Flawless Danger (The Spencer & Sione #1) (29 page)

And never see John again.

Spencer moved from the door and dashed to the large walk-in closet, a long, thin rectangle with racks of clothes on either side. At the back was a huge armoire against the wall, a massive piece of furniture with two doors and three drawers at the bottom. Spencer hurried to the armoire and eased to her knees on the cool hardwood floor in front of it, staring at the drawers.

She couldn’t help but remember the night she’d opened that drawer in Ben Chang’s closet, unaware of the hell she was unleashing in her life. Why hadn’t she known what Ben was capable of then? Why hadn’t she seen the signs? Looking back, with twenty-twenty hindsight of course, she realized all the evidence had been there. The guns. The money. Why hadn’t she made the conclusions? Maybe the better question was why hadn’t she wanted to make those conclusions?

Spencer opened the bottom drawer and pushed aside the assortment of T-shirts. Pulling the drawer out farther, she pushed aside more T-shirts. Near the back corner of the drawer was a square of chamois. Peeking beneath the edge of it was a strange sickle-shaped object, hard and black, with a razor-sharp point.

Spencer lifted the soft cloth. Gasping, she stared at four long claws, which seemed to be welded, or fused somehow, on top of what looked like a set of brass knuckles. Her heart slamming, she picked up the claws. What the hell? Why did John have these strange claws in his drawer? What were they used for?

The severed hand, covered with blood, in Maxine Porter’s closet invaded her mind. Horrified by the potential direction of her thoughts, Spencer put the claws back were she’d found them and slammed the drawer.

Shuddering, Spencer pulled out the second drawer, trying to push the image of those strange claws from her mind. Struggling to forget the questions swirling in her head, she focused on the contents in the second drawer.

A compass, a bundle of letters, an old cigar box, a Mont Blanc pen, and a faded three-by-five picture of a woman, an exotic island girl with sun-kissed caramel skin and long, thick, black hair swept over one shoulder. She turned the photo over and saw a name scribbled on the back.
Moana
. Spencer flipped the photo and stared at the exotic beauty. Was this the old girlfriend? The woman who wouldn’t stop calling? The woman he claimed he didn’t want to talk to? The woman he’d broken his promise to? Or, maybe—

“Ms. Edwards.”

Startled, Spencer looked back over her shoulder, heart pounding.

John stood in the entrance to the closet, frowning at her. “What are you doing in here?”

Panicked, she shoved the photo back into the drawer and then closed it. “Nothing,” she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. “I was just …”

“Just?”

Letting out a slow, silent exhale, Spencer stood and turned to him. With two long strides, John was inches from her, staring at her, making her uncomfortable with his piercing gaze, as if he was trying to figure her out, or size her up. Spencer forced herself to stare back, to match his gaze, trying to summon up a sly sassiness. The truth was, she was shaking in her boots.

“I thought you said your earrings were in the guest bedroom?” John asked, his gaze and his tone holding traces of suspicion.

“I checked the guest bedroom, but they weren’t there,” she said. “Then I remembered that I left the guest room and spent the night in your room … with you … so I decided to check in your closet because I got the T-shirt from your closet, remember?”

“I remember,” he said, his gaze still piercing.

“Because I needed something to sleep in …” she said, trying not to stammer, wondering if he believed her story.

“Did you find your earrings?”

“No, I didn’t,” she said and then ventured to walk around him, desperate to get the hell out of the closet.

John stepped in front of her. Swallowing, Spencer stepped back, looking up at him.

“What do the earrings look like?”

Spencer took a quick breath. “Oh, um … they’re just little pearls. Not expensive or anything.”

Nodding, he said, “I’ll tell the housekeeping staff to look out for them.”

San Ignacio, Belize

Belizean Banyan Resort - Owner’s Casita

As Sione escorted her out of his bedroom, two thoughts dominated his mind. One, Ms. Edwards had lied to him. Her story about missing pearl earrings was bullshit. Although, he had to admit, it was a pretty good cover. Special earrings given to her by the grandmother who’d raised her after her mother died. Of course, she’d want to look for them.

