Free The Phantom of Black's Cove by Jan Hambright

he had no involvement in the afternoon’s attack.
    “Make sure you continue to steer clear of Miss Morgan.”
    Rick’s eyes narrowed. “She’ll take us all down, Jack.”
    Taking a step back, he turned and left the room. Diana was next; he had to rule her out, as well.
    He left Rick’s place and covered the three blocks to her house, in a hurry, past the neighbor’s barking dog, where he reached out and closed the dog’s mouth until he’d moved past.
    Stopping in the alley, he heightened his senses, scanning the entire area. It was clear.
    Jack opened the back gate and strode up the sidewalk, taking the steps up to the door in stealth mode.
    He raised his fist to knock, but the door opened before he could rap on it.
    Diana Moore stood just inside, tying the belt of her robe. “Jack, what are you doing here?”
    “Are you alone?”
    “Yeah, but I wouldn’t be if you’d come inside.” A seductive smile pulled her thin lips apart and he found himself making a comparison with Olivia’s full luscious ones.
    It bothered him.
    “Where were you this afternoon?”
    “Where I always am, the pet shop. I’ve got an order going out in the morning to the lab in Atlanta. I was filling it.”
    “Good. Stay out of trouble, Diana. Good night.” He stepped back and moved off the porch, hearing the door click shut. There was a time when he would have stayed with her, a time when he did. She understood the pitfalls of his existence, understood he could never open his heart to her or anyone else.
    He walked down the sidewalk, through the gate and into the alley, muzzling the dog once again as he passed the Chamberlains’ home. Taking a left, he hurried down the street to his car and climbed in. He needed to get back to Olivia. Her drug-induced slumber would subside at dawn.
     
    O LIVIA STOOD IN the doorway of the dining room the next morning staring at the empty wine bottle and the two goblets next to it. She didn’t remember much after her first glass, but they must have drained the entire bottle together.
    Glancing around, she tried to relax her bunched nerves. The cavernorus place was quiet. She moved to the table, picked up the bottle and held it to her nose. Taking a whiff, she tried to detect anything out of the ordinary. She was no wine connoisseur, but bouquet wasn’t what she was smelling for. How was it possible she’d consumed enough alcohol to wind up in one of Jack Trayborne’s beds for the night?
    “Did you enjoy it, Olivia? I’ve got another bottle in the cellar.”
    Startled, she banged the bottle down on the table and whirled around.
    Jack stood in the entryway, arms crossed over his bare chest. A pair of navy blue silk pajama bottoms hung low on his narrow hips and a stray piece of dark hair splayed against his forehead. He was the best-looking bed head she’d ever seen.
    She swallowed hard and worked to maintain eye contact, feeling embarrassment flash hot on her cheeks. “Yes. It was very good. 1937, what a great year for white bordeaux.”
    A smile parted his lips and he stepped toward her. “I didn’t believe you were in any condition to leave here last night. I trust you slept well?”
    “Yes, I did.”
    Muriel pushed through the door from the kitchen carrying a newspaper and a cup of coffee. “Sir.” She handed the items off to Jack.
    “Thank you. Perhaps Miss Morgan would like a cup?”
    He trained his attention on her.
    “No, thanks. My cab will be here any minute.”
    His jaw tensed, his eyes narrowing as he studied her. “You don’t need a cab. I’d be happy to take you back to the hotel.”
    The sensation of being held in place overwhelmed her senses and she took a step forward just to prove she could. “You’ve been a generous host, Jack, but I have to get back to work digging around in your past. That is, unless you want to tell me about the clinic and NPQ?”
    His eyes darkened from medium blue to light sapphire. He had to know what NPQ was. What else did he know?
    “I