by Rebecca York
“We could have headed right out of town.”
The conversation was interrupted when Zane got a call that the new rental car had arrived.
“Our ride’s here. You stay put until we’re ready to roll.”
Chapter Ten
Zane grabbed their suitcase and his equipment case and stepped into the hall where he put the “Do Not Disturb” sign on the door. Once it closed behind him, he took several deep breaths. If you’d asked him what kind of mate he wanted, he would have chosen a woman who didn’t challenge every damn decision he made. In the next moment, he shook his head, silently admitting that he’d be lying to himself. He liked Francesca’s assertiveness. He’d like it better if he didn’t worry it was going to get her killed.
On the ground floor, he signed the contract for the new rental, a silver Chevy that looked nothing like their previous ride.
Once he’d finished the transactions, he called Francesca on the house phone and asked her to meet him at the registration desk.
“I’m sorry you could only spend one night with us,” the pretty blond clerk said.
“Yes. Next time we’ll stay longer.” He turned to Francesca. “Won’t we dear?”
“I hope so,” she answered, keeping up the happily married couple act.
Once in the Chevy, they headed south, toward Marco Island, with Zane looking frequently in the rearview mirror to make sure they weren’t being followed.
“Have you ever lived on a boat?” he asked, as they turned onto the coast road, then took Route 41 south.
“No, have you?”
“Once, when we were staking out some guys who were smuggling drugs into the country. They were coming in to a particular marina, and I rented a boat near their slip so I could watch their comings and goings.”
“Why weren’t the cops handling the operation?” she asked.
“Because the owner of the marina had been in trouble with the law earlier, and he didn’t want the authorities involved. Plus he didn’t want to be blamed for the smuggling operation. He just wanted the lowlifes out of there.”
“They’d just set up shop somewhere else.”
“Yeah, but we agreed to keep tabs on where they were going and turn the case over to the local PD once our marina guy was out of the picture.”
“Clever.”
He debated telling her more stories that would keep her mind off their current circumstances. Instead, he decided it was better to get as much information from her as he could.
“Have you told me everything you know about your uncle?” he asked.
###
Francesca stifled the feeling that she was about to be interrogated. She had told him what she knew. Now she struggled to keep Zane’s question from ruffling her.
“Like I said, I don’t know much. I never did know much. He was just my dad’s brother who used to get together with us on holidays.”
“You only saw him at Christmas and Easter?”
“That was just a kind of shorthand answer. He was around at other times.”
“For meals, or did he have business with your dad?”
“Maybe for business. When he came over, my mother would invite him to eat with us. When we cut off all communication with the people we’d known, he disappeared from our lives like everyone else.”
“Was he married?” Zane asked.
That stopped her. “Good question. He used to bring a woman he called Aunt Marjory with him, sometimes. I don’t know if they were married or what happened to her.”
“I’d like to get a line on her. I suppose her name’s not Marjory Lucci, although it could be.”
“She might not have been his wife, but she was defiantly—intimate with him.”
His head snapped toward her. “You were eight. How did you know?”
“She used to kiss him and sit on his lap.”
He laughed. “I guess that’s pretty up-front.”
She shot Zane a sidewise look. “Or maybe she was staking a claim on him. Either way, my mom didn’t approve of public displays of affection.”
He was quiet for a while, probably trying to decide if there was some way to find out about the mistress.
“What town did you live in before you joined the program?” he asked.
“Morristown, New Jersey.”
“We should see if there’s any record of your uncle there. Or nearby.”
“It would be old.”
“Yeah, he’s been in Florida for at least fifteen years.”
“How do you know?”
“Tax records.”
When Zane was quiet again for several minutes, she asked, “Where are we going—exactly?”
“There’s a lot of recreational boating down here—with a ton of marinas on the rivers that flow into the Gulf. I figure we shouldn’t pick the classiest place. We’re going to Cypress Creek. It’s not a dump, but it’s below average in big-ticket amenities. No pool or gym, for example, and no playground.”
She hadn’t thought about the Florida boating culture. “They have stuff like that at a marina?”
“Apparently. Some even have pool tables and upscale restaurants. Cypress Creek is smaller. It’s not a place where we’re going to have a lot of neighbors.”
“But they do have short-term boat rentals?”
“We’re renting from a private owner. He makes his boat, the Lady Slipper, available to vacationers when he’s not in the area.”
They arrived at the property about twenty minutes later, and she watched Zane carefully checking the surroundings, impressed with his attention to detail. Really, she should stop protesting his precaution. Of course, if she did that, she’d have to admit she was still in imminent danger.
She shuddered.
“What?”
“I just flashed back on the car chase yesterday,” she conceded.
He unbuckled his seat belt, pulled her to him, and cradled her in his arms. “We’ll get through this.”
It was tempting to let the moment stretch. Feeling his arms around her had given her a sense of security from that first time on the beach. Instead, she straightened and studied the marina. It looked to have around thirty slips with about two-thirds of them occupied.
