Suspicious Ways (10 page)

A surge of heat crashed through him and he swallowed hard, barely aware of Mike directing him into the pen. Christ, she was gorgeous. The stuff of wild fantasies. As soon as he tied his boat down, he was heading after her. He didn’t care if it was the middle of the day, he needed to feel her,

Then a man walked up behind her, slid a possessive arm around her hip. A man Jack knew all too well.

Zane Peterson.

Blood turning to ice in his veins, Jack watched as his worst nightmare came to life on the other side of the marina.

The man walked beside Ali, gold rings gleaming in the sun as the tips of his fingers slid over her hip to disappear under her cotton shirt.

Sound disappeared. All Jack could hear was the blood roaring in his ears and his pulse pounding at his temple. The bastard was touching her. Right there on the jetty. For everyone to see. And Ali hadn’t done a thing to—

“Hey!” Mike’s shout punched at Jack. “Hey, Jack! Watch out!”

A scraping thud rocked through Jack’s numb brain, jerking him back from the brink of madness. Awful vibrations shuddered through
Suspicious Ways
and, down at the bow, Mike was yelling at him.

“Mate, what the bloody hell are you doin’?” The older man gave him a stunned look. “You almost took out the jetty. Cut the engine.”

A grinding noise whined in Jack’s head and it took him a second to realise
Suspicious Ways
was rammed against the immoveable jetty, still trying to shift forward. Leaping into the cabin, he killed the engine, the stench of diesel heavy in the air. For a surreal moment, he stood there, staring blankly at the nav station.

What had he just seen?

Steel bands clamped around his chest, cold and constricting, yet his heart continued to hammer, each beat an explosion of confused pain.

Above him, in another world, he heard Mike moving over the deck, beginning the process of tie-down.

What the fuck had he just seen?

Jack sprang up onto the deck, his head narrowly missing the boom, his gut churning. He squinted into the glaring sun, searching the surrounding jetties for Ali.

“You okay, mate?” Mike’s voice seemed to come from far away. “Jack? What’s up?”

He couldn’t see her. Where was she?

Stare jumping frantically around the busy marina, he sought her out, his heart a frozen mass of dread.

Nowhere.

Feeling at the mercy of some malicious force hell-bent on sending him mad, Jack swung his gaze over to the motorboat pens.

To
Mako II
.

Zane Peterson’s book mocked him, an opulent testament to just how much money its owner had. It was the largest and newest boat in the marina, an Azimut Grande 120SL that cost in excess of twenty million to buy. Pristine white and blood red with black-tinted windows, the multi-leveled boat oozed indulgent extravagance and conceited arrogance. Yachtsmen rarely had time for powerboat owners and vice-versa, but at that very second Jack was utterly focused on the sleek motorboat. Because standing at the door to the lower cabin, looking at him across the distance with an oily smile on his suntanned face, was Zane Peterson.

Jack stared at the man, hatred and anger crashing through him.

Smile turning into a knowing leer, Peterson raised a half-filled martini glass. A silent toast across the water.

“Jack?”

With a smug wave, a large gold pinkie ring glinting in the sun, Peterson turned his back on Jack, entered the cabin and closed the door behind him.

“Jack?”

Blood pounded in Jack’s ears. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from
Mako II
. From that closed door. Who was on the other side? Who was in there with Zane Peterson?

“Jack, you look like you’re about to kill someone.”

Numb, Jack jerked his eyes back to his friend.

It hadn’t happened, he told himself. He was seeing things. The sun had obviously blinded him, tricked him. Perhaps he was suffering from sunstroke? Tonight, when he told Ali about it they’d laugh together. Peterson had a thing for brunettes and, with how much money the prick made every minute, there was always one hanging off him, hoping to cash in a little on the man’s indulgent appetites. The woman Jack had just watched him fondle could have been anyone.

But it wasn’t.

What was going on? Why had Ali been with Peterson when she was meant to be on a charter? Why had she let him touch her? Jack rubbed at his eyes, knocking his glasses from his face. He felt like he was on the precipice of insanity.

