by Shady Grace
Lives were at stake, and Sammy Hayes would be the one to save them all. He wouldn’t let them down, and he wouldn’t let Auntie Rose down either, no matter if he took his last breath seeing it to the end.
It worried Sam how this woman managed to get all of this information without getting caught. Someone must have given it to her, but who? Everyone had been paid off or snuffed out. Nothing else made any sense. Even when the boys had a brief fling with a woman in the past, she was never told any details about the business.
But then there was the little matter of discovering last year that Colton’s second wife, Wanda—or Daniella, as they had learned later on—the eldest daughter of Antonio Montesano, had known a great deal about the business. Colton had allowed her to be a part of his meetings, and she even made some business decisions for him while he was away. When Colton became suspicious of her, he’d called upon Sam to be a pawn—to get close to her by any means necessary—and make her trust him. But sometimes getting close to the other sex leads to uncontrollable feelings. Sam didn’t want to like Wanda, and he sure as hell didn’t want to grow fond of her, yet he did. She’d twisted his mind and heart into believing that he had meant something to her, and in the end, she tried to have him killed anyway.
If Sam hadn’t have accepted that role, and seen it to the end, they all could’ve been killed.
Perhaps Wanda wanted revenge for Terry sending her back to her controlling father. She knew enough to cause hell for all of them, but Sam didn’t think she was that stupid to seek revenge on something she knew she deserved. They could’ve killed her, but they didn’t, and now that her father was in control of the syndicate, he’d make damn sure she didn’t cause trouble. Still, Sam would keep his eyes peeled in case he saw her. If she showed up here, then he knew it had be her.
Whatever the case may be, Sam knew what must be done. Once the woman met Gabe and the exchange was made, Sam would follow her to make sure she was in this alone, and then kill her. That was the arrangement only the boys knew about. It was the only way to keep them all safe.
He checked his watch. Gabe should be arriving any minute at his hotel a few blocks over. They would meet briefly to get the details hashed out, then go on their merry way until Gabe made the exchange. Sam would finish the job on his own.
From his position on the rooftop terrace, he took in the bustling view of the pedestrian street below. There were fewer tourists this time of year during hurricane season, but that still didn’t stop many who did dare venture at this time. Locals filled the streets on their day-to-day errands. The blistering sun shone like a beacon in the sky, yet it barely illuminated the narrow streets that weaved between clusters of old buildings.
So far there had been no signs of a storm brewing, and with a beautiful day like this, everyone was out and about.
Stunning architecture surrounded him. Rooftop terraces spanned as far as he could see. Flowering vines in every color climbed crumbling walls. The Malecón, the seaside avenue that runs along the seawall at Havana Port, was a five-minute walk away, yet from here he could see the stunning ocean clearly.
He loved it here. Loved this hotel especially. Sam wasn’t sure exactly why he loved Havana—even though he barely got to enjoy it—there was something about the diverse culture that made him feel at home. He could be invisible here, but he’d also made a few friends.
Behind him a family of five chatted over dinner. A few tables away a young couple shared drinks, oblivious to everyone else around them. A table of rowdy men boasted over their adventures from the night before, into their cups again, all while a small group of servers stood by to be called upon.
It was his job to know what was around him. What details meant life or death. It was during his recon of the place when he noticed her.
She sat at the bar with her back to him, her blond hair in a messy twist atop her head. A few loose strands trickled down her neck and over her bare upper back. It made him think of water curving around pebbles in a creek bed. Sam gave her a thorough once-over, taking in the curvy frame donned in a breezy white summer dress. He noted a purple tattoo on the back of her tanned left shoulder—some type of flower, he imagined—but couldn’t make out the whole of it beneath the strap of her dress. His gaze traveled down, all the way to her small feet clad in sandals, one hooked over the bottom cross bar of her stool, one lying on the terrace floor beneath her. For a moment he thought of going over and striking up a conversation, maybe handing her the lost sandal, but thought better of it. She was probably waiting for her husband, or maybe a secret lover. Havana had to be the capitol of great love affairs.
