
The fog in her head slowly cleared. She was on assignment in Hawaii, photographing the shipwreck that had taken her mother’s life. And while she’d been shooting pictures, Roberto had been scouring the ocean floor for her mother’s blue diamond. Her stomach tightened and cramped. It was all coming back. By some miracle, Roberto had managed to find the necklace. And just as they were about to surface, a diver came out of nowhere and stabbed him. Her eyelids flew open in shocked horror. Her heartbeat tripled, causing the soft beeping to crescendo to an ear-splitting shriek.
“Easy, Ms. St. John,” a nurse was at her side checking her vitals while a younger nurse adjusted the monitor.
“Roberto!” Dominique screamed, her voice a nasally squeak. Frustrated and annoyed, she yanked the tubing out of her nose and tried again. “My diving partner? Is he here? Roberto Carvalho?”
The woman’s expression softened. “I’m sorry, Ms. St. John. I really don’t know anything about your partner. You were the only patient brought in by emergency helicopter. You’re at the Queens clinic. You have the bends from ascending too quickly.”
She needed to find out about Roberto. Who would know? The owner of the charter boat. He would know. Dominique recalled him hoisting her onto the charter, removing her wet suit and then what? She remembered hearing a helicopter a split second before passing out. And she vaguely recalled telling him Roberto had been stabbed by a diver. Dear God. Killer sharks had been thrashing toward Roberto, jaws chomping. The words came out in a strangled moan. “The owner of the charter? Is he here?”
The nurse shook her head. “He stayed for a while to make sure you were all right. But he had to leave. But there is someone anxious to speak to you when you feel up to it.”
And that’s when Dominique spotted him, big as life, framing the doorway to the small room. He was fine; he’d survived the shark attack. His name caught in her throat. “Roberto! You’re alive! How…”
He strutted toward her, his narrow hips swaggering as he closed in on her, stirring her blood with a primal lust she had never felt. And those dark, broody eyes, so alive with passion, like fiery comets. She reached for him with her free hand. “Dear Lord, you’re safe! Thank God.”
He loomed above her, his lips pinched into a thin line. “I’m sorry, Ms. St. John, but I am not Roberto. He flashed a badge. “I am Detective Oliver Carvalho, Honolulu PD, Homicide. Roberto Carvalho was my identical twin brother.”
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