Feel the Heat: A Contemporary Romance Anthology (64 page)

“
I
can’t do this
.” Hayley paced the floor, the white lace robe fluttering as she walked back and forth across the room. Panic fluttered in her chest. “You can’t be here, Logan.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.” She shook her head emphatically. “How did you find me? Oh, God. If you found me then so can
he
.” This slice of paradise no longer felt like a safe haven. Instead, she suddenly felt trapped. There wasn’t another boat coming for six days. Ben said he’d be back to check on her then. She had to call him and let him know the location had been compromised. “I have to go.”

She tried to push past Logan, but he grasped her shoulders. “Stop, Hayley.”

“No. It’s not safe. I’m not safe.” She stared into his gray-green eyes, stunned and frightened. “How could Ben send me here? Send me to you?”

“He knows I’ll protect you.”

How did Logan get to her brother? And what the hell was Ben thinking?

“This is a private island. Only the district attorney and your brother know you’re here. No one else knows about this place. On maps, it’s listed as an unoccupied island.” Logan’s explanation was given in a tone meant to soothe a cornered animal. He pulled her into his arms, and for a moment, Hayley allowed herself to be warmed by his embrace. He stroked the back of her neck and dipped his mouth to her ear. “You’re safe,” he murmured. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

As her fear ebbed, Hayley’s old anger returned. The reason for their break-up hadn’t miraculously disappeared. She pulled away from him. “You lied to me.”

He flinched at her words. “Yes. And I’m sorry. I loved you, Hayley.” His expression softened. “I still love you.”

“How can that be? You hid your true self from me. You led me on. Toyed with me.”

“No! Everything we shared was real.” His shoulders slumped, his expression reflecting pure misery. “I wanted to tell you.”

“Then why didn’t you?” She shook her head. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to me.”

How could he say such a thing? He’d introduced himself as Logan Hunter—just another volunteer at the Greyson Homeless Shelter. They’d spent the day together, doing intakes, serving hot meals, laundering clothes, and inventorying food supplies. Then he’d invited her for coffee. They went to an all-night café and talked into the wee hours of the night. For nearly half a year they spent every single day together, the happiest she’d ever been in her life.

But oh God.

When she’d found out Logan was a Greyson, the closest to a royal family that California had, she was stunned. Maybe that deceit could’ve been forgiven. But then celebrity news outlets went crazy reporting about Hollywood’s newest darling, actress Isabo Reese, being seen on the town with the heir to the Greyson empire, Logan Hunter Greyson. It had broken Hayley’s heart to find out that her blue-collar boyfriend was really a wealthy playboy. His betrayal had wounded her to the core, and her pride would not let him explain. She’d left him, fleeing to her brother’s apartment and soothing her aching soul with tears and ice cream.

Seven days after what she believed to be one of the worst moments of her life had been proven wrong. Maria’s murder had changed everything.

And life had never been the same.

“I’ll tell you everything.”

Her love for Logan still pulsed in her veins--a poison slowly destroying her. How could she risk her heart again with the man who’d shattered it? “Oh, Logan. It’s too late.”

* * *

L
ogan watched
Hayley flee down the hall. His heart ached. No matter what excuses he told himself, he couldn’t justify the secrets he’d kept from her. The first time he’d seen Hayley Nelson had been at a charity event to support building new women’s shelters. She’d worn a pearl colored dress with an open back that sat right above her shapely rear end and flattered her ample curves. Her dark brown hair had been styled in an Audrey Hepburn style up-do, and her hazel eyes mesmerized him.

He’d planned to dazzle her with his five thousand dollar tux and his custom-made Rolex...and of course, his well-honed charm. Then he overheard Hayley speaking to another woman about the opulence of the event:

These one-percenters really like being wooed for their donations. Imagine how much good we could do if all the money spent on the hotel and the food and the entertainment went directly into the shelter’s coffers? Maybe we could end homelessness.

She was right. The money wasted to prepare the lavish fundraisers was better spent on the community. He’d walked away without introducing himself, feeling ashamed of his own artifice and entitlement.

He hadn’t been able to rid his mind of the beauty with a heart of gold. But he hadn’t wanted to come to her dressed in Armani and driving a Porsche. He decided he wasn’t going to help people at a distance anymore. He wanted to get his hands dirty, do the work so many volunteers gave up weekends and evenings for. And his first day at the Greyson Homeless Shelter he met her, Hayley Nelson.

They had six months of happiness before Hayley found out he hadn’t been honest about his true identity. Worse still, he had no chance to explain the situation with Isabo. For a week, he tried everything to connect with Hayley—Facebook, texts, phone calls, Snapchats, everything short of carrier pigeons.

His apology was this island, this house, and if she would have it, his heart. He’d paid craftsmen, architects, drywallers, woodworkers, gardeners and many more to work day and night on the project. For the last six months, he’d done nothing but try to bring Hayley’s dream house to life.

