Page 63 of Bed of Thorns

Mercedes

Five weeks later

Time passed quickly on the island even though the location was meant to be a lazy, quiet refuge. Days turned into passionate nights, every early morning more beautiful than the one before. Edmond had kept true to the promise he’d made, letting the past slip away and concentrating on the future.

Maybe too much so.

However, I’d started doing more investigations, although I kept everything away from Edmond, eliminating my searches on the internet. I’d even made a few calls, trying to learn more about the details of that night, but every time I thought I was making progress, I was stonewalled, forced into thinking I’d need to talk to William. That wasn’t going to happen. There had to be another way of finding additional details. It became clear than everything the media had been provided was exactly what I’d learned early on.

Even worse, I couldn’t identify Damian Ryker. There was nothing on him anywhere, every internet search coming up with zero. All of that remained swimming in the back of my mind. There were too many things that didn’t add up, holes in the entire process so large I could drive a car through them. It only fueled the same thought both Edmond and I’d had—that he’d been railroaded. Maybe I’d never learn the truth, but I planned on continuing my efforts.

I’d almost opened the box several times, but I’d kept my promise to Edmond, even though I wasn’t certain it would last forever. Inside, the steel container held at least one of the keys.

He was gregarious with all things, working long hours to make a name for himself in the world of financial investments. Every night he was elated with the day’s prospects, absorbing everything he could about the industry. While he never mentioned his clients, what he could say indicated that they were wealthy individuals, which made the work he did far easier. He’d taken several trips to distant locations, none of which he’d told me about, but I always knew by the presents he brought back, every thoughtful gift providing an indication of where he’d been in the world.

Paris.

Italy.

Canada.

New York.

He’d changed so much, no longer an angry young man with steely eyes, prepared for a fight at any second. In only five weeks he’d become a debonair businessman with a keen eye for detail, suave in appearance as well as presentation.

Every time I saw him in his suit, I wanted to rip it off him, molding our naked bodies together. But when he was in his faded jeans and barefoot was when I couldn’t resist him.

As I swished my brush lightly over the clouds drifting across the ocean, I tingled from the thought. God, the man turned me on.

The darkness enshrouding us had faded, although shadows remained lurking in the twilight. We never spoke of the box or the night in question. He never discussed anything about the time spent in prison. While I honored his wishes, nightmares plagued me every so often, but the details were always the same, blurry images and nothing more.

I spent my days painting, enjoying the peaceful time, taking long walks on the beach and finding a perfect spot.

But for as happy as we both seemed, able to laugh then shifting into nights of incredible pleasure, the feeling that we lived in a glass house was never far from my thoughts and I could tell his as well. I’d fallen hopelessly in love with him, pretending we’d never be torn apart. My adoration was reflected in my paintings, the joy represented allowing bright colors and spectacular sunsets. Maybe one day I would have the courage to try to offer them for sale.

If I could part with them.

As I stood back, admiring my work, I took a deep breath then reached for my water. This piece was my absolute favorite. The colors were perfect. Satisfied, I walked out of the room, determined to get some fresh air, throwing open the front door and allowing the cool breeze to waft into the room.

That’s when I noticed a dark sedan parked across the street. There was no reason that it bothered me. The road in front of us was public, but an eerie sensation crawled through me, spiderlike vibes that persisted. I studied it for a few seconds, seeing no one inside.

Don’t be silly. There are other houses on the street.

That was true enough, but the windows were blacked out, preventing me from catching a glimpse of anything. My stomach was instantly in knots, my heart thumping. I chewed on my lip for a few seconds until curiosity got the better of me. I moved onto the porch, staring at it, trying to read the license plate but it was impossible. I found myself walking down the two stairs, then heading in the car’s direction. When I made it to the end of the driveway, it slowly rolled down the street.

Another sickening series of sensations jetted into every muscle, my stomach in knots. Then I backed away, scanning both sides of the street, the hair on the back of my neck standing on end. I couldn’t seem to get inside fast enough, closing and locking the door, taking several deep breaths before moving toward the front window.

The car had disappeared, but I knew in my gut it was still there.

Someone was watching the house.

Should I call Edmond?

No, that was ridiculous. Could William have found me? I didn’t know how, but anything was possible. Maybe we’d been seen at the local grocery store and the person was a friend of William’s.

Now you’re thinking like a crazy girl. Get a grip.

I took several deep breaths, finally laughing at myself. We were safe in a tiny area where everyone knew everyone. The person was visiting and nothing more.

---