Men of Intrgue A Trilogy by Doreen Owens Malek Read Free Book Online Page A

immediately conjuring up all sorts of images in his overstimulated imagination.
    “Do you think you could put something else on?” he snapped irritably, turning away.
    Helen glanced down at herself, momentarily puzzled. “What’s wrong with this? I always wear it to work in; it’s comfortable and...”
    “What’s wrong is there isn’t enough of it,” he interrupted stiffly.
    “Oh,” she said, reddening. “I didn’t think; I was just used to wearing anything while you were sick.”
    “Helen, I’m not sick anymore,” he informed her, feeling idiotic and wishing he hadn’t brought the subject up at all.
    “Go into the bedroom and take a rest,” she said, dismissing the topic. “I’ll bring the food when it’s ready.”
    He followed her instructions, wondering, as he sat on the edge of the bed, how he was going to keep his hands off her until it was safe for him to leave.
    * * * *
    The next day was going to be his last, and they both knew it. Silence reigned for most of the morning as Matteo studied the local maps Helen had gotten for him. Helen remained in the dining room, pursuing her work, trying to forget what he was doing. Even the briefest conversation was painful, reminding them that soon there would be none at all.
    Around noon Matteo emerged from the back hall, rubbing his arm and tucking in his shirt. It was his usual size, but too big for him now with the weight he had lost during his illness.
    “Do you know the Camache Island boat basin?” he asked Helen.
    She looked up from her papers. “Yes, it’s just a couple of miles away, down Route A1A. Why?”
    “I’d like you to take me there, in your car. After it gets dark, so there’s less chance of us being seen. All right?”
    “All right,” she agreed, determined to be as stoic as he was.
    He looked out the glass doors at the sunswept panorama of sandy beach and aquamarine ocean.
    “Gorgeous day,” he said.
    “Why don’t you go out on the patio? You’ve been cooped up in here for almost a week; the fresh air would do you good.”
    He hesitated. “I might be seen.”
    She looked incredulous. “Here? Matteo, there isn’t another house for half a mile down the beach either way.”
    “I meant from a boat. With binoculars.”
    She was speechless for a moment and then said quietly, “Your enemies would go to such lengths?”
    He shrugged slightly. “They have before.”
    Helen was staring at him in consternation when they both heard a noise on the front walk. Moving with lightning speed, Matteo grabbed Helen and clamped one hand over her mouth, stopping any sound she might have made. He drew his gun, which he had earlier retrieved from its hiding place, and pointed it at the door, continuing to hold Helen in a throttling grip that immobilized her completely. After a couple of seconds several letters fell through the slot in the door and slid onto the floor. It was only the mailman. Matteo released Helen slowly, and she stumbled away from him, fingering her bruised lips and fighting tears.
    “Why did you do that to me?” she gasped. “Do you think I took care of you all this time in order to betray you now?”
    He had the good grace to look ashamed and was unable to meet her eyes. “I’m sorry. It was an instinctive reaction.”
    Helen stared back at him, outraged. What kind of life did he lead, that his “instinctive reaction” was not to trust anyone, including herself?
    He continued to look away from her, and she tried to brush past him, tired of waiting for him to acknowledge her. His hand came out to stop her and she shook him off.
    “Helen...” he began.
    “I don’t want to hear it. There is no excuse for treating me that way. If I had wanted to I could have called in a legion of police while you were flat on your back and out of your head.”
    “I know that. I was startled, Helen, that’s all. I didn’t expect to hear anyone come to the door.”
    “He comes to the door every weekday, Matteo. We have mail service