Chapter 12
When Ramona once more became aware of her surroundings she found herself in the library with Owen and Rolf Hecht. She stared at them silently for a moment before speaking. Somehow she had been used in a plot she didn't understand, of that she was sure. But she couldn't comprehend a de man's coming back to life.
"I don't understand," she whispered.
"You don't?" said Hecht. "You're the second girl to claim this island. That other one, outside, tried to say she was my niece. Now she refuses to acknowledge the name. Are you really Ramo Jahn?"
"I'm tired of playing games and having people suspicious of me," she said angrily. "I'm the only one here I'm sure of, and I won't tolerate any more of your accusations."
"I'll vouch for her," said Owen. "You can take my word."
"I'm not so sure I want your help," Ramona told him accusingly.
"I can't blame you," he said with a grin. "I told you not to trust me and I meant it. Unfortunately, I was part of the plot here to use you, but no that I know you, I don't think I'd do it again."
"Plot! You used me?"
"I'm with the FBI, Mona, investigating drug smuggling.""
"Drugs? Here?"
"This is a center for dropping smuggled drugs into the country," croaked Hecht. "Boats disguised as fishing craft bring in drugs and I distributed them from here. This far north, no one suspected anything. Especially when a respectable New England community didn't recognize what was going on. They just like peace and quiet. I didn't bother them and they didn't bother me."
"You're a drug smuggler? Heroin, opium, things like that?"
"Don't sound so surprised," rasped the man. "It's more common than you imagine." "You got away with it."
"In today's world, the good guys you used to read about in your King Arthur books don't always win, love," he told her with a wry smile. "It was a great setup. Worked for ten months till the cop in town, old Perk, caught on."
"Perkins? You mean he really takes an interest in his work?"
"Don't let him fool you. He's one of the best!" Owen told her.
"But. . . even Mrs. Whipple didn't believe me about the intruder!"
"She does now," Owen said with an accusing look at Hecht.
"Why?"
"It's all rather long and complicated," Owen said hesitantly.
"Are you really my uncle?" she demanded, turning to Hecht. "I can't believe a real uncle would have put his own flesh and blood through something like this!"
"Maybe that's the answer," croaked the man. "We're not of the same flesh and blood. Your grandparents took me in as a child. I was one of those delinquent orphans. Too many would-be parents and no one who would keep me. Your father's folks really tried. They wanted more than one child even if your grandmother couldn't have any more. I was a big disappointment and ended up giving your Grandfather ulcers and spurring on his heart attacks that subsequently killed him. I don't suppose the family talked much about me after I ran away from home at sixteen."
"No. They didn't," she responded with finality.
"So when I got caught at the game here we decided that the big leader would only come up if someone threatened his nice set-up. We planned to say I was killed and set out to find an heir for the property who would draw my partner to the scene with some of his big gun men. He's been caught with the goods on him, you might say. There were boats waiting to come in with the drope."
"You!"
"For a lighter sentence, why not?"
"You haven't changed a bit, have you?"
"Had no intention of hurting you. You showed and that was all we needed. You could go away and we could make like you were still around. You were bait to draw the attention of the big cheese to emphasize the importance of this island. After it was established that you were here we'd pack you off with scares and threats and you wouldn't have to face him."
"The rustling skirts and the rasping voice. It was you!"
"I didn't say I was a saint, did I?" he said defensively. "And when nothing else got you to leave, I figured being the 'good Joe' wasn't that effective. Show you some rough stuff and maybe you'd get the message. But you didn't!"
"Not your message, no!" she cried, biting her lip against the stinging tears that threatened and trying to stand up.
"Look, I told you I was the black sheep of the family. You'll just have to do like your folks and forget me. I've always been in too much trouble with the law to hope I'd ever come out smelling clean just once."
"That you'd rape the grandchild of the people who took care of you and loved you!"
"So I have no scruples," he returned with a smile. "A female is a female. Wouldn't have done any better if your grandmother had been worth attacking."
