by L. L. James
Marek leveled a look on her and cut to the matter at hand. “I need to ask you about last night.”
Her midnight eyes danced with amusement in her thin face. Running her slim finger across his scruffy cheek, Dara giggled, “Ah, you was a wild one last night. Dat was one lucky girl, I tell ya, ta get you ta go an’ run off with her.”
Marek gripped her hand and gently placed it on the bar. Looking past her to the bartender he directed his question to both of them. “Were you aware I was served a drink full of mushrooms in here last night?”
Dara feigned surprise, but Marek saw right through it. She’d known. Clamping down on his anger, he remained calm, knowing if he exploded he’d never get any answers. Instead, he sent a cocky grin to the waitress. “Just wish I knew who to thank for the party. Any ideas, gorgeous?”
Marek watched as Dara’s eyes traveled down his body before returning to his face. He’d known for a long time she had a thing for him and exploited it now for information. Letting his eyes go lazy and warm, he made sure she saw his long, appreciative perusal of her. She was too skinny for his taste, but it did the trick because she preened under his practiced gaze and wiggled closer. “Well, dat would be Big Bubba himself, honey. He saw da way you and dat girl were lookin’ at each other and made dem drinks hisself. I had no idea he’d added his house specialty to dem though, but I’m not surprised.”
Big Bubba, you dirty old bastard.
He’d probably done it just to lure them into the back so he could marry them. Hell, the whole thing had probably been his idea. The old coot was notorious for stirring up trouble like that for his own amusement. But he usually kept it confined to tourists. Marek was going to strangle him when he found him.
He felt a hand slowly creeping up his thigh and looked at Dara. She was an attractive woman with her full, ethnic hair and smooth chocolate skin, but Marek wasn’t interested. When he looked at her small, slender frame wrapped in a yellow sundress, an image of satiny pale skin and lush curves came to mind. Instantly reacting to the mental picture of Carmen’s naked body, Marek swore under his breath. Merde.
The woman was creeping without warning into his thoughts. Uncomfortable with what it implied, he smiled a little too warmly at Dara. She mistook that for approval and slid her hand higher up his hard thigh. Placing a hand on top of hers, Marek held it in place and asked, “Big Bubba wouldn’t happen to be in the back today, would he? I’d like to thank him in person.”
“He’s in da hospital, handsome. Had a heart attack late last night and is in da critical care unit. Dey aren’t sure if he’s gonna live, but you can come back ta my place an’ thank me instead.”
Marek scowled at the news, though it was no big shock. Big Bubba hadn’t been given that name for nothing. Well into his sixties and weighing in at over three hundred pounds, the man had been a coronary waiting to happen. But why the hell did he have to do it now? The old rat sure had piss poor timing. Or perfect timing, if one considered that Marek wanted to kill him for his little prank.
Shaking his head a the waitress, Marek removed her hand from his leg and held up his left hand. Good thing he hadn’t taken it off. Spinning the smooth oyster shell ring with his thumb to gain her attention, he apologized and stood up. “Sorry, Dara. That lucky girl last night is now my wife and I don’t think she’d be too thrilled if I went home with you. Thanks for the offer, though. I’m honored. Now, I’ve got to go, but I’ll see you later.” He left Dara standing speechless with her mouth hanging open and headed out the door to his wife.
Carm saw Marek exit the low roofed building and watched him stroll to the jeep. She admired the long, loose strides and confident way he had about him. The sun glinted off his dark aviator glass as he made his way across the parking lot.
Even in slacks and a dress shirt, there was an edge to him. He was tuned in to his environment and in control. He didn’t even look around him as he sauntered toward her, loose hipped and cocky. He had the air of a man who could take care of himself.
It made her all the more curious about his past. How had he grown up that such a street-wise veneer clung to him? One that all the money in the world couldn’t wash completely away?
As Marek reached the driver side door of his jeep and yanked it open, Carm pulled her bare feet from the dash and asked, “Well, what did you find out? Was Big Bubba in there?”