Shifting away from the water, she saw well-kept tropical plantings around the office, not as luxurious as what her uncle had, but nice.
Next door to the office was a Laundromat and a convenience store. It looked like an okay place, but she caught a doubtful expression on Zane’s face.
“What?”
“When I checked out pictures of this outfit. I expected fewer boats—fewer people.”
“Is that a problem?”
“I hope not.” He sighed. “But it’s probably better if you’re seen as little as possible. Why don’t you wait in the car while I register?”
“Okay.”
As Zane headed for the office, she slouched down in her seat. When he came back, he was holding the rental agreement and a list of rules.
“The Lady Slipper is down there.” He pointed to a short wooden dock where several boats were moored.
After grabbing their luggage from the trunk, Zane led her toward their craft. Although she didn’t know a lot about boats, she could see that this one was a classic design, maybe twenty or thirty years old, but it seemed to be well maintained, with fresh varnish on the exposed wood.
“There’s a smaller boat on the back,” she commented as they inspected their new home.
“Yes, a dinghy, on the swim platform.”
“Give me a moment.” He switched on the power connection to the marina’s system then helped her onto the back deck where there was bench seating along the rails and a couple of patio chairs. The surface swayed slightly as their weight tipped the craft to the side.
She stood for a moment, trying to get used to the gentle swaying before stepping into the main cabin.
Apparently the small space functioned as a living room, dining room, galley combination. The couches and eating area were all built
in. The upholstery was faded but clean. After giving the seating section a quick inspection, she crossed to the galley, taking note of the small fridge and the two-burner stove, which she assumed ran on propane. Next she checked for pots and pans, utensils and finally provisions.
“The cooking equipment’s okay, but there’s almost nothing here to eat, unless you’re into peanut butter and jelly.”
He wrinkled his nose.
Taking in his reaction, she said, “We’ll have to get supplies.”
“Or I can bring in burgers.”
She countered with, “We passed a small shopping center a little way down the road. We can get groceries.”
After inspecting the common areas, they descended to a lower level with two small cabins, on either side of the hall, each with a curtain instead of a door. Pulling aside one curtain, she stared at a bunk with storage drawers underneath and a shelf above with a little railing along the edge to prevent things from falling off when the boat was moving.
“Which room do you want?” Zane asked.
She gave him a considering look. “If I need to have my own room, you pick one, I’ll take the other,” she answered, knowing she sounded surly.
“I’m trying to keep you safe,” he snapped.
She felt things going downhill again as she asked, “How does keeping your distance make me safe?”
“It focuses my attention where it should be.”
She dragged in a breath and let it out. “Have it your way.”
“Do you think I don’t want to make love to you right now?” he shot back.
“Do you?” She lowered her gaze to the front of his pants.
She could see with that look, she might as well have closed her hand around his cock. Keeping his palms at his sides, he said, “You know damn well I do. But first, I want to be sure the men who killed your uncle don’t kill you. Do you want to be making love a couple of seconds before you get shot?”
The comment landed like a thud against her chest, and she staggered back.
Seeing her reaction, he closed the space between them and pulled her against himself. As they stood swaying in the narrow passageway, he murmured, “I’m sorry. I think we’re both on edge.”
“Uh huh.” Lowering her head to his shoulder, she held on to him, hating to feel needy, but at the same time thankful for his embrace. It flashed through her mind that she could push him now, literally push him against the paneled wall and plaster herself to him. But she wasn’t going to pull any tricks.
“I know you’re trying to do your job,” she whispered.
“If it were just a job, it would be a lot easier.”
“Yes. It’s frustrating to hear you’ve ‘bonded’ with a guy but have to keep your distance.”
“You know I feel the same way. Just think how good it’s going to be when we make love again.”
The words were like a jolt of arousal, but she kept it under control.”
They clung together in the companionway, swaying slightly as the craft caught the wake from a speedboat coming in to dock.
Telling herself she was being stupid to keep testing his resolve, Francesca pushed away and headed back upstairs to the main room. Opening the fridge, she was glad to find bottles of water. When she heard Zane behind her, she opened a bottle for each of them, and they took a seat at the dining table.
“Now what?” she asked.
“I’m going to check out the helm.”
“Why?”
“Just to make sure everything’s in working order.”
“Are we going to leave the marina?”
“Probably not. But I want to be ready if we have to.”
She might have asked for clarification but decided to leave the topic alone. He spent several minutes in the captain’s chair, checking instruments before starting the engine.
“Does it have fuel?” she asked.
“Maybe three quarters of a tank.”
He’d just stepped back to the table when she heard heavy footsteps coming along the wooden deck.