"Is that why Mrs. Whipple believes me now."
"She's mad 'cause she knows you got some action and she didn't. I laid it on as to how it wasn't worth my efforts on an old body like hers."
"Oh, go away! I don't want to talk to you anymore!"
The two men in gray stepped forward to take him away.
"Not even a kiss for your uncle before he goes off to see the judge? I'm going to be years without a woman."
"It might do you good!"
He shrugged and allowed himself to be led away.
"Was it all him?" she asked Owen. "The threats and money offers for the place?"
"Hell, no. Saumont arranged the lawyer, but Perk smelled him out right away. Figured the girl was a plant as well. He had the state troopers pick up Richardson as soon as he got outside of town the second time."
"The real lawyers would be able to prosecute in the meantime, hmm?"
"Right. Perk also tried to protect you by buying the place when he figured you were probably the legal heir after all. So one of those offers you can account to him."
"And Mrs. Whipple? Was she helping too?"
"Moll's no great actress. She's been hot for your uncle since he arrived. She didn't know the whole story, but figured he was out here someplace. When I arrived on the scene, it was a threat to her chances with the old boy because he'd have to think of other things besides her and that elusive entity called love."
"And he didn't play along."
"No. She's disappointed it's all over, but that doesn't protect the next available male who comes to town," he told her with a laugh.
"Well, I'm sure glad it's over," Mona said with a sigh. "When can we leave?"
"For good?" he asked. "You won't take me up on that boat ride this summer?"
"Well, with Hecht alive, I'm no longer an heiress," she returned, getting up from the couch. "Besides, if you're with the government, you can't spend much time here."
"I was brought up here and I'm like a homing pigeon. During the right seasons this place can be lovely. Wouldn't you like to sec it and find out?"
"I'm just a poor working girl, Owen. I can't let big men like you turn my head."
"Why not?" he asked, embracing her and pulling her lips gently to his. "With Hecht locked up someone's got to take care of the property. I'm sure it can be fixed up."
His arms were strong and warm. As always she felt security in them. And his mouth was always so gentle and loving as their tongues exchanged the sweet juices of love.
"How do I know I can trust you now?" she demanded, pushing him from her. "You haven't been great so far."
"You're right," he said, pulling her back to his chest. "You can't trust me. I think I love you, but like all men, at the moment I love your body more than you."
"Owen!" she cried, trying to pull away.
He laughed, his arms tightening around her.
"Let the old lady of the island have a real show," he cried. "Today I'm as hot for you as those other fellows have been."
"Why you despicable-!" she shouted, breaking away from him.
"Do you believe me?" he asked with a twinkle in his eye.
What was he trying to say. Don't trust him. And don't trust what he says? Oh, she was so tired. If she could just leave here and forget. Leave this place to the ghosts that haunted it! Then she could return to her dull, lowly city life and peace.
"Mona, I do care about you!" he insisted.
"I didn't ask you to!" she retorted, looking out the window at the lifting veil of fog. "You men think a girl has to hear the words 'I love you' in order to get what you want. Don't feel badly if the words don't come easy. She couldn't say them to you that easily unless she were well practiced."
"Which makes her gifts less meaningful," he returned.
"You're an authority?"
"On women?"
"I don't care if you are!" she said walking beside the bookshelves and running a long delicate finger along the row of dusty texts.
Suddenly he was behind her, his hands gentle on her shoulders and his mouth searching at her neck.
"You'll take me anyway?" he asked softly.
There was no answer. He cupped her soft full breasts in his hands. Through the soft jersey of her dress they were yielding and warm. For once she didn't try to escape his touch. She seemed willing.
Owen turned her to face him and found her lips open to his mouth. Burning desire enveloped him and his hands explored her lush body as she pressed against him. Would she really be so willing?
They sank to the carpet together and he found her already squirming to be free of her clothes. His mouth covered hers and he pressed his masculine frame onto the luscious contours of her feminine body as she came up to meet him.