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Scarlet Vows
Dani Sinclair
THE MAN FROM HER PAST Struggling waitress Brie Dudley had managed to keep the identity of her daughter's father a secret for years. Until wealthy, powerful Drew Pierce came back to Moriah's Landing. With one glance, Drew saw what the town hadn't–his own eyes staring back from his daughter's innocent face. And primitive instinct warned him to stake his claim on mother and child….Brie had dreamed about marrying Drew, but now the vows they made were of necessity, not love. Or were they? With a storm of scandal brewing, news of their daughter had provoked a deadly enemy. Together they could keep her safe–but only if they shared the secrets in their hearts….



He wasn’t supposed to be here. Not in the diner. This was her part of town!
“Brie?”
In her fantasies, they met one day in Salem or Boston or some other big city where she was a respected businesswoman. She would, of course, be perfectly dressed and not at all troubled by the sight of the only man she had ever loved. In reality, she couldn’t utter a word.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
His incredulous expression made it a whole lot easier to swallow the emotions churning inside her. She sensed his pity, and that steadied her. Conscious of the roomful of people, she settled for a terse reply.
“I work here. What are you doing? Out slumming?”
Again fluttered unspoken in the heavy air.
His eyes narrowed. She couldn’t help but notice his thick black lashes, tipped with gold—just like their daughter’s.
Dear Harlequin Intrigue Reader,
We’ve got another explosive lineup of four thrilling titles for you this month. Like you’d expect anything less of Harlequin Intrigue—the line for breathtaking romantic suspense.
Sylvie Kurtz returns to east Texas in Red Thunder Reckoning to conclude her emotional story of the Makepeace brothers in her two-book FLESH AND BLOOD series. Dani Sinclair takes Scarlet Vows in the third title of our modern Gothic continuity, MORIAH’S LANDING. Next month you can catch Joanna Wayne’s exciting series resolution in Behind the Veil.
The agents at Debra Webb’s COLBY AGENCY are taking appointments this month—fortunately for one woman who’s in serious jeopardy. But with a heartthrob Latino bodyguard for protection, it’s uncertain who poses the most danger—the killer or her Personal Protector.
Finally, in a truly innovative story, Rita Herron brings us to NIGHTHAWK ISLAND. When one woman’s hearing is restored by an experimental surgery, she’s awakened to the sound of murder in Silent Surrender. But only one hardened detective believes her. And only he can guard her from certain death.
So don’t forget to pick up all four for a complete reading experience. Enjoy!
Sincerely,

Denise O’Sullivan
Associate Senior Editor
Harlequin Intrigue

Scarlet Vows
Dani Sinclair




www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Special thanks and acknowledgment
are given to Dani Sinclair for her contribution
to the MORIAH’S LANDING series.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR
An avid reader, Dani Sinclair didn’t discover romance novels until her mother lent her one when she’d come for a visit. Dani’s been hooked on the genre ever since. But she didn’t take up writing seriously until her two sons were grown. Since the premiere of Mystery Baby for Harlequin Intrigue in 1996, Dani’s kept her computer busy. Her third novel, Better Watch Out, was a RITA
Award finalist in 1998. Dani lives outside Washington, D.C., a place she’s found to be a great source for both intrigue and humor!
You can write to her in care of the Harlequin Reader Service.



CAST OF CHARACTERS
Andrew “Drew” Pierce—He had no idea his decision to run for mayor would have so many consequences.
Brianna “Brie” Dudley—Her daughter’s no secret, but the father is.
Nancy Bell—She planned to be more than Drew’s publicist.
Dr. David Bryson—Drew blames the reclusive scientist for the death of his sister.
Claire Cavendish—Has the person who kidnapped and tortured her five years ago returned?
Nicole Dudley—Brianna’s three-year-old daughter truly is a little witch.
Carey Eldrich—Drew’s best friend and fiercest competitor loves women, but did he love one to death?
McFarland Leary—He may be dead, but he’s far from forgotten.
Dr. Leland Manning—The geneticist is called a vampire behind his back.
Ursula Manning—Leland’s much younger wife set everything in motion with her shocking death.
Geoffrey Pierce—Drew’s uncle feels unappreciated by his peers, but he plans to change all that with his secretive research.
Edgar “Razz” Razmuesson—Razz and his friend Dodie are probably behind a lot of the mischief in Moriah’s Landing, but how far is he willing to go for money and a little revenge?
Frederick Thane—Is the current mayor intending to keep his position at any cost?
My thanks to Priscilla Berthiaume for the concept;
to Denise O’Sullivan for allowing me to participate;
to my fellow writers for their efforts to make
it all gel; to Officers Kelly Flannigan, Melissa Parlon
and Gary Sommers, whose information and instruction
were terrific; to Susan King and Mary McGowan for
their support; and a special, GREAT BIG THANKS to
Josh King, whose time and information was invaluable.
Any errors are mine alone.
And as always, for Roger, Chip, Dan and Barb. Love you!

Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen

Prologue
Eerie stillness blanketed the morning air over Moriah’s Landing. The troubled town brooded beneath the sweltering heat, expectantly waiting.
Her customers all served for the moment, Brianna Dudley pushed at the damp tendril of hair clinging to her forehead and wiped her hands on her apron. Even in the air-conditioned diner it was too hot. A sense of something about to happen crawled over her skin.
Brie stepped outside, moving across the newly attached deck at the back of the Beachway Diner.
Waves lapped steadily at the public beach stretched out below. She checked the deserted tables around her automatically before looking toward the undefined horizon. Definitely too hot for this early in the morning. A scan of the horizon failed to reveal any gathering clouds. She’d hoped that might account for the unease whispering over her nerve endings. Storms always made her tense.
A lazy gull swooped over the restless cove in search of food. He swept past the lighthouse before soaring toward the cliffs and the old stone castle that perched there.
Truly eerie and somber, the forbidding stone fortress would have done justice to the cover of a gothic novel. Clinging precariously to the edge of a jagged cliff, the Bluffs even came equipped with a dark, brooding scientist. Rumor had it Dr. David Bryson was a cold-blooded murderer, horribly disfigured in the explosion that had taken his fiancée’s life.
Brie didn’t know David all that well, but his fiancée, Tasha Pierce, had been one of her best friends, and she truly believed he’d loved Tasha. David was seldom seen in town, but it didn’t seem to occur to people that rather than being a recluse, perhaps he worked all day. And if he shunned bright lights, Brie understood. He had been scarred when his boat exploded in a wild ball of flame.
People here, especially the fishermen, tended toward the superstitious. The older ones loved to spin a good yarn and David Bryson was a terrific target, especially now that Moriah’s Landing was bent on capitalizing on the wickedness that haunted their past. Salem held the historical reputation, but the founders of Moriah’s Landing had joined the fanaticism of the time, punishing helpless men and women for the art of witchcraft.
Whatever secrets the castle on the cliffs held or didn’t hold, it overlooked the cove in sinister silence. No one denied that dark forces seemed to emanate from those old stone walls.
Brie turned away from the sight. Shortly, she would be too busy to worry about castles, witches, the weather or anything else. The annual shooting tournament at the firing range was tomorrow. The event would kick off the weeklong Fourth of July festivities. Since the town was celebrating its three-hundred-and-fiftieth year, they were going all out, trying to surpass the spectacular Memorial Day weekend blast. The scheduled activities had raised the town spirits high. Moriah’s Landing and the surrounding areas were filling with visitors and summer vacationers who thought flocking to the Massachusetts coast would provide some relief from the heat wave sweeping the country. Ha! Not even a puff of wind stirred the terrible humidity.
Brie planned to go over to the firing range before work tomorrow. With luck she could catch her mother’s doctor, Sheffield Thornton, while her mother wasn’t around. She wanted a flat answer to the question gnawing a hole in her soul.
Inside, the air conditioner continued its desperate struggle against Mother Nature. Brie inhaled the chilled air gratefully. Yvette Castor raised a summoning hand from her solitary seat in a booth near the window. Her many-ringed fingers waggled, the multitude of bracelets clanging merrily as she motioned for her check.
“Anything else, Yvette? More coffee?”
“No, thanks. I have to get over to my shop. Cassandra has the day off and I’m doing an early-morning reading for one of my regulars.”
The floor-length broom skirt was cinched at her waist by several lengths of silver and gold chains. Like the bangles adorning her arms and neck, they jingled noisily each time she moved. Yvette had become a part of the local color in more ways than one. Today’s bold purple peasant blouse clashed cheerfully with most of the colors in her skirt. Yvette wasn’t a pretty woman, with that square jaw and those sharply defined features, but she was arresting. Her untamable mass of frizzy dark brown curls tumbled wildly down her back, nearly to her waist. Yet there was a down-to-earth quality about Yvette that Brie liked and respected.
