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Her father had shaken his head, then slipped into silence while the slim waiter, clad in a green polo shirt, white jacket and black slacks, had slid another drink in front of him. Ted had taken a long swallow, compressed his lips, then stared past her to the Sound, where noisy sea gulls floated on invisible air currents high above the water and ferries churned across the dark surface, leaving thick, foamy wakes. Pleasure craft and freighters had vied for space in the choppy waters and her father had smiled sadly as he viewed a sailboat skimming along the water. He glanced down at his drink. “I felt the same way you do thirty years ago, Nicole, but as you get older, have children, face the fact that the world isn’t perfect, you accept the way things are.”
Nikki hadn’t conceded. She’d never thought of her father as weak, not once considered the fact that he might be getting old and world-weary. “I’ll never believe that all men in power are corrupt.”
“Not corrupt, Nicole. Just human. Take my advice. Leave Jim alone.”
Now her stomach twisted into a painful knot as she locked her car and headed up the stairs to her apartment. She felt cold to the bone, as if a northern wind had howled through her soul, and for a second she had the same unsettling feeling, the same uncanny awareness, that she was being watched. Perhaps even followed. “That’s paranoia, Carrothers,” she told herself, but her skin crawled and she glanced over her shoulder, hoping to hear the roar of a Jeep’s engine, or catch the wash of headlights splash over the shrubbery of the parking lot. She saw no eyes hidden in the thick rhododendrons and vine maples, no evidence that anyone was watching her. Still she shivered, but Trent didn’t appear like some mystical medieval knight to save her.
Lord, she’d be grateful for him now and her heart nearly stopped beating at the thought. She stopped dead in her tracks, midway up the stairs.
She depended on him? Oh, no! Giving herself a swift mental shake she climbed the remaining stairs, unlocked the door, flipped on the lights and tossed her coat over the back of the couch. Opening the door of the refrigerator, she cringed, then yanked out a quart of milk gone sour and bread that had started to mold. So much for dinner.
She snapped on the disposal and poured globs of sour milk and slices of fuzzy white bread down the drain. Kitchen duty accomplished, she checked her messages and listened while her sister, Jan, started asking a dozen questions on the tiny tape. “I thought you were going to call me. Come on, Nikki, I’m dying to know what’s going on.”
Her mother, too, had called, expressing concern about Nikki’s injuries and hasty marriage. “I just hope you know what you’re doing, and if your father decides to put on some kind of reception, you know that Fred and I will want to help. You’re my daughter, too, you know.”
Funny how that sounded from a mother who had left three half-grown children to find herself and a new family in L.A.
The last message was from Dave. “I don’t know why I’m calling. Just a glutton for punishment, I guess. But I need to see you and know that you’re happy.” Oh, sure. The truth of the matter was, Nikki suspected, that Dave was suddenly interested in her because she was no longer available. Now that someone else wanted her, he did, too. She laughed a little. She wasn’t married. Her relationship with Trent was doomed, but there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell that she’d ever try to patch things up with Dave again. If Trent had taught her anything, it was about her need for independence and the sorry fact that she needed a stronger man than Dave Neumann for a lifelong partner.
She didn’t want to return any of the calls, but decided there was no time like the present. Besides, she’d rather speak without being overheard by Trent.
She dialed from memory and smiled to think that something so simple was such a relief. Jan was out, her mother was worried, and she had just left a simple message on Dave’s recorder when there was a quick rap on the door, a click of the lock, and Trent, balancing two sacks of groceries, appeared on the other side of the threshold.
Startled, Nikki asked, “How’d you do that?” but, with a sinking sensation, she guessed the answer before he even replied.
“I have a key.”
“You what?”
“When we were on Salvaje. I had one made.”
She opened and closed her fists in frustration. Certain there was no male more maddening on the face of the earth, she narrowed her eyes on his arrogant expression. As if he belonged here! “You don’t live here.”
He didn’t bother to answer, just set the bags on the table and began placing groceries in the refrigerator and cupboards. “I figured you were out of just about everything.”
“Did you hear me?”
He sent her a sizzling glance over one leather-clad shoulder. “Loud and clear, lady.”
“You can’t just waltz in here like you own the place, like we’re married, for the love of Mike. No way.”
“Until this all dies down.”
“What? Until what dies down?” she said, closing the distance between them in long, furious strides. “Crowley.”
“Right.”
“What the hell have you got to do with it?”
“Crowley’s dangerous. You’ve figured that much out, I assume.” His gaze skated down the side of her face that had been so bruised and battered.
Her shoulders stiffened involuntarily.
“I know you think you’ve got to do some damned exposé on him, but I think you’d better leave Crowley to me.”
“What will you do with him?” she asked, shoving a sack of groceries out of the way, grabbing Trent’s arm and forcing him to face her. A head of lettuce rolled off the counter and onto the floor, but she didn’t care, didn’t give a damn about the food.
Trent’s face hardened. “I’ll handle him.”
