His Mysterious Ways Read online

  Nine years after Melanie’s return, the letters had stopped, leaving a ten-year gap in the correspondence. The final one had been posted from San Cristóbal, Cartéga just weeks before her mother’s death, but something seemed to be missing in the exchange, leaving Melanie to wonder if perhaps her parents had had some other form of communication in the years between the letters.

  Her father now seemed to be pleading for a chance to see Melanie.

  I know you don’t agree, Janet, you’ve made your position perfectly clear. But I think it’s time Melanie and I meet. She’s had such an unhappy, troubled life. I think I can help her.

  Our daughter will be twenty-eight in August. A grown woman. Old enough, surely, to make her own decision about this.

  If you decide to let her come—and I pray that you will—I should probably have you warn her that she won’t recognize me. Neither would you. I had my appearance altered a long time ago, but even more than the surgery, the years away from you and Melanie have taken a toll.

  I can’t tell you what it would mean to me to see her again, to have one last chance to tell her how much I love her, how much I’ve always loved her. And how very sorry I am for my part in what happened to her. My guilt is a hell I live with every day of my life. Please give me this one last chance for redemption.

  I want to see her, Janet. I want to see Melanie on her birthday. Tell her I’ll be waiting for her in the clouds.

  Melanie rose from the bed and put the letters back in the suitcase. Shutting and locking the lid, she shoved the case back into the closet, then walked over to the window to stare out at the twilight.

  It was stuffy inside the room. She opened the door for a moment, letting in a fragrant breeze, but she didn’t step out on the balcony. She was careful to remain in the shadows as she gazed down at the street.

  Gooseflesh prickled along her arms, although the evening was mild. Perhaps it was the tears drying on her face that made her cold. Or the loneliness that suddenly engulfed her.

  I can’t tell you what it would mean to me to see her again, to have one last chance to tell her how much I love her, how much I’ve always loved her. And how very sorry I am for my part in what happened to her.

  His part in what had happened to her. His part.

  What had he meant by that? Did his guilt stem from a father’s inability to protect his daughter? From the fact that if he’d stayed outside with her as she’d begged, she wouldn’t have been taken?

  Or was his remorse the result of something far more sinister?

  Had he been a party to her abduction? Did he know who had taken her and why? Had he known for those four years where she was and what was happening to her?

  Did he know what they’d done to her?

  Melanie had no idea of the answer to any of those questions, but she knew she had to find her father and confront him. She had to ask him point-blank why he felt so guilty. She had to make him look her in the eye when he told her the truth.

  Then she would know.

  And all those years of running and hiding and trying to block out the screams would finally be over.

  Chapter Four

  She wasn’t a natural blonde.

  That little detail was oddly telling to Lassiter, because it was yet one more piece of evidence that Melanie Stark had secrets. Dark ones. And her real hair color was the least of them.

  He stood at the foot of the bed gazing down at her. Light streaming in through the balcony window glimmered off the gold streaks in her hair and made her skin look soft and pale.

  And he could see a great deal of skin. She’d kicked off the covers in her sleep, and she lay on the sheet in nothing but a light-blue tank top and white silk panties.

  Even in her sleep, she looked like trouble.

  There was an air of recklessness about her. A hint of hedonism.

  Lassiter had nothing against hedonism, particularly in a woman who looked like Melanie Stark. Not that she was especially beautiful. Her features were too imperfect—even apart from the telltale dark roots—for that. Eyes that were a little too widely set, a nose that was slightly off center.

  But her lips, easily her best feature, were lush and tempting, and her body…

  He drew a sharp breath as his gaze moved over her. The body, he had to admit, came pretty damn close to perfection. Either she had great genes or she’d been giving her gym membership one hell of a workout. She looked entirely capable of handling herself both in bed and out. Not exactly the type of girl you took home to Mother, but Lassiter’s plans for Melanie Stark didn’t include a trip back home to Mississippi, anyway.

  She stirred in her sleep and sighed. Something inside him quickened and he knew that, for better or worse—and his instincts told him the latter—his life was about to take a drastic turn.

  Who are you? he silently wondered as he stared down at her. And where the hell did you come from?

  MELANIE CAME AWAKE with the terrifying certainty that she wasn’t alone. Someone was in her room. It was every woman’s nightmare to open her eyes and find a strange man standing over her bed.

  But there were strange men and there were strange men.

  At least Melanie recognized her midnight intruder, although she couldn’t honestly say the knowledge gave her much comfort. Far from it. Especially considering the way he was staring down at her.

  She gasped and scrambled up against the headboard. Clutching the covers to her chin, she said hoarsely, “Who are you? What do you want?”

  “I think you know who I am, Melanie.”

  A cold chill shot through her. “How do you know my name?”

  “I know a great deal about you. You’d be surprised.”

  The sound of his voice frightened her more than anything else. The timbre was at once smooth as velvet and jagged as broken glass.

  He moved slightly, and moonlight fell across his face, giving her a glimpse of mesmerizing features. She couldn’t seem to tear her gaze from his, and she thought fleetingly, No wonder the old woman called you a devil.

  He was handsome, dangerous, darkly seductive.

