She shouldn’t have come. But when she’d gotten the note…she’d had no choice.
Her hand slid around the strap of her purse, her eyes darted from side to side behind her oversize
Ralph Lauren sunglasses. Her stomach tightened as she looked for anyone waiting for her. But no
one had paid her one ounce of attention since she’d stepped foot on the boardwalk. No one recognized her. No one even cared who she was.
That was a good thing, right? Maybe the note was nothing but a prank.
Shoring up her courage, she took one step away from the building where she’d been hiding in the
shadows, and made it as far as the Hollywood Grill before a boy, no more than eight, came barreling out of nowhere and slammed into her from the side.
She shrieked and whipped around just as ketchup and mustard splattered her white slacks and ran
down to drip onto her Ferragamo flats.
“Sorry,” the kid mumbled, holding a hot dog in his hand, then tore off around her and hollered,
“Wait up!” to his buddies.
Disgusted with the child, the location, at the world in general, Madeline shook the red and yellow
goo from her fingers and grimaced. Nothing was worth this. She didn’t care who had sent her that
blasted note. Someone was toying with her. Had probably paid that kid to run into her. No one knew
about what she’d done.
“Look at that,” a voice whispered in her ear. “Déjà vu, Maddie?”
Madeline froze. Swallowed. And turned slowly to look into the face of a woman she despised.
Lucy Walthers smiled like the innocent girl she wasn’t, tucked her short blonde hair behind her ears
and nodded at Madeline’s dripping fingers. “If I were you, I’d find a napkin. Wouldn’t want anyone
remembering this image. Strikes a little too close to home, doesn’t it?”
Madeline’s throat closed, and her heart fired rapid beats. Without a word to Lucy, she ducked into
the café and found napkins on a nearby table.
Could she run? She thought about it as she cleaned her hands and wiped at her shoes. But how far
would she get? The fact the little tramp was standing out there right now instead of the police meant
she wanted something. Did she think Madeline had that stupid bronze? What else could this be
about?
The look of victory in the younger woman’s eyes grated Madeline’s last nerve when she stepped
back into the cool January air. “Let’s walk, Maddie. What do you say?”
Madeline clutched the strap of her bag as she turned and Lucy fell in step next to her. Her eyes
flicked over each face they passed, her brain thinking through her options. But when Lucy started
talking, the only things Madeline focused on were the other woman’s words.
“The way I see it, Madeline, you’ve gotten yourself into a bit of trouble. One word from me and the
police will be breaking down your door.”
Here it came. The threat. Madeline held her breath. She’d thought Bryan had been alone that night.
She’d gone there to confront him. To tell him she’d had enough of his lies and cheating and his obsession with the Roarkes. She’d wanted a divorce. And freedom. And she’d wanted him to pay.
That freedom now looked a million miles away.
“Nothing to say to that?” Lucy asked.
Words lodged in Madeline’s throat. “What do you want from me?”
“Nothing much. Just your help in one very small matter.”
She stopped walking to turn toward her enemy. “Why should I do anything for you?”
“Because if you don’t, I’ll go right back to those Chicago detectives and tell them I suddenly remembered something important.”
“They won’t believe you.”
“Won’t they? Don’t you think it’s only a matter of time before they realize Hailey wasn’t even there
that night? What about your alibi, Madeline? Where were you?”
Madeline’s voice dropped to a whisper so the people passing couldn’t hear her. “I should have gone
upstairs and gutted you while I was at it.”
Lucy grinned. “Lucky for us, you didn’t.” Her smile dropped. “Now here’s what you’re going to do,
Madeline. You’re going to get me Eleanor’s bronze.”
“I would rather—”
“I know you would. But you’ll get it just the same. You and Eleanor are thick as thieves at that
stupid country club. You’ll get it, and you’ll bring it to me. And if you don’t…” She shrugged. “I
think the police would love to know how you were waiting in the shadows for your dear beloved
husband to come downstairs, then murdered him in cold blood and framed Hailey for the whole
thing.”
