Molly gave Anders a watery smile and stepped into his arms again. “Thank you for jumping into the water and saving me from drowning.”
Hugging her back, he kissed the top of her head because he was too choked up to speak. Molly was safe and sound, but he was still shaking from the adrenaline rush that had pumped through his veins when he’d spotted her on the boat. Growing up with an abusive father, Anders often hadn’t known where his next meal was gonna come from, if their poor excuse for a home would survive the next tropical storm, or if he was gonna get a whooping for no good reason. It had been absolutely terrifying at times, but none of those dread-filled moments from his childhood compared to how he’d felt when he thought Molly was dead.
And that, more than anything, scared the God-forsaken crap out of him.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Molly was relieved they were able to make it back to the B&B before the worst winds hit the island. The eye made landfall on Eleuthera, a small Bahamian island east of Nassau, before the hurricane made a sharp right turn and headed north, aiming for the Carolina coast. Molly rode out the worst of the storm in bed curled up with Cheyenne, talking about everything that had happened to them since the wedding. Well, almost everything. She didn’t tell Cheyenne about the night she spent with Anders. She didn’t need to know about that. So happy to be able to hold her little girl in her arms again, Molly barely noticed when the power went out and the storm shutters rattled, threatening to tear off their hinges. Eventually, she took a nap and Cheyenne went in search of Mitch. When Molly woke up, the power was back on, and Ms. Vivian had dinner on the table. A simple meal of homemade vegetable soup and fresh crusty bread.
The men sat at opposite ends of the table while Cheyenne sat across from Molly, chattering about the day’s events in an almost manic way. Molly didn’t know what to make of it. When they were alone in the room earlier, Chey had seemed fine. Now she was too animated, too excited, as she recounted once again how Molly had let herself be captured just so she could rescue Cheyenne. That hadn’t been Molly’s plan exactly, but thank God and Jonas Ostergaard, it had all turned out okay in the end.
Anders was quiet through the meal. Molly suspected he was brooding over his brother’s unexpected appearance. Jonas was an odd character. Anders said he was an ex-con, but Molly was having a hard time believing it now that she’d witnessed him in action. He had military training. There was no doubt about it in her mind. Not many people could hit a moving target on a pitching boat in the middle of a hurricane, let alone nail their target square in the head. The memory of it still made her queasy. The bullet had gone in but it hadn’t come out the other side. Wade’s face had gone blank just before he crumpled to the deck like a marionette.
Jonas hadn’t stuck around long after showing himself. He vanished when they left the dock to take temporary shelter in the warehouse.
Mitch wiped his mouth with his napkin and then set it aside. “I think we should high-tail it out of Nassau as soon as it’s safe to fly just in case Wade’s body turns up and the police launch a manhunt for his killer.”
Somehow, Molly didn’t think Jonas would let that happen. He seemed too professional. Too efficient. He’d probably already erased any evidence of Wade’s death.
She was more than ready to go home, but there was one thing that still bothered her. “Wade was talking to someone on the phone in Jamaica. How do we know the person he was talking to won’t come after Cheyenne?”
Mitch and Anders shared an inscrutable look. Then Anders glanced down at his soup. “We don’t.”
Leaning back in his chair, Mitch shook his head. “I doubt she’s in any more danger. With Wade dead, there’s no one to prosecute.”
What he said made sense, but Molly wished she could know for certain it was over.
“I’ll be okay, Ma.” Cheyenne stood from the table and picked up her empty bowl of soup. “Mitch suggested I take some self-defense courses when we get home, so next time I’ll be ready. He also recommended a fascinating book about Navy SEAL mental toughness. I’ve already started reading it.”
Next time? Molly’s nerves couldn’t take another escapade like this.
“It’s mind over matter, little McB. Mind over matter.” Mitch held out his fist.
Cheyenne steadied her bowl in her right hand so she could bump his fist with her left. They finished with an exploding hand thing.
Bemused, Molly watched her daughter practically skip from the room. “Should I be worried about that?”
Chuckling, Mitch leaned forward on his elbows. “Nah. What you got there is an adrenaline junkie.”
“A what?”
“The kid reminds me a lot of myself at her age. Too curious about the world. Too smart for her own good. And too eager for a challenge that’s really going to test her mettle. It’s why I became a Navy SEAL. It’s also why I hunt treasure. She got her first taste of adventure and now she’s never gonna quit.”
If Mitch was right about Cheyenne then Molly supposed it was better than the alternative. A teenager who withdrew farther into her shell, scarred for life over being kidnapped and almost killed by a psychopath.
Anders pushed his seat back and stood.
“Where are you going?”
He looked at her as if surprised she’d spoken to him. “The kitchen?”
Heat crept up Molly’s face. “I thought we were gonna discuss when we’re heading home.”
