Harbour Falls

Chapter 14



Before delving into the tale of Ami Dubois-Hensley, Adam drove me back to my cottage, where he pulled in behind the Lexus he and Trina had, as promised, picked up earlier from the café. With a turn of the key, the purr of the Porsche’s engine silenced. In the shadows I watched as Adam breathed in deeply and then shifted his tall form so that he was angled toward me. “I should have told you sooner,” he said, sighing. “But I had no idea it had started up again.”

“Adam, you’re scaring me. What’s wrong with Ami?”

In the darkness of the car, lit only by the ambient glow of a half moon, Adam told me Ami’s story. And what a story it was.

Unbeknownst to me, my former best friend had suffered some kind of a mental breakdown four years earlier. Ami had ended up in a mental health facility that autumn. After locking herself in the master bathroom of the house she shared with her husband, she’d attempted to commit suicide by downing a crazy cocktail of prescription pills and booze. Luckily Sean had come home from work early that day and found her lying unconscious on the cold tiles of the bathroom floor.

At the hospital, after her stomach had been pumped, Ami was moved to the psychiatric ward for observation. Following a series of tests, exams, and sessions with a psychiatrist, she was deemed to be a danger to herself but not to others. So she’d been moved to a Harbour Falls mental health facility for further, more intensive treatment.

Searching for a possible catalyst for her breakdown, which appeared to have come out of nowhere, the new psychiatrist treating her began to suspect it stemmed from her inability to have children—a condition which she and Sean had discovered that summer after a year of failed attempts to conceive.

Following two more months of treatment, Ami was finally released and initially appeared to be “cured.” She’d gone back to her house and her loving husband, and even returned to her job at Harbour Falls Realtors.

“I didn’t have the heart to fire her,” Adam explained, “She’d been a model employee, and I saw no reason to let her go. In fact, I hoped if she returned to a normal routine, it might actually help.”

“Did it?” I asked, though by Adam’s pained expression I sensed it hadn’t.

He explained that, at first, she really had seemed like her old self. But then one day, after showing a property located in Harbour Falls to a nice young couple who were expecting their first child, Ami was seen later sporting a rather impressive baby bump. In this “condition” she went to a local grocery store and a gas station. She later confessed she’d purposely sought out opportunities to talk with people about her “pregnancy.”

For example, a man at the grocery store had allowed her to go ahead of him in the checkout line. She thanked him and then proceeded to tell him how much she appreciated his kindness and how she’d just been so tired lately with her due date coming up. At the gas station, she’d waddled in to pay with cash and then spent ten minutes talking about babies with the young lady working at the station.

When she returned home, Sean was out in the yard raking leaves. “You can imagine how he felt when Ami got out of the car and Sean saw she was ‘pregnant.’” Adam slouched in the leather seat and leaned his head back on the headrest.

“That’s terrible,” I lamented.

Adam shook his head in what I guessed was dismay. “She confessed everything to Sean that night and even asked him to take her back to the hospital. He called me to let me know why Ami was going to be missing more work. That’s how I found out what had happened.” Adam paused. “He was so upset he even told me that Ami had admitted to sneaking into the high school and stealing one of those prosthetic pregnancy suits that had been used in a school play.”

“Oh, Adam.” Tears welled up in my eyes as my heart went out to this broken woman who, as a girl, had once shared so much with me. “She didn’t end up at Willow Point, did she?” I asked, shuddering.

Willow Point was a mental health facility that housed patients deemed to be a danger to themselves and/or others. It was located over in Bangor, perched high atop a hill overlooking the small downtown area. Even without the knowledge that it housed the insane, the old gothic structure itself was just plain creepy. In fact, Willow Point had inspired many a lurid tale. Almost everyone who’d grown up within a hundred-mile radius of the place had heard the terrifying stories of what went on at Willow Point. Many of the stories were true. Back in the sixties and seventies the place had been so overcrowded that beds were placed in the hallways. The atrocities that had occurred with patients essentially running amok were truly hair-raising. Reforms were passed, though, and conditions improved. But it still was a place that inspired terror.