Running Madam Fleury’s fortune-telling stand across the street from the diner suited Yvette. At times there was an almost mystical quality about the woman. Brie couldn’t imagine her doing anything else.
“How is your mother today, Brianna?”
The reminder of her mother’s drawn features this morning made Brie grimace. “The heat’s getting to her.”
More than the heat, and both women knew it. There was no way Brie could pretend any longer that the cancerous tumor hadn’t returned. After the last attempt to remove it, Dr. Thornton warned if the tumor began to grow again, it would only be a matter of time.
Brie swallowed hard against the knot at the back of her throat. Her hand quivered as she handed Yvette her check. Their fingers collided. A warm tingle spread like waves of invisible energy right up Brie’s arm from that point of contact. For a timeless second, everything seemed to stop. Yvette seemed to gaze straight inside her soul.
Brie yanked her hand back. Yvette grasped the check before it could flutter to the tabletop. Her gaze never wavered.
“Do not worry,” Yvette said quietly. “Closure is at hand.”
A stab of genuine fear made Brie inhale sharply.
“No! I’m sorry, Brianna. I phrased my words poorly. I didn’t mean your mother.” She offered an apologetic smile. “I should have said ‘Your prince is coming.”’
Brie didn’t know whether to laugh or scold Yvette for the moment of intense fear her words had caused. Relief won. Yet something in that mesmerizing gaze made it hard to doubt her quietly spoken words. Brie forced her fingers to ease their death grip on her pad. She tossed her hair back, giving her head a negative shake.
“Now, what on earth would I want with a prince?” she demanded. “I already have enough people to serve.” Brie indicated the diner at large, beginning to fill with the usual morning crowd. “And I’d better get back to work before I get fired.”
“Brianna.”
A warning prickle scaled its way down her spine. Unable to leave, but not wanting to hear any more talk about princes, or discuss her mother’s illness, Brianna tried to force her legs to take the necessary steps away from the table. She couldn’t.
“Things happen for a reason, you know,” Yvette said softly. “You must learn to trust your heart once more.”
For a moment, his features were right there in her mind, as vivid and alive as the man himself. Brie could almost see the way the sun placed golden highlights in his hair. She could almost smell the scent of the ridiculously expensive aftershave he wore. And without even closing her eyes, she felt the power of his body as he drew her into the embrace she had craved for what seemed like eternity.
“No!”
Brie lowered her voice quickly. No one spared her a glance. She tried for a smile but was only partially successful. “Forget it, Yvette. I made the mistake of trusting my heart once before. It didn’t work out.”
Yvette gazed right through her pretense. “Was it really a mistake?”
Jolted, Brie mustered a glare. Everyone knew Brie’s young daughter, Nicole, was the joy of her life. While definitely an unplanned pregnancy, her daughter’s birth was a gift. Nicole was growing into a miniature version of both Brie and her mother. The three of them could have been clones, down to the unfortunate bright red hair, pale skin and light freckles sprinkled liberally across cheeks and noses.
Everything except their eyes.
While Brie and her mother’s eyes sparkled a clear, bewitching green, Nicole’s were a startlingly vivid, brilliant blue shade. Piercing. Expressive eyes. Old eyes, her mother had once mused. Brie didn’t know about that, but she did know that her daughter’s eyes were a constant, uncomfortable reminder of the incredibly sexy man who had fathered her.
“So maybe it wasn’t a total mistake,” she conceded, not wanting to think about Andrew Pierce. But her foolish, stupid heart gave its usual lurch at the memories she had never learned to suppress. “But falling in love is a mistake I won’t ever make again.”
“Perhaps that was not a mistake, either, just mistimed.”
Brie suppressed a bitter laugh. “Oh it was mistimed, all right. Take it from me, Yvette, I learned one important fact the summer Nicole was conceived. Princes have a disturbing habit of turning into frogs.”
She tore her gaze from the sympathy and understanding in Yvette’s sad expression, acutely grateful for the gruff, burly biker who indicated he and his companion were ready to place their order.
“I’ll be right with you, Rider,” she called out. To Yvette she added lightly, “Thanks just the same, but I’ll pass on any more princes. I don’t have time for fairy tales anymore.”
Or the Pierce family—Andrew Pierce in particular.
“Fairy tales can come true,” Yvette said softly.
“Ha! Mine would need a fairy godmother with the cure for cancer. If you meet any, feel free to send them my way. Have a good day, Yvette.”
Brie moved briskly to where the two scruffy-looking bikers waited with stoic patience.
Andrew Pierce was undoubtedly some woman’s idea of a prince, she thought, but not hers. Not anymore.

WITH HER SCREAM reverberating in his ears, he watched in detachment as her delicate features twisted in comprehension and horror.
“Ursula.”
He said her name sharply, reaching for her. She scuttled away with surprising speed. How unfortunate. She was going to make him do this the hard way. The bloodied gloves made getting a good grip on her all but impossible. Terror gave her a strength she wouldn’t normally have.
He peeled the gloves from his hands. They dropped to the floor with a wet plopping sound.
“Ursula, stop this.”
“My God! My God!”
Fists pressed against parted lips, her eyes wide, dark pools of horror. Her gaze seemed mesmerized by the still figure on the table, bathed in the bright surgical lights. He had peeled back the skull to reveal the all important brain.
“You killed her!”
“Calm down.”
The hand pressing against her mouth trembled violently. “You killed her!”
She backed into a lab table deep in the shadows of the room. Objects clattered in protest. A pair of test tubes fell together with a jarring crash. He took a step closer. Frantically, her hand swept the table in search of a weapon.
She really was quite beautiful, he decided in detachment. Beautiful, sensual—immoral. Yet even in her panic there was a delicate grace about her.
“This is unfortunate. You shouldn’t have come in here,” he told her regretfully.
A test tube hurled toward his face. He turned his head and the empty vial bounced off his shoulder, falling harmlessly to the floor. She twisted, turning to run. His lips curved. Grotesque shadows danced about the lab, thrown by those bright lights over the exam table where the nude body lay still as marble.
“You’re being foolish, my dear. There’s nowhere for you to run, you know.”
Her panicked breathing made harsh, raspy sounds as she scrambled around a bank of storage cases, nearly falling. He’d planned to confront her later, after he’d finished his work. What had made her decide to come in here now? Not that it mattered. The results would have been the same either way.
His footfalls were the only other sound in the room as he stalked her, cutting off each avenue of escape. She was lost. Confused by the darkness. When she fled between a tall storage cabinet and the untidy stack of large pine boxes, he had her. She’d chosen a dead end in the maze of disorganized equipment.
“Stay away from me! Don’t come near me!”
“Poor Ursula.”
“Let me go!”
“You know I can’t do that. Not now. It’s too bad, really. I’d hoped this would work out much differently.”
She screamed, the shrill sound hurting his ears. Even in the darkness he could see that her eyes were so wide with fear they dominated her small face. His pity was cold comfort for both of them.
“Poor, traitorous Ursula. You really shouldn’t have come in here,” he said sadly, pinning her flailing arms in a grip she had no chance of breaking. “You’ve left me no choice. None at all.”

Chapter One
Andrew “Drew” Pierce gazed around at the large crowd gathered outside the firing range in frustration. “Where’s Carey?”
“He had to see a man about a horse,” Zach announced.
At the same time, Nancy Bell replied, “He went to use the men’s room.”
Drew gave the attractive brunette an apologetic look before scolding his much younger brother with a frown of reprimand. Zach shrugged, but his grin was unrepentant.
“That was his expression, not mine,” Zach said. “How much do you two have riding on this bet? They’re always competing with each other,” he said in an aside to Nancy. “I think you scared the—”
“There is no bet,” Drew said sharply. “And watch your language, Zach.”
“It’s all right, Andrew,” Nancy told him, her soft, graceful hand a stark contrast against his tanned arm. “I could probably even teach Zach a few phrases.”
Drew rolled his eyes. “Please don’t.”
“Think so?” Zach inquired with a broad smile that revealed two hidden dimples.
“You’d be amazed at what I deal with in my line of work.”
“Maybe so, but you don’t have to deal with it from Zach,” Drew warned.
Zach held up his palms. “Sorry, big brother, for a moment there I forgot about your image.”
Drew’s frown deepened. There was an edge to his brother’s tone and a strange undercurrent of emotion beneath the impish expression. Drew turned away thoughtfully. He sensed, rather than saw, Zach lean toward Nancy. Sotto voce, Zach asked, “Like what, for example?”