He turned back to his view of the street and pushed the woman from his mind. He had work to do. There was no time for fun with ten million at stake. Besides, women were everywhere on these narrow streets. She was just one of thousands in every shape and color to look at. Tomorrow when his job was done, only then could he have a night of fun before he had to leave.
“Would you care for another drink, sir?”
Sam glanced over his shoulder and smiled at the server. “I’m fine, thank you.”
As the young man turned away, Sam’s gaze fixed on the lone woman again as she got off the stool and squatted down to pick up her sandal. He stared, tapped like metal to a magnet, as she slipped the dainty sandal onto her tiny foot. From his stance less than fifteen feet away, he noted she had the kind of cute feet that made a man want to kiss them…then work his way up, right to the heart of the matter.
And then she turned around.
Holy fuck. Sam quickly spun around and sucked in a sharp breath.
The housekeeper. Sharp Ridge Lodge. What the hell?
Sam’s heart pounded as he tried to lean casually against the railing and not catch her attention. She must not have seen him yet, which was a good thing, because he wouldn’t know what to say. He’d never been tongue-tied before in his life. Ever.
That night on the dock rushed through his mind. How her soft, smooth voice washed over him like a sweet cocktail. How her warm lips crushed against his for a kiss that rocked him to the core. He was startled how her presence affected him. He was even more affected that she was here at this precise time.
“Thank you so much. What a wonderful place,” he heard her say to the bartender. A vision of Wanda came to mind. How she’d lured him into a whirlwind of sex and chaos—even though it was his job to get close to her—only to be betrayed by the wicked witch in the end. Maybe they were all the same.
Sam wondered if Jamie was staying here or if she had stumbled upon this quaint terrace bar by chance. Or did she know who he was and followed him here? Anything could be possible when it came to females.
What were the odds that the strange woman he had kissed under the stars in Northern Canada was the same woman in his hotel, in Cuba?
He counted sixty seconds in his head and discreetly glanced over his shoulder. She had already disappeared inside toward the interior stairwell. He took another drag of his smoke, put it out in a nearby ashtray, and followed her.
As the woman who had tormented his dreams this past week exited the hotel and weaved through the narrow streets, Sam kept his distance but never let her out of his sight. When she stopped at a bookshop, he paused a short distance away and blended in with the ever-present crowd. When she was offered a taxi, he stopped to stare into a shop window.
Naturally suspicious, Sam concluded that this Jamie broad, a so-called housekeeper at a wilderness lodge, could very well be the woman he was after. This was way too much of a coincidence that she was here, right now, at the same time as Sam during a ten-million-dollar blackmail. With his curiosity and his instinct piqued, he continued to follow her every move, even several hours later when she returned to her hotel room. As much as he’d like to relax over a few drinks, his work was never really done.
Once she ascended the stairs to the upper floors, he immediately went to the front desk. The cute young lady smiled as he leaned onto the c
ounter and fixed her with a grin that would make the lips in her panties flutter. “Good evening. That scarf matches your eyes perfectly. Is it silk?”
She blushed and cleared her throat nervously. “Yes, thank you.”
He made a show of glancing at the stairs and chuckled. “See that blonde that just walked away from me?” At her nod, he continued. “I’m afraid she’s upset with me on our first date, and left with the only key to our room. Would you be so kind and give me a second one? I’d hate to have to rent another room when I plan to make it up to her. Apologizing can be fun and very rewarding.”
Her knowing smile was all he needed to see. He had her hooked. “Of course, sir.”
“Jamie is her name, although I’m afraid we haven’t gotten major details sorted out yet…if you know what I mean.”
She tapped away at the keyboard. “Ah, yes, here she is. Jamie Fields of room 312.” She slipped a key card through the machine, punched in the room number, and handed it to him. “There you go, sir. Have a wonderful night making it up to her.”
