Her Only Desire Read online

  And yet, here she lay, content and sated. Happier than she’d ever been.

  Was she selfish not to be more concerned? Tilly took as deep a breath as she could manage, then let it go.

  Tomorrow. She’d worry tomorrow.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The next morning, Boone slipped from bed, careful not to waken Tilly. He dressed in the bathroom, and then walked quietly across the room, letting himself into the hallway and carefully closing the door.

  The house was deceptively quiet, but he knew his night crew was still on duty, watching the security monitors, patrolling the grounds.

  He was halfway to the stairs when he heard a door open and close, and glanced back to find Jonesy, dressed in sweatpants and flip-flops, following him. “There’s nothing happening. You can go back to bed.”

  Jonesy rubbed the back of his head with a hand and squinted his eyes. “You can’t sleep. Neither can I. I’ll keep you company.”

  Boone narrowed his gaze. “I don’t want to talk.” What had passed with Tilly was no one’s business but his own now.

  Jonesy flashed a quick smile. “Not much of a talker myself.”

  “I’m just going for a walk.” Boone shook his head, then cupped his hand to invite the other man. “Might be good to have you along in case a gator crosses our path.”

  “But you can outrun me.”

  Boone flashed a smile. “Precisely. Slower target.”

  Jonesy chuckled and followed him down the stairs.

  Once outside, Boone walked to the edge of the back porch, glancing up at the gray twilight peeking between the leaves of a giant, moss-draped oak. Here, deep in the bayou, the outdoors was much noisier than inside. Birds tweeted and cawed, the occasional raspy bark of a squirrel echoed above the distant sound of water lapping against riverbanks.

  “I hated living here,” he said, more to himself than his friend. “Growing up, the place felt small, close, like I was suffocating from the humid air and my father’s expectations. All I wanted was to graduate and get the hell out.”

  Jonesy leaned his hips against the porch rail, his arms crossed over his broad, naked chest.

  Boone shook his head. Jonesy didn’t say a word, simply gave Boone a steady stare, telling him in his quiet way he was there for him. So he sighed and began, needing to talk through what was really on his mind.

  “The night Celie died, the sheriff ripped me from my bed and marched me to that cabin to see what I had done. Told me there was no escaping punishment, that my father couldn’t save me. Didn’t matter how many times I said I didn’t do it. I knelt at the cabin door, staring at her bloody body, and suddenly, I didn’t want it to be over. Not her life. Not mine. I didn’t want to leave Bayou Vert.”

  Boone shut his eyes and gripped the rail with his hands, pressing hard enough he drove splinters into his palms. He remembered shivering in his pajama bottoms, his knees bloody from being shoved to the dirt as he’d stared at the carnage—at Celie’s ravaged belly and face—feeling weak-kneed with horror, his belly ready to erupt. He hadn’t been able to wrap his mind around what had happened, but imagined the horror of her ordeal. He’d barely breathed, his chest had constricted so tightly.

  “Even my father wouldn’t listen. Last time I saw him was in the middle of that night. The sheriff stood over my cot and kicked it to wake me up. Said I had a reprieve. That he’d better never see me in these parts again, or he’d string me up himself. I was hustled to a limo, past my father, who averted his face, and then I was driven all the way to South Carolina and dropped at the steps of a military prep school, still in prison stripes.” He’d been cut adrift from everything familiar, and even though he knew he was innocent, he’d felt pounded into the dirt with guilt.

  He raised his head and stared at the sunlight, gleaming brighter now. “I never saw my mother or my father again. They turned their backs on me. Assumed I’d done it. A couple of years later, Mom died in a car wreck. Drunk. My father got into some trouble, something to do with taking money for votes, and he killed himself while I was on my first tour in Afghanistan. I inherited this wreck of an old plantation, along with all of their debts.” Boone swallowed to ease the ache in the back of his throat. “I didn’t have any place to go. No matter how many medals I earned, I couldn’t escape the stain it left inside me. Didn’t matter that no one knew what I was accused of outside of this place. So I stayed in the navy.”

