Forbidden Touch

Chapter Nine

Maddox turned to Iris, dread sitting heavy on his chest. "Did you call the cops?"

She looked at him, wide-eyed. "No."

Maybe the cops were just passing by, he thought, trying to ignore the voice inside him warning him trouble was on the way.

Iris crossed to the balcony, holding on to the door frame to keep her balance. She peered out at the beach road beyond. "They're coming here. Maybe someone reported your fight."

He pushed himself off the bed, blackness rimming his vision as agony unleashed itself on his injured ribs. He groped for the walk taking care not to touch Iris, He spotted a couple of Mariposa police cruisers, as well as a fire truck and an emergency ambulance.

"Maybe an accident or something."

"What if that guy was hurt worse than he looked?" Iris glanced over her shoulder at him. "Maybe he passed out."

"Listen, you stay right here. Okay? I've gotta go get something" He'd left the food boxes out in the hall. If the police came through this section of the hotel and spotted them, they might be curious enough to start knocking on all the doors.

He went down the hall and picked up the boxes. They were wrapped in clear plastic sheeting, which had kept them from spilling their contents when he dropped them to the carpet. The food was probably a mishmash now, but he didn't think either of them was hungry anymore.

He knocked on Iris's door. "Me again."

She let him in. "What's in the boxes?"

He managed a pained grin. "I was feeling a little hungry"

"Two lunches?"

He smiled at her skeptical tone. "I thought I might find a pretty tourist to share a little chow with me. Know anybody like that?"

She managed a half smile. "Sorry, no."

He flashed her a wicked grin. "Come on. Sure you do"

Her smile faded and she stepped back. He stepped toward her, regretting his words. When was he going to learn to shut his mouth?

"Iris?"

"Quinn." she said. "That man-you called him Quinn. And he knew your name, too."

He sighed. So she'd heard that.

She stared at him. "You know him, don't you?"

He hesitated, well aware that he couldn't tell her who Quinn really was. But he didn't like lying, either. "Sort of"

"Who is he?"

He debated a couple of lies but finally opted for the truth. "I can't tell you that."

Her brow wrinkled, "What do you mean, you can't tell me?"

"I can't explain. I'm sorry."

"That's insane! That man just broke into my room and beat you up, and you can't tell me who he is?" Her gaze darkened. "Who are you protecting?"

A knock on the door interrupted. They both turned and stared at the closed door.

"Who is it?" Iris asked.

"Mariposa police."

Damn it. Maddox looked at the gun lying on the dresser. He actually had an island gun permit, but not for that Beretta. He pushed himself to the dresser and put the Beretta in the middle drawer, tucking it under a pair of silk panties. "I'll wash up." he told Iris, heading into the bathroom.

He ran water and grabbed a washcloth, wincing as the wet, rough terry cloth brushed across the abrasion on his cheek. He didn't seem to be bleeding anywhere else, but his whole body felt as if he'd been trampled by elephants. Quinn shouldn't have been able to get the first punch in. He'd lost his edge over the past three years.

He heard the low' murmur of voices outside but couldn't make out any words. He laid the washcloth on the sink and opened the bathroom door, bracing himself for whatever came next.

A pair of detectives in street clothes sat in matching chairs at the small table near the balcony, Maddox recognized the taller of the two-Melvin Lively, a round-faced Mariposan with a ready grin and an extensive vocabulary of profanities, he used with abandon whenever he was losing at pool, which was often. He gave Maddox a small nod of recognition.

Iris sat on the bed, her back ruler-straight. Her dark eyes met his. "Celia is dead."

Maddox's knees buckled for a second. He caught himself on the edge of the dresser. "What? How?"

Iris looked at the two policemen. They remained silent, "Mr. Kipler gave the police my name."

Maddox sat next to her on the bed, glaring at Lively. "You're not suggesting-"

"No, we're certain Ms. Shore was killed by someone rather larger than she was, which Ms. Browning is not."

Left unsaid, however, was the fact that Maddox was larger than Celia. The hint of accusation lingered in the brief silence, adding to Maddox's growing sense of dread. "How was she killed?"

"We're trying to establish a timeline." The shorter of the two detectives ignored the question. He was European in background, his local accent slightly tinged with the clipped cadence of the Dutch. "Ms. Browning says that she was with you from the time she left Ms. Shore's room, except for a few minutes while you were downstairs getting lunch."

Maddox looked at the two unopened boxes. "That's right."