But Ms. Edwards hadn’t returned to his casita to look for misplaced jewelry. She had come back to look for something though. Damn if he knew what. Sione sighed as his second thought eclipsed his first. Ms. Edwards looked just as good from behind as she did from the front. He told himself that didn’t matter. He couldn’t get caught up in her beauty, because—

Excited shrieks made his heart jump for a second. Turning toward the commotion, he saw his little second cousins, Keisha, Maggie, and India, racing down the hall toward them.

“Miss Spencer! Miss Spencer!” the girls squealed and giggled, dashing over to Ms. Edwards, all three of them trying to throw their arms around her.

Setting her purse on the accent table in the foyer, Ms. Edwards eased to her knees, eye level to them, and hugged them back. She matched the girls’ squeals and giggles and seemed to enjoy all the attention they lavished on her. Sione found it hard to reconcile the woman who was so affectionate with his second cousins and the woman who might have been mixed up in something illegal.

Finally, Ms. Edwards stood. Two of the girls grabbed her hands, while the third latched on to her elbow, and they began to drag her out of the foyer, excitedly announcing all the plans they had to spend the afternoon playing and inviting her to join them.

“Wait, wait,” Ms. Edwards told the girls. “We need to ask your cousin if it’s okay for me to play with you.”

Immediately, the girls turned to Sione and began shouting their wishes. “We want Miss Spencer to play with us!” the girls pleaded, though there was an undercurrent of command in their high-pitched pleas. “Let her stay and play with us!”

Sighing, Sione crossed his arms, looking down at the cute little expectant faces staring up at him, waiting for his answer. Of course, he knew he couldn’t say “no,” or there would be hell to pay, bitter tears and threats of retaliation.

He wasn’t sure he liked the idea of Ms. Edwards playing with his second cousins.

The recent revelations about her were damaging and, if he were honest with himself, more than a bit disappointing. Sione could no longer give Ms. Edwards the benefit of the doubt because there was no proof that money and passports had been in the bags she’d switched.

D.J. had found the Xanax box in Maxine Porter’s closet, which meant Ms. Edwards had made the delivery to the store clerk. Sione couldn’t pretend Ms. Edwards was innocent anymore. Yet he didn’t like the view of Ms. Edwards as deceptive and manipulative. He was having trouble wrapping his mind around the idea of her as a criminal.

The longing look in Spencer Edwards’ eyes as she smiled at the girls made him think of her childhood. The brief glances she’d allowed him so far were of a lonely, neglected little girl. Knowing firsthand the effects of a troubled upbringing, Sione was inclined to think he might be wrong about her. Maybe the situation with the fake money and passports wasn’t so black and white. Maybe there was a reason for her involvement, one that could be explained, understood, and even accepted.

Glancing at Ms. Edwards, Sione had a feeling she wanted to stay and play with the girls just as much as they wanted her to. If he didn’t allow the “play date,” she might be more upset than the girls. On a practical note, he hadn’t planned to babysit today. His cousin Terrance, the girls’ father, had caught him off guard with the request, and Sione hadn’t said no, even though he was behind on a lot of paperwork.

He had invoices to approve, more résumés for the pool assistant position to review, and business proposals to consider. It would help him out if Ms. Edwards could keep the girls occupied while he got some work done.

“Can Miss Spencer stay and play with us?” Maggie ran to him, giving him the sweetest, toothless smile. “Please?”

Unable to resist, Sione reached down, picked Maggie up, and kissed her cheek. “Yes, love, Miss Spencer can stay and play with you and your sisters.”

Happy and excited, Keisha and India cheered and clapped, and when Sione looked over at Ms. Edwards, the smile she gave him was even sweeter.

San Ignacio, Belize

Belizean Banyan Resort - Owner’s Casita

Sione stood just outside the arched entryway into the kitchen. Ms. Edwards and the girls sat at the large round table in the breakfast nook, giggling and talking, the four of them creating some type of art project. The table was littered with large sheets of construction paper in every color, pencils, markers, stickers, glue, watercolors, scissors, and glitter.

It was an inviting, happy scene, and Sione felt a strange stirring, a longing for a family of his own and a situation where he would walk into the kitchen and his wife and kids would be sitting at the table. It was odd, and a bit disturbing, that Ms. Edwards could make him feel that way. A woman mixed up in something shady and criminal should have inspired suspicion and mistrust, not blissful domesticity.

“What’s all this?” Sione walked into the kitchen. “What are you girls making? A big mess that I’m going to have to clean up?”

