Barefoot with a Stranger (Barefoot Bay Undercover #2)(61)

He didn’t know why. But he sat there for a good two hours and let the memories, and the lingering perfume, crush him.





Chapter Nineteen





Chessie followed Mal into the hostel bedroom, hoping the dark basement room and lower temperature would cool her down and assuage her bitter disappointment.

“How can a municipal office just close in the middle of the day and week?” she asked.

“You can’t really be surprised by now.”

“I’m not,” she replied. “Just so damn frustrated. Should I try Gabe again? It’s not like him not to answer the phone.”

“Don’t. You need to go outside to get a signal.” He put his hand on her shoulder and guided her into the room, his touch so warm and secure and comforting. “There’s nothing to tell him yet, Chessie. Get some rest. We haven’t slept for well over a day.”

She couldn’t argue with that. Exhaustion pressed on her heart, along with the events of the day. She sat on the bed for exactly three seconds, then fell back on a flat pillow and closed her eyes, asleep before she took her next breath.

When she woke, the room was still and shadowed, that dusky kind of dark when the world was slipping from evening to night. Through her lashes she spied Mal sitting on the edge of the bed, bare-chested again, wearing jeans with the top button undone.

It wasn’t too dark to notice that, she thought wryly. Not too dark to appreciate the cuts and dips of his muscular body, the way a lock of hair fell over his forehead, or how the shadows formed in the hollows of his unshaven jaw. Not too dark to admire the strength in shoulders that rose and fell in one of those sighs that sounded like it came from his soul, not his lungs.

Something clicked between his fingers.

The rosary. She inched up, and instantly he turned to her, sensing she was awake.

“I wish I could remember…” His voice was raspy, as if he hadn’t spoken in hours or…something was choking him.

She sat up very slowly. “Ten Hail Marys and a few Glory Bes, I think.”

“I mean, what was so special about this rosary? There was something that Isadora said. She collected them, I think.”

Chessie filed that totally surprising fact about Gabe’s lover in her head and reached for Mal. “Did you sleep?”

“Not like you. I admit I checked for breathing a few times.”

She smiled. “I was really tired.”


He let the rosary fall into her bag on the floor and turned his full attention to her. “I tried to call Gabe but couldn’t get through. I showered and got you some food.” He angled his head to the dresser and a brown paper bag. “Medianoches, like the lady requested.”

“You’re the best.” Without thinking, she reached out and stroked the side of his head, her fingers sliding through his hair, the dim light catching one of the few silver threads. She half expected him to move out of her touch, but he did just the opposite, leaning into her hand.

“How’d you get gray hair?” she asked. “You’re not even forty.”

“Prison,” he answered simply.

“So you were all dark-haired before you did time?”

He didn’t answer.

“Will you tell me why you went to prison?” She stroked his hair again, feeling intimate and calm and very close at that moment.

“A crime.”

She leaned back on the pillow, staying close to him. “I just refuse to believe you’re a common thief.”

“Nothing common about half a million dollars,” he said wryly.

“Mal. Tell me the truth.”

He stayed silent for a long time, but finally turned to her, taking her hand in his. “Someone needed help for her family.”

She wasn’t at all surprised to hear that, but maybe a bit taken aback by the sharp sense of relief it sent through her. She hadn’t realized how much she didn’t want him to be anything less than…noble.

“So it was some Robin Hood action? Stole from the government to help the poor?” Noble, but still wrong.

“Something like that.” He rolled down on the bed, turning flat on his back. “I hate what you think of me.”

The admission twisted something deep inside of her. He cared what she thought of him?

“You hate that I think you went to prison for stealing something to help out a family? Yeah, you’re horrible.”

He smiled, his eyes closed, his expression serene. She reclined next to him, on her side so she could keep looking at him. And touching him, stroking his hard muscles and the soft black hair on his bare chest with her fingertips.

“Tell me something, Mal,” she whispered. “Tell me a secret.”

“Define secret.”

“Oh no you don’t.” She tapped his pec. “Talk to me.”

He turned just enough to regard her through half-shuttered eyes. “I’ve never had a family.” His confession, whispered in the dark and coming up from that same place in his soul that had him sighing, made a little rip in her heart. “And you were right about me being jealous of yours. I can’t get that question out of my head.”

“Oh, I’m sorry I hit a sore spot. I didn’t mean to, really.”

He ran a knuckle over her cheek. “I know. You just care. You’re a caring woman. It’s really…attractive.”