“Maddy,” Adam said, throwing me an exasperated look. “Willow Point is for the criminally insane. Ami didn’t commit a felony; she just needed more help.”

According to Adam, despite more treatment Ami still periodically regressed back to these false pregnancies. Over time, though, the episodes appeared to occur with less and less frequency. So the doctors felt it’d be best to just allow things to play out. Especially since her farce never lasted for more than a day or two. Consequently, people who knew better just played along, and people who didn’t know—like me—remained none the wiser.

“Should we call someone?” I asked. “Let them know she’s at it again?”

Adam shook his head. “No. I’m sure Sean knows anyway. That’s probably why he took her out of town. To get away for a few days.”

So he did know they were gone. “Do you know where they went?” I tried to keep my voice even.

“No idea,” he replied. “She just asked for a few days off.” I bit down on my lip and stared out the passenger-side window. Noticing, Adam added, “Maddy, if you’re that curious, I can find out where they are.”

There really was no reason, so I shook my head. “This is just a lot to take in,” I murmured, leaning my head against the cool glass of the passenger window.

I kept thinking of the time I’d recently spent with Ami. She’d seemed so excited about the nonexistent baby. The whole thing was just heartbreakingly sad. So much had changed since I’d left Harbour Falls. Everyone was so different, their lives so full of complications. Me, I just wanted to go inside and forget this whole day.

Adam put a comforting hand on my knee. “It is a lot to digest,” he agreed. “And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I didn’t think it’d be an issue.”

“It doesn’t matter. I know now, that’s what counts.” I put my hand over his. “We can talk more about everything tomorrow.”

“Uh, actually we can’t,” Adam said. “I’m leaving tomorrow morning.”

I resisted the urge to groan. I was beginning to hate all these business trips of his. But after suppressing my irritation, I asked, “Where are you going? Boston?”

“No, I have some more business down in DC.”

“When will you be back?”

Adam hesitated. “Not until Thursday evening.”

“Oh,” I sighed.

Four long days with no Adam. And then I caught myself. I was definitely starting to rely on Adam’s presence far too much. But when Adam reached over and pulled me to him, I didn’t resist. A few heated kisses later, we reluctantly pulled apart and said our farewells until Thursday.





Later that night I woke up, and when I couldn’t get back to sleep, I padded down to the living room. After lifting the loose floorboard, I pulled out the case files and paged furiously through the reams of material with renewed interest. The past twenty-four hours had been eye-opening, and surely that was contributing to my current case of insomnia.

There had been Helena’s tale of why Trina hated Chelsea; J.T.’s attack that had, if nothing else, highlighted his substance abuse problems and anger issues; Adam’s confession that Chelsea had indeed been blackmailing him; and then my dad’s theory that Chelsea may have been hiding her calls from Adam. On top of all that, now I had to come to grips with the fact that my former best friend was a mental mess. Little wonder my mind was in overdrive.

I sat down, right there on the hardwood floor, and began to reread the files. When I reached the particulars of Chelsea’s last visit to Billy’s, I was reminded that I’d not heard anything from Jimmy. Obviously a return visit to Billy’s was in order. Maybe Jimmy had misplaced my cell number, or maybe he’d forgotten all about the alleged photo of Chelsea kissing some blonde girl. In any case a little reminder—and possibly another cash infusion—might be enough incentive to get him moving.

There was something about the blonde mystery woman that was bothering me. There had been no reported rumors—like with Chelsea and J.T.—about Chelsea and this individual. Adam had known about J.T. and Chelsea for quite some time. And he had been made aware of the other random men, and the drugs. Had he known about the mystery blonde as well? Or had Chelsea kept that part of her life successfully hidden?

I knew I should have just asked Adam, but I was reluctant. What if that night at Billy’s had been a one-time event? Or what if Jimmy had lied about what he’d overheard Chelsea and the mystery blonde saying? Hell, he could have made the whole thing up. Besides, hadn’t Adam made it clear he didn’t really care to discuss the things I was uncovering in this investigation?

