Safe Harbor (3 page)

“Did you ever think that my father might want to do the same thing for this man?” she challenged.

Try as she might, she couldn’t read Silvio’s expression or guess what he was thinking.

“If you feel that way, then why are you hiding him in your room?” Silvio posed. “Why do we not go to your father right now and tell him?”

Silvio responded only to the truth, so she gave him an honest answer. “Because he asked me to help him and right now, this is part of it.”

Silvio looked at her in surprise. “He talked to you?”

She nodded.

Silvio frowned and sighed mightily. “I do not know where to begin. Do you know what kind of a chance you took?” he asked. “When you saw him lying on the beach like that, you should have come to get me right away. This man could have hurt you.”

“He was half-drowned and he had a bullet wound in his chest. This man couldn’t have hurt a sand flea,” she protested, waving a hand.

“He could have been pretending to be unconscious so that he could overpower you,” Silvio pointed out.

She laughed.

“The beach was deserted. How could he have even known I was coming?” She looked at him and knew her words were falling on deaf ears. “You’re going to go on worrying about this, aren’t you?”

He didn’t answer her directly. “We will have this conversation again
after
you tell your father.”

She nodded her agreement. “Okay, it’s a deal.” Silvio crossed back to the door. She saw the hesitation in his eyes as he looked back over his shoulder at the man on her bed.

“I do not like leaving you with him.”

“He’s wounded,” she reminded him. “Not to mention unconscious.”

Silvio still didn’t budge. “What will you do?” he asked.

She wasn’t sure what he was really asking, so she told him exactly what she intended to do next. “Take a shower, change, get some breakfast. The usual.”

The frown on his square, tanned face deepened. “You are going to undress?”

She answered his question as seriously as she could. “I find taking a shower with my clothes on doesn’t get me as clean as I’d like.”

He didn’t crack a smile. “Lock the bathroom door.”

CHAPTER FOUR

S
MILING
TO
HERSELF
,
she flipped the lock on her bedroom door as a precautionary measure. Not because she didn’t want Silvio to walk in—he was the only one she actually didn’t mind coming in at this point. However, if anyone else walked in and saw the stranger in bed while she was in the shower, she would have to do a great deal of explaining really quickly.

“Silvio doesn’t trust you,” she said to the stranger lying on top of her comforter—she was probably going to have to get a new one, she realized. Blood didn’t always wash out. “Are you trustworthy?” she asked as she stood studying his face. It was a handsome face, but did it belong to a man who was ultimately trustworthy? A man who told the truth at all times, not just when it was convenient? “Am I being a fool to think I’m safe with you? How did you get on our beach?” she wondered out loud. “And who shot you and why? Or was this just an unfortunate accident?

“Boy, I can’t wait until you regain consciousness. I’ve got so many questions for you. Questions you’re going to have to answer truthfully or I’m going to be so disappointed in you,” she said. “I’m climbing out on this limb and it’s not very comfortable out here to say the least.”

She straightened.

“I’d better get into that shower or I’m never going to leave this room.” With that, she grabbed the clothes she intended to wear that day—a pair of denim shorts and a blue tank top—and hurried into the bathroom. She remembered to lock that door before she stepped into the shower.

* * *

T
HE
WOMAN
’
S
VOICE
came to him from a great, long distance. It sounded melodic. It also sounded fast. So fast he could only vaguely make out what she was saying.

Something about trust and not lying, he thought. Or maybe he was wrong. Maybe it was about something else.

It didn’t matter.

He was probably dreaming. He’d been winking in and out for a while now.

Splintered memories began coming to him in fragmented bits and pieces. The last thing he remembered was pain exploding in his chest and someone throwing him overboard—or had he jumped?—while someone else was cursing that he should have been tied up first, just in case.

He remembered trying to swim, trying to find where the shore was. Remembered telling himself not to panic, that if he panicked, then he was lost.

Dead.

Was he dead?

He’d never believed all that much, not like his mother, but now he would have liked to believe that there was something after life was finally over. Some kind of continuation.

Man but he was tired.

So tired.

He needed to rest, needed to get away from this burning in his shoulder.

Rest.

Was that it? Was this eternal rest, forever and peaceful?

He was too tired to think. He’d think about that later, when he wasn’t too tired anymore....

Provided there was a later....

* * *

S
TEVI
HURRIED
OUT
of the bathroom freshly dressed, her hair still wet. Her footprints marking her passage from the bathroom into her bedroom were slightly damp as well, leaving an impression first on the floor and then on the rug.

She took no notice. Her attention was on the man in bed.

“Still not with us, huh?” she observed. Was there someone searching for him this very moment, or was he a loner, the answer to her prayer for some excitement?