  “All of us have our stories, Boone. Not one of us is lily white.”

  “I’m not saying I was ever a Boy Scout, Jonesy, but I didn’t do this. I would never…” He slammed his hand against the rail. “Guilt over what happened fueled me to excel. And once I got my head on straight, I decided I had to find a way to build enough wealth so I could return on my terms and find the truth. I couldn’t let things rest. I owed Celie that much. And I can’t let it hang over my head for the rest of my life. I want more than this, Jonesy. More than revenge or justice. I feel like I can’t start the rest of my life until this is over.”

  “And now you’re closer to the truth. What are you going to do?”

  What Jonesy really meant was what was he going to do with Tilly? If he pursued her brother, she might not ever forgive him. Boone thought about the woman he’d left sleeping in his bed. How she’d comforted him when it should have been the other way around. His growing affection for her hadn’t been part of his plan. “I don’t know. I just don’t know.”

  “She’s different.”

  He nodded. “I knew one day I’d marry. I assumed I’d find someone I could tolerate and go about my way.”

  “I don’t think Tilly would accept you just tolerating her, Boone.” He waggled his eyebrows but kept his voice dead even.

  “She made me want more. I can see a future that’s about something other than just…amassing wealth or demolishing bad guys.”

  “So what do you want to do?” he asked again.

  This time Jonesy’s words were softer, like an echo of Boone’s conscience.

  “I have to follow this, Jonesy. I can’t let it go. But I don’t…” He shook his head again, feeling a knot lodge in his gut. “I can’t lose her.”

  “Whatever you choose, we’re with you. You want to let the investigation go, we’ll call off the dogs. Leave little brother alone.”

  “I’m already in too deep.” Boone’s shoulders fell. “If I don’t find my answers, this matter will always be between us. I have to know. So does she.”

  “Even if learning the truth destroys her?”

  Boone shook his head, his jaw tightening. “I won’t let that happen.”

  “She’s not like us, Boone. She’s got a tender heart. Anything happens to that brother of hers, when she had a chance to keep him safe, she won’t ever forgive herself.”

  “I know.” He glanced back toward the door, wondering if she’d awoken, and knowing that the moment she found herself alone, she’d be weighed down with worry over his intentions. He straightened his shoulders. “I want the psychologist I sent to check on Denny at the group home on the phone now.”

  Jonesy dropped his arms and gave him a nod. “On it, boss. And we did as you asked, dropped a hint in town with that gossip, Mrs. Nolan, that we were searching for the bracelet. That it might have DNA evidence. If someone else gets nervous about it…” He arched a brow and then began to move away.

  “Jonesy.”

  His friend glanced over his shoulder. “Don’t get all sentimental or I’ll have to kick your ass.”

  Boone flashed a smile and stepped off the porch. He didn’t know how he’d managed it, but he’d made good friends. The kind who would risk their own lives for him, or step in to tell him he was being an idiot. They were an odd, mismatched bunch. All from different parts of the country and different upbringings, but bound by blood and honor.

  Needing to think, he headed down the path toward the cabins in the back to the one reduced to ashes around a scorched foundation. He’d follow the investigation no matter where it le
d. He owed it to Celie. But he’d do his best to shield Tilly from hurt. He hoped being there for her, making things right for her brother, would be enough to restore her faith in him.

  * * *

  Tilly awoke feeling refreshed despite soreness in some intimate places. She was glad Boone was gone from the room. Although she wasn’t gripped by fear as she had been the previous night when she’d revealed the things she’d kept from Boone, she was far from feeling comfortable, having given him some pretty damning truths.

  Still, she was relaxed. Maybe it was the aftermath of great sex, but she suspected the feeling was rooted in something much deeper than that. She was hopeful for the future in a way she’d never been before despite everything she’d revealed. She had confidence Boone would find a way to get to the truth while keeping her brother safe.

  After gathering lingerie and a change of clothing, she entered Boone’s bathroom, exploring the feminine toiletries that were lined up beside his inside the cabinet under the sink, and selected a floral bath gel and her favorite shampoo and conditioner. Unscrewing the cap of the gel, she sniffed then turned on the water to heat.