That seemed strange too. Unless he didn’t really anticipate I’d discover anything that hadn’t already been reported in those files. If that were the case, then it only served to make me want to dig deeper and solve this damn thing, once and for all.

Somewhere along the line this investigation had become much more than “research.” Now it was personal.



Early Monday morning my father called. Yes, as expected, he’d found out about what had happened with J.T. O’Brien. It took nearly twenty minutes to calm him down. The only good thing that came out of it was that he reluctantly agreed Adam had saved me from further harm. I guessed it made him feel better about me staying on the island, because he didn’t threaten to come over and drag me back home. Although, I half-expected that to still happen.

On Thursday I drove down to the dock. Dressed in some raggedy jeans and an old flannel shirt that I knew would make me fit right in at Billy’s, I was all set to pay Jimmy another visit. As I made my way to the waiting ferry, I inwardly groaned when I noticed Jennifer Weston was at the helm. I was in no mood to deal with her today.

“Oh yay,” I muttered to myself as I stepped aboard.

Jennifer appeared to be as excited to see me as I was to see her. “If it isn’t Madeleine Fitch.” Sarcasm dripped with every word as she purposely blocked my way. “Must be my lucky day,” she snapped.

Pushing past her, I took a seat. “Back to the mainland so soon?” she continued, starting up the ferry. “Running low on people to press charges against? Or is island life just too boring when your rich boyfriend isn’t around to beat the piss out of someone?”

OK, so it was clear Jennifer had taken issue with the J.T. incident. No surprise there. She obviously still had feelings for him. Ignoring her comments, I rummaged through my bag, searching for the book I’d brought along to pass the time.

Without warning the ferry lurched forward uncharacteristically, and Jennifer shot me a look of satisfaction, surely pleased at startling me. “J.T. was right about you, you know,” she said.

“Oh, this ought to be good,” I muttered, pulling out my book.

Jennifer snickered. “We had a bet on how long it was going to take for you to end up in Ward’s bed.”

I rolled my eyes. What was it with her and J.T.? I hadn’t even slept with Adam…yet. Well, I’d slept with him in the literal sense, but I was sure they meant more. Just the thought of it, when it did happen though, brought a secret smile to my lips.

“That’s what I thought,” Jennifer snarked, misinterpreting my smile. “Looks like I won. I said less than a month.”

“Whatever,” I huffed dismissively.

“It won’t last, you know,” Jennifer continued, undettered.

Oh, it was going to be a long ride to the mainland.



“You don’t know anything about my relationship with Adam.” I should have just ignored her, but I felt compelled to say something.

“Relationship?” she spat. “If it makes you feel better to call it that, then fine.”

I opened my book and began to read in an attempt to end the unpleasant conversation. But Jennifer would not shut up. “Do you want to know what I can’t figure out, Fitch?”

No, not really, I thought, pretending to be deeply engrossed in the book when, really, I’d not read a single word.

“You don’t seem at all like what Ward usually goes for. Odd,” she mused out loud, clearly baiting me as she feigned a lost-in-thought expression.

I put my book down. She sure had my attention now. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked, returning her glare.

“Let’s just say, I know plenty more about Adam Ward than you do.”

“Sure you do.” I laughed and taunted, “You’re so well-informed.”

“I know this,” Jennifer hissed. “Ward is a powerful man who prefers beautiful women.” She eyed me up and down, like I didn’t make the cut.

When I rolled my eyes, she continued, “Not to mention” —Jennifer tapped her finger to her chin mockingly, pretending to be in deep thought— “he’s a man with a voracious appetite that I doubt you could keep up with. You seem a little too, I don’t know, bland maybe.” She winked knowingly, and my eyes widened.

How in the hell would Jennifer know something like that, unless… I narrowed my eyes at her, and she said pointedly, “Oh please, Fitch, drop the look of dismay. I never touched your precious Ward. I’m just saying I’ve heard things.”