"Can you verify your whereabouts from the time you left Ms, Browning's hotel room until you returned?"

"The cashier at the restaurant would've seen me." he answered automatically. "I talked to Charles Kipler there, as well. I think he was getting dinner for Celia."

His mind rebelled at the thought of Celia Shore being dead. It wasn't as if he hadn't seen death before. God knew, he had. But she'd been okay the last time he saw her. Getting better. Who would hate her enough to kill her?

"Did you and Mr. Kipler have a fight?" Melvin Lively asked.

Maddox lifted his hand to his scraped cheek. "No, Fell down some stairs."

He felt Iris's gaze on him. He cut his eyes toward her, hoping she'd follow his lead. The cops didn't need to know about Quinn's visit. That was something he was going to have to handle on his own, quietly.

"Are you sure?" the shorter detective asked.

"Positive. I was just about to let Ms. Browning play doctor with me." He shot her an exaggerated leer. Her look in return was about as queasy as he felt.

"You'll understand if we defer that until later." Lively said, his dark eyes amused despite the serious look on his face.

Maddox's smile faded. "Yeah, I understand."

"Good. Now, can we go over this one more time?"

Iris could add little to the detective's knowledge of what had happened to Celia Shore. She glanced at Maddox, wondering why she was keeping quiet about the bearded man. Because Maddox wanted her to? Had she lost her mind? What if Quinn had killed Celia?

The timing didn't seem right-he'd been here on this floor, trying to get her to let him come into her room, during the short span of time when Celia seemed to have met her end. But was his presence here really a coincidence?

She should say something to the police. Now.

"Doesn't the hotel have surveillance cameras?" Maddox asked, his face pale beneath his tan.

"Someone tampered with them." Melvin said before the shorter detective could shush him. "Ms, Browning, if you could tell us again about your discussion with Ms. Shore-"

"She already answered that twice. Melvin." Maddox interjected, impatience bleeding from his gritty drawl.

Detective Lively shot Maddox an exasperated look. "You are still here because I'm a nice guy, Mr. Heller. You do not want to make me become a not-so-nice guy."

Maddox"s lips thinned to a tight line, but he kept quiet. Iris answered the detective's question again, glancing at Maddox. She took a deep breath, preparing to bring up the subject of the bearded man who'd accosted her, but the dark look in Maddox's eyes kept her silent.

Okay, she thought. I play it your way. But you're going to tell me who Quinn is and what's going on. And if she didn't like his answer, she'd be on the phone to the police before he could turn around twice.

Detective Lively had almost finished taking her through what information she had about Sandrine's disappearance for a second time when a newcomer arrived, a tall, dark-haired man with brown eyes and a lanky build. As the policeman at her door let him in, the man's gaze moved first to Maddox. One dark eyebrow quirked at the sight of his battered face.

The two had met before. Iris realized. The dark-haired man looked away from Maddox and nodded a greeting to Detective Lively.

He spoke with a British accent. "I'll wait outside until you finish. Detective Lively. I don't want to interfere in your investigation-"

"We're wrapping things up, Mr. Darcy." Detective Lively assured him. He stood and closed his notebook.

The man named Darcy stepped closer to Iris. "Miss Browning, I'm Nicholas Darcy with the U.S. consulate. I wanted to leave my contact information and let you know we will be available to help you with any legal issues that may arise from this incident" Darcy said.

"Darcy's the Regional Security Officer-an embassy cop. I guess you'd say." Maddox's voice was inflection-free, but a wave of bitterness flowed into Iris from his direction.

"I'm sorry to hear of Miss Shore's demise. Were you close?" Though he directed the question at Iris, Nicholas Darcy shot Maddox a tight glare.

Maddox returned the look, his jaw squared. Interesting, Iris thought.

Detective Lively paused in the doorway, bowing slightly toward her. "Ms. Browning, will you be remaining here at the hotel for the next couple of days?"

As Iris opened her mouth to assure the detective she would. Maddox said. "No. She will not."

Iris glared at Maddox. "I beg your pardon?"

Maddox returned the look, his expression deadly serious. Anxiety radiated from him in almost tangible ripples. "A woman was just murdered here. You yourself said you think she may have been part of the same focus group your friend was part of. And you've been asking a lot of questions about that focus group. Why on God's green earth would you stay here in this hotel another minute?"

He turned to Nicholas Darcy. "Darcy, there's got to be someplace at the consulate she can stay."