Right, special delivery.

Taking a hairbrush from her bureau, she brushed her hair back, out of the way. When it dried, it would be curlier than usual, but she really didn’t care about that right now. She had a job to do.

“Well, maybe you need all that extra sleep to get over what you’ve been through. We’ll talk about that later, too. Right now, I’m going to get some breakfast. Don’t worry,” she quickly interjected as if he had actually rendered an opinion. “I’ll bring some back for you.” She cocked her head, like someone trying to make out a low voice. “Which would you like, pancakes or eggs?” She nodded, coming to her own conclusion. “Okay, I’ll bring you both, no sense in starving you, right? I won’t be long,” she promised.

With that, Stevi left her room and eased her door closed, then locked it so that no one would enter while she was gone. When she turned to hurry down the hallway, she walked smack into her younger sister.

Andy glanced at the closed door. “Who are you talking to?” she asked without preamble.

Startled, Stevi slipped her arm through Andy’s and headed for the dining room as if this had already been prearranged. “Excuse me?”

“I said who are you talking to?” Andy repeated, just as she found it a wee bit strange that Stevi was almost pulling her toward the dining room. “I could hear you through the door when I walked by just now.”

“Myself, I was talking to myself,” Stevi told her cheerfully.

“Really?” Andy looked at her. “Because you were talking in full sentences and it sounded as if you were asking what you wanted for breakfast.”

“I was,” Stevi replied without hesitation. “I can’t decide between pancakes and scrambled eggs this morning. I always talk to myself,” she added, as if it was the most natural thing.

Andy frowned. “Since when?” She wanted to know.

“Since forever,” Stevi answered in the same cheerful voice. “Nobody else listens to me so I might as well talk to myself, right? You probably do it, too. You just haven’t realized it.”

“No, I don’t and if I did, I would have realized it,” Andy protested. Stevi opened her mouth again, but Andy held up her hand to stop the flow of words. “So what did you decide?”

“About what?” Stevi asked cautiously. Was Andy playing her? Had Andy caught a glimpse of the sleeping mystery man?

“Eggs or pancakes?” Andy prompted. “You know, your big breakfast debate.”

“Oh, that,” she said, sighing with relief. “Both, actually.”

“Both?” Andy echoed as they walked into the dining area. “Stevi, you hardly ever finish a meal. Just how do you think you’re going to manage to put away two?”

“Don’t worry about it—I feel hungry,” she said, avoiding looking at her. “This is the new me, no longer obsessed with getting the best grades, worrying if I’d gained half a pound. You have no idea what a relief it is not to have to study anymore.” That, at least, was true. She’d lived with that pressure for a long time and it was finally over. It could also explain why she felt somewhat at loose ends. Happy, but restless. “I feel like a new woman. A free woman.”

“So what’s the free woman going to be doing with all her free time? Besides jogging on the beach at ungodly hours, I mean,” Alex said, coming up behind the two of them.

“I’m still trying to figure that out,” Stevi answered.

“Well, here’s something for you to think about while you’re doing that figuring. You really are a good event planner.” Alex picked a table for the three of them and sat down. Andy slid in on her right, but Stevi remained standing. “The inn could use that talent of yours, you know.”

She never had any doubts that the inn would always be her fallback plan, somewhere she could turn to if things fell apart. But she didn’t want to settle; she wanted something to be passionate about, like Cris with her cooking, or Alex with running the inn.

“And Dad would be tickled pink if you decided to stay on at the inn,” Alex added.

“Dad doesn’t look good in pink,” Stevi deadpanned.

Although she knew her father wanted all of them to have ambitions, to follow their dreams, she also knew that her father was hopeful that all their dreams could be fulfilled within a ten-mile radius—if not closer.

“You know what I mean.” Then, before Stevi had a chance to say anything in response, Alex warned, “Don’t argue with a pregnant woman. It’s not safe.”

Still standing over her sister, Stevi grinned. “For whom? Me or the pregnant woman?”

“Why, you, of course,” Alex retorted. “Why aren’t you sitting down, Stevi? It’s hurting my neck, having to look up to talk to you.”

Stevi made no effort to take a seat. Instead, her smile grew. “Now you know how we feel around you all the time.” Alex had always been taller than the rest of them. “Why don’t you two tell me what you want for breakfast and I’ll go in and give your orders to Cris.”

Andy looked at her in surprise. “You’re playing waitress now?”

Stevi turned in her direction. “I’m playing the good sister,” she said, correcting her younger sibling. “Take advantage while you can.”

“Does that mean you’re going to be leaving for New York, after all?”

