Jayne Krentz: In Too Deep

He woke up in Isabella’s double bed, aware that it was nowhere near dawn. He checked the glowing dial of his watch. Two in the morning. Isabella was neatly tucked into the curve of his body. He was suddenly, fully aroused.

He eased one hand under the hem of her nightgown and moved his palm upward over her warm thigh. Levering himself up on his elbow, he kissed her shoulder.

“Are you awake?” he asked.

“No.”

He slid his fingers between her legs. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Okay,” he said. “I just wondered.”

He pressed himself against her soft rear, nibbled on her earlobe and started to tease her lightly with his fingers.

She sighed and turned onto her back. He felt energy heighten in the shadows. When he jacked up his senses, he saw the gentle heat in her eyes. She put her arms around his neck.

“I’m awake now,” she said.

“So am I.”

“I noticed.”

He moved over her, capturing her beneath him, and kissed her. With a soft, languid whisper, she opened for him, inviting him into her warmth. He made love to her, slowly, deliberately, until she was hot and shivery in his arms, until he sensed the escalating tension deep inside her. Only then did he thrust into her.

“Fallon.”

She came almost immediately and so did he.

When it was over, he withdrew reluctantly and fell back onto the pillow beside her. Reaching down between them he found her hand and clasped it. He waited until both of them were breathing normally again.

“Tomorrow we’ll drive up the coast to Eclipse Bay and find your grandmother,” he said.

“You’re sure she’s there?”

“Yes,” he said. “It’s all right to contact her now. You can call her in the morning. She’s no longer in any danger.”

“Thanks to J&J.”

He looked up at the ceiling, intensely aware of her hand in his. “You’re safe now, too.”

“Yes.”

“You can go anywhere,” he said. “You don’t have to hide out in Scargill Cove.”

“I’m not hiding, not anymore. I’ve spent my entire life on the outside looking through the windows of people who actually have lives. Now I’ve got one of my own and I’m going to live it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Scargill Cove feels like home,” she said. “Interesting job. Nice neighbors. I think I was cut out for small-town living.”

“You’re sure you like the job?”

“I was born for it,” she said.

“That’s good because I need you to help me do this work.”

“I agree.”

“Marry me, Isabella.”

She did not respond.

The unquenchable fires of chaos froze. Time stopped. Maybe his heart stopped, as well. He discovered he could not breathe, did not want to breathe, if he did not get the right answer.

“You don’t have to marry me to keep me at my desk at J&J,” Isabella said eventually. “I’ll stay with you.”

“I’m a Jones. In my family we get married. Ceremony, license, the whole works.”

“Interesting customs in your family. We don’t do the license thing in mine.”

“I’m hoping you’ll adopt my family traditions, but if you don’t want to do that, I’ll take you any way I can get you.”

“I think I could adopt your customs if you think you can go along with one of my family traditions.”

“I’ll do anything for you,” he said simply. “Name it.”

“In my family we fall in love. Can you love me? Because I love you, Fallon Jones, with all of my heart.”

The glorious fires of chaos flared high once more. Time went forward. His pulse restarted. He could breathe again.

“Isabella . ” He pulled her into his arms, crushing her to him. “I will love you for the rest of my life and whatever comes after.”

“In that case,” she said, “I will be happy to break a few old family traditions and marry you. In fact, to prove how much I love you, I’ll even use my real name on the wedding license.”

He laughed, the energy of joy pouring through him in a torrent. And then he was kissing her and she was kissing him and the night was on fire.

THE NEWS of the death was in the Willow Creek paper the following morning. Fallon read it to Isabella over coffee. The unidentified body of a man was found shot to death in a concealed marijuana plantation early this morning. Authorities believe the man either wandered into the plantation by accident or went there deliberately to steal some of the plants. It is believed that he was killed by guards hired to protect the crop.A representative of the sheriff’s department said that the marijuana will be destroyed. The growers have been declared persons of interest. Anyone having any information about those responsible for the plantation is asked to contact the authorities.

“I told him to get lost,” Isabella said. “He blundered into someone’s hidden marijuana plantation and got shot.”

“If it’s any consolation, he probably wouldn’t have lasted long, anyway,” Fallon said. “Not if he was on the drug. The latest information we have indicates that those who take it must take a dose twice a day, every day. Miss even a single dose and the senses start to deteriorate. Insanity and death usually follow within forty-eight hours.”

“Yes, I know,” Isabella said.

“But it doesn’t make you feel any better.”

“No,” she said.

It had been a very bad week.

Victoria Knight took her glass of wine out onto the balcony of her condo to drink. The lights of Seattle glittered in the rain.

A very bad week.

Two well-conceived projects had floundered. It was true that the one involving Carolyn Austin had been chancy from the start. The odds had been stacked against success, Victoria thought, but when her new associate within Arcane had suggested the idea, she had thought it worth a shot. The opportunity to weaken J&J and, perhaps, loosen the grip of the Jones family on the Society had been irresistible. They had sought to harness the raw energy of a grieving mother driven by an obsessive desire for revenge and it had almost worked. Almost.

The second project had been far more elaborately designed and carried out. It definitely should have been successful. Victoria’s fingers tightened on the delicate stem of the glass. The concept of developing a para-weapons lab based on Bridewell’s inventions had been brilliant. It should have worked .

Both projects had floundered because of Isabella Valdez and, it seemed, the very town of Scargill Cove. Something about Isabella’s energy made her formidable. It was a shame that Sylvia Tremont had been unsuccessful in the attempt to introduce the poison into Isabella’s kitchen. But that had been another long shot.

As for the Cove, it was as if the small community was guarded by some kind of protective force field.

Two excellent projects in ruins. In the old days when Nightshade had been governed by Craigmore, that kind of track record would have meant a death sentence.

But Nightshade was different now. Following Craigmore’s death, the executives of the Inner Circle had been unable to elect a new director. Instead, they had gone for one another’s throats, literally in some cases. Two of the people at the top had recently been found dead. The official verdict in each instance was natural causes, but she was quite sure that was not the case. Someone was getting rid of the competition.

Meanwhile the surviving circles were on their own and operating independently. She had no way of knowing how many more were out there in addition to the one she controlled, but she had to assume that there were other cells that possessed a version of the formula.

But she had Humphrey Hulsey, the most talented of all the researchers, working on the drug. He was overseeing the construction of his new lab at that very moment. She had every confidence that the version of the formula that came out of his facility would be the most powerful and the most stable.