“It’s not a mess,” India said, her chin smudged with green paint.

Smiling, Maggie announced, “We’re making a masterpiece!”

“A masterpiece, huh?” Sione went to the table, giving each of the girls a playful thump on the forehead, which they laughingly protested, and he checked out the drawings the girls were making—houses, stick people, flowers, balloons, and a few shapes he couldn’t quite figure out.

“And what about you, Ms. Edwards?” Sione glanced over at the piece of paper Ms. Edwards was sketching on, a scene which seemed to include palm trees and blue skies. “You making a masterpiece or a mess?”

Making a face at him, Spencer Edwards stuck out her tongue, then smiled, and said, “Maggie, what is that you’re drawing? A birthday cake?”

“A wedding cake!” Maggie said.

“A wedding cake?” Ms. Edwards exclaimed. “Are you getting married and you didn’t tell me? Let me see your hand! Do you have an engagement ring?”

“No!” Maggie giggled. “I can’t get married.”

“You have to have a boyfriend to get married,” Keisha said, rolling her eyes at her sister.

“Miss Spencer, do you have a husband?” India asked.

“Do you have a boyfriend?” Maggie asked, giggling.

“Um, no,” Ms. Edwards said. “I don’t.”

“But you’re so pretty,” India said. “You should have someone to be in love with!”

“And you can love him,” Keisha teased and then laughed.

“And you can kiss him,” Maggie said, smacking her lips, imitating kissing sounds.

“Girls,” Sione warned.

The girls kept giggling, and then India said, “Miss Spencer, you can marry cousin Sione. He doesn’t have a wife. He’s all alone and Auntie Carmen says that’s a crying shame because she doesn’t have any grandbabies.”

“Girls!” Sione said, his tone gruff though he realized they were only repeating opinions they’d heard from his mother.

Maggie scowled at him. “Don’t you want a wife?”

“Miss Spencer could be a pretty wife for you,” Keisha said.

“Maggie, are you drawing a butterfly?” Ms. Edwards asked, effectively changing the subject, for which Sione was grateful.

Their focus redirected, the girls continued their drawings, and Ms. Edwards kept them engaged in animated conversations on topics more appropriate for six-to-seven-year-old little girls.

Maggie announced, “I’m going to give my masterpiece to Mommy.”

“I’m going to give mine to Mommy, too.” India promised, grabbing a green crayon.

“Me, too!” said Keisha, not to be outdone.

“Miss Spencer,” Maggie said. “Are you going to give your picture to your mommy, too?”

“What?” Ms. Edwards’ pencil skidded across the paper, creating a haphazard line, ruining the sailboat she’d been drawing.

“Miss Spencer!” Keisha said. “You messed up your picture!”

Dropping the pencil, Ms. Edwards looked at the girls, obviously struggling to speak. “I just, um, I …”

Confused by her disorientation, Sione became concerned as tears welled in Ms. Edwards’ eyes. The girls noticed her distress too and immediately began asking her what was the matter, their faces filled with tension and worry.

Instead of answering the girls, Ms. Edwards pushed the chair back from the table, stood, and ran out of the kitchen.

Near tears themselves, the girls jumped up to follow her, but Sione stopped them. “Stay here, I’ll go and see if she’s okay.”

Sione left the kitchen, worried that the girls’ conversation about their mother had reminded Ms. Edwards of her mother’s death and had triggered the tears. Heading down the hall, he rounded the corner into the foyer and saw Ms. Edwards walking toward the door.

“Ms. Edwards …”

She glanced over her shoulder at him, then turned back to the door, and grabbed the knob.

“Wait a minute.” Sione grabbed her arm and forced her to face him. “What’s wrong? Are you crying because—”

“I’m not crying.” She yanked away from him and then swiped at the tears with trembling fingers. “It’s just allergies.”

Gently, he lifted her chin. Forcing her to look at him, he wiped away a tear she missed. “I don’t believe you.”

“Please tell the girls I had fun with them, but …” She took a deep breath and looked up at him. “I’m just not feeling well, and I don’t want them to think I abandoned them or I’m disappointed with them about something.”

“Listen, I know it was probably difficult for you to hear the girls talking about their mother when—”

“I have to go.” She opened the door and hurried out.

San Ignacio, Belize

Belizean Banyan Resort - Honeymoon Casita