Drew never heard her response. The tournament had brought out a large crowd as always, and there was a festive air despite the heat. People milled in scattered clumps, chatting and laughing loudly as they waited for their turn to compete. The scent of grilled hot dogs and fresh popcorn mingled bizarrely with the scent of cordite in the heavy air.
A disturbing sensation pulled Drew’s attention to the thick clump of trees that began halfway up the slope on one side of the pistol range. He stared at the dark line of woods, puzzled. Something had changed a short way into the tree line, but he wasn’t sure what that something was.
Deer?
The woods were filled with the animals, but no deer would be within twenty miles of the noise coming from the firing range. Nancy and Zach added laughter to the din. Drew tuned them out. His attention centered on the shadows up the slope. Without knowing why, he concentrated on a dark patch near a wide maple tree. Beads of sweat collected at his hairline and trickled warmly down his back beneath his light summer shirt.
Nothing moved in the patch of trees, yet Drew sensed a presence there. Someone was watching him.
His fingers tightened on the gun case. He had a strange impulse to pull his weapon and aim it toward that spot on the hill.
As if sensing that thought, the darkness stirred.
The motion was slight, hardly a movement at all, but Drew waited, rigid with expectation. A face suddenly appeared, for all the world looking like a disembodied head floating in midair.
Eyes clashed and held.
Drew swore viciously under his breath. The features were unmistakable.
Zach broke off midsentence, coming alert. “What’s the matter?”
“Andrew?” Nancy asked in concern.
“Bryson,” he growled.
The face melted back into the shadows as if it had never been there at all.
“David Bryson?” Zach demanded. “Where?”
“Who’s David Bryson?” Nancy questioned.
“In the trees up the hill,” Drew told his brother with a small nod.
“I don’t see anything.”
Nancy squeezed his arm in a bid for attention. “Andrew? Who is David Bryson?”
In that brief moment of eye contact with the man, rage had surged inside Drew, welling from the recesses where he kept it mostly caged. Now he worked to contain a whole host of emotions, feeling his jaw clench. His knuckles whitened on the case in his hand. He looked at Nancy without really seeing her.
“David Bryson is the bastard who killed our sister.”
“What?”
“I still don’t see anyone,” Zach said, watching the trees with the same tense wariness Drew had felt only moments earlier.
“He’s gone now,” Drew told him with certainty. “Back to the shadows where he belongs.”
“I thought your sister’s death was an accident,” Nancy said sharply.
“That’s how they classified it,” Zach agreed, equally grim.
Drew didn’t believe those findings. He never had. Their beautiful sister, Tasha, would have been alive today if it hadn’t been for David Bryson. One day, Drew would prove he’d been responsible for what happened. In the meantime, he’d concentrate on winning the mayoral election. Then he’d be in a position to make Dr. David Bryson wish he’d died in that boat explosion as well.
“Oh, hell,” Zach said, abruptly. “Just what we need. More trouble. Ten o’clock high.”
Frederick Thane was working the crowd, moving in their direction. The current mayor stopped abruptly, his double chin quivering when he spotted Drew. For an instant, dark squinty eyes flashed with hate. Then the professional smile slid into place. Only his eyes stayed hard and cold. He strutted forward, hand outstretched, his rounded stomach extending over his fancy belt buckle.
“Well, well, well. If it isn’t my esteemed opponent.”
There was no way to avoid the pudgy fingers or the wet clasp of his grip. Despite his slight paunch and that double chin, Frederick Thane wasn’t a big man. At least not yet. At fifty-five or thereabouts, he still had deep black hair, probably due to a little chemical assistance, and he was taller than Drew remembered. Lifts, Drew decided. Even so, the other man still had to look up to meet Drew’s eyes, which obviously rankled.
“Mayor,” he greeted.
“Saw your name on the other sign-up sheet.” He shifted his rifle and stared at the handgun case. “We aren’t competing in the same category.” He swiped at the rivulets of sweat running down the sides of his face with a crumpled blue handkerchief.
“Not this time.”
Thane’s lips pursed tightly, as though he was trying to decide if there was another meaning beneath those words. “Hot enough for you?”
“I imagine it will get hotter before there is a winner.”
Thane’s eyes narrowed. “Count on it.”
They were not talking about the weather or the contest. It was no secret that Frederick Thane was furious over Drew’s decision to run against him. Thane had scared off every other opponent who dared consider throwing a hat in the ring for the mayoral election. Unfortunately for him, he didn’t have any leverage to use against the Pierce family. Now he stared pointedly at Nancy Bell.
“And this must be the fancy publicist I heard your grandpa hired for you.”
A sneer licked the edges of his words.
“Fancy?” he heard Nancy whisper to his brother. She sounded amused rather than annoyed.
“Nancy Bell, Frederick Thane,” Drew introduced. “And you know my brother, Zach, of course.”
“Of course, of course. Young Zach.”
Zach winced visibly. He didn’t offer to shake hands. Nancy, however, did. “Mayor Thane.”
“Charmed, I’m sure.”
Drew gave her points for neither shuddering at the contact of his damp hand nor wiping her own hand against her tailored light blue pants afterward.
“We fancy types are big on charm,” she offered with a professional smile.
“You’ll need it. You have your work cut out for you, my dear,” Thane said.
“Hey, Drew, they’re calling our party now,” Zach interjected.
“Don’t let me keep you,” Thane said with false joviality. “I hear you’re giving the family speech at the picnic in a few days. I’m looking forward to it.”
“Are you? Then I guess I’ll see you on the dais.”
“Indeed you will. Ms. Bell. Young Zach.” Thane pivoted away.
“If he called me ‘young Zach’ one more time I was going to try a little target shooting right out here,” Zach muttered.
“Wouldn’t be worth the cost of the bullets,” Drew told him.
“So that was Frederick Thane,” Nancy mused.
“In the flesh.”
“Of which he has plenty,” Zach added unkindly.
“Interesting.” Nancy watched the mayor stop to chat with some people nearby. “He did make one valid point, you know. You don’t really need me if he’s your competition.”
Zach barked a laugh.
“Don’t let his bumpkin imitation fool you,” Drew warned. “He’s smart enough in his way. He’s been running this town for a number of years now.”
“And he’ll do just about anything to keep that position and win this campaign,” Zach added.
“I’ve studied his dossier,” Nancy agreed. “But the man has a definite problem with his public image.”
“What public image?” Zach demanded. “The man’s a leech and everyone knows it. He’s been sucking the town dry for years.”
“But he keeps getting elected,” she pointed out.
“Hard to lose when you’re the only candidate,” Zach said. “Everyone else has a habit of dropping out before the election.”
“I believe lack of funds is usually cited,” Nancy agreed. “But that won’t be the case this time, will it, Andrew?”
Drew made a noncommittal sound and moved forward to check them in. No, funding definitely wouldn’t be a problem, but he had no intention of dropping out of this race for any reason.
After helping Nancy select a gun to use, he looked around in irritation. “Where the heck is Carey?”
Carey Eldrich had coerced, begged, pleaded and even insisted they participate in the tournament. Once he explained to Nancy that practically the entire town turned out for the event, and that the tournament had started drawing people from as far away as Salem, she readily agreed Drew’s participation was necessary.
“Sounds like a good place for some unofficial campaigning,” she told him. “Before the Fourth of July kickoff I want you seen all over town participating in local events. I’ll make sure you get plenty of media coverage. That’s my job.”
“And I’ll bet you’re very good at your job,” Carey had said flirtatiously. “Just don’t expect his picture on the front page as the winner of the tournament. I’ve been out-shooting him for years.”
“Really?”
“Only if you count his mouth,” Drew had told her.
So here they were, guns in hand. Everyone except Carey.
“You know Carey,” Zach said. “He’s probably talking to someone.”
“You mean some woman,” Drew said in annoyance.
“Of course. Want me to go and find him?”
“No need, Zach.” Nancy pointed a peach-tipped fingernail. “Here he comes now.”
Carey Eldrich rushed up, his blond good looks strangely flushed. His shirt was sweaty and plastered to his body. A worried expression deepened the furrow between his eyebrows.
“Out jogging?” Drew asked critically.
“Sorry,” he offered sheepishly. “Something I ate this morning didn’t agree with me.”
Annoyance changed to concern. Drew stared at the man who had been his best friend and chief rival since grade school. As owners of the local newspaper, Carey’s family was almost as prominent as the Pierce family. Drew figured he knew Carey about as well as anyone. Carey had been a ladies’ man since conception, so Drew had to concede it was unusual for him to disappear when there was a beauty like Nancy on the scene. Especially when Carey had been competing with Drew for her attention ever since they’d met.
“Do you want to go home?” he asked his friend.
“No, no. I’m fine now. Besides, I promised to teach this lovely lady how to shoot. I want her to see for herself that I wasn’t bragging last night. Out-shooting Drew is really as easy as I claimed,” he told her archly.