Although 85 percent certain that a stay in New York was in her near future, she wasn’t committed to it yet—at least, not the admitting part of the process yet. She had a few things to work out, not the least of which was coming up with an acceptable way to tell her father.

“No, that means I’m liable to decide not to be the good sister and let you two fend for yourselves. Until then, orders, please?” she pressed, looking from Alex to Andy.

Because Alex was still undecided, Stevi took Andy’s order first. Bacon, toast and coffee.

“I’m ready now,” Alex said a second later. Unlike Andy, Alex’s order went on for two minutes and included practically everything on the breakfast menu.

Amused, Stevi grinned at her older sister. “You do realize you’re just eating for two, not an entire regiment, right?”

Alex frowned. Her hormones all over the map these days, Alex didn’t appreciate criticism of her eating habits. “I’m eating for two but throwing up for one so I need to order for three,” she said.

Stevi heard the edge in her sister’s voice. Alex hadn’t exactly ever been the easiest person to get along with, not anywhere nearly as easygoing as Cris. But this was more irate than normal.

“You planning on being like this the entire pregnancy?” She wanted to know.

“Yes,” Alex said with finality. “And beyond, as well. I find I like ordering people around.”

“You always did,” Stevi replied with a dramatic sigh. She glanced at the notes she’d just made on the palm of her hand. “Let me see if there’s enough food in the kitchen for this.” She quickly ducked through the swinging door into the kitchen before Alex had a chance to fire back.

CHAPTER FIVE

“A
LEX
WILL
TAKE
one refrigerator, to go,” Stevi announced as she walked into the kitchen. Her sister had her back to her and was busy preparing an order on the industrial stove. “Seriously, Alex thinks she’s eating for a small village and wants, like, one of practically everything on the breakfast menu. And Andy will have her usual two slices of warm bread, a cup of albino, supersweet coffee and three slices of burnt bacon.”

“And you?” Cris asked, glancing up from the omelet she was preparing for one of the guests.

“The run made me kind of hungry this morning. Could you fix me an order of pancakes and some scrambled eggs with ham?” she asked.

Ordinarily, she ate a light breakfast, sometimes even leaving half on her plate. She slanted a glance toward Cris, hoping her request wouldn’t set off any alarms.

The change didn’t go unnoticed. “Wow, that is a lot for you,” Cris commented.

Stevi shrugged. “Yes, I know. Must be all that great sea air.”

“The air’s been there all along, Stevi,” Cris pointed out.

“I’ve got it, boss,” Jorge, Cris’s chief assistant, called out. He nodded toward Stevi.

“Thanks.” Cris flashed him a grateful, weary smile.

“No problem,” Jorge responded. “You just take it easy, boss. You’re working too hard, as usual.”

So preoccupied with getting back to her bedroom as quickly as possible, Stevi hadn’t really been paying attention to much else. But Jorge’s comment about Cris working too hard made her take a closer look at Cris. It occurred to her that her older sister was looking rather pale.

She automatically reached out to put her hand against Cris’s forehead. Cris pulled her head back.

“What are you doing?”

“Just wanted to see if you had a fever,” Stevi explained, dropping her hand. “You look a little peaked.”

“No fever,” Cris answered dismissively.

It wasn’t like Cris to be so curt. Something was up, Stevi thought. “You coming down with something?”

Cris laughed softly. “No, I’m fine.”

Now her curiosity was fully aroused. “Don’t lie to the woman who pulled a rabbit out of the hat and piggybacked a real wedding for you on to Alex’s when you realized how much you’d missed, practically eloping on the run. You owe me.”

She was practically daring Cris to argue the point. No one ever won an argument with her, unless, occasionally, it was Alex.

“I’m not lying,” Cris protested. “I’m not coming down with anything, not in the traditional sense.”

Stevi’s curiosity went up another notch. “Okay, how about in the nontraditional sense?” Stevi pressed. Interrupting herself for a second, she looked toward Jorge and made a request. “Could you make that to go, please, Jorge?”

Jorge nodded.

“You’re taking breakfast to go?” Cris asked. “What’s the matter, you suddenly don’t like my dining room?”

“It’s not that,” she protested, noting that somehow, Cris’s domain had spread from the kitchen to the dining area, as well. “I’ve got a few things to do in my room, wise guy, so I thought I’d eat and work at the same time. And don’t think you’re changing the subject that easily.”

“There is no subject to change,” Cris said, turning back to flip the omelet.

Stevi shifted so that she was able to at least see Cris’s profile. “We have a slight difference of opinion there.”

“I’m fine,” Cris insisted once again. “Just a little woozy, maybe.”