He’d never mentioned Peterson to Ali. His emotions ran too close to the surface to risk them escaping, and he wasn’t ready to share the guilt he felt over Trudi’s death with anyone.

No one, not even Mike, knew how much he blamed himself for what happened to his niece.

But every day he wondered what was between Ali and Peterson. His heart told him their relationship was purely professional. She was a part of his racing team—that was all. She was a brilliant sailor and Peterson only ever played to win. Jack’s hate however, tried to tell him it was something entirely different. Something insidious. Something that would give Jack another reason to destroy the man.

“Bloody hell, mate. What the hell are you doin’?”

Jack shook his head, ignoring Mike’s question. It wasn’t possible. It wasn’t possible he’d just watched the man maul Ali. It wasn’t possible because Zane Peterson was a perverted sleaze bag who preyed on women and there was no way the Ali Jack knew, the Ali that occupied his thoughts day and night, would be prey for Peterson. She was too stubborn, too independent.

But she’s also too broke, a cold whisper in his head reminded. She’d rather die than lose her yacht, her business. And Peterson has so much money.

No.
He clenched his jaw, shutting out that evil, vicious voice. Ali wouldn’t do that. Her pride was too strong. It was one of the reasons he—

Jack stopped, a sudden pressure smashing against his chest.

“Loved her.” His voice shook as he said the words aloud.

He loved her. Completely and utterly and irrevocably.

“Jack, are you gonna tell me what’s up or not?” Mike appeared before him, and even without his glasses on, Jack could make out the worried frown on his friend’s face.

“I’m fine.” He retrieved his glasses from the deck’s passageway. He wasn’t fine. Not by a long shot. His feelings for Ali had been so powerful, so intangible for so long, now he’d finally realized what they were, he didn’t know what to do.

“Well, you don’t look bloody fine.” Mike declared. “One minute you’re tryin’ to ram your boat through the jetty, the next you’re standin’ like a stuffed idiot about to explode. And now you’re slumped on the deck with a glazed look on your face.” Mike squinted at him. “Don’t tell me you’re seasick?”

Jack shook his head. “Listen, Turps, I’ve just remembered something I have to do. Can I leave you to pack up?” Not waiting for a reply, he leapt onto the jetty and walked towards the marina’s car park, fighting the urge to head in the direction of the motorboats. To
Mako II
.

Ali wasn’t there. He knew it. Now all he had to do was find her.

“This is the third day in a row you’ve visited me with a smile on your face,” Jenny Graham said as Ali kissed her soft cheek. “Can I thank Jackson McKenzie for this sudden change in my daughter?”

“No.” Ali dropped into one of the overstuffed arm chairs in her mother’s room. “You cannot.”

Jenny gave her a level look, the kind only mothers know how to do, and a shy grin spread slowly over Ali’s face. “Maybe,” she corrected, her checks burning.

“Well, good.” Jenny nodded, shuffling to the nearest chair. “I always knew there was a reason your father liked him.” She settled into the chair and picked up a cup of tea from the side table before turning her attention back to Ali, eyes clear and sharply alert. “Are you seeing him tonight?”

Ali hid a soft sigh.

Multiple Sclerosis was a sneaky disease, wreaking havoc on her mom’s body one day and disappearing just as abruptly the next. At this very moment, nestled in the old sofa chair, her gray-blue eyes bright and penetrating, no one could tell Jenny’s muscles were slowly dying. And taking her with them.

“Ali?”

Ali pushed the cold thought aside, forcing a smile to her face. “Sorry, Mom. I was off with the fairies.”

“Off with a certain yacht designer more like it.” Her mom chuckled. “So where’s he taking you tonight?”

“Nowhere.” Another faint blush warmed her cheeks. “Tonight he’s cooking me dinner.”

A ripple of excitement shot through Ali. She’d been a quivering mess of anticipation all day. Even when a seasick client cut her last charter short, her euphoric state had remained intact.

“It’s been quite a while since I’ve seen Jack,” Jenny mused. “Your father’s funeral, I think. How is he?”

