Unwritten Rules (Phoenix, Ltd. Book 1) Read online

  Carter dropped his towel and turned his attention to her. She stood like a statue and allowed him to pat and stroke every inch of her with the velvety towel until her skin glowed with an inner heat that threatened to turn the remaining water droplets to steam.

  When she could stand it no longer, she jerked the towel from his hands and tossed it aside. “Now. Please.”

  His lips curved, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes, which burned with blue flame. “Yes, ma’am.”

  He swept her up in his arms and strode into the bedroom, setting her on her feet long enough to toss back the silk coverlet. One long, soul-stirring kiss later they lay nose to nose. He seemed to be waiting for something, a signal perhaps. She hesitated. She wanted him almost as desperately as she feared she would disappoint him.

  He stroked her hair then trailed his fingers along the curve of her cheek. “What’s the matter?”

  “I’ve never been much good at this.”

  He pulled her closer and kissed her again, running his hand down the curve of her back. “I can’t imagine where you got an idea like that.”

  She turned her head. She couldn’t tell him. She wouldn’t.

  “He was an idiot.”

  Her heart skipped a beat. How had he guessed? “You don’t know that.”

  “Look at me.” He guided her face back with the tip of a long finger. “I know.”

  He traced her lips with his fingers then kissed her, allowing his hand to move downward. His mouth cajoled and nipped while his fingers grazed and stroked.

  Sensation overruled thought, and her doubts melted away in a blaze of urgency. He seemed to understand her deepest needs, cravings she had never acknowledged and could never express. He led her places she’d never been, places of unspeakable pleasure, and she followed joyously. At the peak, the exquisite tension shattered in an exultant release of body and spirit like a bird freed from a cage to soar to the skies.

  Spent, she snuggled against his side with her head resting on his chest and his arm holding her close. When doubts tried to sneak in, the insistent thump of his heart beneath her ear reassured her. For the first time she could remember, she was content to live in the moment. Warm, relaxed, and sated, she drifted off to sleep.

  Madelyn had no idea how long she’d slept when something roused her. She opened one eye. Pale light crept around and under the curtains. No help there. She pushed up on one elbow and ran her fingers through her hair to get it out of her face. Where was Carter? She glanced at the alarm clock on the bedside table. Eleven o’clock.

  A low murmur across the room caught her attention, and she looked over and saw him, fully dressed, standing in the doorway with his back toward her. He was talking to someone and appeared to be signing something. She slid down and snatched the sheet up to cover herself.

  He closed the door and turned, smiling. “Good. You’re awake.”

  She nodded, unsure what to say to him. Last night their relationship had taken a quantum leap on the intimacy scale, but where did that leave them now?

  “Come eat. I ordered breakfast.” He set a large, flat box on the desk and gestured to the tray on the coffee table. When she didn’t respond, he walked over and sat on the edge of the bed. Taking her hand, he pulled her forward and kissed her softly. “It’s going to be fine.”

  “I wish I could believe that.”

  “Trust me.”

  He’d asked her to trust him once before, when they barely knew each other, and she’d agreed. After what had passed between them last night, she could do no less now. She nodded. “Okay.”

  He stood, pulling her with him, and stepped over to the closet. Retrieving one of the hotel’s plush robes, he draped it around her. “Put this on and let’s eat. I’m starved.”

  “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

  His laugh warmed her to the tips of her bare toes. “I’m glad that dunking yesterday didn’t wash all the vinegar out of you.” He dragged a chair over to the small table, ordered her to sit, and handed her the box from the desk. “First, I have a little present for you.”

  A present? Was that the protocol after rescuing a lady from a watery grave and indulging in a night of glorious passion?

  “Open it.”

  She lifted the taped edges of the glossy white wrapping paper and slid the box out. The name of the Dallas department store sprawled across the lid in distinctive red script. She frowned and raised questioning eyes to his.

  “Go ahead.”

  She lifted the lid and spied flaming red through the layers of tissue. He couldn’t have. Her fingers shook as they loosened the gold sticker and folded back the paper. He did. She lifted it carefully by the shoulders. It was her dress, her beautiful red dress.

  “I couldn’t bear the thought of never seeing you in it again.”

  She glanced up with a question in her eyes. “How did you...?”

  “The store has a branch a few blocks from here. I gave the ruined dress to the hotel concierge, and she took care of the rest.”

  Madelyn stared at the soft crimson silk in wonder. “I can’t believe you did this.” He couldn’t possibly have any idea what the dress represented to her.

  “Just being selfish. Besides, without the dress, I wasn’t sure you’d ever wear my favorite shoes again.” He reached down, picked up one of her black stilettos, and twirled it with a wolfish grin.

  She rewarded him with a grimace. “You still can’t be sure of that. Those things are murder.”

  He laughed and began lifting the silvered domes from the numerous plates on the table.

  Over the past couple of weeks she’d learned what to expect when Carter ordered breakfast, but this time her appetite took her by surprise. She hadn’t eaten much on the cruise and had burned off countless calories in the water. It was time to recharge. She munched her way through scrambled eggs, croissants with strawberry jam, and fresh fruit but was happy to leave the bacon for him.

