by L. L. James
Sliding smoothly onto the bench across from the Cuban, Marek made an almost imperceptible nod to Landon, motioning him to stay at the bar. He kept his eyes on Batik Carillos but watched his friend out of the corner of his eye. When Landon settled with a grunt onto a ripped red vinyl stool and motioned to the bartender, Marek smiled at his old employer. “Bonjour, my old friend. Good to see you.”
Marek hid his distaste as Carillos let out a juicy belch and wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of a bloated hand. Time had not been kind to the old man. When he had worked as a runner delivering packages, Carillos had been a stalky, strapping man with thick black hair and intelligent dark eyes. Now his body had given way to fat and his eyes were hollow and bloodshot. Too much alcohol abuse over the years had finally taken its toll.
Smoothing a hand down his greasy gray-streaked hair, Carillos demanded, “What do you want, gringo? You want your old job back? That was a long time ago, muchacho. I hear you’re a legit businessman now, so what you doing down here?”
Marek leaned back in his seat, inwardly cringing at the screech of straining vinyl, and replied, “I’m not here for a job, Carillos. I’m here to ask you some questions. I’ll make it worth your time to answer.”
Greed and suspicion warred in the old man’s sallow eyes before greed won out. Snatching the bottle with a shaky hand, he poured a shot, spilling some of the amber liquid on the scarred wooden table. “Cuanto dinero? How much money you talking about?”
Marek placed his hands palms down on the table and leaned forward, “Depends on what you know, old man. What have you heard about the break-in at the Green Island Inn?”
Half-focused eyes shot around the room as Carillos scanned the other customers. Finding no one within earshot he leaned forward and spoke, his voice low and slurred, “Por que, mi amigo? Why you wanna know about that?”
Ignoring the foulness of the Cuban’s breath, Marek leaned in closer and whispered back, “Because it happened to someone I know. What can you tell me?”
“You got the dinero, Slippery Stokes? Truly?” When Marek nodded, he conceded, “I might know a little something. Ever heard of Euphoria 9? It’s the hottest selling drug on the black market, amigo. Ah, you shake your head. You’re out of touch, used to be you knew ‘em all, eh?”
Marek leveled his gaze on Carillos and replied, “Times change. What does that have to do with the break-in?”
Carillos poured another shot and downed it, dribbling half of it down his double chin to his filthy shirt. “I’m getting to that. I overheard one of my esteemed associates mention something about the origin of the drug’s plant is somewhere down here in the West Indies. Intrigued, I listened. I want in on this, you know? Turns out the plant is a cousin to the poppy or something, and is very rare. Anyway, my associate mentioned that someone staying at the Green Island Inn had tampered with their product and they planned on paying them a visit.”
Marek waited for him to continue, but Carillos had lapsed into silence. He prodded, “And? Is that everything?”
Carillos swayed and shifted his watery eyes to Marek. A look of surprise crossed his blotchy face and he slurred, “That’s all, I swear. But I tell you, amigo, I want a cut of that pie. Euphoria 9 is the most potently addictive drug to come along since heroin.”
Marek quickly stood up and reached into his front pocket. Pulling out a small wad of cash, he threw it on the table and said, “Thanks, my old friend. Buy yourself another round on me.”
Carillos stared in a daze at the cash on the table, then reached out and snatched it. Staring past Marek, he bellowed to the bartender, “Gimme another round, Don. And a new glass, this one has a hole in it!”
Dismissed and already forgotten, Marek turned and strode past Landon out the door without stopping. An unsettling idea sent his mind spinning with possibilities as he stalked down the hall. He had a sneaking suspicion he was right, and if he was then Marek’s problem was a whole lot bigger than a simple break in to Carm’s hotel room.
He didn’t look behind him to see if Landon was following because he knew he was. Instead, he stalked out the door of the dive bar and down the dark street back toward the car.