If Cris admitted to being dizzy, then there was more she wasn’t saying.

“Cris, Jorge can take over. Heck, even I can do some cooking in an emergency—”

“The emergency would be
after
you started cooking,” Cris interjected.

Stevi ignored the comment. “There’s no shame if you take a sick day once in a while. Nobody expects you to be invincible. If you caught a bug, then—”

“It’s not a bug,” Cris protested, losing her patience. “It’s a baby.”

Stevi’s jaw dropped open. “Whoa. Back up. You caught a
baby?
”

Cris sighed. “It wasn’t supposed to come out like this.... But it was bound to come out sometime. Yes, in a manner of speaking, I guess.”

Stevi’s eyes widened even more. “Then you’re—”

Closing her eyes, Cris nodded. “Yes, I am,” she said.

Jorge was grinning ear to ear. “Congratulations, boss.”

Cris inclined her head, uttering a modest, “Thank you.”

The surge of pure joy was a beat late, but when it came, it all but exploded within her. “Cris, why didn’t you
say
anything?” Stevi threw her arms around her sister, hugging her hard. “That’s wonderful! Why are you keeping it such a secret?” Granted Cris was one of the more quiet of the Roman daughters, but when she discovered she was pregnant with Ricky, everyone in the family knew within about twenty-four hours.

“I didn’t want to steal any of Alex’s thunder,” she confided. “I’ve already had one baby. This is Alex’s first.”

That was not a valid reason as far as Stevi was concerned. “Alex can deal with sharing the spotlight, she’s not a narcissist. And it’s not like you could’ve kept this a secret forever, you know. Eventually, we would have figured it out. So, does anyone else know?”

Cris inclined her head. “Shane.”

“Well, of course! What about Ricky?”

“I would have loved to have included him in this, but if he knew, then the immediate world would have known, as well.”

Stevi laughed in agreement.

“There’s no such thing as keeping a secret as far as my boy is concerned—especially if it was labeled a secret. The information would have burst out of him the very first opportunity he had. Prefaced with ‘Mommy doesn’t want anyone to know, but—’”

“Well, always a good thing to let the father know anyway,” Stevi said, patting Cris’s hand.

“Your breakfast, Miss Stevi,” Jorge said, placing a large brown bag on the steel counter next to her.

“Thank you.” She flashed the assistant a quick smile.

“Please don’t tell everyone,” Cris begged her.

“Of course not! I think that kind of information should come from you.” She rolled her eyes. “But make sure you call Dad in and tell him first. He’ll appreciate being told before the others.”

Cris smiled as she placed her hand on her still very flat stomach. “I guess you’re right—for a change.”

That was the nature of their relationship. Nothing serious could be left alone for long. There was always a bite of sarcasm, a zinger attached somewhere. The Roman sisters were determined not to get mushy on one another.

“Can you get Dad for me, Stevi?” Cris requested. “Ask him to come to the dining area?”

Any other time...but she was acutely aware of the time and she had left her mystery man alone in her room for far too long. What if he had awakened while she was gone? What if he had wandered off? She couldn’t have that. Not until she got their stories straight. Otherwise, she would be on the receiving end of a lifetime of lectures from not just her father, but everyone else in the family, as well.

“I’d really love to, Cris, but there’s something important I have to get to.” She looked at Jorge. “Jorge, can you get my father down here, please? There,” she told Cris. “All done. Gotta fly.” She grabbed the large brown bag Jorge had brought her and left the kitchen through the back delivery entrance.

She left a bemused Cris staring after her in her wake.

Stevi circumvented the veranda at the back of the inn and made her way to the same side entrance she and Silvio had used earlier. Again, this was the long way around but if she’d gone out through the dining area, Alex and Andy would have grilled her.

The way she saw it, it was better to avoid questions altogether until she had some viable answers.

As she skirted the grounds, her thoughts went back to what she’d just discovered. Cris was going to have another baby. That made two babies being born in the not-too-distant future. Life was moving right along for Alex and Cris, she thought with a touch of envy. They each had a great husband and now they were busy creating their own families.

And where did that leave her?

Confused and restless, that’s where,
she thought.

Not just that, but with an unidentified man lying in her bed, unconscious to boot.

Life had certainly gone from dull to extremely tangled in a few short hours, Stevi thought as she reached her door.

It was still closed, she noted. Either the stranger was still inside—or he had made an orderly escape, closing the door behind him after he departed.

Holding her breath, Stevi tested it: still locked. Turning the key, she eased the door open.

Her mystery man was just where she had left him, sleeping in bed. Coming a step closer, she never took her eyes off the man. Just as on the beach, he didn’t look as if he’d even moved a muscle since she had left.