But his tone was falsely hearty. Drew frowned. Before he could pull his friend aside to find out what was wrong, his attention centered on a woman with a mass of red-gold hair spilling over delicate shoulders. The woman stood with her back to him, talking intently to a man he didn’t recognize. The graceful curve of her back and the tantalizing flare of slim hips encased in well-worn jeans anchored his attention.
He willed her to turn around. His stomach knotted as he waited for a glimpse of her face. Instead, she laid a hand on the man’s bare arm. He in turn smiled intimately down at her. Drew took an unconscious step toward her.
The man’s baseball cap masked his features, but Drew glimpsed silver-streaked hair poking from beneath his cap. The man looked to be in his fifties. What was Brianna doing with a man old enough to be her father? Hadn’t she learned anything from what had happened to his sister?
Carey nudged him in the ribs. “What do you think, Drew?”
“What?” Momentarily diverted, his gaze whipped back to his companions.
“Fat chance,” Zach responded to some comment Drew hadn’t heard.
Carey’s features lit in familiar challenge. “You want to take me on as well, Zach?”
“No way. I just want to watch the fun.”
Irritated at the interruption, Drew turned back toward the woman, certain it was Brie. But the couple was strolling away, deep in conversation. The man’s arm lay possessively across her shoulders as he bent his head close to hers in an intimate way. Drew clenched his jaw.
“Come on, we’re up,” Zach said.
As the couple faded into the crowd he reluctantly joined the others. Target shooting was the last thing Drew wanted to do—especially now. His reaction to seeing Brie was surprising. He’d known the possibility existed when he returned home to run for mayor, but he hadn’t been prepared for the wild surge of emotions that bubbled inside him at the sight of a stranger’s arm on her shoulders.
Maybe it hadn’t been her.
Who was he trying to kid? Four years or forty, he suspected she would always incite emotions so elemental they gripped him like a vise. Brianna Dudley was the only female who had ever had the power to scramble his brains. How had he managed to forget that about her?
Edgy and out of sorts, he followed the others onto the range absently, lost in memories he’d put aside a long time ago. He jerked back to the present when he saw they’d been assigned to the last four stands on the end closest to the woods.
The firing range itself was built into a bowl-shaped depression surrounded by dense woods on three sides. He stared at the trees. The disquiet he’d been feeling all morning intensified. While a credible shot, Drew hadn’t been able to summon up any enthusiasm for this tournament. Instead, his desire to leave was strong enough to surprise him.
“Something wrong, Drew?” Nancy asked as Carey took the stand beside him.
“No.”
Carey eyed him strangely. Zach frowned. “Come on, Nancy, you’re between me and Carey,” he told her. “I’ll help you get set.”
“Oh, no, I’ll help her,” Carey said smoothly. “After all, I promised to show her how it was done.”
Drew tuned them out. He gazed at the target down-range. It had been almost four years since he’d seen Brie, yet she could still set his pulses racing from a distance. How crazy was that?
He sought another focus for his wandering attention. The brooding string of trees on the hill offered nothing helpful. He was here to compete. Inattention on a firing range was dangerous and stupid.
The call went out that the line was live. As people began firing their practice shots, the scent of cordite filled his nostrils. Blue clouds of smoke already hung in the heavy air. Shots thundered in his ears despite the requisite protective headgear. Sweat gathered at his hairline, beginning a lazy trickle down his face. He checked and loaded his weapon.
Drew lined up his sights and fired, wishing he were elsewhere—preferably an air-conditioned elsewhere, but Nancy had mapped out an entire program of places he needed to go over the next few days even though the real campaigning wouldn’t begin until after the July Fourth festivities. With his father’s blessing, Nancy had met with the float committee to discuss Drew’s role on the family float. She’d scheduled him to give the short speech before the picnic, a job his grandfather and father generally handled, and she’d lined up a press interview immediately afterward.
His family had been right. She was good at her job. She’d done her homework on Moriah’s Landing and she’d planned a solid strategy for getting his name in front of the community.
She was extremely attractive, and more than once he’d caught a hint of sensual awareness slumbering in her serious gaze. He gave her points for the subtle way she made her interest in deepening their relationship clear without coming on to him. They had a lot in common. Drew genuinely liked Nancy. She’d make a good political partner, but as tempting as she was, Drew hesitated to change their status. Resisting his family’s attempts at matchmaking had become a habit. He knew his father and grandfather had decided Nancy was an ideal choice for more than his campaign manager.
Drew watched as she took careful aim at her target. Her first two shots went wide. The next shot hit the black outline on the outermost fringe. Carey had talked her into competing in the novice category even though she’s said she’d never done any shooting before.
Because he was concentrating on Nancy, he never saw the figure pelting down the steep dirt incline until he turned back to take aim at his own target. He released the trigger instantly.
She ran like a puppet on a string—or someone at the tail end of their stamina. Her long, dark hair tangled around her face, hiding her features.
Drew yelled for everyone to hold their fire. But at the opposite end of the range, someone was shooting what sounded like a cannon. His voice had no hope of carrying over that sound.
Drew didn’t stop to think. He sprinted toward the woman.
She stumbled and fell, taking his heart down with her. In seconds she was up again, but staggering.
A barrage of bullets passed so close Drew could practically feel the displaced air. The woman jerked to an abrupt stop. She twisted to look behind her, her features contorted by a mask of sheer panic. She took a faltering step and went down again. This time she made no move to rise.
He reached her, crouching over her still form. Red blossomed on her dirt-stained, cotton-print blouse. The deep, dark color spread rapidly across her chest. He sought for the pulse in her neck. Weak. Thready. He could hear each ragged breath she took. The shallow bursts sounded as if each one might be her last.
Her head lolled to the side, giving him a clear glimpse of the red furrow that had plowed its way along the side of her skull, disappearing beneath her tangled hair. Without moving her, he couldn’t tell if the bullet had entered her head or not, but she was still alive.
The sudden silence was almost as deafening as the noise had been. Drew raised his face to yell for an ambulance.
Pressed against the fence at the top of the hill, Dr. Leland Manning drilled him with a stare of absolute hatred.
Shocked, Drew took a second to realize how the scene must look to the man. He was crouched over the woman’s body, gun in hand.
Footfalls pounded up to him, snapping the spell. Voices shouted. People surrounded him, with more rushing forward. Carey Eldrich elbowed him aside, squatting beside the woman.
“Ursula?”
Of course. Ursula Manning, Leland Manning’s beautiful new young wife.
“Don’t move her,” Drew cautioned, feeling ill.
The words came too late. Carey cradled her against his chest and stood. Blood streaked his arm, smearing his shirt.
“Where’s the ambulance?” Carey roared. He ran with her, trailing a path of bright red droplets in his wake. Drew glanced over his shoulder up the hill. Leland Manning was gone.
Bits of excited, disjointed conversation bounced around and through him as Drew rose unsteadily. He pushed his way through the crowd, following Carey.
“…call an ambulance?”
“…still alive?”
“Who is it?”
“…anyone called the…?”
“What was she doing out there?”
And that last question stuck in his head. An excellent question. What had Ursula Manning been thinking to run onto a live firing range like that? And where had she come from? Had she been running from her husband?
Someone gripped his forearm. He realized it was being shaken hard in an attempt to get his attention. Nancy Bell swam into focus. Her wide, pale eyes looked enormous. She looked from him to the gun still clutched in his hand.
“Oh, my God, Drew. Do you think you killed her?”

Chapter Two
Yesterday, news of the shooting had reached the diner less than half an hour after Brie started her shift. Details had been vague and wildly exaggerated as usual, but Brie couldn’t imagine anyone, let alone the perfectly behaved Andrew Pierce, standing on the gun range with an Uzi submachine gun.
He was back in town to stay. Excitement warred with fear. She tried to tell herself it didn’t matter. In four years he’d only made one halfhearted attempt to contact her after he left town for graduate school. Still, she was extremely thankful she’d left the firing range when she had. What if she’d run into Drew there?
Her heart gave a foolish lurch. Not that it had been likely, given the size of the crowd.
She hadn’t slept much last night as a result of her chaotic thoughts and today she had agreed to pull a double shift. Tiredly, she lifted the laden serving tray. The diner had been filled since she’d come on duty. People stopped by for a quick bite or something to drink or simply to share the news with anyone who hadn’t yet heard about yesterday’s incident at the gun range. The town had seen too much of this sort of excitement lately. Evil seemed to have set up housekeeping in Moriah’s Landing.