Zane whipped out his concealed pistol so fast that she wasn’t sure what she was seeing. He pushed her down on the seat cushion, moved the curtain a fraction, and sat with the weapon trained toward the sound of the approaching steps. Her pulse was pounding as she glanced from the window to Zane and back again. He looked like he was braced for an invasion. But the steps didn’t slow and whoever was out there on the dock kept on walking past.
As the sound receded, Zane moved a window curtain farther aside and peered out. “It looks like a guy going to one of the boats at the end of the dock,” he said. “But stay down and let me make sure.”
He held the gun beside his leg and strode through the door onto the deck. She watched him gazing down the dock. He didn’t return for several moments, and she waited with her breath frozen in her lungs.
When he finally stepped back inside, she asked, “Well?” hearing her high, thin voice.
“If he’s one of the bad guys, he would have had to be already installed on that boat.”
She let out the breath she’d been holding, then glanced at Zane. He’d been gruff with her, but she hadn’t realized he was on a knife edge of tension. And she hadn’t helped any.
When he sat back down, he left the gun on the table.
She reached to cover his hand with hers. “Sorry.”
“For what?”
“I’ve been acting like a bitch.”
“Of course not. You’re under a lot of stress.”
“Is that an excuse?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I’ve been in a ton of dangerous situations. You haven’t. You were just trying to do something good for your father, and you walked into a mess. A murder and then a guy you’d never met before telling you the two of you were meant for each other. It’s a lot to deal with, and I wish I hadn’t contributed to the situation.”
“Well, it’s a mixed blessing. I know I can rely on you—totally.”
“You can. Always.”
For long moments, neither of them spoke. There was so much more she wanted to say to him, but she knew it would have to wait.
Finally she said, “Maybe we were safer at the Ritz-Carlton.”
“No, I’d be jumpy there, too. Like every time a maid knocked on the door or someone came in to check the minibar.
He got up and walked around the cabin, closing all the curtains.
“I’m tired of feeling like I have a target on my back,” she said.
“Yeah. Like I said to Teddy, I’d be happier if this boat were a cabin in the woods, but that has its disadvantages, too.
“You said you didn’t want to just hide out. What’s the plan?”
He sighed. “I’d like to get some information from the cops.”
“But from the sound of your voice, you think that’s too problematic.”
“Well, if you said you were the niece of the guy whose house burned down and wanted information, you’d run into problems. You don’t want to tell them you were in there and heard guys beating up your uncle, then murdering him. And you don’t have any identification. For all they know, you could have read about a rich guy’s house getting burned down and now you’re working some angle.”
“Right,” she answered. The conversation was driving home how hard it was for him to investigate her uncle’s murder. “But I’m being a pain in the ass,” she said.
“No.”
“Not even if I want to go to that bar with you?”
To her relief instead of forbidding her to get involved, he said, “Well—we need to set up some ground rules.”
Chapter Eleven
Zane kept his gaze on Francesca.
“Okay.”
That word of agreement was like ten-pound weights being lifted off his shoulders. She’d been chafing at the precautions he’d insisted on since the escape from the thugs, but the man walking down the dock had served a good purpose. She seemed to have finally gotten the idea
that he wasn’t laying down edicts to torture both of them.
“What do you want me to do?”
He laughed, the first humor he’d seen in this situation. “Actually, I haven’t decided how to work this. Maybe the first thing you should do is get some rest.”
She nodded. “That makes sense.”
Relieved that she’d agreed, he walked down the companionway. “I’m going to take the room on the dock side, so I can keep an eye on the surroundings.
In his cabin, he closed the curtain, listening as he heard Francesca follow him to the cabins. When he thought she was settled in her bunk, he plugged in his computer to the electrical system on the boat and hooked into the marina’s Wi-Fi. First he got a map showing the location of The Tin Man bar and found it was a block away from Tin City. When he opened the Web site he found several pictures.
Like its namesake, the building had corrugated tin walls. The bar itself was located along one of the long interior walls with the lower portion also built of tin. The top was a long piece of native cypress. Industrial light fixtures hung from the ceiling. Additional decor consisted of neon signs advertising various brands of beer. There were no windows. The place did not serve meals, only a variety of cheap snacks.
The tables were unattractive brown plastic with chairs that mostly matched.
What Zane liked best was the large parking lot in front and around the right side. Hopefully, he and Francesca could get a space away from the door but close enough to watch who was coming in and out.
Around six, he checked his weapon and put his windbreaker back on. Of course Florida was an open carry state, but he preferred not to be provocative.
Francesca was lying on her bed. When she looked up at him, he had to stifle the impulse to join her on the horizontal surface.
“I was afraid you were going to leave me here,” she murmured.
“I said I’d take you.”
“I know . . . but.”
He eased onto the side of the bed and reached for her hand. Keeping his voice even he said, “I will never lie to you.”
“Thank you.”
After a long moment, he asked, “And you?”
She swallowed and was silent for several seconds. Finally she said, “I don’t want to, but if it would save your life, I would.”