As they reached Landon’s Ranger, a blur of movement came out of the darkness and ran straight at him. Reacting instantly before Landon could even call out a warning, Marek spun to meet the attacker. The distant street lamp reflected off a raised knife blade and he dropped down to a crouch and leapt, catching his assailant off guard. They fell to the ground together and rolled. Landon called out to him but he couldn’t make out the words over the stream of foreign swearing coming from the man he’d tackled.
Before his friend reached them, the man kicked loose and pushed, sending Marek toppling to the ground. Leaping to his feet, the man whipped out a small gun and leveled it on them. Panting from exertion, the attacker backed away, his gaze never leaving them.
Marek rolled to the balls of his feet, prepared to strike, but then the gun leveled on him and the attacker snarled, “Don’t you dare, or I’ll put one between your eyes. You too, golden boy. Stay right where you are. You messed with our business, coffee lover. Now you and your girl are going to die. Consider this a warning. Run while you can.”
Fury fueled by adrenaline burned in Marek. As he moved on the balls of his feet to charge, the attacker squeezed the trigger and ran. Landon grunted and swore and staggered to the car. Marek leapt to his feet and demanded, “Are you shot, Landon? Merde! Are you all right?”
Reaching the pilot’s side, all thoughts of chasing the attacker gone, Marek scanned his body for injury. Landon pushed him away and growled, “I’m fine. Fucker grazed my thigh, that’s all. Stings a little, but I’ll live.” Landon reached into his pocket and pulled out his keys. “Here, you’re gonna have to drive, bro. I’m not sure I can work the clutch.”
Marek took the keys and draped his arm around his friend’s waist. When he started to protest the help, Marek snapped, “Shut up. Let me help you around the car and we’ll get you to the hospital.”
Protesting all the way, Marek helped Landon into the car and quickly jogged around to the driver side and climbed in. After Marek started the engine the pilot clamped a hand down on Marek’s wrist and kept him from shifting into gear. “I’m not going to the hospital. I told you I’m fine. Some alcohol and a bandage is all I need, really. Take me home or take me to your place. Hell, take me to your mother’s, but don’t take me to the hospital.”
The anger didn’t sway Marek, but the underlying fear did. They gazed at each other for a moment in a silent battle of wills before he gave a terse nod. “Fine, we’ll go back to my place. Let’s pray Carmen is asleep so we don’t have to explain all this to her. I don’t even know what the hell just happened.”
“Neither do I, man, but I have my suspicions.” Landon said between gritted teeth.
Marek flipped the pick-up around and sped toward the main road. Stopping abruptly at the stop sign, he floored it and whipped out into the light traffic and headed for home.
“Oui, I have my suspicions too. How bad is your leg?”
“It’s fine, I told you. I don’t think you should say anything to Carmen until you have more facts. No need to worry her until you know exactly what you’re dealing with.”
He glanced at his friend’s pinched face. Landon was right. “Agreed. When we get to my place we’ll fix your leg up. You’ll sleep in the spare room. Tomorrow if you’re up to it I want to fly down to St. Kitts and see if my suspicions pan out.”
Landon scoffed and attempted a grin, but it came out lopsided. “I’ve handled much worse than this, bro. I’ll be ready to leave at first light. It’ll take more than some prick with a gun to stop me.”
Speeding down the narrow dark road, he slowed when he came to his drive and whipped the Ranger between the stone posts. Landon muttered when he noticed they missed the stone fence by mere inches, “Dude, watch the paint job,” the pilot grumbled and then added, “What are you going to do after w
e patch up my leg?”
Marek snorted, “Not what I’d like to, that’s for damn sure. Actually, I’ve got to catch up on some paperwork. Since Carm came crashing into my life I haven’t done shit. I’ve been consumed with her and nothing else. I need to spend a few hours working if I want to keep Blue Mist running smooth.”
“It’s funny how a woman can so quickly overwhelm everything else in your life until they are your life, isn’t it bro?”
Fifteen
She still looked like a goddess, even while sound asleep. Marek gazed down at Carm as the first rays of daylight hinted at the sky outside. In the dusky light her pale hair shimmered with threads of silver as it fanned out over the blue pillow. She was sprawled out on her stomach, her head turned toward him and her hand tucked sweetly under her chin.