Heard things? Like what, I wanted to ask? And from whom? Jennifer had certainly not been friends with Chelsea. Did she know Lindsey? No, I doubted it. But I didn’t know who all Adam had been with over the years and whose paths had crossed with Jennifer’s. I didn’t care to dwell on it either. But it just bothered me to no end. Who would have confided in Jennifer?

“I’m not particularly interested in whatever crap you’ve heard,” I said, trying desperately to sound unfazed and uninterested.

“Suit yourself,” she countered. “But did you ever consider you might be being played?”

I bit my lip, turning my head away. “Shut up, Jennifer.”

But apparently she was just warming up. “You’re a novelty to him, Fitch. You’re nothing but a between-inning stretch. What do you think is going to happen?” She snorted unattractively. “Do you dream of the great Adam Ward falling for you? Why would he want you, when he could have anyone he wants? Face the facts, bitch, he’s out of your league.”

As much as I was trying to fight them, tears threatened. Jennifer was awakening all the insecurities I’d ever had. “You don’t know anything about me,” I said quietly, blinking back tears.

“I know you once had a schoolgirl crush on Ward. Just remember, you’re not in high school anymore.”

What? How could Jennifer know that tidbit? Her words left me stunned. The only person who’d ever known about my crush on Adam was Ami. But Jennifer and Ami weren’t friends. Were they? I mean, it seemed unlikely since they’d barely spoken to one another on that first ferry ride over to Fade Island. Of course, Helena now probably suspected I’d always had a crush on Adam. And maybe she’d told Trina? But were Trina and Jennifer friends? What about Helena and Jennifer? I hadn’t gotten the impression they were pals.

But God, how’d Jennifer know about Adam’s supposed sexual prowess? Who else could she have been friends with? Maybe she had been buddies with Chelsea, despite everything? That would explain at least part of how she knew these things. So I asked, “Who told you those things about Adam? The part about his…” I winced. “...voracious appetite? Chelsea?”

As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I regretted them. Jennifer cut the engine, leaving us to drift quietly on the water out in the middle of the ocean. She approached, and I hastily stood up.

“Let’s get one thing straight.” Jennifer was in my face. Close. Too close. “That f*cking piece of shit slut was no f*cking friend of mine. So don’t ever even think it.”

I took a shaky step backwards, the sound of the waves sloshing against the sides of the ferry seemingly amplified in the silence. “OK,” I responded meekly.

Jennifer cocked her head to the side, as if examining me. “What are you doing here, Fitch?” I shuddered, and before I could answer, she added, “You’re not poking around in things that don’t concern you, are you?”

I shook my head emphatically. “No, I’m not.”

“Are you sure? ’Cause if you are…” She trailed off.

“I’m not,” I insisted.

Jennifer suddenly backed off, laughing smugly. “Wouldn’t it be poetic if you found out you were sleeping with the enemy, so to speak, in this little scenario?”

“Adam didn’t do anything to Chelsea,” I stated with conviction.

“Maybe, maybe not.” Jennifer’s eyes were black and unblinking, her voice cold. Even colder when she added, “Personally, I hope he f*cking offed the bitch.”

This was getting to be too much. Something bad was going to happen if I didn’t snap her out of this tirade. “Um, I need to get to the mainland, Jennifer,” I squeaked out in a meager attempt to diffuse her fury.

She snickered. “Of course you do. What do you think I’m going to do? Throw you overboard?” Her eyes flashed to the water as if she were considering it.

But to my relief, she returned to the pilot’s house and set the ferry back into motion. I sat back down, trembling. Maybe I should tell Adam about this incident.

The rest of the way to Cove Beach, I thought about ways I could broach the subject without having to divulge the more sordid things Jennifer had said about him—that he was playing me, that he was the enemy. Jesus. By the time we reached the dock, though, I decided it’d be best to keep quiet. I’d already sent J.T. to rehab; and I didn’t want Adam to retaliate against Jennifer, too, and make things somehow go from bad to worse.

