Silver Linings

fingers from trembling.
    “Don't move,” Hugh said.
    “Don't worry, I won't.” She hoped she would not be sick all over the marble floor.
    He released her and strode quickly over to the body in the white linen suit. He stood looking down for a few seconds, taking in the absoluteness of death in one glance. The expression on his face was difficult to read. It was not shock or surprise or fear or horror—just a remote, implacable sort of fierceness.
    Mattie watched him, aware she should be grateful he had appeared at this particular moment in her life. No one else she knew was better qualified to get her out of this sticky situation than Hugh Abbott.
    Too bad the mere sight of him enraged her. Too bad that after that humiliating debacle last year she had never wanted to see him again as long as she lived. Too bad that the one man she needed right now was the same one who had devastated her after she had surrendered to him, body and soul.
    He had not changed much in the past year, she realized. Same thick, dark pelt of hair with maybe a bit more silver in it. Same lean, whipcord-tough body that still didn't show any hint of softening, despite his forty years. Same rough-featured, heavily carved face. Same beautiful, incredibly sexy mouth. Same primitive masculine grace.
    Same lamentable taste in clothing, too, Mattie noted with a disdaining glance. Scarred boots, unpressed khaki shirt unbuttoned far enough to show a lot of crisp, curling chest hair, a well-worn leather belt and faded jeans that emphasized his flat belly and strong thighs.
    Hugh glanced at her. “I'll be right back. I'm just going to get some stuff from the kitchen.” He was already moving past the body. He held the gun in his hand so naturally it seemed an extension of his arm.
    “ The kitchen . For God's sake, Hugh. This is no time to grab a cold beer. What if he's still here? The man who shot poor Mr. Cormier?”
    “Don't worry. There's no one else here. If there were, you would be as dead as Cormier by now.”
    Mattie swallowed as he left the room. “No, wait, please don't leave me here with—” Mattie bit off the rest of the frantic plea. She, of all people, ought to know better than to plead with Hugh Abbott to stay. “Damn you,” she whispered.
    Mattie stood listening to the ring of Hugh's boots on the marble tiles. She heard him move down a hall into another room, and then there was nothing but the awful silence and the hot breeze.
    Glancing nervously out the door, she toyed with the keys of the rental car. Nothing said she had to stand around and wait for Hugh. She could drive herself back to the airport. Right now she wanted nothing more than to get on a plane and leave this dreadful island.
    But she was feeling very lost and uncertain. Practicing a quick draw with the Annie Oakley special had been one of her few forays into the world of adventure. Her artistically oriented family had emphasized more civilized and sophisticated pursuits.
    Hugh Abbott, on the other hand, understood situations involving violence and danger all too well. As chief troubleshooter and free-lance security consultant for Aunt Charlotte's multinational company, Vailcourt Industries, he was on intimate terms with this sort of thing.
    Mattie had privately thought of Hugh as her aunt's pet wolf long before she had met him last year. Nothing she had learned about him since had given her any cause to change her mind.
    She heard his boot heels on the tile again. Hugh reappeared carrying two large French market-style string bags that bulged with an assortment of unidentifiable items.
    “All right. We've spent enough time fooling around here. Let's go.” Hugh glided around Cormier's body, not looking down. He saw the keys in Mattie's fingers. “Forget that junker you rented. You're not going anywhere in it.”
    “What do you mean? Are we going to take your car? Where is it, anyway?”
    “A few hundred yards up the road. Hopefully out of sight—but who knows for how long?” Hugh strode toward her. “Here, take one of these. I want to keep a hand free.” He thrust one of the string bags into her fingers as he glanced out the door and up at the leaden sky. “It's going to start pouring any minute. That should help.”
    Mattie ignored the comment about the impending rain. She was too busy trying to juggle the heavy string bag and her purse. “What are these sacks for? We don't need this stuff. I just want to get to the airport.”
    “The airport is