"She's not a refugee, and she's not under any sort of direct threat." Darcy replied in clipped, formal tones, although Iris could feel his ambivalence. The RSO's voice dropped a half tone as he met Maddox's hard gaze. "You know there's nothing I can do under the current circumstances."

Why didn't Maddox tell him about the bearded man? Surely if Mr. Darcy knew about the break-in- She looked at Maddox. He met her gaze, his eyes narrowed.

"There will be a heavy police presence here for the next day or two." Detective Lively interjected.

"Or you could provide her with protection yourself." Darcy said, still looking at Maddox.

Silence settled over the room in the aftermath of Darcy's quiet suggestion. Iris's stomach knotted, an unexpected gush of sheer terror flooding her chest, interfering with her breathing. The emotion came from Maddox.

When he spoke, his voice was soft and strangled. Fear suffused him, darkened his eyes and dug furrows into his brow and cheeks. "I can't do that."

Iris tried to make sense of what she was feeling. The thought of playing bodyguard to her obviously scared the hell out of him. But why? Because of what she'd revealed to him about her gift this afternoon? Did he find her so scary?

"I could arrange for you to take a room in another hotel." Darcy said, breaking the silence.

"Or I could just stay here." Iris said firmly.

The emotion coming from Maddox shifted. The fear was still there, along with a hot, tight pain in the center of her belly. But she also felt a strange sense of desperation, a jittery edginess that sparked through her limbs.

Maddox turned to look at Detective Lively. "I'll give you my phone number. You can reach her there for the next day or so."

He stood and looked at Iris, shooting her a flash of dimples. "Sorry, danger monkey, I know you liked wrapping your legs around the Harley yesterday, but I drove the Jeep today. I'll go bring it around to the front. You start packing."

This was insane, Iris thought. "I'm not coming with you."

"Yes, you are." Maddox followed the detective out of the hotel room, leaving Iris staring at the empty doorway.

She looked at Nicholas Darcy, wondering why he hadn't intervened. 'This is crazy"

He sighed. "Yes, it is"

"The hotel will be perfectly safe."

Unfortunately, her declaration didn't sound convincing, even to her own ears. The truth was, she didn't want to stay here another night alone. She wanted to hop the next plane back to the States, but Sandrine was still missing, and nobody seemed concerned about it but her.

"Heller seems very certain that the hotel is not a safe place for you." Darcy looked concerned.

She frowned at him. He sounded as if he were trying to talk her into going with Maddox. "You can't be suggesting that I go stay with a stranger rather than stay here at a hotel with policemen."

"I didn't realize you considered him a stranger."

"We just met yesterday"

Darcy didn't respond, but the look in his eyes was clear. A lot could happen in a day between a man and a woman.

She looked down, knowing he was right, "Do you think I should go with him?"

"It's not a decision I can make for you " Darcy said.

"You're with the American consulate. I thought you were supposed to protect American citizens abroad."

"Technically, I protect the consulate and its personnel"

"So I'm on my own."

"If you're uncomfortable accepting Heller's offer-"

"It sounded more like an order than an offer."

He smiled at that. "I'll be the first to agree that Maddox Heller is an unmitigated pain in the ass. But he does have experience working security. You could do much worse were you to hire a local bodyguard "

"You're saying he's trustworthy?"

Darcy's smile faded. "I'm saying that he may be the best option available on the island if you truly feel the need to have someone watching out for your safety."

It wasn't exactly a glowing recommendation, but he didn't seem to think Maddox posed any threat to her. Apparently, neither did she considered how easily she'd given in to his earth-shattering kiss. Heat rose in her cheeks at the memory.

She tamped down the memory of his body against hers, the warm island spice smell of him filling her lungs, the taste of him on her tongue. If she was going to spend the next couple of days with Maddox Heller, the last thing she needed to do was dwell on that kiss.

Maddox sat in his Jeep and stared at the revolving red light on the fire truck in the hotel's emergency lane, his heart in his throat.

What the hell was Darcy thinking, suggesting that he take Iris Browning to his home to protect her?

Darcy, of all people, should know just how unfit he was to guard anything more vulnerable than a building or a parking lot. If he screwed that up, what was lost? A car? A big-screen TV?

If he screwed up protecting Iris Browning, she could end up as dead as Celia Shore.

Or Teresa Miles.