With all that had transpired on the ferry replaying in my head, I got my car out of the garage and drove to Billy’s. Except this time, as I traveled along the two-lane state route, I kept getting the distinct impression that I was being tailed. I checked my rearview mirror. There were a few cars behind me, but when I slowed, they passed without incident. Hitting the gas I concluded I was just feeling extra paranoid due to Jennifer’s behavior on the ferry. Still, when I reached Billy’s, I parked the car directly in front of the door and practically ran into the establishment.

Jimmy was standing on a step stool behind the bar, stringing up Halloween lights. Rock music played in the background, and his head bobbed up and down with the beat as he secured the string of lights.

When Jimmy flipped a switch on the cord, a wash of orange and purple bathed the bar area. “Looks good,” I said, startling him.

“Hey.” Jimmy jumped down from his perch and folded up the step stool. “Didn’t see ya there.” He picked up an almost-spent cigarette in the ashtray behind the bar, took a drag, and stubbed it out. “What can I getcha?”

Before I could answer, movement from the back room caught my eye. Damn, I wasn’t the only customer today at Billy’s. This would make it harder to get information out of Jimmy, especially since his eyes kept darting to the back room.

“Um, a beer would be fine,” I said, and Jimmy’s attention returned to me.

As Jimmy made his way down to the cooler to retrieve my drink, I craned my neck to catch sight of the other customer. And then I wished I hadn’t.

There was no other way to describe the guy in the back as anything other than a bad-looking dude. He was huge, bigger than Nate even, maybe about the same size as Max. He had on jeans and a navy muscle shirt that showed off his bulging arms. Tattoos ran up and down his arms, but he was too far away for me to make out what they were.

I watched as he ran his hand over his closely shorn, white-blond hair and took a swig from a mug of beer. He picked up a pool cue—I guessed he was playing alone as there were balls all over the table. Suddenly he pointed the cue stick at me. “Bang,” he mouthed.

I quickly averted my eyes, ignoring him. Crap! Had he known I’d been watching him the whole time?

Jimmy returned and placed the bottle on the bar. He’d left the cap on, so I twisted it off with a huff. But he didn’t even seem to notice. It seemed my bartender-pal was distracted, as he kept glancing over at Mr. Cue Stick in the back room.

I cleared my throat. “Did I catch you at a bad time?” I asked, curious as to what was going on here.

“Nah.” Jimmy shot another furtive look to the back and then lowered his voice. “Hey, listen. I haven’t found that picture yet. And I figure that’s why you’re here. But today’s probably not a good day for you to be here—”

Before Jimmy finished, a rude voice interrupted, “Who’s the fresh meat?”

It was the guy from the back. He slammed his empty mug down on the bar, and though I kept my eyes on the bar, I felt his bore into me.

I heard Jimmy say, “Let her alone, man. She’s not lookin’ for what ’ya think she is.”

What the hell was Jimmy referring to? Drugs? No doubt.

The man laughed. “Hell, Jimmy, everyone can use a little pick-me-up from time to time.” He paused, and I reluctantly glanced over. He tapped his nose. “Isn’t that right, sweet thing?” He cocked his head to one side, examining me like a specimen. “Or maybe you’re just looking for a little tweak?”

His eyes were so dark, almost black. I couldn’t hold his stare, so I dropped my gaze. The tattoos on his right arm—screaming skulls with dark snakes writhing out of their eyes—seemed to be looking right at me. If the artwork hadn’t been so disturbing, I would have thought it beautiful in its intricacy. But as it was, I shuddered. There was something very wrong with this guy. I sensed he was still staring, so I glanced up. A shiver ran down my spine as those black eyes met mine.

I looked away, and he laughed. “I got all kinds of goodies to loosen up a tight little piece like you. You let me know if you change your pretty little mind.”

Still keeping my eyes averted, I found myself nodding out of sheer terror. The man laughed louder. “Don’t worry about the price either. I got all kinds of payment options for customers who look as good as you do.” I cringed at the thought, and he added, “Aw, don’t look so scared. You come spend a few minutes with me in the back, and I’ll get you so high you’ll think you’re in heaven.”