He hopped inside, reached over and grabbed a fistful of her hair. Yanking her close, Marek slammed his lips down on hers in a ravenous kiss. Her hands fluttered helplessly in the air and she whimpered into his greedy mouth. Just when she started to respond with equal fervor, he ended the kiss and pushed her back in her seat.
What was that about?
Marek started the jeep and shifted it in reverse. With his eyes on the rearview mirror he explained, “I saw the way you were looking at me, sweetheart. You’re not fooling anyone and you’re lying to yourself if you believe you’ll leave this island without intimate knowledge of what it feels like to have me hard and ready between your legs.”
Breathing hard, Carm gathered her scattered thoughts and chose to ignore his boast altogether. “You didn’t answer me. What did you find out?”
Muttering what sounded suspiciously like “coward”, Marek pulled onto the busy road and headed toward the inn. Finally, he glanced her way and said, “I found out who spiked our drinks with the ‘shrooms. It was Big Bubba himself and before you demand his head on a platter, I also found out he had a severe heart attack and is in the I.C.U. There’s a strong chance he won’t make it, so we may never know what happened last night.”
Well, shit. Their only witness was in critical care. So all they had were two cheap rings and a piece of paper that declared them legally wed. What were they supposed to do next? She had to get home to Kate and the baby! They needed her.
Marek slowed the jeep and down shifted. Turning into the driveway to the Green Island Inn, he sighed and gazed ahead at the beautiful old mansion. “I’m going to drop you off here and go check into some things. I’m going to try to get in touch with my lawyer regarding our situation, but I believe he’s still on vacation. I’ll only be gone a few hours. That’ll give you time to shower and refresh yourself, oui?”
Carm nodded, grabbed her purse and jacket, and climbed out. He stopped her with a, “Hey,” as she turned to leave. “You forgot your shoes, sugar.”
He held them out to her over the passenger seat and grinned at her. As she reached for them, he pulled them out of her reach and said softly, “Don’t worry about a thing, Carmen. I’ll take care of this. Just so you know, I’ll have my cell phone on me, but it won’t work on the part of the island I’m headed to. But if you leave a voice message I can get that. See you in a bit.”
She watched as he drove down the brick drive and pulled into the passing traffic. Feeling suddenly alone, she gripped her belongings and turned. She tried to shrug off the lonely feeling, but for some reason it clung, immobile.
A small whine caught her attention and she scanned the yard. Movement came from a rosebush as another pitiful whine called to her. It occurred to her then that the fat gray cat might be caught in the bush.
Carm walked over to the bright yellow rosebush and set her things on the grass. Crouching down on her hands and knees, she peered under the bush and spotted a set of furry feet. Crooning softly to the frightened cat, she coaxed it close enough to grab. Working the cat free as it protested with pitiful cries, Carm scratched the back of her hand on a thorn but managed to get the cat out unharmed.
Eager to show her appreciation, the chubby grey cat purred loudly and butted her head against Carm’s chin. She stroked the downy fur for a few moments before placing the cat on the grass and standing up.
“I’m afraid Marek has fed Noomba too many table scraps. She’s as big as a house now.”
Carm stifled a gasp as she spun around. A stunningly beautiful woman stood a few feet behind her, smiling. Marek has her eyes. She knew the woman had to be his mother.
Accepting the offered hand, the woman stepped forward and clasped both her hands around Carm’s outstretched one. “Oui, le minou is always getting in trouble. You know my son.”
Carm hid her surprise at the woman’s frankness and quick change in topic and nodded, “We’re recently acquainted. He told me you own this beautiful inn.”
Noomba chose that moment to cry out for attention, and Carm took advantage of the distraction to study Marek’s mother. With his stunning looks she wasn’t at all surprised that his mother was equally gorgeous. Her skin, a few shades darker than her son’s, remained smooth and youthful in a face elegant with classic bone structure. And her eyes were the same mesmerizing shade of clear green.
