Pearl Cove (3 page)

No. You are.

The usual time?

Ive got a conference call with the States. We wont be done until midnight.

You will be done two minutes after I put my face in your lap.

Care to wager on that?

Anticipation sent a faint curl of heat through Coco. Nothing turned her on like a sexual
challenge. Men were usually too easy. One look at her ass and their palms sweated. When
does your call start?

Ten oclock. I will be there at five after. What do I get when I win? A black pearl. What
do I get if I dont win? Fucked. Cocos teasing, confident laughter drifted up the sand path
to the house.

Hearing the sexy, hot-woman sound, Hannah smiled. She often wished she could be more like
Coco, utterly comfortable in her body, in her mind, in her sex. But she wasnt. She never
had been. She doubted that she ever would be. Some parts of her missionary upbringing went
straight to the bone.

Coco had been raised in a culture that was part expatriate French, part Polynesian, and
one hundred percent sensual. Hannahs parents would have called Coco a slut. Hannah didnt.
Coco was simply a physical female who ate when she was hungry, slept when she was tired,
and had sex when she pleased with anyone she pleased. If Coco was also a ruthless tease,
well, there werent all that many saints in Western Australia.

When Hannah came to Changs car, she didnt hesitate before walking on past it. Even in the
unreasonable heat, she didnt mind the half-kilometer path from high tide line to the
house. Not that she would set any speed records. She didnt want to. She just wanted to
avoid being locked up by four walls. Since Lens death, she had become claustrophobic.

Locked in the shed. Waiting. Trapped.

The weight of the sunlight was almost welcome on her skin. It was hot, bright, burning;
everything that death was not.

Chang caught up with Hannah halfway to the house, where the road cut across the path. Dust
from the four-wheel-drive Mercedes settled over Hannah like a bad reputation.

Get in, darling, Chang called through the open passenger window. Much as Id love to see
your beautiful ass swing all the way to the house, I have appointments in Broome.

Instead of reaching for the door handle, she stood at the side of the road and watched him
with remote indigo eyes. Darling? Beautiful ass? Her voice was neutral, as emotionless as
her eyes. You told me this was family business.

You can let go of the nun act now. Youre not a married woman anymore. Pleasure and
business, the best of both worlds. Youll like it that way. Ill see to it.

The impatience and irritation in his voice angered Hannah, though it didnt show in her
body, her eyes, her voice. Business, Ian. Thats all. Just business.

Chang said something rude in Chinese, then leaned over and pushed the passenger door open.
Get in, Sister McGarry.

Ill get the leather wet. Theres not enough cloth on your butt to make a difference. After
a long, level look, Hannah slid in and closed the car door. There, that didnt hurt, did
it? he asked curtly. I wont jump you, if thats what youre afraid of. Youre married.
Hannahs voice was flat. My wife lives in Kuala Lumpur.

I dont care if she lives on Jupiter. Im not in the market for a married lover. Nothing
personal, Ian. It s just the way I am. It wont change. I value your friendship, but not
enough to have this conversation every time we talk. Change the subject.

Bloody nun, Chang muttered under his breath.

Yes.

Neither said another word until they were in the shade of the verandah. The storm had done
little damage to the house: broken windows, ripped screens, one corner of the roof torn
away, plants snapped off or whipped to rags by the wind. Small things, compared with death.

Who replaced the windows? Chang asked.

Christians brother-in-law is a glazier. Christian did all the screens. The verandah was a
mess.

Changs full mouth thinned. He didnt like the thought of the sexy, shrewd, young Aussie
hanging around Pearl Cove, even if he was living with the type of blonde most men only
dreamed of getting their hands on. Why didnt you call me? Chang asked. I would have sent
workmen over.

Thanks, but Christian was here when the storm hit.

I suppose he fixed the roof, too.

Tom did. Since he stopped diving, hes made himself invaluable as a handyman.

Chang tried to imagine the bent old Japanese man scrambling up a ladder and nailing tin
sheeting in place. He shook his head. Nakamori is too old for that kind of work.

Hes only sixty. What Hannah didnt say was that Chang was fifty-three. And Len had been

forty-five. Too young to die.

A sixty-year-old former diver is an old man. Chang looked at his watch. I have ten
minutes. Fifteen at most.

Tea? Beer? Water?

Nothing.

Hannah rinsed off her dive gear, dumped it in a basket on the verandah, and waved Chang
toward the wicker chairs. She went to her favorite place, a hammock chair suspended from a
bolt in the slanting roof. The airy netting of the sling let a breeze swirl around her
with every gentle push of her foot against the wooden floor. The verandahs new screening
shimmered and rippled in the sun, making the world beyond look dreamy, unreal.