  El guerrero del demonio in all his glory.

  Melanie’s gaze lit on the phone beside the bed and she lunged for it. But he was quicker. His hand clamped around her wrist and squeezed until she let go of the receiver, then he pushed her back against the headboard.

  “Do you really want to call the police, Melanie?”

  That voice. Those eyes. Dear God.

  He was the kind of man she’d always been drawn to. Dark, dangerous, sexy as hell. But tonight, seduction was the last thing on Melanie’s mind. All she wanted was to see him leave.

  “If you get the police involved, I’ll be forced to tell them you’re the thief who’s been stealing drugs from Kruger’s infirmary,” he said.

  A tiny flame of anger melted through her fear. “I took the antibiotics to save a child’s life.”

  “I don’t give a damn about your motive.”

  “The police—”

  “The police won’t care, either. Your best chance is to make a deal with me, right here and right now.”

  Melanie shivered beneath the covers. If that was her best chance, she was in big trouble. “What do you want?”

  He let the silence gather around them until Melanie could hear nothing but the pounding of her heart in her ears. She wanted to scream, but she hadn’t been able to scream for a very long time.

  “I want to know how you did it,” he finally said.

  Her grasp tightened on the blanket. “Did what? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Don’t play stupid, Melanie. How did you do it? You were in the room with me one moment and gone the next. It was like you walked through an invisible doorway. I want to know how you did it.”

  She forced an icy edge to her voice. “Why should I tell you anything? You break into my room, threaten me—”

  His smile in the darkness sent a tremor up her spine. “Do you know what they do to drug dea
lers in Cartéga?”

  “I’m not a drug dealer.”

  “Try telling that to the police. This isn’t back home, Melanie. In Cartéga you’re guilty until proven innocent, and you were caught red-handed, so to speak.” His gaze shot to the bandage around her wrist. “We’ve even got samples of your DNA, though God knows what they’d do with it down here. Chances are they’d throw you in the slammer without asking too many questions.” He paused, taking a step or two back from the bed, but his gaze never lost hers. “Have you ever seen the inside of a Cartégan prison? After a year in one of those cells, your own mother wouldn’t recognize you, and after twenty years…” He shrugged. “But then, after what I saw you do last night, the thought of a jail cell probably doesn’t frighten you all that much, does it.”

  She tossed back her hair, trying for a bravado she was far from feeling. “If that’s true, then your threat doesn’t hold much water.”

  “Right. Except—” his gaze narrowed “—if you disappear from prison, or even from this room, I’ll make sure you become the most wanted fugitive in this part of the world. Every federal in Central America will be looking for you. And that would make searching for your father damned near impossible, wouldn’t it?”

  She gasped. “How do you know about my father? What do you know about him?” When he didn’t answer, she lashed out in anger. “You’ve been in my room before, haven’t you. You read my letters. Who let you in here, you bastard? Who did you have to bribe?”

  “First things first.” His voice seemed to deepen with menace. “I’ve got a proposition for you.”

  Her heart hammered against her ribs. “Not even in your wildest dreams, assho—”

  “Not that kind of proposition.” Even though she was thoroughly hidden by the sheet, his gaze moved over her in a way that made her shiver with dread. She hadn’t been covered when she’d first awakened, though, and there was no telling how long he’d been standing there watching her sleep. He might even have touched her…

  Melanie almost ripped a hole in the worn cotton where her nails clutched it. “If you so much as come near me…”

  “Don’t flatter yourself. You’re not my type.” He moved to the foot of the bed, as if to make his point. “Don’t you even want to hear my deal? You should, seeing as how you have no choice but to accept it.”

  “There’s always a choice, Lassiter.”

  “So you do know my name.” He gave her a look she couldn’t quite define in the darkness. “Tell me how you did it, and I’ll tell you what I know about your father. I’ll even help you find him.”

  She gazed at him in defiance. “I don’t need your help. Besides, I wouldn’t trust you with my own life, let alone my father’s.”

  “You can. Trust me, that is. I don’t mean you any harm. I just need to know how you did it.”

  “Why?”

  He hesitated. “It’s not every day someone disappears before your very eyes.” He’d said it with irony, but there was a hint of something else in his voice, something that might have been desperation.

  “It wasn’t what it seemed,” Melanie said, showing her own desperation. “It was just a trick. A smoke-and-mirrors kind of thing.”

  His voice hardened. “Then show me. Do it now.”

  She gave a helpless shrug. “I can’t just do it at will. It takes time to set up. The lighting has to be just right—”

  “You’re lying.”

  She let exasperation creep into her voice. “Do you really believe someone can just disappear like that? Come on.”

  He was beside her in a flash, bending over the bed to grab her shoulders. His fingers dug into her flesh. “I saw you do it. I saw it with my own two eyes, and I’m not a man prone to wild imaginings. So, yes, I believe it. And if you don’t tell me how you did it…”

  “You’ll what?” She gave him an insolent glare while her heart threatened to thrash its way out of her chest. “You’ll call the police? Kill me? Go ahead. I’m calling your bluff.”