“Well,” Ali replied, fidgeting in her seat. She’d kept so much from her mom about Jack McKenzie. How do you tell your mother your one and only lover was your dead father’s best friend? And that he’d accused you of killing him?

Jenny nodded, a knowing twinkle in her eye. “I see.”

Ali’s cheeks burst into flames again. Mortified, she stared at her mom. “How long…”

“Since you were seventeen.” Jenny laughed. “It’s one of those mother-daughter things.”

Ali dropped her head into her hands. “Oh God, Mom. Why didn’t you—”

Jenny’s mouth twitched in a soft smile. “Because you weren’t ready to tell me.”

Love swelled through Ali’s body. Love so powerful it was painful. She looked up at her mother and gave her a wobbly smile. “You’re wonderful,” she said, low and husky. “You know that?”

Jenny gave her a cheeky grin. “Of course.” She took another sip of tea. “Does this mean you won’t be racing for Zane Peterson anymore?”

Ali let out a sigh. “I don’t know yet, Mom. Maybe.”

Don’t get ahead of yourself, Ali,
a voice cautioned in her head.
There’s still too much to work out.

“I don’t like that man.” Jenny pulled a face. “I don’t like the way he looks at you.”

Ali suppressed another sigh. She didn’t like the way he looked at her either. And the next time he crept up on her and stuck his hand under her shirt like he did that afternoon, she was going to break his goddamn nose. “He’s a multi-billionaire, Mom,” she said instead, tucking her legs under her butt. “I’m not his type.”

“Bullshit” Jenny stated bluntly and Ali almost choked. “You’re beautiful, talented and intelligent. Why wouldn’t you be his type?”

“Mom!”

Jenny raised her eyebrows. “Well, it’s true. Still, I’ll be happier when you stop sailing for him. I don’t know why you do. You don’t need the money and you sure don’t need the experience.” She shot Ali a sharp look. “What does Jack think of it?”

Ali’s pulse jumped. “I don’t know. We’ve never talked about it.” She chewed on her bottom lip. Now that she thought about it, the fact they hadn’t was pretty strange. Especially when Peterson had somehow been involved with Jack’s niece.

“Well, I can’t imagine Jack being happy about it.” Jenny’s indignant mutter interrupted Ali’s puzzled thoughts. “Not after his niece died aboard—”

Without any warning, Jenny slumped in her chair, teacup dropping to the floor.

“Mom!” Ali flung herself across the room, warm tea squelching under her knee as she grabbed her mother’s limp and lifeless hand. “
Mom
!”

But Jenny didn’t stir.

Not when the paramedics arrived. Not when they bundled her into the ambulance. And not when they arrived at the hospital twenty minutes later with the sirens screaming.

The smell of disinfectant burnt Ali’s nostrils as she paced the emergency ward’s cold waiting room, the harsh fluorescent lights stabbing at her eyes like tiny knives.

Waiting. Why was she goddamn waiting? Why hadn’t anyone come near her since her mom had been taken away? What the hell was going on? Fighting with stinging frustrated tears, Ali shot a look at the ER doors. Surely someone would come and tell her what was happening soon? Or at least let her know her mother was okay? She glanced at her watch. It was twenty minutes past eight, for Pete’s sake. She’d been waiting for at least—

She stopped.

“Oh, no,” she groaned, her heart leaping into her throat. “Jack.”

Running toward the waiting room’s public phone, Ali prayed desperately it wasn’t in use. Jack was expecting her for dinner. Over an hour ago.

An elderly gentleman with wispy white hair and tears in his eyes stood huddled before the public phone when she finally found it, the mouthpiece grasped in his trembling hand.

Ali skidded to a halt, biting back a curse. Damn it, why had she cancelled her cell phone? Because you couldn’t afford it anymore.

That was true, but how the hell was she to call Jack now? She needed to talk to him. To explain where she was.

She needed him here with her.

A thick thump beat at Ali’s temple and abruptly her knees deserted her. She staggered backward, dropping hard into the nearest chair.

Needed him.