He rubbed his gritty eyes with the heels of his palms, taking slow, deep breaths to ward off his rising panic. He was tempted to put the Jeep in gear and drive as far from here as possible. Let Darcy figure out what to do with Iris. Surely the RSO wouldn't just leave her there undefended.

But Darcy wouldn't have a choice. Babysitting pretty American tourists wasn't part of the man's job description. His duty was to protect the consulate. He'd have to go back there sooner or later. And Iris would be alone and vulnerable again.

Buck up, Maddox. You stuck your nose in her business. That makes her your responsibility. He forced himself out of the vehicle, his heart pounding.

You've saved lives before, he reminded himself. But he'd lost lives, as well.

The ride from the Hotel St.George into the thickening rain forest at the center of the island passed in relative silence. Iris told herself she was glad for it. The quiet of the Jeep's interior, broken only by the steady rumble of its motor and the splatter of approaching rain, soothed away some of the lingering pain from her eventful day.

The darkness emanating from Maddox remained, along with the occasional twinges of pain coming from his battered body, but both sensations had quieted to a dull throbbing buried somewhere deep inside her. She was glad that he was under control enough that she could put off asking any questions until the morning. Right now, she just wanted to crawl into bed, pull the covers over her head and sleep for a week.

"Home, sweet home." Maddox murmured a few minutes later, pulling her back from the edge of light doze.

The Jeep slowed to a stop, and he turned off the engine. She peered through the sheets of rain at the single-story bungalow nestled amid palms, bougainvillea and a dozen other trees and vines she didn't immediately recognize.

She didn't know that much about real estate in Mariposa, but she knew it couldn't be cheap. Being this far from the beach, the rent or mortgage payment for a home could be prohibitive. She'd expected him to take her to some shabby, characterless apartment complex on the edge of town.

"Nice house " she murmured as he opened the driver's door.

His lips curved but he didn't respond to her comment. Instead, he got out of the Jeep and came around to her side of the vehicle to open the door for her, limping a bit. He handed her an umbrella he pulled from behind the seat. "Watch your step-the yard is a little uneven."

She felt the damp ground drop beneath her feet before he'd gotten the words out of his mouth. His hand shot out, catching her elbow to keep her from stumbling.

He let go quickly as she gasped at the sudden rush of pain his touch created. His knee was killing him, and the rest of his injuries were joining in the mayhem.

"Let me get your bags." he said.

She started to protest, but he gritted his teeth and ignored her, hauling her two suitcases from the trunk and nodding for her to walk ahead of him to the house.

He labored up the steps behind her, a soft groan escaping his lips as he reached the concrete landing of the narrow front stoop. He unlocked his front door and flicked on a light. "Make yourself comfortable."

The front door led directly into an airy central room. She could see all the way to the back, where a trio of French doors lined the entire wall. Beyond, there was mostly darkness, but she'd caught a glimpse of Mount Stanley behind the house as they'd arrived. He must have an incredible view from those doors.

A leather sofa and a pair of matching armchairs faced each other across a low teak coffee table. A couple of books lay on the table-paperbacks, not pricey picture books. Iris picked up the top one. Black Hawk Down, by Mark Bowden. The one beneath was a Stephen King novel. Peppy reading, she thought, laying the book down.

Maddox crossed to a door in the wall to her left, "The bedroom's in here. There's a bathroom in there, too, so you can shower when you want"

"I don't want to take your bed." she protested. "The couch looks comfortable."

"It is. I sleep there most nights anyway." He opened the bedroom door and slid her bags inside. "The kitchen's there." He waved to his right, where a half wall separated the kitchen from the main room. "Not that much in the fridge, but you can probably find some frozen dinners or something"

"What will you do for a bathroom?"

"There's a half bath off the kitchen." He gestured toward the open bedroom door, "Go on and lie down, Iris, You look tired. I'll just lock up " He crossed the room to check the locks on the French doors.

Iris watched him a moment, trepidation squeezing her heart. What was she thinking, agreeing to this? No matter how familiar Maddox Heller might seem, he was still a stranger to her. She was insane to have come here with him. He was insane to have suggested it.

But it was done. And she was exhausted. There was a bed waiting behind that half-opened door where her bags sat. She entered the bedroom, tugging her bags out of the doorway so she could close the door. It latched with a click, plunging her into rainy afternoon gloom.

She stood there a moment, swallowed by gray, her rapid breathing the only sound in the void. "What am I doing here?" she asked the silence.

"Good question." a whispery voice replied, just before a hand clapped over her mouth.