All right, Ian. What does the Chang family want from me? Were willing to assume Pearl
Coves debts. Any particular reason? The usual.

Which is?

Business, Chang said curtly.

I see. What do I get out of this business?

A partner who can rebuild Pearl Cove.

Partner. Hannah toed the floor and swung gently. If Chang knew she had a partner already,
he wasn t letting on. She wondered if that made him more or less likely to be Lens killer.

I give you fifty percent of Pearl Cove and you assume all debts, is that it? she asked.
Seventy-five percent. The hammock chair paused in its swing. We give up seventy-five
percent? Theres no we about it. Len is dead. Pearl Cove is just you, Sister McGarry.

Ill think about your familys offer.

Dont think too long.

Is there a time limit?

Abruptly Chang stood up. Mother of God, you cant be that naive!

For a time there was only the soft squeak of the hammock chair against the ceiling bolt as
Hannah swung back and forth, back and forth.

I guess I am that naive, she said finally. Explain it to me.

Do you really think Len died because of that cyclone?

Every muscle tensed. She wanted to get up, to scream, to run Since it would be stupid to
do any of those things, she did nothing at all.

I could list Lens friends on one finger, Chang said bluntly.

I dont have enough hands to list his enemies. Its not only his charming personality Im
talking about. Its pearls and double crosses. He buggered one too many big players.

How?

Dont waste my time. Youre his wife.

Yes. His wife. Not his business partner. I run the house, keep the payroll, collect rent
from the workers who live on site, order equipment for the farming operations, and have
the final say on color matching the harvest. Thats it.

What about the black pearls?

What about them? The big players you mentioned know how to make silver-lipped oysters
produce black-toned pearls or gold-toned or pink or all three in the same oyster. Members
of the South Sea Consortium developed the technology. And they kept it to themselves. It
has nothing to do with Pearl Cove.

Im not talking about the normal run of black pearls. Im talking about the rainbows.

Stillness crept through Hannahs blood like ice forming on an autumn pond. Though no one
was supposed to know about the extraordinary pearls, word had inevitably leaked out.
Rumors thrived like termites in the emptiness of Western Australia. Yet no one had
actually seen those special pearls, except Len and herself. And his killer. Len had died
because he knew the secret of producing extraordinary black pearls. People assumed she
knew the secret, too. But she didnt.

Her husband had trusted no one. He always opened the experimental oysters himself. And he
was careful to have ordinary oysters in among the special ones, just to have some pearly
junk to show the curious. He never would have told her about the rainbows at all if he
hadnt needed her hyperacute color perception to find the best matches among the
iridescent, seductively colorful black gems.

Despite all Lens care, despite his paranoia, in the past few years, some of the special
black pearls had been stolen and found their way to the marketplace. Yet Len wouldnt share
the secret of producing the black rainbows.

He had been killed for it. As soon as the murderer discovered that she knew nothing about
producing them, her life would be worthless. She would be all that stood between the
killer and ownership of Pearl Cove, home of the oysters that produced fabulous, unique
black pearls.

Rainbows? she asked through stiff lips. Weve had some lovely peacock blue

No, Chang cut in. Theyre not the same.

If your family is buying in to Pearl Cove for these so-called rainbows, youll be
disappointed. I dont have any for you. That, at least, was the truth. Most of the special
pearls had been destroyed as unworthy. The rest had been kept in the vault.

And the vault lay like a cracked steel egg inside the ruined shed. Chang watched her with
clear black eyes and formidable intelligence. Think about our offer. You dont believe me.

I believe that the cyclone season is coming.

Is that a threat?

Its a fact. Sell Pearl Cove to the Changs. Were big enough to weather the coming storm.
You aren t. Dont follow Len into the grave.

For a breath Hannah wished she owned all of Pearl Cove and could turn it over to the
Changs. Then she would run. The Stone Age villages in the rain forests of Brazil had never
looked so good to her. So safe.

But that was cowardice whispering seductively in her ear. She couldnt sell, had no money
to run, and was damned if she would be again what she had been at nineteen a runaway
stranded in a strange city with night coming on and no assets to sell but her newly
unvirginal body.

I cant sell Pearl Cove, she said evenly. You mean you wont. No. I mean I cant. Why?

Half of it belongs to Archer Donovan.

What? Chang demanded, too shocked to hide it.

Archer Mr. Donovan was Lens silent partner.

For how long?

Seven years.