Medium in height with a solid, attractive build, his mother held herself with regal bearing in a sleeveless dress of orange cotton. Her medium brown hair had been cropped short and she’d wrapped a colorful scarf in shades of orange and purple around it. She wore no makeup, but had rings of wooden bracelets on her arms and large, dangling earrings. Thin leather sandals adorned her feet.
Marek had said she was an artist and she certainly had that flare. Carm was intrigued by her heavy French accent and unique look. For a brief moment she wondered what it must have been like for Marek to grow up with her as his mother. Seeing this woman gave her a tiny bit of insight into his character.
His mother shooed the cat away in a flurry of French and turned her attention back to Carm. “Forgive me. Noomba can be a pest. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Maria Carlyle and welcome to my inn. I trust Marek has already shown you around?”
“Yes, I mean no. I mean, I’m already familiar with the inn, yes. But no, Marek didn’t show me around.”
Maria waved her hand on a rush of French and reached for Carmen’s arm. Linking their arms together, Maria pulled her up the front steps, barely giving her time to collect her things. Marek’s mother continued in a flow of French as they entered the cool foyer. Over her shoulder, Maria called out in English to one of the waiting employees and instructed the young man to go out and gather Ms. Hogue’s belongings from the front lawn.
Placing her hands on Carm’s arms in a jingle of bracelets, Maria leaned forward and placed brief kisses on each of her cheek and smiled, the warmth reaching her eyes. “Enjoy your stay, amie. If there is anything I can get you, please, do not hesitate to ask.”
She spun in a dazzling display of color and left Carmen standing alone in the lobby. At least now I know where Marek gets his French and abruptness from. Shaking her head, Carm looked around the elegant interior. The room was an eclectic combination of country French style and Caribbean. Just like the owner.
The young man returned with her things and Carm thanked him and took the stairs to her room. Standing before her door, she rifled through her purse until she located her room key.
A young couple in beachwear passed her in the hallway. Murmuring hello, Carm smiled absently at them and put her key in the lock. Turning the old fashioned bolt, she pushed open her door and froze.
Her room had been destroyed.
She dropped her purse and took a cautious step into the room. Her clothing was shredded and scattered around the room in chaos. The bed had been ripped apart, the sheets torn to pieces and giant slices had been cut into the mattress. The table had been overturned and the wicker chairs busted.
Carm lifted a trembling hand to her mouth and stepped across the mess on the floor to look in the bathroom. All of her toiletries had been tossed around, her makeup scattered across the tile floor.
Standing in the doorway, she felt bile rise in her throat and took deep, gulping breaths. Who would do a thing like this to her? She hadn’t done anything! She was a nobody, a school teacher from suburban Colorado.
On a sob, Carm stumbled over to her dresser and stared blindly at the busted champagne bottle and open dresser drawers. Then she looked at the top drawer where she’d placed her lingerie and cried out. Oh, no. Please, no. Let it be there. Please let is still be there.
She stretched out a quivering hand and yanked the drawer open. The inside was empty. Her bras, underwear, her passport. All of it was gone. She stared at the empty drawer and whimpered. She’d heard that a person shouldn’t travel around with their passport on them so she’d tucked it in her lingerie drawer when she’d arrived. Now she desperately wished she hadn’t. Now she was stuck.
She started to turn when something caught her eye. It was a small white piece of paper that had fallen behind the dresser and now lay on the floor. She didn’t remember seeing anything like it in the room before and crouched down to retrieve it.
Full of sudden trepidation, she unfolded the note. Her heart slammed into her chest and stomach lurched violently. Covering her mouth with a hand, she gagged on an overwhelming wave of fear. Convulsions racked her body and she dropped the note, cupping her stomach.
The paper fell to the floor, open and face up. She scanned the words again, barely believing her eyes.
You are going to die.
No one interferes and lives.
Don’t close your eyes, senorita.
We’re coming back for you.
Carm raced to the bathroom and pushed the toilet lid up, scattering her makeup further. Violently, she threw up.
Dear God, what had she gotten herself into?
