A Man to Remember Read Free Page A

is bonita all right. You have good taste, Jake. But then, you always chose the most beautiful women."
    "Just lucky, Emilio." Jake took another deep swallow.
    "Luckiest man alive, mi amigo."
    "Not this time, Emilio. I've made a powerful enemy and have to get out of here fast."
    Emilio frowned in the darkness. "Your source left you?"
    "High and dry. Too risky. My last orders were Vamos, pronto! Y buen suerte. Good luck, indeed," Jake muttered derisively.
    "I wish I could help you, Jake."
    "You're doing enough right now just giving me a place to hide. That's why I have to leave soon. I don't want to implicate you."
    "I'm not worried about that, amigo. We have our network. We will warn you when you are being followed."
    "I don't want to put you in danger, Emilio."
    Abruptly Jake lifted the binoculars to his dark eyes and trained them again on the harbor. A man was approaching the small craft, stumbling clumsily along the dock. Drunk. He grasped the steel bow rail and nearly fell in the water clambering aboard. The cabin lights were suddenly switched on, and Jake could see the man clearly. He was the same one who'd left this afternoon.
    Emilio squinted his eyes toward the craft. "Her lover?"
    Jake only grunted and watched the two figures in the yellow glow. "Damned bastard . . ." he muttered to himself.
    Jake sucked in his breath. Why was she of such interest to him? She was only a pawn. At one time he had planned to take the cruiser without her. After being with her today on the beach, though, he knew he wanted her with him.
     
    Alyse struggled awake when the sudden light glared in her face. She heard Evan's raving, angry voice and knew it was him. Him, and she dreaded this encounter. "Evan? Is that you? Did you have to wake me up?"
    "We've got to talk, Alyse. I'm not through with this."
    "I'm sleepy and it's late. Let's discuss it tomorrow." She rolled to turn her back to him, trying to block out the light.
    "Dammit, Alyse! Turn over here and face me!" He grabbed her shoulder and roughly jerked her around.
    Alyse felt a stab of pain in her shoulder and wrenched against the pillow. She tried to keep her face from showing the fear that suddenly overwhelmed her. He was drunk. He was like a stranger, a madman, waving his arms and yelling. She'd never seen him so very wild, and it was frightening.
    So this was the real Evan Wheeler, her father's bright and trusted new administrator? A man she considered marrying. . . but no longer.
    "Evan, you've been drinking too much. Let's get some sleep and discuss this rationally in the morning."
    "To hell with sleep! To hell with the morning!" Evan's arms waved loosely in the air. "I want to know why you won't talk to your old man on my behalf! What's a little more money to him? He's so damned rich, he'd never miss it!"
    "That isn't the point, Evan. I don't like being used to advance your career."
    He leaned forward and teetered. For a moment Alyse thought he might go over on his nose. Then, amazingly, he straightened. "Oh, hell, Alyse. You're just being silly and stubborn. What's wrong with throwing a little business my way? After all, we're engaged!"
    "Not quite." Alyse drew a shaky breath. Now was hardly the time to tell him that she found him repulsive. Hiring the man and suggesting he might be ripe husband material had been her father's idea. Just like everything else in her life, Raymond Skye wanted control. He had decided that at twenty-six Alyse was past ready for marriage. Everyone was convinced except Alyse. "I—I just don't like the idea, Evan."
    "People do it all the time. Whatsa matter, baby?" He slurred his words, grasping both her forearms and trying to draw her to him. "You want to help me, don't you? I thought that's why we took your brother's fancy little boat all the way down here to Mexico."
    Alyse's blue-eyed gaze grew sharp. "You thought wrong, Evan."
    "Oh, come on, baby blue eyes. You know you like me. You want me." He pulled her closer, and she could smell his fetid