Three women had been murdered since the start of the year, their bodies brutally displayed for her friend, Elizabeth Douglas Ryan, to discover. Then, when a stalker went after another of her friends, Katherine “Kat” Ridgemont, people learned that the town’s prodigal son, Jonah Ries, was an undercover FBI investigator looking into the secret society that most of the local scientists were rumored to belong to. And now Jonah and Kat planned to marry. While happy for Kat, Brie couldn’t understand what was happening to their once peaceful town.
She set burgers and fries in front of Dodie and Razz. The local youths delighted in their reputation as the terrors of the neighborhood. Hard to believe Razz was her age. Even harder to believe that she had once accepted a date with him. She hated waiting on him and he knew it.
Normally, the two hung out at the arcade, but occasionally they came in for a sandwich. They were rude, noisy and never tipped. Razz liked to leer at her because he knew it made her angry, but he was careful not to take it any further than that. He hadn’t forgotten how successfully she’d fought him off that night in his car any more than she had. And she’d made it perfectly clear she’d do a lot worse if he bothered her again.
She suspected the pair were behind a lot of the mischief that had been going on here at the waterfront. It defied logic that they hadn’t been caught doing something illegal by now.
“That was a lot of blood, man,” Dodie was saying.
“Arterial blood,” Razz agreed, knowingly. “Bet she didn’t survive the ambulance run.”
“Think they’ll arrest Drew Pierce?”
A chill snaked down her back.
Razz gave his younger friend a hard shove.
“Don’t be stupid,” Razz growled. “Nobody touches the almighty Pierce family. Besides, there were lots of witnesses who can claim it was the woman’s own fault.”
“Including us,” Dodie said smugly.
“Shut up, stupid.” Razz gave him another shove and a kick under the table. Deliberately, he stared hard at Brie. “We didn’t get there until it was all over.”
He was lying, and boldly daring her to contradict him. Brie was tempted. She wouldn’t put much past the pair. Not even an accidental murder.
“Will there be anything else?” she asked politely.
“Yeah. Ketchup,” Razz sneered.
She picked up the bottle sitting inches from his left hand and plopped it in front of him. Without another word she turned away.
What she wouldn’t give to be able to go home and put her feet up. Maybe then her head would stop pounding. Then again, probably not. What she needed was sleep—something she hadn’t been able to achieve after talking with her mother’s doctor yesterday. His confirmation of her worst fears had left her too upset to even cry. Her mother was dying and there wasn’t a thing anyone could do.
Research was being done here in Moriah’s Landing, but clinical trials were a long way off yet. Even if the experimental procedure had been available, Brianna didn’t know how she could possibly pay for anything not covered by her mother’s medical plan. Last semester she’d gone back to college again for the first time since dropping out, determined to complete her degree. But if her mother’s medical bills were about to escalate, Brie didn’t see how she could continue. She’d need to purchase school supplies next month with money she didn’t have yet.
Going home early wasn’t an option today or any other day.
She pushed at another strand of hair drooping moistly against her forehead. A shorter style would be so much easier to manage. Maybe she’d ask her mother to help her chop some of it off tonight. Good haircuts were expensive—another luxury she couldn’t afford.
Rubbing her temple, she walked over to the booth where Rebecca Smith stared vacantly at a menu. A newcomer to town, Becca worked at Threads, the seamstress shop over on Main Street. Brie had been immediately drawn to the quiet woman the moment they met. The attractive blonde appeared to be close to her own age and Brie missed the tight-knit friendship she’d shared with Drew’s sister, Tasha, Elizabeth Ryan, Kat Ridgemont and Claire Cavendish. Even though Elizabeth and Tasha lived on the wealthy side of town, the five women had become close friends over the years. Tasha’s death five years ago, when her fiancé’s boat exploded, had hit them all hard. Especially since it had come on the heels of Claire’s abduction from St. John’s Cemetery the night of their college hazing.
Brie had never forgiven herself for allowing Claire to go inside the haunted mausoleum that night. They had all been scared, but Claire was the sensitive one, the one least able to fend for herself. Brie had always been stronger and street-smart. Maybe she could have fended off the person who kidnapped, then tortured poor Claire. But Claire had drawn the marked piece of paper and had insisted on going through with the ritual. And she had gone insane as a result of what had happened to her. Claire was better now, even living at home once more, but Brie wasn’t sure she would ever fully recover. They may not have seen the legendary Leary’s ghost that night, but he’d cursed them just the same.
While Brie’s friends stopped by the diner periodically, they were all living vastly different lives now. Elizabeth was happily married to Cullen Ryan, and Kat had finally captured the attention of Jonah Ries. Brie was honestly happy for her friends, but she was a bit envious all the same.
“Hey, Brie,” Becca greeted.
Brie smiled back. “Hey, yourself.”
“Is it true? Was someone killed out at the firing range yesterday?”
Brie shrugged unhappily. “That’s what everyone is saying.”
“You didn’t see it happen?”
“No, thank heavens. I wasn’t there very long.”
“I heard Andrew Pierce was involved. Isn’t he the man who’s going to run against Mayor Thane?”
“Yes,” she admitted, reluctant to think, let alone talk about Drew. “What can I get you today?”
Fortunately, as the bell over the door continued to chime, she had little time to chat. The day stretched on, but at least she was busy. Brie collected dirty dishes from a vacated booth, pocketing a generous tip gratefully. People were still waiting to be seated so she hurried. As she turned around her tray struck a passing arm.
She tried to steady the load, but a glass tipped, splashing her with the remains of a soda and ice. Hands suddenly steadied the tray from the other side. Dishes clattered together. Total catastrophe was narrowly averted.
She looked up and her words of thanks lodged in her throat. Instead of dishes, it was her world that came crashing down around her feet. People, sounds, even the heat faded away as she stared at the man holding the other side of her tray. Pain splintered the fragile wall she’d erected around her memories.
He wasn’t supposed to be here. Not here in the diner. This was her part of town!
Andrew Pierce’s impossibly brilliant blue eyes stared at her in shock.
“Brie?”
The sound of her name on his lips raised a lump of longing at the back of her throat. Drew stood there and she couldn’t utter a sound.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
His incredulous expression made it a whole lot easier to swallow the emotions churning inside her. She sensed his pity and that steadied her. Conscious of the room full of people, she settled for a terse reply.
“I work here. What are you doing? Out slumming?”
Again fluttered unspoken in the heavy air.
Dusky red climbed his neck.
Good. How dare he come here now? See her like this? In her fantasies they met one day in Salem or Boston or some other big city where she was a respected attorney. She would, of course, be perfectly dressed and not at all troubled by the sight of the only man she had ever loved.
His eyes narrowed. She couldn’t help but notice that his thick black lashes were still tipped with gold—just like her daughter’s.
“I came to see if the diner still carries that incredible blackberry pie,” Drew said bitterly.
If he’d slapped her, she couldn’t have been more hurt. Her hands trembled and the dishes clattered, threatening to fall once more. Memories of sharing blackberry pie and long conversations with Drew were painfully raw.
“I’m sorry,” he said so softly she wouldn’t have heard the words if she hadn’t seen his lips move.
“Andrew?”
Long, slender fingers rested against the skin of his lightly tanned bare arm. Brie felt as though those perfectly manicured nails had stabbed her soul. She hadn’t realized Drew wasn’t alone. She followed the nails up the arm to the face of the lovely woman at his side and discovered there were two curious men at his back, as well.
“Hello,” the woman said in a deep, pleasant contralto. “I’m Nancy Bell, Andrew’s…publicist.”
“Really?” The back of her throat actually ached. “How nice for both of you. Trying to change his image should prove quite a challenge. Have a seat and someone will be with you in a moment.”
“Ouch!” she heard Carey Eldrich exclaim.
“What on earth did you do to her, big brother?” Zachary Pierce demanded.
Brie didn’t hear his reply. She pushed her way clear, the dishes rattling dangerously. Drew’s stare burned a hole in her back all the way out to the hot, noisy kitchen where she nearly collided with Lois, the other waitress on duty.
“Whoa there!”
“Sorry.”
“Hey, kid, you look awful.”
“Thanks.” Just what she wanted to hear.
“You’re supposed to serve that stuff, not shower in it. Let me have the tray. That headache’s really getting to you, isn’t it?”
At the reminder, her headache returned with gleeful malice.
“Would you do me a favor, Lois? Another party just came in and I need to go take something. Would you cover their table for me?”
“Sure, kid. If you’re going to break down and take medication that must be some headache. You want to go home? I can probably manage alone. I think we’ve already fed the town twice over.”
More than anything in the world she wanted to go home.
“Thanks, Lois, but I’ll be fine. If you’d just take the new table…”
“Sure. Why don’t you go to the office and rest for a couple of minutes?”
“I’m okay.”
And she would be. Eventually. It was just the shock of seeing him again like that when she hadn’t expected it. What was he doing here? Why here of all places?