Bloody hell. No wonder Len is dead. He finally buggered the wrong man.

What are you saying?

Chang laughed curtly. They dont come any more ruthless than Archer Donovan.

I didnt think the Chang family would back up for anyone.

A man who can tangle with the Red Phoenix Triad and come out on top deserves respect.
Archer Donovan has it. Chang turned away. Ive got to make a call. This changes everything.

The screen door swung shut behind Chang. Moments later, red dust boiled, then settled in
the wake of his car.

For a long time Hannah sat on the verandah in the hammock chair, unmoving but for the
occasional prod of one foot against the floor. Back and forth. Back and forth.

She didnt doubt Changs appraisal of Archer Donovan; she had been in a position to see just
how ruthless he could be. But not with Len. Never with Len. Despite ample provocation,
Archer had never acted against Len McGarry. Quite the opposite. He had saved Lens life,
paid for his rehabilitation, and made him a partner in Pearl Cove. Then he did what Len
had demanded: he got the hell out of Lens life and stayed out.

She didnt know what the bond was between the two men. She only knew that it existed.
Perhaps it extended beyond the grave. Perhaps Archer Donovan would care enough to do what
no one else would find Lens murderer.

If revenge wasnt enough to move Archer, there was always money. Even the most ruthless man
might be persuaded to search for Pearl Coves vanished treasure if he was promised half of
something that was worth three million dollars wholesale.

The Black Trinity.

With reflexes left over from the years he couldnt leave behind, Archer came from deep
sleep to full wakefulness. Lean fingers snatched the phone from its cradle before he even
looked at the clock.

Two a.m.

Visions of all that could have gone wrong with the family sleeted through his brain. Faith
was first in his mind. The man she had just broken up with had knocked around his first
wife and at least one of his girlfriends. The Donovan brothers had told Tony what to
expect if he laid a hand on Faith, but Tonys memory wasnt reliable when he started
drinking.

Archer looked at the display on the phone that gave incoming numbers. It was blank. That
left out the family, and let in Uncle Sam.

Shit.

What, he said. It was a statement, not a question. Is this Archer Donovan? Yes. This is-

Hannah McGarry, he interrupted, wondering if he was still asleep. That smoky voice of hers
had haunted too many of his dreams.

How did you know? I have a good memory. Whats wrong, Hannah? Lens dead.

Archer didnt try to sort out the boil of emotions those two words brought him: disbelief,
relief, guilt, anger, sadness for all that might have been. He didnt say anything about
his own feelings. The tension in Hannahs voice told him that she had more to say, none of
it good.

When? he asked.

Just... days.

Old habits were hard to break. Especially when he could all but taste the fear in Hannahs
desperately level voice. The quality of the connection told him that she was using a
cellular phone, open to anyone who cared enough to eavesdrop. So he didnt ask her where or
how or why Len had died.

Im sorry, Archer said softly. Thats not adequate, but in the face of death, no words are.
Ill be there no later than noon tomorrow, your time, earlier if at all possible.

Hannahs fingers loosened a bit on the thin, vaguely oblong plastic body of the cellular
phone. All she could think of was that Archer understood everything she hadnt said. I...
thank you.

Archer knew he shouldnt ask, but the words were out before he could stop them. Are you all
right? She shivered, remembering Lens stripped, battered body and sightless eyes, and
Changs warning:

Cyclone season is coming. Dont follow Len into the grave.

Hannah?

Hurry, Archer. Im getting... sleepy.

The quality of the sound changed, telling him that she had disconnected. He didnt bother
cursing the empty line. If someone had a lock on her cellular, she was safer not talking
at all.

He punched in one of Donovan Internationals unlisted numbers, the one Donovan executives
called when things started to go from sugar to shit. No matter what time it was, someone
would answer this number.

This is Archer Donovan, he said. Put me through to someone who can get me to Broome,
Australia, no later than noon tomorrow. Shave every minute you can.

Noon U.S or Australian time? asked a womans voice. Australian. Where are you now? Seattle.

Thank you. One moment, please.

It was more than one moment, but at least he was spared any canned music. He waited
quietly, not showing the urgency riding him or the adrenaline licking in his blood, called
by the fear that even Hannah s smoky voice couldnt conceal. He simply held the phone and
made a list of things that had to be done before he landed in Australia. Some could be
handled from the plane. The important things couldnt.

Kyle Donovan was in for a rude awakening.

Thank you for waiting, said a mans voice. None of the Donovan International aircraft can
get you from Seattle to Australia in your time frame. We have chartered a jet from Boeing
Field to Hawaii. A company jet will meet you there. Our files show that your Australian
visa is up-to-date.