As he watched her sleep a deep contentment settled in him. He’d hated leaving her this morning—knew she’d be pissed when she discovered him gone. But he knew he had to do this without her. Not only to keep her safe, but because he planned on being gone all day with business, as well.
His Arabica plants were a new hybrid species he’d cultivated and that needed a little babying while they were establishing good root systems. He planned on spending the day working organic fertilizers into the ground and inspecting the new crops. Which meant he’d be down on his hands and knees in the mud half the time. No doubt Carm could handle it—might even enjoy it—but he had other plans for her today.
There was also the fact of the stalker up on Mt. Liamuiga. He planned on taking a stroll into the jungle to see what he could find, and he knew she didn’t have the right clothes for that since all over hers had been destroyed. No, she’d been through more than enough the past few days and deserved a day of rest and relaxation. A day of sleeping late and sunbathing by his pool.
Hoping to put that plan into action and distract her from his absence, Marek tiptoed barefoot silently across the cool wood boards to the other side of the bed. Bending over slowly, he eased the load in his arms onto the empty pillow. Taking a moment to arrange the articles to his satisfaction, Marek jerked his head up when he heard her murmur.
She had rolled her head toward him and rested it on her bare arm. She still had her eyes closed and Marek realized she was mumbling in her sleep. Tenderness for her swept over him, squeezing his heart and lifting his lips in a soft smile.
Shaking out of his trance, he double-checked the arrangement and crept around the bed back toward the open door. He’d spent a lot of time thinking about her last night while he’d caught up on the company finances and expenditures. He’d concluded in the early hours of the morning that one of the things Carmen wanted most was security. Security in the form of knowledge about her partner. Everything from his favorite color to his worst fear. She needed to be confident in her choice of mate and know what skeletons hid in his closet.
He wasn’t as concerned with semantics—he didn’t need to know who her best friend was in high school to know he wanted to be with her. But, he knew she did, and in an attempt to meet her halfway he’d spent an hour composing a letter for her to read and compiled a collection of relevant facts and whatnot about his life growing up.
It was done as a means to an end. He needed Carm, wanted her to know he was more than willing to try to meet her needs and understand her. He knew she was intelligent enough to see it for what it was and fervently hoped it would give her more confidence in them—in the fact that she’d made the right choice in him.
Marek’s feet stopped of their own volition by her side of the bed. Like a magnet he’d been pulled to her without being aware. Chiding himself mentally for his lack of self-control where she was concerned, he leaned down. He couldn’t help but brush the tangle of glossy strands back from her face to expose the exquisite skin of her neck. Lowering his head, he placed a light kiss just below her ear and grinned foolishly when she mumbled in her sleep and arched her neck for more. He tried to leave then but couldn’t until he’d given her one last kiss.
Shaking his head over his pathetic behavior, Marek slipped out of the room and headed down the hall. No doubt Landon was waiting in the kitchen downing a pot of coffee and ibuprofen and would be impatient to get going.
Since he had no wish to be dragging wet hair out of his eyes all day up in his fields from the rain that would undoubtedly fall, he’d pulled his springy curls back with a black sport band. He refused to call it a headband—to bloody feminine—and the stretchy cotton wrapped all the way around his head. When a person had unruly hair like he did that sprung up in a halo of tight curls when dry and fell almost to his mouth over his face when wet, they had to do something.
Hell, it was just practical, Marek growled to himself. He was secure enough in his masculinity he didn’t give a flying fuck what anyone thought. But he swore if Landon so much as cracked a smile he’d end up with a bloody lip to go with his injured thigh.
Marek swung into his kitchen as dawn crept steadily along the horizon outside the open windows. A soft, warm, fragrant breeze stirred the air and he watched the silhouette of palm and banana trees sway gently. The quiet rustling of leaves sounded soothing to his ears. Inhaling in appreciation, enjoying the familiar heady aromas, Marek nodded to his friend stretched out in a chair at the farm style table.