Sam accepted the card with a smile, winked, and walked around the corner out of her view, and left through a side door. He had some surveillance to do first.
The sun was beginning to set as Sam settled into a small niche on the rooftop of the building directly across from the hotel. He withdrew his binoculars and retrieved his cell from his pocket to dial Gabe. Sweat beaded down the back of his neck.
A raspy voice answered on the second ring. “Hey, shitstick,” Gabe said with all seriousness.
“Fucktard.” Sam chuckled. “I have some interesting news. Care for a look-see with your favorite brother?” He gave precise directions and waited for Gabe to arrive as the housekeeper settled into her room.
A short while later he shifted from one cheek to the other to get the feeling back in his ass as he continued with his surveillance. The nightlife had just begun on day one of the mission.
Miss Jamie Fields of room 312 had just stepped out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her body and another twisted around her hair. Years of experience taught Sam not to get worked up over a half-naked woman—especially one with secrets. Secrets that could ruin them all.
Maybe Jamie wasn’t even her real name, which would be expected for a liar. Hell, Sam had to use fake names quite often to preserve his identity and his life, as he had used Jack Daniels during his vacation at Sharp Ridge Lodge.
“There you are, you skinny prick.” Sam looked up as Gabe crested the narrow stone staircase leading to the rooftop, and walked toward him, his face and his body language expressing complete boredom. “What’s so exciting you want me to meet you on a private rooftop? Did you suddenly switch sides?”
Sam glanced up at Gabe and gave him a saucy wink. He laughed under his breath over his brother’s unsettled expression. “I wouldn’t switch for you, believe me.” He handed Gabe his binoculars and moved to the side of the niche. “Third floor, fourth window to your right. Tell me what you see.”
After a minute of surveillance, Gabe glanced at Sam and raised a brow. “We’ve resorted to spying on naked women now?”
“What?” Sam ripped the binocs from Gabe’s hand and stared hard at the view.
Through the billowing sheer curtains he noted every detail as she stood there completely naked in the middle of the room. Jesus Christ. It wasn’t his motto to watch a woman in a vulnerable state when she wasn’t aware, but something made him stare at her as if it was his mission in life. He watched everything, from how she lifted one foot onto the mattress and massaged some type of lotion onto her shapely leg. He swallowed. Each deft stroke seemed to reach right into his pants and grip him hard. As she finished the other leg and proceeded to rub the lotion in other delicate areas, he decided that he missed the company of a woman. If he were to be honest with himself, he’d admit he wouldn’t mind her company.
Her breasts were large and her hips curvy. He liked that she a little extra meat on her bones. To him that was a real woman. Nobody wants to cuddle with a stick after all. Minutes passed as he watched in rapt fascination, appreciating every little detail, yet tortured by her natural beauty.
“You do realize I’m married now, right?”
He nearly jumped, having forgotten Gabe was beside him. “Yeah.”
The look in Gabe’s eyes should be directed at a child—not at a grown-ass man who could kill him up close and personal, or at a distance. “Don’t tell me you picked up this broad and now you need my approval?”
“Nope.”
“Then why am I here? I’d rather be on the phone with my wife then on a rooftop staring at a naked woman like some desperate, virgin brat.”
Sam lowered the binocs and glared at him. “I’m not a virgin and I’m definitely not desperate. Brat, well….”
Gabe stared at him in disbelief then shook his head. “You’re fucked.”
“Not yet. Although I wouldn’t mind—”
“Shut up and be serious.”
He sighed and cut the comedy act. “I met her a week ago at a resort in Northern Ontario. Now she’s here. Doesn’t that seem a little coincidental to you?”
Gabe’s expression turned hard. He grabbed the binocs back and stared at the room again. “You think it could be her? I’ve never seen her before in my life, and I don’t see a briefcase in the room, or anything else that makes her look like anything but a tourist. Could be a coincidence.”
“I’m not taking any chances.”
After a moment of recon, Gabe handed the binocs back. “So what’s the plan?”
