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But he knew it was the same woman.
“I think we better go, Dee,” he said. Now that he knew where she lived, it would be easier to figure out how to approach her.
Before Dee could respond, a crossover SUV drove up and parked in the driveway. She apparently hadn’t seen him or Dee, which was odd considering the security she had around the house. She stepped out of the car.
She was casually dressed in a pair of jeans that hugged her hips. The jacket was more about utility than fashion. His heart jerked, then doubled in speed as he watched her move. No matter what she wore, he knew it was her. No one in the world moved like her. Every motion was fluid, as if she had some kind of soundtrack playing in her head.
He couldn’t seem to catch a breath, as if all the air around them had been sucked away. Images of that night washed over him, the sounds of her gasps and moans. He licked his lips and was positive he could taste her there.
“Ali,” he said.
She froze, then turned to face him. Her face was pale, her eyes huge and he knew fear when he saw it.
“That’s not my name.” Her voice was hoarse when she spoke. The English accent was nowhere to be found. She reached behind her.
“Don’t.” It was only a simple word but she understood the implications. He wouldn’t hurt her unless she posed a threat to Dee.
“I’ve no idea what you’re doing here or why you’re calling me by that name. If you don’t leave, I’ll call the police.”
Denying her name, what they had together….it pissed him off. Why was she doing this? And why did she look as if he was going to hurt her?
“Yes, it is. I know you. We met in Vegas.”
She was shaking her head in denial when he heard small footsteps around the front of the car. A smaller version of Ali stood there, with blonde hair like the night he had met Ali. She had his eyes.
“Mummy, isn’t he the man who yelled at us in the market?”
He looked at Ali, his eyes narrowing as he studied her. “Why don’t you answer her, Ali?”
“Ali? Mummy says only her father called her that.”
Devon said nothing as Ali finally stepped in front of her daughter. “Please leave.”
Her voice was tight, not with anger…but deep-rooted fear. It quivered at the end and he knew it wasn’t normal for her. She thought he would hurt her? Or did she think he would hurt the child?
“I’m not leaving until I have an explanation.” He crossed his arms over his chest.
She straightened her shoulders. “I’ll not explain myself to the likes of you.”
He opened his mouth to ask just what the hell she meant, when Dee stepped out from behind him before he could stop her. “Hey, there.”
Ali’s gaze took in Dee, traveling down to her stomach, then she looked at Devon.
“I’m Dee, Devon’s sister. And you must be…well, what do you want to be called?”
The little girl peeked out from behind Ali. The smile she offered reminded him of Alana.
“Francine is what people call her here,” she offered.
“Then, Francine, and you are?” Dee asked smiling. His sister could get a mute man to talk with that smile of hers.
Ali opened her mouth to probably tell her not to reveal her name, but her daughter was quicker than she was.
“Bridget Williamson.”
“That is a fantastic name, if you don’t mind me saying. My name is Dee and I have a little girl just a little bit younger than you. Her name is Alana.”
“I think we all need to have a nice long chat,” Devon said.