Archers passport was never mentioned. People in Donovan International would sooner take up
nude ice-climbing than let their passport lapse.

Are you at the Donovan family suite in Seattle? the man asked.

Yes.

A car will pick you up in half an hour. A rental car has been reserved in Broome. Will
there be anything else?

Not at the moment. Good work.

Thats what you pay me for, mate, the man said, allowing his native Australia to color his
voice for the first time.

Archer hit the disconnect and headed for the door that led to the family areas of the
Donovan suites. Kyle and Lianne were in town to celebrate Donald Donovans birthday. Jake
and Honor were due in this afternoon. Archer regretted missing his sister and her husband,
but not as much as he regretted having to tell The Donovan that Len McGarry was dead.
Happy Birthday, Dad. And by the way, the son who hated you is dead.

Grimfaced, Archer started knocking on the door to Kyles suite. Moments later, it opened.
The person who opened the door wasnt Kyle, who wouldnt get out of bed before nine oclock
for anything but a dawn salmon-fishing raid. His wife, however, didnt need a kick-start to
get going. Mussed with sleep, wearing a navy mans T-shirt that came to her knees, six
months pregnant with twins, looking like a grumpy Munchkin, Lianne stood in the open door.
One look at Archers face had her wide-awake.

Whats wrong? she asked quickly. Is

Its nothing you need to worry about, he cut in quickly. Everyone you love is just fine.
Get your husbands lazy ass out of bed. I need him.

Its four-fifteen!

I know what time it is. Get Kyle or let me do it. With an effort, Archer gentled his
voice. Its all right, Lianne. I just need his computer magic right now. Ill be in the
kitchen making coffee. Or do you want me to wrestle him out of bed for you?

Any bed-wrestling Kyle does will be with me. Make enough coffee for three.

The door closed before Archer could thank his sister-in-law, or even pat the taut mound of
her stomach where another generation of Donovans was doing lazy backflips.

By the time Archer had coffee and Canadian bacon made, Kyle wandered into the kitchen
wearing navy shorts and a hairy chest. Archer handed his youngest brother a mug of
well-creamed coffee and

turned back to the pancakes that were just beginning to firm on the griddle. With Kyle,
there was no point in trying to talk until the first cup of coffee and sometimes the
second or third had burned through the morning fog that passed for his brain.

Lianne was more alert. She was still wearing Kyles T-shirt, the one that celebrated the
hazards of men who went fly-fishing naked. She pushed long, black hair out of her face,
poured her own coffee, sugared it, and scooted in next to Kyle in the breakfast nook
without saying a word to her husband. Early in their relationship, she had decided that
there was only one thing Kyle was good for in the first few minutes after waking up, and
she didnt need a witness for that. Sipping coffee, she looked at Seattles glittering
lights spread against the utter black of a November morning.

Kyle took his second cup without cream, drank it down, shuddered, and held out his cup for
more without looking at Archer. Halfway into the third cup, he raked his fingers through
his blond hair, straightened, and clicked into focus. Wheres the fire? he asked irritably.
If there was a fire, youd be toast by now, Archer said. Yeahyeahyeah. This better be good.

A half brother you never knew just died. As Archer spoke, he flipped pancakes onto a warm
plate.

Kyles green-and-gold eyes narrowed to slits. It took him less than two heartbeats to
realize that his brother was serious. Jesus.

I doubt that religion had anything to do with it. Len McGarry wasn

t a churchgoing man. Archer put the pancake plate in the oven and poured more batter onto
the griddle.

Half brother. Holy shit. Kyle looked into his coffee and took a slow, deep breath. Dad or
Mom? Dad. Before he met Mom. How do you know?

Long story. I dont have time for it and it doesnt matter now. Just dont say anything to
The Donovan or Susa, Archer added, using his parents nicknames. Ill tell Dad when I know
more. He can tell Mom whatever he wants.

Was The Donovan married before? Lianne asked. No.

She winced. I hope being raised a bastard was easier on your half brother than it was on
me.

Len wouldnt know easy if it walked up and tied a knot in his pecker, Archer said, putting
a plate of pancakes and bacon in front of his sister-in-law. Eat. Youre too thin to be
carrying that big mutts children.

Thin? she asked, outraged. Archer, I could barely get into the breakfast nook!

We run to twins, sugar, he said, smiling at her. It was one of his rare smiles, the kind
that made people want to get closer rather than to look for the nearest exit.

Who are you calling sugar? Kyle asked, rubbing Liannes belly and eyeing her plate of food
at the same time.