  She winced as his grasp on her arms tightened. His eyes burned into hers. “You don’t want to do that, Melanie. You really don’t. Not for your sake and especially not for your father’s.”

  “If you hurt him, so help me—”

  “Nothing will happen to your father. Not if you tell me what I want to know.”

  The desperation in his voice must have been her imagination, Melanie thought fleetingly, because now she heard nothing but danger. He’d killed before. Easily, from the looks of him. If she pushed him too far, she might give him no choice.

  “Look at it this way,” he said. “I saw what I saw. You’re not going to bluff your way out of it, so what do you have to lose by telling me how you did it?”

  He was right about that. He had seen her. The damage had already been done. And regardless of how hard Melanie tried to convince him that his eyes had deceived him, Jon Lassiter was nobody’s fool. He wouldn’t leave here until she gave him what he’d come for, and maybe not even then. But at this point, she really didn’t have much to lose.

  “Even if I told you the truth, you wouldn’t believe me. There’s no way I can make you understand it. I…don’t even understand it myself.”

  “Try me.”

  She wavered, trying to think of a way to buy herself some time. “Let me get dressed first. I don’t like feeling at such a disadvantage.”

  He straightened and stepped back from the bed. “Be my guest.”

  She bit her lip as she stared up at him. “At least have the decency to turn around.”

  “And give you a chance to do your ‘smoke-and-mirrors thing’? I don’t think so.”

  “I already told you. I can’t do it at will. It takes time. Just give me a moment’s privacy to get dressed. I promise I won’t disappear.”

  He leaned toward her again, planting a hand on either side of her. Melanie caught her breath at his nearness, at the coldness in his eyes. “If you do disappear, let’s get one thing straight. There’s no place you can go that I won’t find you. No place. You understand?”

  She nodded, not daring to speak.

  LASSITER WALKED to the foot of the bed and turned his back on her. What she didn’t know, of course, was that he’d positioned himself so he could watch her in the dresser mirror. He didn’t trust her even for a moment. No way was she going to play him for a fool. Again.

  It was dark in the room, but enough light straggled in through the window that he could see her reflection as she rose from the bed. She turned to the side, and a glimmer of light outlined her full breasts as she drew the tank top over her head and reached for her shirt. As she fastened her buttons and then pulled on a pair of jeans, something flared to life inside Lassiter. It had been a long time since he’d watched a woman dress.

  Walking across the room, she sat down in a chair near the windows and reached for the lamp.

  “Leave it off,” he ordered.

  She let her hand fall to her lap. “I meant what I said earlier. Even if I tell you the truth, you won’t believe me.”

  He sat down on the bed, still warm from her body, and regarded her across the room. “I’ve always had an open mind. So let’s hear it.”

  “First you have to give me your word you won’t do anything to harm my father.”

  “You tell me the truth, and I’ll not only help you find him, I’ll also do everything in my power to keep you both safe.”

  Her brows lifted in suspicion. “What makes you think we need your protection?”

  “When a man runs out on his family, changes his appearance, hides out in a place like Cartéga, it’s usually because someone is looking for him. Don’t tell me that hasn’t occurred to you. Don’t tell me you haven’t considered the possibility that someone may have followed you down here.”

  He saw her stiffen—in fear, he thought—before she shrugged in apparent defiance. “How do I know you’re not the one who’s looking for him?”

  “Because if I were, he’d already be dead.”

&nbs
p; Her body shivered violently. “If you think that inspires my trust…”

  “It should inspire fear,” he said. “I don’t know what you’re involved in, but after what I saw last night, I’d say the stakes are pretty damn high. If you want someone watching your back, you’d better tell me the truth.”

  “And why in the world should that someone watching my back be you?” she demanded.

  “Because who else is there, Melanie?”

  That seemed to stop her, and she fell silent for a long moment as if she couldn’t decide what to do. Then she drew a deep breath and released it. “All right. You’ve made your point. But the truth is I don’t know how I do it. I’m being honest,” she said quickly when he tried to protest. “I don’t know. The first time it happened was by accident. I found myself…let’s just say, I found myself in a difficult position, and I literally willed myself through a wall. It scared the hell out of me when I came out on the other side. I didn’t tell anyone about what I’d done because I didn’t want the men in white coats to come and take me away. Back then, I was skating pretty close to the edge as it was, so I tried to convince myself I’d had some sort of weird dream or hallucination. But when I was able to go back through the wall…when I was able to do it over and over again—”

  “Wait a minute,” Lassiter cut in with a frown. “You told me earlier you couldn’t do it at will.”

  She shrugged. “I can’t just snap my fingers and go poof. It takes intense concentration, a sort of realignment of my consciousness, as well as the vibration of my body. You said it seemed as if I’d walked through an invisible doorway and just disappeared. That’s a pretty accurate description. Except the doorways aren’t made of wood or metal or glass. The openings are a subtle shift in energy, light and vibration. But once you know they’re there, your body can pass through them just as easily as you can open the door to my room and walk out into the hallway.”

  Lassiter wished he’d let her turn on the light earlier, because he suddenly wanted to see the nuances of her expression. “So what are you saying? When you pass through one of these invisible doorways, you’re what? Entering another dimension?”