More like hell, I thought.

“Zeb,” Jimmy interjected, though his rattled voice betrayed his fear. “Leave her alone.”

I looked up to see Zeb turning to Jimmy, fury emanated from him. “You don’t tell me what to do, you got that, man?” Jimmy nodded meekly as he refilled Zeb’s mug, his hand trembling. “You just worry about getting me what you owe me, or we’re gonna have some real problems on our hands.”

Thankfully Zeb was more focused on Jimmy now. He stared intently at him as Jimmy slid Zeb’s now-full mug toward him. As Zeb picked up his beer, his eyes never left Jimmy. Not even as he headed back to the back room. Finally he looked away.

A few minutes later, when Zeb disappeared into the men’s room, Jimmy leaned toward me and whispered, “Listen, Maddy. You better get outta here.”

I had every intention of hitting the road before Zeb had another chance to harass me, but first I wanted to take care of something. It was clear Zeb was a dealer, and Jimmy owed him money. I couldn’t help but feel bad for the kid. He probably needed as much help as J.T. A part of me wanted to talk to him about getting his life together, but I knew Zeb would be back soon. Right now, the only thing I could offer was some help to get him out of financial trouble with the scary dealer.

I stood up, readying to go. “How much do you owe him?” I asked Jimmy in a hushed voice.

He cast his eyes down. “Five hundred, but he’d leave me alone if I could get him sumthin’.”

I didn’t have five hundred dollars on me, but I pulled out the extra money I had brought. Sliding two one-hundred dollar bills across the bar, I said, “Here, take it. But God, Jimmy, try not to buy from him again.”

“Hey, I’m not some charity case, ’ya know,” Jimmy protested.

“Then think of it as an advance,” I offered. “For the picture.”

He hesitated but ultimately snatched the money up. He sounded deflated when he said, “I’ll get ’ya whatcha need, I promise.”

“Can I ask you one thing before I leave?”

Jimmy nodded, and I whispered, “Was that Zeb-guy Chelsea’s dealer?”

He looked like he wasn’t going to answer, but then he glanced at the money in his hand. “Yeah,” Jimmy said quietly. “Anyone here who needs sumthin’ they go to Zeb. Always have, probably always will.”

Considering Chelsea’s drug habits, I wondered if she’d ever taken Zeb up on any of his special “payment options.” I was going to ask, but Jimmy glanced uneasily to the back. “You better go.”

So I nodded and rushed out of Billy’s. When I slipped back into my car and adjusted the rearview mirror, I caught a glimpse of a man ducking behind one of the warehouses. Unfortunately he was too quick for me to get a clear view. But there was no more doubt in my mind that I was being tailed. But who would be following me? And why? I debated whether I should get out and confront the person. But then I thought of Zeb. I took action, all right—I got the hell out of there.

Even though I thought of a bunch of good retorts to throw back at Jennifer the Bitch on my drive to Cove Beach, I was, nevertheless, relieved to see that Brody, not his sister, would be taking me back to the island.

Once back on Fade Island, I hopped into the Lexus and drove back to the cottage. Pulling into the driveway, my eyes were drawn to a small square of paper taped to the front door. Fluttering in the breeze as I approached, I could see it was a handwritten note of some sort. I peeled it loose. It was a simple message from Adam; he wanted me to stop by his place as soon as I had a chance.

Curious as to what was up, but wanting to freshen up after my time at Billy’s, I took a quick shower. Then I changed into a nicer pair of jeans; a long-sleeved, mocha-colored tee; and a pair of ballet flats. After brushing out my hair, I left for Adam’s house.

Trina was back in Boston, so I knew we’d have the place to ourselves. Something I was definitely looking forward to. I knocked on the front door and waited.