Madeline’s skin chilled. Sickness welled in her stomach. But she lifted her chin, determined not to
give this woman an inch. “You live in a fantasy world.” She turned to leave. “Get your own damn
bronze.”
Lucy chuckled at her back. “Don’t be so sure, Maddie,” she called. “Do me a favor. When you get
home, check your earrings. I’m pretty sure you’re missing a pearl. A South Sea pearl, hanging from
a little silver catch. White, I believe, isn’t it? Or was.”
Madeline’s feet stilled. And in the bustle of the boardwalk, her heart all but stopped.
Lucy circled around to stand in front of Madeline. And in her soulless black eyes, Madeline knew
she was cornered.
Lucy tipped her head to the side. “Now let’s go through this one more time. Eleanor hasn’t been cooperating. That’s where you come in. You’re going to get us Eleanor’s bronze. And you’re going to
do it tomorrow.”
“Well, that was productive.”
Hailey ignored Shane’s snarky comment and stared at the key in her hand as they exited her father’s
bank in downtown Miami. Ever since the incident in the parking lot of the Calder Race Course,
Shane had been in another of his moods, though this one was way more sarcastic and just a little
suggestive.
Okay, not touching that one. She’d decided—when she was standing in a dressing room at some noname mall, slipping into clean clothes that weren’t covered in parking-lot grime—that his enjoyment of the push-pull power struggle between them was a really bad sign. Because she liked it, too.
And she had a strange feeling one of them was going to get seriously burned when it bubbled to a
head.
“It looked like a safety-deposit-box key,” she said, pushing the thoughts aside. “I just assumed that’s
what it was.”
“I’m getting the impression we can’t assume anything where your father’s concerned.” He walked
next to her, his hands shoved into the front pockets of new low-slung denim that fit him like a
glove. The long-sleeved black Under Armour shirt with the white stripes down the sleeves looked
damn sexier on him than any hunky sports model she’d seen in Sports Illustrated.
She averted her gaze because, yeah, just looking at him in those new duds did things to her blood
she didn’t like. “True. But why would he give it to me without some kind of explanation as to what
it goes to?”
He tugged the baseball cap lower over her face and frowned. “Couldn’t you have found a Cubs hat
on that rack? Shit, I’d even settle for a Red Sox cap at this point.”
“You don’t like the Yankees? They’re like America’s team.”
He stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and stared at her like she had three eyeballs. “You’re sick,
you know that?”
She couldn’t help it. She laughed. “It’s only baseball, Maxwell.”
He slapped a hand against his heart. “Only baseball? Only baseball? That’s only my heart you’re
ripping to shreds and throwing on the sidewalk.”
She rolled her eyes and kept walking. “Please tell me you aren’t one of those guys.”
“What guys?” he said, catching up.
“Those guys. The ones who don’t have a life from March to October because they’re either at the
ball field or glued to their TVs. The ones who base their year on whether their team wins the pennant, then plot ways to murder their Yankee neighbors when the Yankees take the World Series.
Again.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
She shook her head and bit her lip to keep from laughing. Dammit, she liked him. More with every
passing hour.
“And if I don’t have a life,” he added, that clicking coming from his pocket again, “it’s not because
of baseball.”
“What’s it from then?”
“Work, I guess. These days my job is my life.”
She stopped and looked at him. “A job is what you do. Not who you are.”
“You don’t really know who I am, Hailey.”
She studied him. Tried to read his mood but couldn’t.
No, he was right. There were facets to Shane Maxwell she definitely didn’t know. And suddenly
wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to know. Yes, he intrigued her. And yes, she was attracted to him—
wildly attracted to him. But the distance he kept between them, the way he seemed to need to be
here helping but didn’t appear to like it a lot of the time was a contradiction she just didn’t understand.
She kept walking as thoughts of what he’d said ran through her mind. The things he must have seen
working homicide. She’d seen her fair share of death and cruelty in the Keys, but she knew instinctively it was nothing compared to what he witnessed every day in Chicago. No wonder he kept to
himself and was impossible to read.