Not you, fish breath. Theres nothing sweet about you in the morning. Archer pulled a plate
out of

the oven and shoved food under Kyles nose. Feed your nerd cells. I need them.

Talk to me. Kyle picked up the syrup and began pouring generously. I can listen and eat at
the same time.

About two this morning, Lens widow, Hannah McGarry, called and told me he was dead. Her
voice told me a lot more. Shes scared down to the soles of her elegant feet.

Something in Archers tone made Kyle stop shoveling in food and look at his brother.
Elegant feet? Archer didnt notice his brothers glance. His eyes were narrowed, more gray
than green, with not a

hint of the blue that sunlight and sky could bring out. He was focused on a past only he
could see.

She was calling on an open line, he said, so I didnt ask questions and she didnt offer
answers. I told her Id be in Broome by noon tomorrow.

Broome? In Australia? Lianne asked.

Archer nodded.

Pearls, Kyle said instantly.

Archer nodded again. Len and I are were partners in a pearl-culturing venture. Pearl
Cove Farms.

I didnt know that, Kyle said.

Archer didnt answer. There was a lot about his past that his family didnt know. He planned
on keeping it that way. If he could have wiped some of the memories from his own brain, he
would have. But he couldnt, so he lived with them and did whatever it took to make sure
that no one else had to.

Normal spelling on Pearl Cove Farms? Kyle asked, already organizing the computer search in
his mind.

Yes.

Is it a registered business?

Licensed, taxed to the max, and all but one form duly filed, Archer said.

Which one?

The partnership agreement.

Why?

Lens choice. I didnt care. But the partnership will stand up in court, here or there, if
thats what you re worried about.

What do you want from me?

Everything you can get electronically on Hannah McGarry.

Archer slid into the opposite side of the breakfast nook. His knees bumped Kyles. Archer
was older by four years and a timeless amount of experience, but Kyle was every bit as
large physically.

What about Len? Kyle asked. You want me to go after him while Im at it? Sure, get what you
can. Pearl Cove, too. You got me up before dawn to do what any hacker could do? Yes.

Why?

Because you arent any hacker. Youre my brother and Lens half brother. You wont leave any
tracks, youll keep your mouth shut about what you find, and you wont be tempted by bribes
or blackmail. And if it gets really nasty... Archer shrugged. Kyle, for all his blond good
looks, could fight for his life. And had.

Why dont I like the sound of that last bit? Lianne asked beneath her breath. Because you
know how nasty family fights can be, Archer said.

Family? Kyle asked.

Len, Archer said curtly. Hes dead, but whatever snowball he pushed off the mountain is
still rolling. And I have a nasty feeling that his widow is standing right in the center
of the avalanche chute.

So youre flying halfway around the world to stand there with her?

Id do the same for Lianne.

Kyle blinked, then sighed. Sorry. Im just not used to having another brother, much less a
sister-in-law to worry about. Youre right. Shes family. He gave Lianne a sideways glance.
Will the Tang family give me a rain check on

No, Archer said instantly. Youre staying here.

Wrong. Im going to Australia. As you pointed out, Len was my brother, too.

You didnt know him. I did.

Liannes tilted, cognac eyes went from brother to brother. Though one man was dark and one
was light, both were stubborn to the core.

If you go, I go, she said to Kyle.

No, the brothers said as one.

Why is it, she asked sweetly, that every time you two agree on something, Im the loser?
Like hell I m staying here.

Youre both staying here, Archer said. If I need anyone, youll be the first to know.

Damn it Kyle began.

No. Archers voice was cold and deadly. Like his eyes. It was the very part of himself he
had tried to keep from his family. Dont push me on this, Kyle. Neither one of us will like
what happens. But it will happen just the same.

Beneath the table Liannes small hand settled on her husbands thigh and squeezed with
surprising strength, silently asking him to use his head on this one instead of his balls.
Slowly the tension seeped out of Kyles clenched muscles.

Well try it your way first, Kyle said finally. If that doesnt work

Youll do whatever it takes, Archer finished, hearing his own words from the past, seeing
some of his own dark shadows in his brothers eyes. Silently Archer held his hand across
the table, but he held it as someone looking for contact rather than a handshake.

Kyle took his brothers hand. They both gripped hard. Thank you, Archer said simply. He
slid out of the booth, turned to Lianne, and brushed his fingertips over her cheek. Youre
good for him, little sister. For us.

Kyle watched his brother walk out of the warm yellow light of the kitchen. When he turned
to Lianne, he was surprised to find tears in her eyes.