When Adam opened the door, my breath caught in my throat. Wow. He looked exceptionally hot, even though his expression betrayed a brooding kind of anger. Still I lowered my eyes to the ground and began a slow, appreciative ascent up his physique— starting at the expensive-looking black shoes he wore, up to the alluring way his dark gray slacks fit him in ways most men wished for, and to the black button-down shirt he was wearing, top buttons undone. Finally my eyes came to rest on his face.

It was the first time I’d seen Adam with a shadow of stubble, which was definitely working for him. I met his eyes, and they flickered in annoyance. Something was definitely not right, because this look was far different from his usual expression of amusement when he’d catch me blatantly ogling his magnificence.

“Maddy, are you going to just stand there, or are you coming in?” Adam snapped, impatience coloring his every word.

Huffing, I brushed past him into the foyer. “Geez, somebody sure is cranky,” I muttered under my breath.

He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “We need to discuss something.” He turned and began walking down the hallway. “Follow me,” he said. “We can talk in my study.”

Aah, the study, I thought. Must be serious.



Trailing behind him, feeling more like I was off to the principal’s office, I sighed. “What’s going on, Adam?”

“We’ll discuss it in here,” he said brusquely. We’d reached the door, and he pushed it open.

Adam’s study was smaller than most of the rooms in his place, but it was by no means tiny. Tastefully decorated, the study was a cross between a traditional Old World study and an executive’s office.

He led me to a plush, burgundy leather chair that faced the front of his ornately trimmed dark wood desk. “Sit,” he commanded.

Maybe due to Adam’s no-nonsense demeanor, maybe due to the air of authority with which the atmosphere pulsed, I couldn’t be sure. But, in any case, I quickly obeyed, gently placing my bag on the floor next to me. Adam took a seat in an elegant, black leather chair behind his desk. What an image—the powerful Adam Ward in his element.

Evening was rapidly approaching. The light from the large, single window in the room—overlooking the ocean through a break in the thick pines surrounding Adam’s compound—was waning.

Adam clicked on a desk lamp, and I cleared my throat. “There’s obviously something wrong,” I began. “Are you mad about something?”

Instead of answering Adam shot me a pointed look, and then he withdrew a key from his pant pocket. Reaching down, he inserted it into the bottom right-hand desk drawer.

“I’m not mad at you, Madeleine,” Adam said distractedly, head down as he turned the key and entered a code into what I assumed was a keypad built right into the drawer. “However, something has come to my attention with which I’m not particularly pleased.”

The drawer sprung open, and I waited, still having no idea what Adam could be referring to. When he looked up, his serious gaze met mine. In his hands he held a stack of photos. Of what I didn’t know, but I had a feeling I was about to find out.

“Can you do something for me?” His voice was even and smooth, businesslike.

“Sure, anything,” I replied.

Adam slid the photos across the vast expanse of the desk. “I know you’re set on this little quest of yours to research my ex’s disappearance. But I’d prefer if you stayed away from this place.” Adam nodded to the pictures, so I picked them up.

There were about a dozen four-by-six-inch color photos, all of me going into (and coming out of) Billy’s. They’d been taken earlier today. Unbelievable!

Instantly I was furious. “You had someone follow me?” I accused, my voice raised. I tossed the photos back at Adam, scattering the glossy images across his otherwise tidy desk.

“Maddy, calm down,” he said reproachfully.

“No! I’m not going to calm down. I knew I was being followed today, but I never expected you were the one behind it.”

Adam’s expression betrayed his displeasure with my outburst. “There’s no reason to get this upset. I asked Max to follow you for your own safety.”

“Max again?” I scoffed. “And I’m supposed to believe you’re that concerned with my safety?”

“Madeleine,” Adam said warningly. “Need I remind you of the other night with J.T. O’Brien?”

That gave me pause, because maybe it wasn’t that crazy to believe Adam had had Max follow me for my own protection. After all, it wasn’t like Billy’s was exactly safe. An image of Zeb pretending to “shoot” me with the pool stick flashed through my mind.

I shuddered and said, “But pictures, Adam? Really? Don’t you think that’s a bit much?”