  She could get used to having everything she needed provided without ever giving a thought of who did the shopping or how they knew exactly what she’d like. However, if she did think about it, she doubted Beatrice had been so considerate, which meant one of his buddies had shopped for her. Were they responsible for the tampons under the sink?

  While her cheeks warmed to the thought, she smiled. She’d changed. Her boundaries were expanding. In more ways than simply sexual. All thanks to Boone. The world was becoming a bigger place. And maybe that was what had her feeling lighter at heart than circumstances warranted.

  After showering, Tilly dressed and applied her makeup. Glancing in the mirror, she wondered how much more she would change, and whether she would recognize herself in the coming months.

  Exiting the bathroom, she realized with a pang that she hadn’t checked her phone for messages, so she left the house via the servants’ stairs. Once inside the foreman’s cottage, she plucked her phone from where it had been left to charge atop the counter. Someone, not her, had plugged it in.

  A press of a button and the screen illuminated. She dragged down her finger and her heart thudded. She’d missed a call from Denny’s group home.

  Guilt dampened her mood, and she quickly dialed the number, waiting impatiently for the supervisor to answer.

  “Oh, thank the Lord,” Ms. Parham said the moment she answered.

  Tilly’s heart dropped to her toes. “What’s wrong?”

  “Denny’s gone missing. Wasn’t in his bed this mornin’.”

  She drew in a deep breath. “It’s still early. Did he take a walk?”

  “He wasn’t in his bed at all last night. The boy never makes his bed without me standin’ over him, but his room was neat as a pin. It’s how I know he snuck out last night.”

  Where would he be? Tilly swallowed to wet her dry throat. “Have you called the police?”

  “Already done. They’re lookin’ for him everywhere, but knowin’ Denny, he’s tryin’ to go home.”

  Tilly closed her eyes. Denny had been so adamant about coming home. She guessed he’d grown impatient waiting for her to come. With her fingers tightened on the sides of the phone, she forced herself to remain calm. “I’ll be on the lookout. It’s an awful long way for him to come. He’d have to hitch a ride.”

  “God looks out for innocents,” Ms. Parham said, although her voice was filled with worry.

  “Keep me informed,” Tilly said, then ended the call. Dread weighted her movements. She raised the phone again, preparing to call the sheriff’s office, but hesitated. Denny was heading home. She didn’t doubt that for a minute. He’d sounded so lonely the other day, so lost. She should have dropped everything to go see him; instead she’d gallivanted off to Mexico.

  If something happened to him because she’d been selfishly living her life, she’d never forgive herself. But still, she hesitated to call the sheriff. What tangent of conversation might Denny follow? What secret might he inadvertently spill?

  She gathered her phone and purse and headed to the garage, glancing around as she moved.

  The thought crossed her mind to ask for Boone’s help, but he’d know soon enough something was going on. As soon as the Thibodaux police called the sheriff’s office, the APB would be on the police band. She wanted to be ahead of Boone and his men. Wanted to be the one to find Denny. He was her brother. He deserved to have family holding his hand when Boone dragged out that damn bracelet and dangled it in front of his nose.

  Knowing Boone’s people would know the moment she left, she pretended nonchalance as she headed to her car. Maybe they’d think she had an errand. No doubt someone would follow, but she wouldn’t give them any cause for alarm.

  The garage was empty when she climbed into her car. She met no one, saw no one as she unwound the wire holding together the iron gate and drove toward town.

  The phone on the seat beside her hummed.

  She picked it up, tapped the screen, and tucked it into the crook of her neck.

  “Tilly?”

  “Denny? That you?” she asked, the relief nearly overwhelming.

  “Tilly, I’m home.”

  Tilly gunned the gas pedal, her fingers tightening around the steering wheel. “Denny, are you at our old house?”

  “I’m home. No one’s here. She said she’d bring me, but she doesn’t have a key.”

  Tilly’s brows drew together. “Denny, who’s with you? Put them on the phone.”

  But the call ended. She glanced at the face of the phone, hit the recent calls, and saw the readout. Mae Baillio.