A thought occurred to her as they turned the corner and headed for their rental two blocks down,
one she’d had numerous times over the past three months but hadn’t thought of the last few days
until right now. “Why aren’t you married?”
“How did we go from your dad’s wacko mind to my marital status?”
Good question. “If you don’t want to answer, that’s fine.”
“It’s not that I don’t want to answer. It’s just not exciting.” When he didn’t elaborate, she was sure
he was letting the subject drop. But then he surprised her when he said, “I thought about it once.
Briefly.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing. It just wasn’t meant to be.”
There was more, though. A whole lot more he wasn’t saying. She could sense it in his suddenly
tense shoulders and the fact he was looking down at the pavement and not at her.
Oh, yeah. He had facets.
They walked another half block in silence, darting around other pedestrians before he said, “What
about you?”
“I think you already know my marital status.”
“Not that. Why did you marry Sullivan in the first place? You two don’t have a thing in common.”
“Of course we do.”
He shot her a yeah, right look. “He’s a thief, you’re a cop. He’s into art, you couldn’t care less—”
“I like art.”
“Not like he does. Thing is, I can’t figure why any woman would marry him, let alone you.”
“I’m not married to the man anymore. You’d get further if you asked your sister.”
He frowned. “She already told me why. Hell, she’s told everyone. Something about him speaking
Spanish and…” He stopped himself, almost as if he’d said too much.
And Hailey smiled, because this facet of Shane Maxwell, at least, she knew how to handle. “Sex.
Yeah. There was that.”
He grimaced. “Christ Jake. I don’t need that image in my head.”
At his repulsed expression, Hailey stopped. Could it be…? “Are you jealous?”
His brows drew together. “Of what?”
“Of Rafe.”
A look of dismay crossed his face, masked quickly by contempt. “Not on your life.”
She let the topic drop but her mind was spinning. In the gym at the Lake Geneva resort Shane had
wanted to know if she was seeing Billy, and when she’d said no, he’d kissed her. Hard. He was jealous. The realization sent her heart skipping. Being attracted to her was one thing. Kissing was really
just a physical connection. But jealousy? That came from the gut. And the heart.
Her pulse kicked up. And in the silence between them, she asked herself, could she handle a man
like Shane Maxwell? Not just sexually, but long-term? Down the line? When she figured out what
was happening with her father’s will and life was back to normal? He was moody and dark and
married to his job—even if that job was responsible for the perpetual scowl on his face. No, life
with him would never be easy. But it also wouldn’t be dull.
Shane stopped at the rental and pulled the passenger door open for her. “I didn’t get the impression
your sister was going to work with us.”
His nearness sent goose bumps over her skin. His words pulled her from her musings and reminded
her she had other, more important, things to think about. “I didn’t, either.” As she climbed in and he
walked around the vehicle, she tried not to think of all the little things he did that made her pulse
skip, things like opening doors for her, adjusting her hat so no one would recognize her, buying her
a Bon Jovi T-shirt she was probably going to save forever. His overprotective personality was irritating as hell, but if he was jealous of her relationship with Rafe, it meant this thing going on between them was more than him having to always be in control or take over a situation. It meant he
felt something for her. That what kept him here wasn’t a mystery, but her.
And that thought sent her heart rate into the triple digits as he slid behind the wheel and turned on
the ignition. “She’s probably at Billy’s,” he said. “You want to go talk to her?”
Hailey looked down at her hands. “I’d really rather slit my wrists.”
He glanced at her fingers. “Be a shame to put scars on those pretty arms.”
Okay, that kind of talk wasn’t helping. She looked up and out the passenger window toward a
homeless man pushing a shopping cart. “That pretty much leaves my mother.”
“You don’t think we need all five sculptures after all?”
“If we can get my mother’s, I think we can probably figure it out without Nicole’s piece.”
He frowned. “Because you’ve been so successful so far? Thirty-eight, twenty-five, oh-five. You already said those numbers don’t mean anything to you.”