“Tuesday evening you’re going to meet the woman at that outdoor café I told you about. She’ll be wearing a red dress, carrying a black briefcase, and a book about crocheting.”
“Really? Crocheting? Your aunt really did a number on you, didn’t she?”
He shrugged. “I thought it would be a nice touch. Anyway, if something changes, then I’ll call you.” Sam shooed him away. “Go call your wife now, you prick. I’ll see you later.”
Gabe slugged him in the shoulder. Sam grimaced and rubbed the sore spot, glaring at Gabe’s back as he walked toward the stairs. “By the way, you look ridiculous. Miami Vice called, they want their suit back.” Gabe’s chuckle faded as he disappeared down the steps.
As any good man should do on surveillance, Sam kept a keen eye on the woman. It didn’t matter that she was naked, but he adjusted his seat again and cleared his throat, completely uncomfortable with the tightness of his slacks. He tried to focus on her belongings, particularly if she had a briefcase in the room. Vacationers never traveled with briefcases unless they were filled with money—or documents that could ruin lives. But Gabe was right, he didn’t see anything suspicious. If she was simply a business woman, which he knew she wasn’t, then she would appear businesslike—not carefree like a random college girl out for a good time. The more he thought about it, the more he wasn’t so sure.
An hour passed as Miss Fields wandered leisurely about her room. She took her time slipping on a light and silky-looking nightgown. Even though he was glad she had covered up, he could clearly see her nipples through the garment. Then she sat on the edge of the bed and brushed her hair for what felt like an eternity.
Sam yawned, becoming bored with the recon and tired from staring through binoculars for so long. He set them down and leaned against the stone wall to take a calming breath and rest his eyes. He didn’t expect to see her today, and he sure as hell didn’t expect to be this troubled by her.
While Gabe and Terry had previously dated bad girls, but fell in love with good ones, Sam had always been attracted to the good girls. He didn’t want anything to do with a woman who didn’t have passion for life and love in her heart, and an honest bone in her body.
He thought that Jamie was one of those good girls when he met her at the lodge. Now he wasn’t so sure. He had no proof that she was the one he was after, but there was only one way to find out….
*
* * *
Day two of the mission and Jamie was in paradise.
A busy car-honking and exhaust-fuming taxi ride took her to Santa Maria, the western side of the ten-kilometer beach at Playa del Este. Clutching her beach bag and wearing a breezy cover over her bikini, she walked out onto the beach and wanted to scream and laugh out loud. The view of the endless white sand and vast ocean was breathtaking. Nothing compares to this.
The air was hot, the breeze balmy, and the sway of the palms a short distance behind created an atmosphere no town back home could offer. In less than twenty-four hours she decided that she didn’t want to go home. Why not complete the mission and just stay here and spend all that money? It was a thought worth considering since she had nothing left to return to anyway, aside from no job prospects and loneliness.
Feeling carefree and exhilarated in this foreign place, she found a spot away from the hustle of the crowd to place her towel on the sand. Next she removed her bikini cover and lounged back in sweet, tropical bliss.
The sound of the waves sloshing against the sandy shore, and the heat of the sun, was more calming than any boat ride at Sharp Ridge Lodge, she had to admit. She shielded her eyes and stared at a family having a picnic close by. A little girl wearing a red-and-white polka dot bathing suit grabbed a handful of sand and whipped it up in the air. She squealed in delight as the sand came back down, pelting her head and shoulders.
Jamie smiled, wishing she could feel free like that little girl.
After an hour of people watching and sunbathing, Jamie drifted off in a heat-induced sleep. Sometime later she woke up with a start as something tapped against her foot. She opened her eyes and was shocked to see that clouds had covered the sun and the wind had whipped several lounging chairs across the beach.
She pushed up on her elbows and looked around. Only a few people remained on the beach, and they were gathering their things and getting ready to head out. Parents yelled after their children. Baskets and towels and chairs were gathered quickly. Waves crashed against the shore, bouncing a few water toys that were left behind.