  As she finished her second cup of tea, he set his cup down and leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “Are you ready to talk about what happened?”

  A flash of panic shot through her, and she choked. Making love with him had been spectacular, but she wasn’t sure she would ever be ready to put what had passed between them into words.

  “Do you remember what happened before you went overboard?”

  Oh, that. Of course. She flushed. It was time to be professional, to move on and tuck her memories away in a secret box where she could take them out and treasure them whenever loneliness weighed her down.

  “I was walking down the narrow part of the side deck heading toward the restrooms. I remember passing a waiter balancing a loaded tray, and I stepped aside to let him by. As soon as I turned back, something hit me from behind hard enough to send me over the rail.”

  “Can you remember any details? Anything at all? Start at the beginning.”

  She closed her eyes and sent her mind back. She had been through this process with witnesses before. The smallest detail might provide the most important clue.

  “It was cool. The breeze had picked up. My feet hurt.”

  “Good. Where are the people?”

  “I passed several groups talking on my way to the lower deck.”

  “Did anyone pay unusual attention to you?”

  In her mind, she examined each group, face by face. “I don’t think so. They were involved in their own conversations.”

  “Was anyone else on the lower deck?”

  “Only the waiter.”

  “What do you remember about the blow that pushed you overboard? Where did it hit you? How hard?”

  “It hit me in the middle of the back, across my ribs, hard enough to knock the wind out of me.”

  “Okay. Now this is important. Did it come from a heavy object like an oar or a fire extinguisher? There might be fingerprints.”

  She concentrated and forced herself to relive the blow, trying to pinpoint the exact sensation at the moment of impact. “I
don’t think so. It was more like the heels of someone’s hands.” She opened her eyes. “I think someone pushed me overboard, someone very strong.”

  He swore. “It had to be that waiter. What can you remember about him? Try hard.”

  Closing her eyes again, she tried to visualize the waiter. The deck had been dark, lit mainly by the light coming from the small windows of the galley. Try as she might, she couldn’t see the waiter’s face. He’d been wearing one of the white caps that were part of the uniform and carrying the tray of glasses at shoulder height.

  “Anything at all,” Carter prompted.

  She tried again to picture the figure coming toward her, but the image was more impression than memory. Somewhere in the back of her brain a vague perception tickled her consciousness but remained beyond reach. She opened her eyes again. “I can’t remember anything else specific. I can’t even be sure it was a man.

  He ran a hand through his hair and huffed out a breath. “Well that certainly narrows the suspects.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault. We’ll find him, one way or another.” Hands on his thighs, he pushed to his feet. “I’ll call the cruise line and ask them to fax over a staff list. Maybe something will prompt your memory.”

  She released a frustrated sigh. “I reviewed it before we sailed. None of the names stood out, but it might help to have a written list. I can have Risa run background checks on everyone.”

  “Good idea.”

  Madelyn stood, too, and cinched the belt on her robe. “Now I need a shower. My hair’s still sticky from the salt water.” She glanced around the room. “Where’s my purse?”

  “Why do you need your purse to take a shower?”

  “Don’t be obtuse. I need my key.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I need to go back to my room. I need my luggage. I need clean clothes.”

  He sauntered over and slid his arms around her, pulling her close. “You don’t need clothes.” He nuzzled her neck. “I’ve got a better idea. How about spending the next four days hiding out here as my love slave?”

  She punched him in the arm.

  “Ow! What’s the matter? You don’t like the idea of being my love slave?”

  She beat back the temptation the image offered and glared.

  His expression sobered. “Your stuff’s in the bathroom. I moved it while you were sleeping. You’re staying with me. I almost lost you yesterday, and I’m not taking any more chances. I want you within arm’s reach while we figure out who is behind this and stop them.”

  He kissed her on the nose, turned her around, and patted her bottom. “Now go take your shower.”

  Half an hour later, she had just turned off the hair dryer when a muffled knock sounded in the main room. Two male voices conversed briefly before the door closed.

  Carter opened the bathroom door and leaned in. “That was Herman. I’m supposed to be at City Hall in an hour to meet the mayor. Apparently he’s a big fan. You stay here and watch a movie on Pay-per-View or something. We shouldn’t be gone more than a couple of hours.”

  With her brush in hand and the sleeves of the oversized robe rolled up, she swiveled to face him. “You’re not going anywhere without me.”

  “You need to rest.”

  “I need to do my job, which is to protect you.” She poked him in the chest with the hairbrush for emphasis.

  “But you were attacked.”

  “So were you.”

  His hands circled her wrists, holding the brush at bay. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

  “The feeling is mutual.”

  His lips twitched. “I wish you could see your face. If there were a picture in the dictionary for the word stubborn it would be you.”

  Her mother used to complain about her stubbornness, but Madelyn preferred to think of it as determination. “I never give up. You know that.”

  He smiled and pulled her into his arms. “True. That’s one of the things I love about you.”

  On that bombshell, he kissed her.

  Her thoughts spun wildly. He couldn’t mean it. It was just a figure of speech. He’d tucked it in so casually. In her experience, men only dropped the “L” word when they wanted something, but she’d already given him everything without strings. What more could he want?

