Stranger in my Arms by Rochelle Alers Read Free Book Online

with her grandmother who’d celebrated her one hundred and third birthday December twenty-seventh.
    She had the bedroom suite to herself, which meant she could linger in the shower. After cleansing the makeup from her face and brushing her teeth, she stepped into the shower stall.
    Her eyelids were drooping when she pulled a nightgown over her head and slipped into one of the two queen-size beds. Alex was asleep within seconds of her head touching a down-filled pillow.

Chapter 4
    M errick checked out of his hotel, retrieved his truck from the parking lot and headed south. It was New Year’s Day, the weekend, and he practically had I–95 to himself. An overcast sky had given way to bright sunlight, and when he entered downtown Miami the energy, passion, color and architectural treasures of the tropical city elicited a feeling of nostalgia. What was it, he asked himself, about Miami that made him feel as if he’d come home?
    Slowing the SUV, he’d become the sightseer and tourist, driving past the harbor crowded with massive cruise ships and priceless pleasure boats. His sightseeing ended when he checked into a Miami Beach hotel. The view from his nineteenth-floor suite was spectacular. Opening the door to an armoire, he switched on the large-screen television to CNN. He’d planned to spend his time in Miami relaxing and soaking up the flavor of the city. Pulling a T-shirt over his head, he made his way in the direction of the bathroom.
    After moving to Bolivar he’d discovered that he lost track of the days of the week; but that would change because of Alexandra Cole. Eight days—in another eight days he would call her to arrange a time when they would see each other again.
    Stepping out of his jeans and underwear, Merrick recalled his interaction with Alex. He’d found her outspoken, opinionated and brutally honest, personality traits he hadn’t encountered in any of the women in his past. She was a challenge, one he welcomed. Alex had promised him two weeks and he intended to make the most of their time together.
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    Merrick walked into a restaurant on Calle Ocho, Miami’s Little Havana main thoroughfare. He took off a well-worn baseball cap and seated himself at a small table in the rear of the dining establishment. The mouthwatering aromas wafting from platters of food carried by the serving staff overwhelmed him. He’d opted not to order from the hotel kitchen because it’d been months since he’d eaten Caribbean cuisine.
    Two months before, he’d become a lookout for Michael when he’d asked him to watch the building housing the Sanctuary Counseling Center. He’d set himself up in a vacant apartment across the street, bribing the building’s superintendent to let him use the space under the pretense that he was a private detective hired by a foreign diplomat to watch his wife who’d abducted the two children the judge had placed in his custody. The greedy man barely glanced at his fake identification, accepting the one-hundred-dollar-a-day fee while offering to bring him lunch and dinner. The superintendent’s wife was from the Dominican Republic, and Merrick spent three glorious days eating white rice, red beans, fried plantains, baked chicken and spaghetti with spareribs.
    Picking up a plastic-covered menu, he studied the selections printed in English and Spanish. An attractive young waitress approached his table. “Are you ready to order?” she asked in accented English.
    â€œMiro todavía,” he said. “Pero le agradecería una cerveza fría.”
    The waitress’s professionally arched eyebrows shot up. Not only was the gray-eyed man guapo, but he also spoke Spanish.
    â€œSeguro.” She flashed a sultry grin before walking away with an exaggerated sway of her hips. She took a bottle of beer from a freezer case, whispering to her girlfriend to take a look at the man in the light blue shirt seated in her