And why did seeing him again still have to hurt so much?
She refused to hide. It wasn’t like she could change into someone other than a tired waitress. But taking a few minutes to wipe off the sticky cola and pull herself together wasn’t hiding. And running a brush through her wild tangle of hair was hardly primping. She didn’t bother replacing the makeup the heat had melted away hours ago.
She’d take a pain reliever and go back out front, hold her head up and do her job. She had nothing to be ashamed of. She wasn’t a lawyer, but she was an excellent waitress.
If only were the saddest words she knew.
She swallowed two pain relievers dry and leaned her head against the cool metal filing cabinet, closing her eyes. But that only sharpened the images from the past.
Drew, laughing down at her.
Drew, flirting with her.
Listening to her.
Hungry for her.
Kisses hotter than any fire. Hands that sought—then found. Incredible sensations. Pleasure and need so explosively raw it trembled on the edge of the world.
The moan startled her.
Her moan. And with it came a longing so poignant it brought the threat of tears even closer.
“What am I doing?”
She straightened away from the filing cabinet. Nearly four years and the memories were still so vivid they could make her moan out loud. Her eyes burned with foolish tears. She would not let him do this to her. Never again. Drew was yesterday. Brie lived in today. Family, work, school—this was her reality.
Squaring her shoulders, she took several deep breaths until she could shut off the past. She had given her word and she wasn’t going to break it now. Andrew Pierce was out of her league and out of her life. While she couldn’t pretend he was just another male, she could go out there and face him without collapsing. Everything would be okay.
As long as Drew never learned that he was the father of her child.
No one must ever learn that secret. She would die before she’d lose her daughter to the mighty Pierce family.

“I’M SORRY, WHAT DID YOU SAY?”
Drew forced his attention back to Nancy and discovered she wasn’t the only one watching him with speculative eyes.
“I asked you if she was an old girlfriend,” Nancy said lightly.
“No. Just a friend.” Girlfriends were women you took to concerts or movies or parties. You did more with a girlfriend than talk with them and walk with them and buy them an ice-cream cone. Sadly, that pretty much summed up his relationship with Brianna. He’d never taken her anywhere—except on the public beach.
That memory still had the power to shame him.
He’d been twenty-four, stifled by his family and all the demands being placed on him. The year after Tasha’s death had been hard for all of them, and being home for an entire month that summer, at loose ends, edgy, angry, frustrated, he’d let Carey drag him to a party. He hadn’t wanted to attend. It had felt wrong to laugh and have fun when his sister was dead. But once he’d seen Brianna standing across the room, he hadn’t wanted to leave.
He’d definitely been a moth to the red-gold flame of her hair. He hadn’t known, then, she was his sister’s gawky, freckled-faced friend. There had been nothing gawky about Brianna that night. As if pulled by an invisible wire, he’d gone forward to cull her from the group, finding a relatively quiet corner where they could talk.
And talk they did. She was like no one he had ever met, laughing up at him with bright green eyes that sparkled with good-humored mischief.
Brianna. So vibrantly alive. The name had rippled in his mind, stirring the ghost of a memory, but he’d been too distracted to concentrate on anything besides her. She teased him over his stuffy manners, then vivaciously argued his family’s more conservative views. She was bright, witty and incredibly easy to talk to. Best of all, she wasn’t the least bit impressed at being in the company of a Pierce.
She had no idea what that alone was worth to him. She made him think, with her uncanny insight into people and actions. And she made him laugh—deep, honest laughter from the heart. And as the hours slipped away, he felt more freely alive than he had in a very long time.
She wouldn’t let him take her home. She wouldn’t give him her telephone number, not even when he used every ounce of his highly reputed charm. Brianna merely smiled. Drew had been convinced men would willingly die for that smile.
Shockingly, he’d wanted her, right there in the midst of that noisy crowd. He’d never had a jealous bone in his body until that night, but he realized he didn’t want her sparkling like that in front of all those other panting males. He cut them off with a look. Especially Carey. His friend’s reputation with women was legendary and Drew wanted Brianna all to himself.
He learned pathetically little about her that night. She was good at deflecting his questions. She was attending Heathrow College, determined to be a lawyer, but by the time she disappeared from the party, he’d wanted to know so much more. Brianna Dudley was a witch and Drew didn’t mind in the least being firmly under her spell.
Until Carey pointed out why her name was familiar. Brianna was Brie, his sister’s young friend! Since he hadn’t spent much time at home over the past several years, there was no reason for him to recognize the gorgeous young woman she’d become. She was a local girl who lived with her mother on the other side of town by the wharf. She was attending the prestigious local college, but only because she’d received a full scholarship.
Somehow, having been Tasha’s friend put Brianna out of bounds. But it didn’t stop his attraction. Despite his resolve, he couldn’t stay away from her. His family’s potential displeasure if they found out about the relationship probably played at least a small part in the fact that he continued to see her—on a purely platonic basis.
He spent lots of time eating pie at the Beachway Diner. Brie flirted lightly and so did he, glad she never took him seriously. That made it a little easier to ignore the enticing curves of her body and the way she always smelled so clean and fresh.
It had been much harder to ignore the play of lights gleaming in her enticing hair. Back then it had hung in shimmery red-gold curls nearly to her waist. Her hair had practically begged his hand to tangle in its flames. Drew spent a lot of time taking cold showers that summer while trying not to imagine how all that hair would look spread across his naked chest.
Physical attraction aside, Brie knew how to listen. He liked that about her. In fact, he liked everything about her.
He had a lot of respect for the goals she’d set. She was bright and eager with big plans for her life. Plans that didn’t include him, as she’d made perfectly clear the last time they had talked.
The memory was bitter even now. Not because she’d told him to get lost. He deserved much worse. He’d betrayed her trust. He’d betrayed his own honor. Worst, he’d hurt a valued friend.
Drew grit his teeth in regret. He couldn’t undo the past, but seeing her here today, he needed to understand. Why was Brie still serving customers instead of justice? What had become of all her dreams and plans? For some reason it felt important that he understand.
“Don’t let him kid you,” Carey was telling Nancy. “Drew had the hots for Brianna one summer. Then he found out she was just a kid. And from the wrong side of town at that.”
“She isn’t a kid anymore,” Nancy said.
“No. She sure isn’t,” Carey said thoughtfully.
Drew nearly leaned across the table with his fist. The primitive urge to turn that handsome face to pulp surprised him, particularly when it didn’t go away. He had to force his fingers to unclench.
“This is a very nice side of town,” Drew enunciated in a deadly soft tone of voice. “People who live over here don’t need expensive cars and lots of money to have a good time. They understand what’s really important.”
Carey blinked. His lips parted as the barb slid home. Zach perked up in his seat, alert to his brother’s shift in mood. Only Nancy appeared puzzled.
“Aw, hell.” Carey said. “You still have the hots for her, don’t you?”
“Don’t say another word, Carey.”
Carey clamped his mouth closed. Drew slid out of the booth and stood.
“Where are you going?” Nancy asked in concern.
“I need some air.”
“But you haven’t eaten yet.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Please sit down, Drew. We don’t want a scene. And we didn’t come here for the food, anyhow, if you’ll recall.”
He stepped out of reach of the hand she moved toward him. “No scenes. And there’s nothing wrong with my memory. I just don’t feel like campaigning right now. Excuse me.”
He strode outside without looking back. He was very much afraid if he did, he’d give in to his desire to grab Carey and use his friend’s face to relieve some of the tension roaring inside him.
Hazy, late afternoon heat shimmered in the air. The boardwalk teemed with people. From skimpy scraps of material daring to be called bathing suits, to the colorful garb worn by a local fortune-teller, people strolled and chatted gaily—in direct contrast to his somber mood.
Wheels, a bar a few doors down, opened to disgorge a tall black man in a biker uniform. Music blared at decibels that couldn’t possibly be good for the human ear. Drew changed direction. A cold beer suddenly appealed far more than a club sandwich and fries.
The biker gave him a hard stare. Drew’s expression must have been as fierce as his thoughts, because the man deliberately flexed his fingers and waited. Anticipation hummed through him. If this joker was looking for a fight, Drew was in the perfect mood to accommodate him. He hadn’t been in a brawl since—
“The last time you made that mistake, she paid the price.”
Drew pivoted, startled. The fortune-teller, known as Yvette, stood on the sidewalk only a few feet away, watching him with a fathomless expression.
“Excuse me?”
“You won’t find answers in the bottom of a bottle. Nor in a barroom brawl.”
His insides twisted. People passed between them. The seer didn’t move. Her utter stillness was uncanny. So was her knowledge of what he’d been thinking.
“Can I help you with something?” he finally asked.