  He broke the kiss. “All right, you win. We’re in this together. Hurry and get dressed.”

  An hour later, she parked the car at City Hall. More impressive than many state capital buildings, the San Francisco City Hall had a giant classical pediment resting on pilasters over the entrance and a spectacular Italianate dome. Inside, Doric and Corinthian columns circled the tri-level rotunda, and ornate wrought iron railings prevented visitors from falling to the elaborate marble floor below. The building had been designed to awe.

  Because of the metal detectors inside, Madelyn had locked their weapons in the glove compartment of the car. She wasn’t happy about being unarmed, but only a suicidal lunatic would plan an attack in a place with such a strong police presence. Up to now, their nemesis had shown no signs of being either suicidal or a lunatic. A young female aide met them in the lobby and led them up the wide staircase to the mayor’s office.

  “Mr. Devlin, please come in.” The mayor, who had an impressive circumference and a politician’s smile, strode forward to shake Carter’s hand. “Great book! I loved it. Top notch. I liked Gunfight at Red Rock, but this one was even better.”

  Herman chimed in. “Your Honor, this morning The Man Behind the Curtain was number two on the New York Times bestseller list.”

  The mayor pumped Carter’s hand. “Congratulations. I’m glad so many people share my good taste. I wonder if you’d mind signing my copy.”

  “I’d be delighted.” Carter slipped his hand inside his jacket for a pen.

  They chatted for a few minutes then a photographer arrived and took several pictures of Carter and the mayor. The meeting concluded, and they were on their way in short order.

  “You two wait for me here, and I’ll bring the car around,” Madelyn said over her shoulder when they stepped through the heavy glass doors onto the portico.

  She had just touched the third step when the crack of a high powered rifle split the damp autumn air, followed by a short cry of shock and pain. She spun around as Herman collapsed with a red stain blossoming in the center of his white shirt.

  Chapter Nineteen

  A woman screamed. Two police officers who had been on duty inside burst through the doors with their weapons drawn.

  Madelyn scanned the vehicles in front of the building and the wide sweep of lawn for any sign of the shooter. There were no nearby buildings to afford a roof shot, so he had to be somewhere on the grounds. A muffled roar drew her attention to a motorcycle with a rider dressed in black speeding down a side street.

  “There!” she cried to the officers and pointed.

  One cop was already on the line with the dispatcher. He added the information about the biker before turning his attention to Herman.

  Carter held Herman under the arms as he slipped to the ground. He was still conscious, but bloody foam bubbled from his lips when he tried to speak. Fear and pain clouded his eyes.

  Madelyn crouched beside him and clasped his hand. “Don’t try to talk. The ambulance will be here any minute.” She glanced up and met Carter’s questioning gaze with a slight shake of her head. She had no answer to his unspoken question, but Herman didn’t look good.

  Moments later an ambulance with its sirens wailing sped down the road the motorcyclist had used as an escape route. It halted at the foot of the steps, and the paramedics raced to the back to get the gurney. They loaded Herman with experienced precision and took off for the hospital.

  Madelyn stared at the receding ambulance, frozen in shock. Herman lay bleeding in the back of an ambulance. For all she knew, he might be dead.

  Carter squeezed her hand. “Come
on. We should follow them.”

  His words snapped her back to the present. “Yes. Of course. Let’s go.” They took off for the car.

  “Wait. I need some information,” one of the cops called after them.

  She turned. “Meet us at the hospital. They’re taking him to USF.”

  “I’ll be right behind you.”

  They slammed the car doors and set out after the ambulance, but the street teemed with cars and they didn’t have the advantage of flashing lights and a siren. Madelyn darted in and out of traffic, clutching the wheel like a lifeline. “You were in the Army. You know more about gunshot wounds than I do. What are his chances?”

  “I wish I knew.” The edge in Carter’s voice betrayed his worry. “The bullet must have missed his heart, or he wouldn’t have made it as far as the ambulance.”

  “But there was so much blood, and he could barely breathe.”

  “I know.”

  She honked before whipping around a lagging taxi then wove between two slow-moving cars. Her brakes squealed as she narrowly missed a delivery van double parked outside a florist shop. Only two more blocks. She could see the hospital ahead and cursed the traffic under her breath.

  Minutes later they pulled into the Emergency Department parking lot with the police officer on their tail. Inside, the ER was chaotic, teeming with the sick and injured and their families. Madelyn had to wait behind three patients before she was able to speak to the admitting nurse and learn that Herman had been taken directly to surgery. The nurse gave her directions to the surgical waiting room, and she and Carter and the cop rode the elevator to the third floor.

  Since it might be hours before information was available about Herman’s condition, they could only wait and answer the officer’s preliminary questions. A few minutes later two detectives showed up to take over. Madelyn gave a detailed statement about the shooting, as well as background information regarding the previous incidents. She had no reason to downplay anything now—not while Herman lay on an operating table fighting for his life.

  The clock on the wall ticked away the minutes, then hours, but no doctor appeared. Every time she glanced at the clock, her apprehension surged higher. The surgery was taking so long—it couldn’t be a good sign.