Rose had to dig deep into her investigative bag of tricks. She was so close to his secret, to him wanting to tell her, all she had to do was find his pressure point, the right question to draw the truth out. He might be the cagiest customer she'd ever dealt with but his cage was not as strong as he'd let on. Tossing her clues and riddles through the bars was only making her more determined to pick the lock. Hell, to break the damn door down if she had to, if it meant keeping Bellamy in her life. Her mom had brought him into their world; surely, she wouldn't be against him staying on.

“Try me,” she pleaded. “Unless you're on the run for some sort of capital crime, I've been known to help people out of all sorts of tight corners.” She waited for a response, didn't get one, so she tried another tack. “So, you're not married, you're not wanted for a capital crime, and your name isn't Max de Winter. What else? No incurable diseases? You're not liable to spontaneously combust?”

“We very nearly did. Twice.” He cleared his throat.

Colored rushed to her face. “True. But I'm running out of reasons for us not to give this a go. You know, to see where it leads us.”

“Rose, your mother will—”

“I know, I know. My mom will have to tell me when the time is right.” The distant sound of laughter made her sit up. Somebody was approaching on the water. “But what if she doesn't get the chance? Would you ever tell me, after she's gone, or would that violate your NDA?” That last part came out with more vitriol than she'd intended.

“If your mother doesn't tell you, I swear I will.”

“Fair enough. In the meantime,” She rushed to gather her clothes, then tossed him his, “we keep this between us, what happened today, I mean.”

“Agreed. But I'd like to take you to dinner,” he added. “Would that be okay?”

“Ah, yeah, I guess.” It was the quickest Rose had ever gotten dressed. The kayakers were almost at the beach. She could discern the individual voices; two giggly young women, maybe teenagers, and a slightly older guy. “I'll go on one condition,” she said.

“What's that?”

“That you tell me how you knew that mugger yesterday.”

Bellamy shrugged as he zipped up his khakis. The guy sure wasn't in a hurry to cover up; he didn't even have his shirt on yet. “We crossed paths a few years back. He'd shot a woman. But instead of fleeing, he stayed at the scene, tried to make it look like someone else had done it. The problem was, he hadn't killed her right away. She was still alive when the sirens approached.”

“So, he finished her off?”