She set the bag of food down on the writing desk in the corner, then quietly crept over to the bed.

She studied the man for a long moment. “Are you getting better, or worse?” she wondered out loud. “Am I helping you by keeping you hidden here, or am I destroying any chance you might have to get well? I wish I had a little guidance here,” she admitted. “There’s nothing on the internet to cover this situation. Can’t type in ‘What to do with an unknown, unconscious man encountered on the beach’ and have Ask.com come up with an answer.”

She had hoped that he might be up by now and able to eat, at least a little. He needed to build up his strength after all that blood he lost. When she’d picked up the two orders, she’d wanted to give him first choice of breakfast.

But since it appeared he was going to be out for a while, she decided to eat one and leave the other covered plate for him.

Choosing the eggs and ham, she brought the plate to his bed and sat in the chair she’d pulled over earlier. She took a bite absently and her taste buds almost sprang to life. She’d forgotten that it was impossible to eat anything that Cris prepared absently. It was a gift, she decided.

“You’re missing a really good breakfast,” she told her sleeping mystery man. “But, knowing Cris, she’d be happy to whip up another order if you like scrambled eggs.” Her words came back to her and Stevi laughed shortly. “Here I am, second-guessing what you like to eat and I don’t even know your name, or who you are, or what you’re actually doing here on our beach.”

There had been no wallet, no driver’s license, no ID of any kind on his person. Silvio had gone through his pockets the moment he had the man on the bed. It had made Silvio more suspicious.

“So who are you?” Stevi asked. “What do I call you? Are you with some drug cartel and you got caught in the middle of something really bad? Bad enough to bring out guns?

“Or are you some wealthy playboy whose cabin cruiser got boarded by pirates? Right...there aren’t any pirates trolling the coast of Southern California,” she reminded herself. “You know, I’m really running out of guesses here. You’d better come to soon and help me out or Silvio will insist that we call the hospital and they’ll take one look at you and call the police...and I have this gut feeling that won’t be a good thing to do. Am I right?”

He went on sleeping.

Finished with breakfast—which she had wolfed down in between questions—she set the plate aside on her writing desk. Leaning forward, she pushed aside a lock of medium brown hair that had fallen over his eyes.

“Who are you?” Stevi whispered. “Are you ever going to wake up and tell me?”

She supposed the real question here should be, was he ever going to wake up, period? What if he had slipped into an actual coma? She didn’t know much about things like that but she’d heard that those kinds of conditions could go on indefinitely.

Maybe forever.

Then what?

Then she’d tell her father everything and ask for his help. Get professional medical care.

She knew that even though Richard Roman might get annoyed with her for having done something that she was certain he would label “dangerous and foolish,” he wouldn’t waste time with recriminations. He’d just handle it, the way he handled everything else that came his way.

To her, her father was one of the dependable forces of nature. A great comfort to her.

But for the time being, Stevi needed to prove herself—not in anyone else’s eyes but her own.

She looked up to her two older sisters, Alex and Cris. Their lives were basically set, their paths more or less chosen and mapped out, while hers felt as if it was scattered all over the place and right smack in the middle of it was this slanted incline, perfect for skateboarding. And right now, she was going down it, ninety-seven miles an hour.

Could she execute the move, or was she going to crash and burn?

She had no idea.

“You’re going to have to hurry up, you know,” she told him. “I can only hold everyone off for so long. Right now, I can tell them that I’m working on a painting and that I don’t want to be disturbed. They’ll buy that. The family’s usually pretty good about that sort of thing,” she confided. “They give me my space, which in this case is actually
your
space. But sometime or other, they’re going to want to see a painting, so pull your act together and come around. In the next twenty-four hours, please.” Then she added, “Even faster would be nice.”

Boy, that had to have sounded weird to him if he could hear her.

“I don’t mean to rush you but hiding you in my room and not telling Dad or any of them about this is making things difficult for me. I’m not much on keeping secrets, if you must know, so the sooner you can open those eyes of yours, the better it’ll be for both of us.”

Picking up the coffee Jorge had slipped in the bag, she took off the lid. She sat sipping and staring thoughtfully at the unconscious man.

Her brain was going in three directions at once, all at top speed, coming up with different theories, each more fantastic than the last.

“Maybe you’re a spy. Or a secret agent.” Her words echoed back in her head and she stared at him even more intently, as if that would give her some sort of an answer. “Omigod, could I be sent to prison for harboring you? Worse, could my family get into trouble for this?” The thought of getting her family into trouble over something she was doing horrified her. “Maybe I’d better call the police,” she said, automatically reaching for the phone that was on the nightstand by her bed.