She let out a troubled sigh. Almost reluctantly, she shook her head. Her thick, dark hair was as long as Brie’s had been that summer.
“No,” she replied sadly. “Nor can you help her. Not yet.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I wonder if she remembers that a kiss can break the spell,” she muttered under her breath.
A fruitcake. He hadn’t heard that about her, but that crazy outfit and all the jewelry she wore should have tipped him off. No one in their right mind would dress like that on a day like this.
“The beach is crowded,” she continued. “Still, a walk might clear your head. You’ve made a serious enemy, Mr. Pierce. Tread with caution.”
So she knew who he was. She probably also knew what had happened at the gun range yesterday. Did she think he’d killed Ursula Manning as Leland Manning seemed to believe?
A noisy group of teenagers cut between them, laughing and jostling one another as they passed. He followed the orange and green swirl of her skirt as the gypsy trailed the group into the busy diner without another word.
He was tempted to go after her and demand an explanation. Only what sort of explanation could he expect from a crazy person?
Besides, Brie was inside. For several long seconds he stood there uncertainly, more unnerved by the gypsy’s strange words than he wanted to admit.
The biker had given up the wait. He pulled out of the parking lot with a roar. Drew headed for the bar. At the last moment, he walked on past, heading for the entrance to the public beach.
The sand writhed with tan bodies, loud music and yelling children. The scent of water and suntan lotion mingled in the heavy, hot air. There wasn’t even a breeze to stir the mix together.
Had there been a breeze that night four years ago?
Drew couldn’t remember. Jake and Rider, two Vietnam veterans and co-owners of Wheels, had thrown him out after his second beer. Antihistamines and beer had made his head swim dizzily as he staggered to his car that night. His fingers had struggled to make the key fit in the lock without success.
Brie had appeared at his side, still wearing her uniform. Her hair had been slipping from its haphazard knot on top of her head, and he was pretty sure she wasn’t wearing a trace of makeup. Yet he’d wanted her with devastating intensity. It had been awfully hard to remember just then why he couldn’t have what he wanted.
He’d gone all gruff and macho when she’d tried to get him to go into the diner for a cup of coffee. He’d turned back to the car and dropped the keys. Brie had snatched them up, refusing to give them to him. When he tried to grab them from her, she took off running.
That had been all the stimulus he’d needed. He could still remember how his body sang with desire as he chased her down these rickety wooden steps. Stumbling, lurching across the empty sand, he’d wanted her more with each breath. So he caught her, tumbling them both down against a still-warm dune.
She’d tasted of pie and woman and she’d kissed him back with a hunger that had first startled, then stoked his ego enormously. He couldn’t get enough of her mouth. She strained against him, incredibly soft.
He hadn’t known. Hadn’t even suspected the truth. Brianna hadn’t kissed like a virgin. She’d kissed like a woman who knew exactly what she wanted. And she’d wanted him.
If she’d told him to stop he was pretty sure he could have. He liked to think he would have despite his condition. But she didn’t tell him to stop and his hands and his mouth had separated from his fuzzy brain.
Drew closed his eyes against the memory, but he could feel a swell of passion as clearly as if it were happening right now. The lush roundness of her breasts when he’d unbuttoned her uniform and pushed up her bra. The heady reaction to his mouth on her tender skin. She’d been so wild. A match to the tinder of his desire.
Maybe if he hadn’t mixed the drugs with the beer…but the combination hadn’t been nearly as potent as her mouth. He’d been wanting her for so long.
His hand tightened on the wood railing. In the dark, on that very public beach, he’d succumbed to primitive urges and claimed her innocence. Drew inhaled, surprised to find his body all but shaking at the memory. To this day, he couldn’t remember anything after that stunning shock and the incredible, mind-blowing pleasure of his own release. He had no idea how he got back to his car, or how Brie had gotten home.
One more ghost to prod his conscience.
He’d awakened hours later, alone and cramped, inside his car, sand all over his clothing. His keys had dangled from the ignition. If it hadn’t been for the lingering scent and taste of her, he would have told himself he dreamed the entire scene.
Guilt had been his harsh companion driving through the empty streets that morning. He had showered and changed, returning to the diner as soon as he could get away without complicated explanations.
If he lived to be a million he would never forget the smile of her greeting, or the way it had withered and died when he’d sputtered out an apology.
Brianna Dudley had haunted him for four years and he hadn’t realized how much until just now. He stared at the murky horizon and tried to force his stiff muscles to relax.
“You should take off your shoes.”
“What?” Drew looked down and found a small boy staring up at him.
“If you’re going walking on the beach you should take off your shoes. Otherwise they get sand in them and they feel yucky.”
The boy pushed at the bridge of his wire-framed glasses and regarded Drew solemnly.
“Yucky, huh? Isn’t the sand hot on your feet?”
The boy nodded.
“Then I guess I won’t walk down there after all.” Not even if the urge to see if that dune was still there was eating a hole inside him. The dune was probably gone, anyhow, or at least changed beyond recognition. And even if he recognized it, so what? He couldn’t undo the past.
But maybe he could find out why the present hadn’t changed. Maybe instead of a walk on the beach, he’d take a walk up the hill to where the clapboard houses sat like little boxes. If he was going to run for mayor he should see how his constituents on this side of town were coping with their lives.

Chapter Three
Reflected in the late afternoon haze, the houses appeared shabbier than he remembered, the neighborhood more run-down. The narrow cobblestone street was in bad need of repair. Yet flowers bloomed, even though most had a wilted look, as if they, too, struggled to survive.
Drapes were drawn tightly, doors and windows shut against the heat, adding to the neglected air. Even the noisy hum of window air conditioners didn’t detract from the deserted appearance. The late afternoon sun baked the neighborhood without the faintest whiff of a breeze.
Drew paused beneath the drooping leaves of a tall, gnarled tree that rose from the withered ground at the curb of the only house sporting open doors and windows. More weeds than grass covered the ratty lawn, while scraggly, misshapen bushes hid the peeling paint that covered the front porch with its sagging steps and broken railing. Brianna’s house. Or it had been. Did she and her mother still live here?
A group of young children in bathing suits suddenly erupted around the corner. Squeals split the depressing silence.
Rooted to the spot, Drew watched as the group clattered noisily up the steps. The screen door opened and a woman who could have been Brianna’s twin sister stepped outside. Only, Brianna didn’t have a twin sister. She also didn’t have a daughter, but the tiny little redheaded urchin leading the pack was definitely related.
The woman bent down and laughed at something the child said. She wiped at a smudge of dirt with a motherlike flick of her thumb. The resemblance between the three was extraordinary.
Did they share the same intriguing spray of freckles across their faces?
The miniature Brianna threw her arms around the woman’s neck while the other four children chattered excitedly. High-pitched giggles completely destroyed the gloomy silence of the neighborhood. As the woman ushered the group inside, her gaze came to rest on him.
Now that he saw her features more clearly, he recognized Pamela Dudley. Old enough to be Brie’s mother, she was also young enough to have a three-or four-year-old daughter, he realized. The man he’d seen with Brie yesterday must have been her father.
Pleased at that thought, he became aware that the woman continued to stare at him. Exactly the sort of protective look a mother might give a stranger out of place in her neighborhood and paying too much attention to her child.
He offered her a friendly nod and started walking, trying to look casual. Great. She probably thought he was a child molester. He should have gone over and introduced himself.
As what? Her daughter’s first lover? The man who would be mayor? Drew lengthened his stride. He should have gone walking on the beach, after all. He only hoped Pamela Dudley didn’t call the police. He’d spent enough time with the forces of law and order yesterday.
Detective Cullen Ryan had been thorough. Ursula Manning was dead. Accident or not, Ryan needed to determine who had fired the fatal shots and why the woman had been there in the first place. Drew had had to curb his temper more than once as he answered questions repeatedly. He had never even met the woman. But he understood Ryan’s frustration. The man was a good cop and he had a job to do.
What had the woman been doing there?
Drew slowed his pace as he approached the corner where the crumbling brick strip club, Girls! Girls! and the Wharf Rat bar, shadowed the narrow sidewalk. This was not the greatest neighborhood to be raising a child. All sorts of unsavory types hung out down here.
When a figure suddenly stepped from the shadows of the bar, Drew’s heart jumped, even as he recognized Leland Manning. At least those rumors of Manning being a vampire weren’t true. Drew had seen him in daylight twice now, though both times those eerily cold eyes seemed to burn right through him.
“Dr. Manning,” he greeted. “I didn’t have an opportunity to offer my condolences yesterday. I really wish I could have reached your wife in time.”
Drew stopped, stunned by the malice in those deep-set eyes. In that instant, Drew had no trouble believing there was something unearthly about Leland Manning.