When it was finally finished, and his attempts to find Hayley failed, he’d gone to the Los Angeles FBI office and demanded to see Ben.

That’s when he’d learned about the murder of Maria Santos and that Hayley had witnessed the horrible act. She could’ve died, too. The thought of her losing to some psychopath’s bullet put terror into his soul. Whether she wanted him back or not, he would not let anyone hurt her. Ben agreed that Hayley would be better protected on a private island. And he’d admitted, “She misses you, man. She won’t admit it, but she does.”

Ben had given him hope that Hayley might love him still. He wanted nothing more than to win her heart again.

He would tell her the whole truth. If she still didn’t want anything to do with him after that, he would honor her decision. When Rodrigo Santos was safely behind bars, he would leave the island and let her find happiness.

Even if it was without him.

T
he nursing home
walls felt like they were closing in on Betty. If the FBI agent connected Ellie to Santos, how long would it take for her sister’s ex to send someone to finish the job?

“Ellie?” She stood next to her younger sister’s bed and stroked her cheek. “I had a very interesting conversation with an FBI agent. His name is Ben Nelson—and yes, he’s very cute. I’m going to help him take down Rodrigo. I know, I know. It won’t change what he did. Just like I know closure is something we can never truly have. But there’s a real chance he’ll go to prison. He won’t hurt another woman.” She leaned down and brushed a kiss on Ellie’s forward. “I’ll see you soon.”

She paused. Her sister felt clammy. She peered at Ellie’s face and realized it was pale. Too pale. Her gaze was wide and fixed.

“Oh, my God!” She pressed the nurse’s call button and shouted for help.

Two nurses rushed in.

“She’s … there’s something wrong.”

All business, they went to check on Ellie. “No pulse. Code blue.”

Suddenly noise exploded, and people poured into the room. One of them took Betty by the arm and escorted her out of the room.

“Will she be all right?” cried Betty.

“We’ll do everything we can. Please, go wait in the lobby, Ms. Lewis.”

Betty nodded and felt the blood drain out of her face. Legs shaking, she hobbled to the front lobby and slid into the nearest chair, too numb to consider the dark thought that threatened her sanity.

Ellie gone from this world?

No, no, no! She clutched her purse and sobbed.

And waited.

* * *

M
r. Riley
, dressed as an orderly in blue scrubs and white tennis shoes, sat behind the nurses’ station pretending to look at charts. But his attention was on the activity across the hall in Ellie Lewis’s room.

Walking into the nursing home disguised as one of the staff had been easy enough. It wasn’t secured—no key cards or ID checks. The nursing home wasn’t a top of the line facility, still relying on actual keys to open doors. The room that held all the prescriptions was located behind the station—the key conveniently located on a hook near the door.

Honestly, this wasn’t even a challenge. He was somewhat disappointed this particular job didn’t require too much skill. He found the insulin in a refrigerated unit. He’d walked into Ellie’s room, an orderly on rounds, and placed the needle between her toes. Luckily, she wasn’t hooked up to machines, other than the IV that delivered fluids and pain meds.

I’m doing you a favor. Better death than this waking nightmare.

The overdose of insulin worked quickly. It wasn’t likely the catatonic woman would get an autopsy, and even if she did, the doctor wouldn’t test for insulin. Cause of death would be respiratory failure.

He watched as a nurse brought Betty Lewis into the hallway.

“Will she be all right?” cried Betty.

“We’ll do everything we can. Please, go wait in the lobby, Ms. Lewis.”

Her face pale, the woman clutched her purse and trudged down the hall.

Well, well, well. He wouldn’t have track down the sister after all. He pushed the chair away from the desk and stood, leisurely following the woman into the front lobby. She slid into the first chair she found, and he walked past her, circling to other side and taking a chair far enough away to observe her without attracting her attention. Betty took her cell and a business card out of her purse and dialed a number.

He wasn’t close enough to hear the conversation, so he rose, stretching and yawning. The cafeteria was close by, so he popped in and grabbed a coffee and strolled casually back to the seating area. When he returned, Betty had finished her phone call. He sat closer to her this time, catty-corner from her chair. He sipped the bitter brew and put it down. Betty’s dull gaze met his, and he gave her a sympathetic smile. She offered a trembling pull of the lips in return and then stared at her lap. He leaned back, closed his eyes to mere slits, and pretended to nap.

It wouldn’t be long before Betty got the bad news about her sister. Hmm. A suicide would be believable. A distraught woman too emotionally wounded by her sister’s death to continue living. Sad, really. He already knew where she lived—part of his reconnaissance. All he had to do was wait until she got home, render her unconscious, and then let a closed garage door and carbon dioxide do the rest of the job for him.

He took his coffee, dumped it into the trash, and headed out of the nursing home. He nearly bumped shoulders with a tall man, roughly the size of a linebacker. When he looked at the guy’s face, he recognized him immediately.

