance seemingly as lazy as his voice. And yet, even with the distance between them, she could feel the tension in his body, the sharp interest in his gaze.
He wore the jeans he’d had on earlier and a dark shirt, which hung from his shoulders unbuttoned and untucked. As her glance swept down to his bare feet, she hesitated on the automatic he held in front of him, the barrel currently pointed at the concrete.
He thumbed on the safety before palming the piece.
“I would have figured this was the last place you’d show up tonight, Kel.” He arched a brow. “Or any night, for that matter.”
She shut her eyes briefly, forcing her thoughts into some semblance of order, and was thankful for the deeper shadows of the covered walkway. She didn’t want him to see just how terrified, how desperate she was feeling.
Hugging the green hooded jacket she’d pulled on over her ruined blouse, she looked down, the shakes still wracking her body. “I want some answers.”
As he closed the distance between them, Nick watched for signs of a weapon, but saw none. A satchel weighted her left shoulder, a good spot to conceal a gun, but she seemed barely to notice it hanging there. Her hair was windblown around her face.
Stopping in front of her, he couldn’t seem to stop his fingers from lifting a strand of it, testing its texture, getting closer to her than she wanted him to be. Invading her space.
He realized he’d forgotten just how short she was. Maybe five-four at most and a hundred and ten pounds of hard muscle and flowing curves. Soft skin. An appealing package if you could ignore her taste in business partners.
“What kind of answers are you looking for?”
As he tucked the hair behind her ear, he saw the scrape on the side of her neck. Or was it a burn of some sort? “What’s this?”
When he tried to touch her, she jerked away, covered the area with her hand.
“Nothing,” she said and met his gaze.
It worried him that the usual directness was oddly absent, her pupils appearing overdilated. As if she were on something.
Nick felt his nerves take a little joyride on him. He needed to be damned careful. It had been after leaving her hangar tonight that someone had tried to resurface the local roads with his hide. Either she’d made a phone call after he’d left or she was being watched and whoever was doing the watching had followed him.
“Kelly?”
She looked up at him. “I want… I need to know the real reason you came to see me. No more games,” she added.
Without answering, he reached around her and turned the doorknob. He sensed her withdrawal as he once more got too close. “Let’s take this conversation inside. Where we can talk without any interruptions.”
She remained where she was, her arms locked around her body, across the jacket. Out on the water, it might have been needed, but why continue to wear the coat? Especially zipped up tight as it was now?
Unless she was hiding something beneath.
“Inside is safer.” Without waiting for her agreement, he shoved the door wide and, simply by advancing, forced her backward.
All of the rooms had been furnished pretty much the same. Inexpensive hotel furniture from the eighties, worn terrazzo floors, cotton spreads. A refrigerator in one corner.
“You wouldn’t have brought any surprises with you?” he asked as he kicked the door shut and slid the Glock into the holster concealed beneath his shirt. “Maybe in that bag of yours?”
He stripped the satchel off her shoulder and tossed it toward the bed, heard it land on the mattress. “I need to check you for a weapon.”
“There’s no need—”
“We can make this fast and easy, or difficult. It’s your choice. But I don’t plan to have a gun stuck in my face twice in one night.”
Making a sound somewhere between disbelief and disgust, she held her arms away from her sides.
He patted her down, his hands moving over her quickly, efficiently, finding those areas where concealment of an automatic weapon might be possible. He could feel her rebelling when he checked the area between and below her breasts, then lower.
Touching her in the nearly dark room, even in the rapid, fluid motion of a professional body search, even with the possibility someone might bust through the door behind him, brought back memories of the last night they’d spent together. His hands had done a hell of a lot more in Key West. And, yet, he recalled how, at the time, it hadn’t been nearly enough. Another of his regrets, he realized, and tossed it into the basket with the rest of them. One of these days, he was going to run out of room.
Nick stepped back abruptly. After dragging a small dresser in front of the door, he picked up the satchel and grabbed Kelly loosely by the upper arm. “Should I expect company?”
“Like who?”
The edge of irritation and impatience in her voice sounded more like the woman who had confronted him with a gun earlier that night. Moments ago outside, he’d thought he’d sensed something far different, something he hadn’t been able to identify. And, because he couldn’t, it had worried him. “Maybe you brought a few friends along.”
“I think I would remember if I had.”
“But would you tell me?”
He wasn’t surprised when she ignored the question.
“Next door,” he ordered, ushering her toward the connecting opening.
After twisting the lock and shoving a straightback chair under the knob, he crossed to the window. He didn’t like it. Kelly showing up like this. First the hit-and-run attempt and now Kelly’s nocturnal visit.
What did it mean? Who wanted him dead? No one from the States had known where he was going or what his intentions were. As far as Myron knew, he was taking a few weeks off to get his head straightened out.
“Stay there,” Nick ordered when she tried to follow. As she sank onto the bed, he briefly scanned the stretch of lawn ending at the incline to the beach below, then dropped the satchel at his feet and stooped next to it. He used one hand to do a rough search. Finding no weapon, he tossed it on the closest bed. “You packed light tonight.”
She retrieved the bag. “Did you really expect to find a gun in there?”
“Call me cautious.”
Something Ake hadn’t been on that final night. Which was only one aspect of his murder that worried Nick. How had the killer managed to get close enough on a wide-open rooftop to put two well-placed bullets in Ake’s skull? Nick didn’t like any of the possibilities that