once she’d found the strength to lift her head from his shoulder, once she’d been able to speak coherently, she had made him several offers—to take off her clothes, to take him to bed, to do things to him that he might never have had done to him before. She’d offered earthy, lusty promises, made all the more indecent by her utterly innocent face, and he had been tempted, heaven help him, more than ever before. But the condoms were at her house. She hadn’t minded, but he had. No matter how urgent the desire, he couldn’t risk her future, maybe even her life, not even for the most incredible lovemaking that existed.
So he had torn himself away from her, dragged on clothes that she’d kept trying to remove and made himself a promise. Later. He could have her later. The prospect was enough to give him some measure of control.
“Exactly what kind of business is Maxwell Brown in?”
He looked back at the house. “He used to be a stockbroker. Now he’s into a little of everything. He owns both residential and commercial rental property. He has a construction company, a trucking company and a couple of car dealerships. He owns an interest in the mall, one of the banks and in the commuter airline out at the airport. He’s also part-owner of the Squaw Creek Lodge.”
“So he’s a respectable businessman whose interests are diversified. But you still have this feeling.”
“I know it sounds silly—”
“Not at all. I work three days a week with people who get paid for heeding their ‘feelings’—only they call them hunches. Instincts.”
He gestured toward the endless wrought-iron fence that circled the property. “I know there’s money in business, but look at that house. There’s no mortgage on it. The fence alone cost more than most houses in town. Grand Springs is a small city. Just how much money can one man make here legitimately?”
“Do you have any theories?”
He looked at the house, then closed his eyes and saw similar houses in south Florida. He thought of the trucking company, the airplanes, the auto dealerships where nondescript cars could be easily brought in or disposed of, and the bank. “A wild guess? I’d say drugs. If I didn’t know he was a respectable businessman.”
Juliet’s voice was soft in the darkness. “I think of drug lords as South Americans who have no heart or soul, who live surrounded by armed men and kill anyone who gets in their way.”
“They come in all nationalities, darlin’, including upper-class American. And not all of them are heartless. Some of them love their families very much. They’re generous with the people around them. They’re protective, almost fatherly. The drug business is just that—business.”
“Dangerous business.”
“Extremely so. The cops either want to stop you or bleed you dry, and the competition wants you dead—” Abruptly he stopped. Why was he speaking with such authority? Because he’d lived that life before? Was that why someone had tried to kill him? Why he spoke Spanish fluently for an apple-pie American? Why the pictures of Miami had seemed so familiar? Why he knew that there were little islands in Biscayne Bay where houses like Maxwell Brown’s were abundant? Was that why Juliet heard trucking company, airline, car dealers and bank, and thought business, while he heard them and thought drugs?
Was that why he dreamed of killing men?
“What is it?”
Ignoring her question, he stared away from her. Maybe Maxwell Brown was nothing more than a legitimate businessman. Maybe the only person involved in the drug trade around here was him. And maybe that was why no one had tried to find him after his disappearance: they simply assumed that he was dead, that whoever had wanted to kill him had succeeded.
Juliet wrapped her fingers around his hand, squeezing tightly enough to make him wince. “Not you, Martin. Maybe someone you knew, but not you.”
She sounded so sure, but she could be kidding herself. She wanted to believe the best of him, but he had to face the fact that there might not have been any “best” in him. He might have been the worst sort of person imaginable.
In the silence that followed her assertion, headlights appeared at the top of the hill as Brown’s Lexus came into sight. “Duck,” he commanded, sliding Juliet half under the steering wheel, bending low over her. The lights bounced across Juliet’s car as the Lexus turned toward town. Martin waited a moment, then another before lifting his head in time to see the taillights disappear around a curve.
Juliet started the engine and swung the car into a tight U-turn.
“What are you doing?”
“I want to see where he’s going.”
He smiled faintly. Prim, shy Juliet, tailing the most influential man in the county. Who ever would have believed it? Then he thought of last night in her bed and this evening in his apartment. Prim and shy, yes, but also sensual, sexy, uninhibited, wild, tempting and seductive. “I think I’ve been a bad influence on you.”
She flashed him a smile. “If you’ve been bad, I don’t think I could survive good.”
They came out of a curve into a straightaway just as, several blocks ahead, Brown made a right turn onto the main road. “Slow down,” Martin instructed. “Wait until he’s almost out of sight.”
“But what if we lose him?”
“We won’t.” He watched the Lexus for a moment, then nodded. “Now. You know, one-car surveillance is damned hard to pull off. Ideally, you should have at least two cars and radios or cell phones to stay in touch. Then if your guy gets suspicious, you can turn off and let your partner take over.”
She was giving him a curious look. “Spoken like a cop.”
“Or the subject of too much surveillance.”
Brown’s car was several blocks ahead as they entered the main part of town. When his brake lights and turn signal flashed, Martin instructed Juliet to pull over and shut off her lights. She obeyed, stopping behind a delivery van that blocked them from sight, and he slipped from the car and moved to the side of the van to watch.
Brown pulled into the parking lot beside the Monroe Building, took a quick look around, then headed for the alley entrance to the building. He was carrying a briefcase and looked as if he were just starting his business day, not ending it.
Martin returned to the car. “He went to his office.”
“Oh, wow, that’s exciting.”
“Who ever told you that surveillance was supposed to be exciting?”
“So now what?”
“Want some dinner?”
“What if he leaves while we’re gone?”
“Then we go home.”
“Aren’t you curious about what he’s doing in there?”
“Yes, but we’re not going to find out from here.” He looked at her for a moment, then relented. “All right. Let’s find a better place to park.”
She backed up, went around the block and