FBI agent Ben Nelson, brother of Hayley. Santos had been right about law enforcement making connections between Maria’s death and Ellie’s incapacitation. Riley had a complete dossier on Hayley—all except where she currently resided. She no longer had an apartment. One of his government contacts gave him the bad news that Hayley had been moved out of a safe house and transferred to an unknown location.

Nelson’s phone rang, and he stopped short of entering the facility, choosing to stand to the side as he took the call. Riley moved toward a support post and leaned against it. Then he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter and lit up. Ben Nelson remained in his peripheral vision.

“Yes, sir?” Nelson listened intently. “The trial date has been moved to next week?” He ran his fingers through his hair. “Yes, my sister will be ready. She won’t leave the island until the day of the trial, sir.”

Riley blew out smoke and smiled. It was his lucky day. She was on an island? Hell, she wasn’t even in California. Wait. If she could arrive on the same day as the trial, then she wasn’t too far away. One of the islands off the coast, maybe? Santa Catalina. East Brother. Merritt Island. Balboa Island.
Shit.
There were too many, both public and private. He needed to narrow the search and fast.

“I trust Logan Greyson, sir. He’ll keep her safe.” He listened, and his expression flashed with annoyance. “No offense, sir, but I’ll handle the protection of my sister.” He ended the call, tucked the smartphone into his pocket, and entered the nursing home.

Wait a minute.
The
Logan Greyson? Heir to the Greyson family’s billions? Riley grimaced. This was unexpected. He hated the unknown, especially when it came to wet work. He could only imagine what kind of security a billionaire might employ, not to mention any offshore defense around the island’s perimeter. He flicked the cigarette onto the pavement and crushed it with his heel.

No problem. He could track down Logan Greyson’s island. With the trial date now just a week away, he didn’t have much time to find and dispatch his primary target. He’d make use of his contacts and call in a few favors. He was confident he could complete his mission and collect the rest of his fee.

But first, he had an appointment with Betty Lewis.

* * *

A
fter an entire day of sulking
—and she couldn’t call it anything other than that—and an awful night of tossing and turning, Hayley agreed to meet Logan for brunch. She knew on so many levels she was being ridiculous, refusing to confront him face to face, but what if he said the wrong things? The things that would make it impossible for her to forgive him. It killed her to think of him with another woman, but as long as he never explained, she could pretend there might yet be a chance for them.

If his confession confirmed her fears, it would be over. Maybe that’s what needs to happen, she told herself. Like a bandage. Just rip it off. The wound would eventually heal. Right? Her broken heart felt unfixable. If it were a car, it would be headed for the junk heap.

When she rounded the corner to the dining room, she saw the buttercream curtains billowing in the ocean’s cross breeze. Her breath caught in her throat. Logan sat at a far table and stared out at the gorgeous view. Early afternoon light painted the sky in shades of blue that melted into the indigo ocean.

Had Logan really purchased this place? Just for her? His chocolate brown eyes were almost amber in the sunlight. When he saw Hayley, he smiled. Her pulse quickened, and she couldn’t help but smile back.

Hayley was a goner already.

He stood up to greet her. “I’m glad you’re here.” When he tried to take her hand, she pulled away. She wasn’t strong enough to deny him. She knew she deserved better than a cheater and a liar. And it killed her to know she was
this close
to laying her self-esteem at his feet and letting him stomp it all to bits.

Her chest squeezed. “I don’t know what’s left to say.”

“Everything,” Logan said. “I didn’t tell you who I was because I knew you wanted a man who works hard for what he has. An honest living. Someone who has earned his way in life. Someone like your father.” He looked at her, his gaze begging her to understand. “I was born rich, Hayley. I didn’t want for anything my entire life. I never had to suffer. I never had to struggle. I didn’t have the experiences needed to shape the kind of man you found worthwhile. How could you respect me?”

Hayley stared at him. Had she really made it impossible for him to believe she couldn’t love the real Logan Greyson? “How could I respect someone who kept his identity a secret?”

His face fell. “I know. I loved the way you loved Logan Hunter. You were the first woman who really saw me—not how you could use me to climb higher on the social ladder or how much money you could squeeze out of me. I never wanted that to change. God, it was selfish. I was selfish, and I’m sorry.”

Tears gathered, but she blinked them back. “Even if I believed you, none of that explains Isabo.”

“She’s one of my dearest friends. I knew her long before she was thrust into Hollywood’s spotlight.” He clasped her fingers and brought her closer. “She’s a lesbian. She needed someone to take her to a major movie premiere, someone she could trust. She not quite ready to come out to the public.”

He’d acted as a beard for a friend? Could it be true?

“I…I…” She shook her head. His revelations shook her to her core. She needed to process. Needed time to think. “I have to go.” Without looking back, she fled the house and ran outside, jogging along the beach until she lost her breath.

“I believe you,” she whispered. And she did. She was so overwhelmed by emotion she was damned near choking on it. She clasped her hands together and stared at the ocean, enjoying the warmth of the sun and the gentleness of the breeze.

What the hell did she do now?