His eyes held no apology. “I wanted to see what you were up to anyway,” he stated matter-of-factly. Ah, there’s the real reason. “And I’m going to reiterate, I do not want you going back there. End of story.”

“God, who do you think you are?” I said, incredulous and infuriated at his demand. “Maybe your, your minions obey your every command, but I, Adam, am not one of them. I make my own decisions,” I stated with conviction. “You got that?”

Maybe I should have held back. Adam’s eyes flashed in anger, boring into me. “Yeah, I got that, Madeleine. Far be it from me to try and save you from your own damn self.”

Fleetingly his mask wavered, and I saw concern cross his features. God, maybe I was overreacting. Was it guilt for keeping my visits to Billy’s secret that had me so worked up? Maybe Adam had been thinking of my safety?

Confused and humbled, I backed down. “I’m sorry for snapping at you,” I said, my voice soft. “I know you’re only looking out for me.” I put my head in my hands and mumbled, “I guess it’s just been a long day.” It was a weak excuse, but it was all I had.

“Come here, Maddy.” Adam’s voice had eased, his anger dissipated.

I glanced up, and he beckoned for me to come around to his side of the desk. I got up and went to him, and once I reached him, he spun his chair to face me and leaned his head back. “Kiss me, Madeleine,” he purred.

His charm was irresistible. And the tension from our fight lingered—we both needed a release. So I bent down and curved my lips to his. Such a perfect fit. Our mouths moved together—tongues touching, dancing, darting—until Adam made a growling noise and pulled away.

Before I knew what was happening, Adam had shifted my body so that my backside was pressed against the edge of his desk. He stood, hovering over me as he kicked his chair back. “Want to make a friendly wager?”

Standing on the tips of my toes, I brushed my lips across his. “Yeah, sure,” I breathed. Hell, anything sounded good at this point. “What are we betting on?”

With no warning and to my delight, Adam slid his hands up under my shirt, his strong hands encircling my ribcage, his thumbs tracing over the lacy edge of my bra. My breathing hitched, and I leaned my head against his chest as his long fingers trailed up and under the straps, poised ever so teasingly on bare skin. I arched my back, wishing he would slide his hands down to my breasts that ached to feel his touch.

But as if knowing what I craved, he did the opposite—slid his hands back out from under my shirt. “First, if I win, you have to promise you will never go back to that bar under any circumstances.” The businessman was back, making a deal. He eased me back onto the surface of the desk and stood towering above me.

I looked up at him in his position of power. “And if I win?” I asked breathlessly, slick, glossy photos sliding beneath my jean-clad bottom.

Adam parted my legs and eased between them. Oh. My. God.

Chuckling, he said, “Then you’re free to do whatever you want. I’ll promise not to interfere.” He leaned down, cupping my face. “But Maddy, I will win.”

And then he kissed me like he’d never done before. His mouth was hungry, demanding, angry. His hands roamed, touching, taking—under the shirt, over the shirt, over the jeans, under the waistband. The top button popped. “Oh God,” I gasped, arching into him, aching to feel how much he wanted me.

But Adam shifted, and I felt his hot, urgent breaths at my ear. “Want to know how I’m going to win?” he asked, his lips skimming my neck.

I nodded furiously, plunging my fingers into the silkiness of his hair.

He chuckled, pulling back slightly. He turned his wrist, and we both glanced at his very expensive watch, noting the time. OK, whatever. At that exact moment, I couldn’t have cared less.

Dizzy, I leaned my head back on the desk, and Adam slid down my body, lifting the hem of my tee and placing a warm, wet kiss on my exposed hip. He knelt down between my legs, yanking me to the edge of the desk. His mouth returned to my hip, his tongue lazily trailing a wet path across my abdomen. And then his hand cupped my core. “Oh God,” I gasped.

“I win, Madeleine, if in sixty seconds or less, I can get you to beg me to take off these jeans,” Adam purred, and then he began to kiss lower and lower.

The bet was on…