Iris Johansen - Dark Summer

"All these preparations down to the last detail," she said. "You were all planning on my coming here. None of this was spur-of-the-moment."

"Spur-of-the-moment can be fatal. We had plenty of time. Marrok knew you'd have to come the minute he left Ned with you. See you down at the bunkhouse." She looked back as she had an afterthought. "Your Gracie is having problems with the search and rescue missions. She's gentle and wants to do what you tell her, but it hurts her. She's not a natural."

Devon stared at her in astonishment. "How could you know that?"

Bridget shrugged. "I just do."

Devon stared at the door after it closed behind her. What a curious combination of toughness, belligerence, and sensitivity. She was clearly loyal to Marrok, yet Devon was having a hard time feeling antagonism for her. Her emotions were so mixed that she couldn't think straight.

He's worth it.

Camelot knights guarding the castle.

Well, she was no knight, and she felt as if she had been invaded and trampled by a ravaging army. It was time she stopped being a victim and turned and attacked.

She started getting dressed.

"IS SHE AWAKE YET?" WALTFranks asked, when Marrok picked up the phone.

"Awake and spitting mad," Marrok said. "She's giving me a break while she showers and changes. I sent Bridget in to break the bad news about the fire at her farm. It will be a shock, but she'll bounce back. After that, the attack will begin again. Have the police picked up any of Danner's men?"

"Not according to the news." He paused. "But one of the stations did add one bit of nastiness to the story. They're wondering why Devon can't be found, and did she have something to do with the murders."

It was what Marrok had expected. "There was bound to be speculation. But the police haven't jumped on that bandwagon?"

"No, Devon Brady is too respected in the community. They wouldn't go in that direction unless there was cast-iron evidence. But the fire was pretty coincidental."

"Not at all. It's a good way to eliminate trace evidence. They probably would have done the same to the office if the police hadn't come so soon."

"The police are saying it could be the same perpetrators looking for more drugs at her home."

"They've got their teeth into a motive, and they're not going to let it go. It's just as well for us."

"But they're also suspecting that Devon was surprised at home and may have been kidnapped by the thieves to use to get more drugs." He paused. "And Devon's ex-husband is stepping in and taking interviews on CNN."

He went still. "What? Why?"

"Lester Enright is good-looking, well-spoken, and a cop. He's a gift to the media."

"And what is this 'gift' saying?"

"Why don't you turn on CNN and see for yourself?"

"I will." Marrok crossed the room and turned on the TV. The appearance of Devon's ex-husband on the scene had come as a shock. He remembered Walt mentioning him when he'd done the check on Devon, but it had faded from his memory. Freudian? Maybe. His reaction to Walt's comment had been very basic, primal.

"It was a neat cleanup," Walt said. "It was a good idea sending in Bridget and the team."

"I sent in Bridget because I didn't want Devon to have to account for bodies if Danner decided that either Gilroy or Janet weren't necessary. But sometimes the police ignore the obvious. This time we hit-Hold on. I think I have the Enright interview on CNN." Walt was right, Enright was very personable. In his thirties, with sandy hair and blue eyes, his features had a regularity that was almost classical. And his expression was sincere, worried, and slightly stern. Perfect for the occasion, Marrok thought cynically. He turned up the volume as Enright spoke into the microphones.

"Of course, I'm scared. Terrified. My wife is missing. But I will find her."

"You mean ex-wife," the reporter reminded him.

Enright waved a dismissing hand. "Devon and I had our differences, but lately we've been working them out. I'm not going to let those dopeheads ruin it for us. After this is over, I'm taking her away, and we're going to start over." He stared directly into the camera. "I'm coming after you, scumbags. I'm coming after her. You'd better not touch a hair on her head."

Marrok turned off the volume. "Shades of Dirty Harry," he murmured. "I'm sure the female viewers are sending the ratings rocketing, but I'm finding I really don't like Detective Lester Enright." That was an understatement. He had felt an explosion of feeling that was purely primitive. "It makes me want to cram that melodramatic challenge up his ass."

"Whew," Walt said. "I wasn't expecting quite that response. I just thought you'd be interested."

"I'm interested. I want to know all there is to know about Enright. Phone Chad Lincoln in London and tell him that things are heating up, and I may need to call on him. And add Enright's in-depth dossier to Lincoln's list."

"Still, Devon Brady could get the cops off her trail now if you can convince her to phone Enright."

"Hell, no. Besides, I can't convince her to do anything that doesn't involve killing me at the moment."

"Did you tell her she'd have to stand in line?"

"I didn't have to tell her. She'd assume that was a given."

"What do you want me to do?"

Marrok had been racing to do damage control with Devon Brady, but there were other dangers to consider. "We have to find out how Danner knew when and where I surfaced. If he knew I was on Santa Marina, then he may know more. It's time Lincoln did his job. That's why I'm dealing with him."

"Do you want me to fly over there and talk to him in person?"

"No, stay here. I may need you." He paused. "In fact, give me a couple hours and come here. I might need a buffer."

Silence. "You've got to be kidding. You can't handle a small-town vet?"

"It's always a mistake to generalize. She's extraordinary. Take Devon Brady out of that small town, and she could probably run a multinational business."

"Or become a guardian?"

"Don't be late." He hung up the phone.

Yes, he could handle Devon Brady. He could lie and cheat and manipulate. He could even try seduction.

That's it; seduce her, he thought in disgust. It's what he'd been wanting to do since that night in the first-aid tent, and now he had a reason. He had admired her strength, her gentleness, the inner beauty beneath the toughness. But that wasn't all. There was something about her that touched him, stroked him, mentally and physically. It had been a long time since a woman had stirred him to that extent. And the flare of jealousy he had felt a few minutes ago toward Enright had been white-hot and brought that physical response to the surface.

Why not seduction? God knows he knew the tricks. He'd practiced all of the arts of persuasion and deception in hundreds of similar situations over the years. Someone gets in your way, you remove them. At first, it had given him a high to meet the challenge.

Not anymore.

He would never seduce a guardian. Damn, he was already thinking of her as a guardian, and it was probably the worst thing that could happen to her. Take away the life she loved, then risk it again. And what were his motives? He'd told himself it would be safer for her, but had he really only wanted to keep her close for the moment when he got so hot he wouldn't care if she was a guardian or not?

He hoped he'd evolved beyond that selfishness. It was a young man's impulsive lust, and he was no longer that man. He had grown away from reaching out and grabbing. He had left impulsiveness behind.

But not lust.

Lust was the strongest entity always seeking to come into its own through whatever means necessary, striking, letting itself simmer undiscovered, then emerging.