The frayed ends of his worn jeans caught under his foot and Marek muttered an oath. Reaching for the socks and rugged work boots he’d set by the door when he’d come in earlier to make coffee, he bent over and quickly pulled them on.
Straightening again, he paused to pull down his favorite old t-shirt. The paper thin cotton had once been deep blue but had faded over time to a heathery pale shade. It had shrunk a bit too, and now fit snug over his defined chest and arms. Marek knew he should probably throw the thing away but didn’t have the heart. He’d wear it till it fell apart.
Making his way over to the state-of-the-art coffee machine, he growled when saw Landon smirk out of the corner of his eye. “Don’t you dare say a word.”
He saw the pilot struggle to hide a smile before replying, “What? I didn’t say a word, bro. I like the look. In fact, I think it accentuates your eyes and shows off your bone structure.”
This coming from a white man with dreadlocks. Go figure.
“You’re an ass, Landon, you know that white boy?”
Landon raised his coffee mug in salute and grinned. “It’s another part of my charm.”
The two men grinned at each other in a moment of male bonding through good natured ribbing. Landon had become a brother to Marek, by heart if not by blood. It was the only reason he let him get away with the smart-ass remarks. Well that, and for a beach bum, Landon was a wiry bastard. He had the size and skill to take him but not without a struggle. And they needed to get going.
“Down your cup, man, and let’s go. We’ll take your truck and I’ll drive. I want to leave my jeep for Carm in case she wants to go into town for anything.”
“Do you think that’s wise after what happened last night?”
Marek down his coffee, scalded his tongue and swore, “Merde. I hate when I do that. To answer your question, I think she’ll be fine. Right now they’re focused on me and they have no idea that I’m on to them and who they are. They’re still in the petty-ass threat stage.”
Landon set his cup down with a thud and stood up. “Let’s get to it then. Time’s wastin’ and I’ve got that date tonight. I plan to get laid so it’d be a shame to be late and give her the impression I don’t care about her.”
Marek snorted as he made his way toward the front door. “You don’t care, man. Do you even remember her name?”
When silence greeted him, followed by a muttered, “Hell, what is her name?” Marek tossed back his head and laughed. Only Landon would get away with something like that. And the hell of it was he probably would get laid, without ever having to remember her name.
Carm stared at the pile on the bed as she gazed at the note Marek had left her and rotated the rainbow col
ored plumeria flower between her fingers. The lush scent filled the entire room. She admired the velvety petals of various shades of pink, orange and yellow, and stroked one long, smooth petal with her fingertip. It had gone unnoticed when she’d first woke up but she’d spotted it and the other objects as soon as she’d come back from taking a shower. She stood there staring at the pile, wrinkling her brow in confusion. Annoyance at being left alone warred with the girlish, giddy joy of discovering a flower on her pillow.
At first she’d been ticked when she’d found out Marek was gone and had disappeared somewhere. She had discovered that fact by plodding down to the kitchen for her ritual morning coffee only to discover the room empty. She’d searched the whole house and come up empty. He was gone.
He had come home last night, she was sure of it. Soul searching had kept her awake for hours after he’d left, and she had still been up when she’d heard the front door open and Landon and Marek arguing. Flipping off the lights and diving into bed, she’d clutched the sheets to her chin and waited for him to open her door. When he hadn’t she’d sighed with relief and quickly fell asleep.
All the mental ping pong had worn her out. Hours after debating her situation, after berating herself and then reassuring, Carm had come to a few conclusions.
The first one being the most obvious: she wanted Marek Stokes in her bed. It was a first for her on many levels. He was the first man who’d made her feel so aroused, the first man to tug at her heartstrings, and the first man to bed her. He also happened to be her first husband—chosen by her or not.
The second fact she’d concluded was that it obviously didn’t matter how much or how little she knew about him, her heart strings were tugging away. They were pulling at her emotions and it was only a matter of time before she fell flat on her face in love.