Eleven
Marek listened to the message again as he raced at deadly speeds down the mountain. His heart hammered in his chest when he heard the panicked sobs coming from his receiver.
“Marek, Marek where are you? They’re going to kill me. I don’t know what I did! What did I do wrong? Please hurry back. I’m at your mother’s house. I’m scared. They destroyed everything.” A long, pause, then a whispered, “They stole my lingerie. Please hurry. I . . . I need you.”
Flipping the small phone closed, Marek squealed around a tight bend in the narrow road and fought for control of the jeep as he felt it start to tilt. He should have never left her alone. Guilt slammed in to him full force as he raced past a mural depicting the islands heritage on Ridge Road.
Damn! He should have been there with Carm, should have checked her room before he left her. What had he been thinking?
He had no doubt in his mind that this wasn’t an isolated incident. After receiving the call from his field manager on St. Kitts and hearing the troubling news, he knew the stranger on the mountain and this new incident were connected. Clem had confirmed his suspicions about someone watching them on the mountain after he’d gone up to look around at Marek’s instruction. Though most of the tracks had been washed away by the downpour, for an experienced tracker there’d been enough remaining evidence.
Someone had been watching the two of them on the mountain.
And now someone was threatening Carm.
Marek made his way down and around Tortola, over to Soper’s Hole and his mother’s home. Whipping into the short steep drive, he yanked on the emergency break and jumped out. Climbing the steps of the two story bungalow three at a time, he barely registered that his parents had finished repainting. Now the attractive home with the lovely verandah overlooking the harbor was painted a soft lime green with magenta shutters and crisp white trim.
Marek took note of it but his mind was focused solely on getting to Carm and making sure she was unharmed. No doubt his mother would ask him his opinion, so he filed it away in the back of his mind. Almost ripping the screen door off the hinges, he slammed the door open and stepped into the entryway.
His stepfather greeted him, but Marek was in no mood for pleasantries. “Where is she? Her message said she was here. Is she hurt? Merde! Answer me, Steven.” He commanded, his voice thick with worry.
Steven placed a reassuring hand on his arm and lead Marek into the brightly colored kitchen. “Calm
down, son. She’s downstairs with your mother and your sister picking out something to wear. She’s fine, just shaken up. Now, why don’t we sit down here at the table and have a drink?”
He scowled at his step-father but heaved a sigh of relief that Carm was all right. He wanted to see it for himself, verify it with his own two eyes, but Steven had a solid grip on his arm. For an unassuming marine biologist, the man had a hell of a grip.
Sinking onto the red-checked cushions of the farm style table, Marek looked at the man who’d been the only father he’d ever known. Though he had already been grown when they’d married, Steven had never treated him like anything other than his son.
Average height with a lean, wiry build, his stepfather had a scholarly look about him with his wire-framed glasses and salt and pepper beard. His bright blue eyes had such a kind expression in them and Marek couldn’t remember a time when he’d ever seen them dark with fury. The man was truly a gentle, calm soul and a perfect counterbalance to his mother’s flamboyant ways. He was a wonderful husband and a fantastic father to Marek’s eight-year-old sister, Sophia.
Taking the offered glass of iced tea, Marek nodded to Steven and asked, “What is taking them so long? For the love of . . . it’s only clothes. I’m going down there.”
Steven slid smoothly into the seat across from him and said, “We’ve been making progress down at the institute on our dolphin project. And we have you to thank for that.”
Marek was sufficiently distracted, “Oui? What do you mean? Are you referring to the donation? Forget it, I don’t want to talk about it.”
His stepfather shook his head and grinned, his bookish face lined handsomely by his years in the sun. “I thought you’d say that. Do you remember when I first came to the island with old, out-dated equipment and barely enough grant money to buy dinner?”
Yeah, he remembered. His parents had met during that time Steven had been down to Tortola from Wilmington, North Carolina, doing a research on the behavioral habits of the native Conch for the University. Maria had been selling her pottery at the outdoor craft shops on Waterfront Drive, and Steven had fallen like a fool after one look at her.