  Mae? Tilly frowned, wondering how the crotchety woman had become involved, but then remembered Denny would have had to pass Mae’s on his way to the house. No doubt the older woman picked him up when he came into town. She hit REDIAL but the phone rang and rang.

  “Dammit.” At least she knew he was safe, but she wasn’t very happy about seeing Mae again so soon. She’d had enough of her censure the other day in the cafe.

  Glancing in the rearview mirror, she saw a dark sedan in the distance and bit back a curse. Since she wanted a little time alone with her brother before the cavalry arrived, she passed Belle Tierre, turned on the next street, and made another sharp turn, gunning it. Whoever was following was far enough behind her that he couldn’t be sure which road she’d taken.

  She turned again, onto Belle Tierre, and noted with relief Mae’s car was parked near the culvert. Tilly pulled in behind Mae’s older-model sedan, turned off the ignition, and got out of her car.

  On the edge of the road she stood listening. The sound of footsteps tromping on pine needles drew her to the riverbank. In the daylight, she wasn’t nearly as nervous as she’d been last night when she’d led Boone and his men through the brush. She followed the side of the bank to her and Denny’s tree, then glanced around the small clearing. “Denny?” she called out softly, not wanting to alert anyone living in the houses near the edge of the woods. “Denny?”

  “Tilly!” Denny came crashing through the underbrush, a large grin splitting his face. “I couldn’t get into the house, so I came to see our tree.”

  “It’s our spot. Nothing will ever change that.” Tilly opened her arms, relief making her weak. His hug was hard and familiar.

  “Make her go away,” Denny whispered in her ear.

  Tilly jerked back, about to ask him what he meant, when she spotted Mae standing beside the large oak. “Mae, thank you for finding him,” she said, although something about the older woman’s expression rang alarm bells.

  Mae’s tall frame seemed larger, more ominous. Maybe because she wore dark trousers and a loose dark blouse rather than her usual server’s dress.

  “Denny said you had his treasure.”

  Her eyes widened before she could caution herself to pretend she didn’t know what the woman was talking about. �
�His treasure?” she asked, suddenly breathless.

  Mae’s expression remained eerily blank. “His pirate’s hoard.”

  “I have it,” Tilly said, giving her a stiff smile. “I’ve kept it safe for you, Denny,” she said, pushing at his chest and moving to his side. “Don’t you worry.”

  Denny gripped her arm with his large hand, his forehead wrinkled in a frown. “Gotta have it, Tilly. Need my treasure. A pirate ain’t a pirate ’thout treasure.”

  “You’re exactly right,” she said, unable to look away from Mae, who slowly moved closer.

  “Told Mae sometimes we bury treasure here.” He shook his head. “But someone done dug it up. Found the hole.”

  Mae’s dark eyes narrowed. “Where’s Denny’s treasure, Tilly?”

  Tilly shook her head. Mae’s strange insistence caused a slow shiver of apprehension to snake down her spine. “I gave it to Boone,” she whispered, dread stealing her voice. “For his safekeeping.”

  Mae shook her head. “Shouldn’t o’ done that.”

  Suddenly, Tilly wished she hadn’t been so keen to lose the dark sedan. She knew only moments would pass before he found her vehicle, but she had the sinking feeling he might not radio for backup soon enough to make a difference. “Why shouldn’t I have done that, Mae?”

  But she thought she knew. Everything clicked into place.

  Mae had been Celie’s nanny. Boone and Leon weren’t the only ones who’d loved her cousin. And since Tilly knew Boone wasn’t crazy, she knew he hadn’t been crazy jealous enough to kill Celie because she’d been stepping out on him.

  Leon had been a fleeting possibility, but even though Tilly had acknowledged him as a suspect, he just didn’t seem the type. Leon was a flirt, but not possessive. Although she really didn’t know what type it took to slash a young girl to death.

  Except the unholy light gleaming in Mae’s eyes made the hairs on the back of her neck and her arms rise. “What do you want with Denny’s treasure, Mae?” she asked, keeping her voice even.