“You’ll pay,” Manning said coldly. “I’ll see to it.”
“Hey, I didn’t kill your wife,” Drew protested.
Manning strode past. Only then did Drew notice Jake Carpenter, co-owner of Wheels, standing on the sidewalk a few feet away.
“I was there yesterday,” the ex-marine said gruffly. “Damn fool thing, running out there like that. Only luck kept you from getting shot, too.”
“Tell it to Manning,” Drew said ruefully.
“Don’t think that dude’s of a mind to listen.” Jake gazed after Manning and his features puckered into a frown. Drew found his own heart thudding unevenly. Manning had vanished.
The men exchanged uneasy looks. Manning could have stepped into one of the shops lining the street, but it seemed unlikely given the nature of those establishments. Come to think of it, why would a grieving widower be in this neighborhood the day after his wife’s death?
“Guy’s weird,” Jake muttered.
Privately, Drew agreed. He didn’t know Manning, though his Uncle Geoff did.
“Hard to picture someone like him married to a woman like Ursula Manning.”
Drew rubbed his jaw, nodding in agreement. He still expected Manning to step out of one of the shops.
“Cops know what she was doin’ there?” Jake asked conversationally.
Drew turned his attention back to the beefy biker. “If they do, they aren’t saying.”
But Ursula Manning had been scared. Drew had seen her look toward the line of trees right before she fell. David Bryson had been lurking in those trees only a short time earlier—a fact Drew had been only too happy to share with the police.
So had Leland Manning.
“At least ballistics will show who fired the fatal shots,” Jake said. “That should change Manning’s attitude.”
“Hopefully.” While all the weapons had been confiscated for testing, in the confusion immediately following the shooting, things had been pretty muddled. It was possible the police had missed a gun or two.
“Understand Manning’s wife was a nature photographer from Salem,” Jake said thoughtfully. “Guess that might explain what she was doing in the woods, but you have to wonder what made her climb a clearly posted fence that way. She must have heard the gunfire.”
He was right. Which meant she’d deliberately run toward the sound, probably looking for help.
Jake tipped his head, consideringly. “Buy you a beer?”
Touched by the unexpected offer, Drew shook his head. “I’d like that, but I have some people waiting for me over at the diner. Another time?”
“Sure. Stop by Wheels any time you’re in the neighborhood.”
Drew headed for the diner without catching a glimpse of Leland Manning. Carey was standing outside, hands thrust in his pockets. There was an unusual slump to his posture. He straightened as soon as he spotted Drew.
“Where’d you go?” Carey demanded.
“For a walk.”
“In this heat? Are you nuts?”
“Drop it, Carey.”
Carey raised his palms in surrender. “Sure. Consider it dropped.” He sent a speculative gaze toward the bar. “Zach ran Nancy back to the estate. She’s not too happy with you right now.”
“She’ll get over it.”
“A little sweet talk wouldn’t hurt. She kept muttering something about damage control.”
“Nancy doesn’t need sweet talk from me. She works for me, remember?”
“Whoa. You are in a mood. Uh, look, I’m sorry if I ticked you off inside. You aren’t—you know—still interested in that waitress, are you? I mean, she’s got…” Carey took a hasty step back. “Oh, hell.”
“Don’t say another word,” Drew warned him. He couldn’t see his friend’s eyes, hidden behind dark sunglasses, but he sensed a whole stream of questions. Too bad. He didn’t owe Carey or anyone else an explanation. He strode over to where they’d parked and waited for Carey to hit the button that unlocked the passenger door.
“When do I get my car back?” Drew asked as he slid inside the bright green sports car he’d lent Carey several weeks ago.
“My car’s supposed to be out of the shop tomorrow if they get that part in. Do you need it before then?”
Drew shook his head. “Tomorrow’s fine.” He had other cars at his disposal.
They rode in silence, letting their private thoughts do the talking on the drive back to the Pierce compound. Carey pulled Drew’s sports car up in front of the main house instead of parking.
“Aren’t you coming in?” Drew asked.
“No. Thanks.”
“Look, I’m sorry I jumped down your throat.”
Carey regarded him soberly. “You know, don’t you?”
His stomach plummeted. “Know what?”
“One of the four of us must have fired the shots that killed her.”

BRIE WAS RELIEVED when she could finally take off her apron and head home a little early. Questions without answers had tormented her all evening as she took orders and waited tables. Andrew Pierce and the shooting were on everyone’s lips, especially after the way he left the diner before his food arrived.
New rumors were circulating. One had Ursula Manning attacked by bears in the woods. Another said she’d been kidnapped and held for ransom. Rumors being a way of life, Brie didn’t put much stock in any of them, but she did wonder about Drew’s abrupt departure. Seeing him again wasn’t supposed to be so traumatic. She wasn’t supposed to care anymore. Only, she had missed Drew and their long conversations over pie and coffee.
She’d always known he was going to be someone important in politics one day. He was so smart and he cared so much. And she’d used that knowledge to convince herself not to tell him about Nicole. Drew was an honorable man, who didn’t need a scandal or an unacceptable wife and child just because she’d been a fool. Yet sooner or later someone would tell him she had a daughter. Drew wasn’t stupid. He could do the math. Then what?
Why had he come to the diner today? People had long memories. Even without Carey’s careless remark, someone was bound to remember the summer he’d hung out at the diner. What if that someone went to the media? Nicole’s eyes were a dead giveaway to her parentage. Brie gripped her pad a little tighter.
A sense of helpless panic built inside her.
The residents of Moriah’s Landing tended to live by very narrow, old-fashioned codes of behavior. They didn’t hang women for being witches anymore or brand them with a scarlet letter, but they wouldn’t condone a Pierce getting a young girl from the wrong side of town pregnant, and then abandoning her to her fate. It wouldn’t matter to anyone that Drew hadn’t known about the child. He’d be expected to know. The gossip would destroy him—and his budding career in politics.
Depressed by the course of her thoughts, Brie said good-night to her co-workers and stepped outside. Her mind still raced with “what if” images as the hot muggy air of the night enfolded her.
A summer storm was brewing. She could feel it pulsing over the water. Her mother had always said Brie was better than a barometer. She searched the dark sky. It would thunder soon.
Her steps faltered. A cluster of men stood at the far end of the sidewalk in the gap between Wheels and the Bait and Tackle shop.
Little light reached that stretch of sidewalk. Not enough to identify the men. She was about to cross the street when she recognized Razz’s nasal voice. His words carried clearly, stopping her mid-stride.
“Pierce killed the Manning woman, all right, and who’s to say it was really an accident?”
“You mean he shot her on purpose?”
“Think about it. A good-lookin’ woman like that married to an old man? It’d be a heck of a clever way to get rid of an unwanted lover, don’t you think?”
“You think she was messin’ around with him?”
“Rider saw her get in Pierce’s car one day.”
“That don’t mean nothing.”
“I heard her wrists had marks like she’d been tied up,” another voice dissented.
“Maybe Pierce is into S and M,” someone else joked.
Brie knew she should keep walking. They were only gossiping like everyone else.
“Wait and see,” Razz said. “Some other poor slob will take the fall for her death. No one can say for sure who was shooting with which gun. Makes for a nice clean murder.”
“I don’t know, man…”
“Me an’ Dodie was there,” Razz persisted. “The whole town saw Pierce standin’ over her body. He looked guilty as sin. Nice, huh? We could elect ourselves a mayor who got away with murder.”
Fury washed away her common sense. Brianna strode forward, the slap of her soles echoing hollowly on the cobblestone street. All four heads swiveled in her direction.
“Do you know the penalty for slander, Edgar?” she demanded, using his hated given name.
Razz bristled. He loomed tall and menacing, but Brie refused to back down.
“Now, why do I have a feeling Mayor Thane paid you to spread that rumor? Must be because I saw him talking with you and Dodie out here a few hours ago. What’s the going rate for malicious gossip, Edgar?”
She had seen the mayor stop his car in the street to talk with them shortly after Drew abruptly left the diner.
“Watch your mouth, little girl,” he said.
“Does the truth hurt? You told me that you and Dodie didn’t get there until after the shooting,” she reminded him.
The three toughs looked from her to Razz. He bristled as he realized he was losing credibility.
“If you don’t want to get hurt, move along. This here’s a private conversation.”
“On a public sidewalk,” she fired back.
Her insides twisted at the sudden feral malice in his expression. Razz and trouble had always been synonymous. But even the night of her only date with him, she had never considered him dangerous.
Until now.
She should have kept her mouth closed and kept walking. But since she hadn’t, she knew better than to let him see any trace of fear.
“Fair warning, Razz. I wouldn’t make accusations like that so publicly if I were you,” she warned.

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