Picking up his empty bowl and a half-drank bottle of beer, he said, “I’ve already looked into getting out of here tonight, but Key West International is backed up with flights because of the storm. We can fly into Miami though. I reckon it might be easier to slide through customs in a bigger airport.”
“That’s fine by me. I’m tired after the day we had, but I’ll sleep better tonight knowing I’m back on American soil.”
Mitch nodded. “I have a stop I need to make before I head back to the States.” He smoothed his handlebar mustache. “Can I meet up with you in Miami tomorrow morning?”
“Sure.” Molly reached for her glass of iced tea. “Are you coming back to Key West with us?”
“Nah, I have a business meeting I need to get to, but I wanted to give something to Cheyenne before I disappear for a little while.”
“Whatever it is, I’m sure she’ll love it. Thank you for being so kind to her, Mitch.”
“She’s a good kid.”
Anders was still standing beside the table. “Anything else?”
“No, that’s it.” Molly sipped her iced tea and gazed at him over the rim of her glass.
He shrugged. “There you go then.”
As she surreptitiously watched him head for the kitchen, the soup she’d eaten congealed into a glob of goo in her stomach.
This wasn’t just about Jonas. Something else was wrong. Anders was shutting down. Withdrawing from the easy camaraderie that they’d developed over the past few days. He’d said they were friends. Maybe more. He said he cared for her. Had he been lying? No, she hadn’t thought so at the time and still didn’t.
It had been an incredibly stressful day for all of them and it still wasn’t over. Maybe after they got back to Key West and had a good night’s rest, things would be back to normal.
Whatever normal was.
The sensation that Molly’s adventure was over grew with every passing minute they were in the air. The evening flight from Nassau to Miami was quiet and uneventful. Cheyenne was absorbed in the book Mitch had given her, and Molly kept to small talk because Anders wouldn’t have it any other way. He barely made eye contact with her. It was frustrating and a little heartbreaking but there was nothing she could do about it. She couldn’t shake the feeling she was being propelled toward an ending she wasn’t ready to face.
The benefit to traveling with a famous celebrity on a private plane was that the customs officer didn’t look too closely at their passports. Molly didn’t know if that was a good thing or a scary thing, but she was glad to be back on American soil.
When Anders booked them a pair of rooms in a nice beachfront hotel, she wasn’t thrilled about taking yet another handout from him, but she didn’t have much of a choice. They were all too exhausted to continue on to Key West.
Molly woke early, refreshed from a good night’s sleep and eager to get back home. A part of her was also eager to speak with Anders again. She was certain they could work out whatever was bothering him because that was what friends did.
She was sitting on her bed, combing out the knots in her damp hair and watching Cheyenne attempt to do push-ups when someone knocked on their door. Molly got up, pointing to Cheyenne with her comb. “That’s probably Anders. Get your stuff together.”
“In a minute. I’m not done.”
Molly peeked out the peephole. When she saw it was Mitch, she opened the door with a wide smile. “You made it.”
His long brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail. He was looking right at home in Miami Beach, wearing a Margaritaville T-shirt, flip-flops, and a pair of board shorts. “Yeah. I’m glad I caught you. Where’s McB?”
“You mean Wonder Woman? She’s over there doing push-ups.”
“Right on.” He laughed and came into the room.
“Hey, Mitch.” Cheyenne gave up on the training and got up to give him a hug.
“Remember that book I told you about? The one written by Emory Constantinople, that old guy in Bimini who knew Hemingway?”
“Yeah. It’s out of print.”
Mitched reached for the hardback book sticking out of the back of his shorts and handed it to her. “Lookie what I got.”
“Where did you get it?” Cheyenne’s face lit up and she caressed the old, dusty book like it was the treasure itself.
“From good ol’ Emory. I made a pit stop in Alice Town on the way here.”
Molly sat on the bed and crossed her legs, uncertain how she felt about this budding friendship between her teenage daughter and the seasoned treasure hunter. She narrowed her eyes. “So that’s what you were up to last night?”
“I figured I was in the neighborhood, it wouldn’t hurt to drop by and see if he had any extra copies of the book lying around.”
Cheyenne grabbed his arm and tugged his attention back to her. “Could he tell you anything about the Firefly Emerald? Or if Hemingway knew anyone named Alice?”
“He said he saw the emerald once just after Hem won it in a card game in Cuba. He showed it to him. Said he was going to bury it, but Emory thought he was joking.”
“So it’s real.” Cheyenne’s wide eyes glittered with amazement.
Molly was intrigued now too. “And Alice? What about her?”
Mitch crossed his arms as he leaned back on the dresser. “Emory said when he was a boy, he used to feed a bunch of stray cats in town. Hem was fond of one particular queen Emory had hand-raised from birth. She was all white except for a thin black stripe on her nose. She was a big cat with an even bigger attitude to match. Hem got a kick out of her, so Emory gave him the cat as a gift. Hem took her back to Key West and named her Alice.”
Molly shivered with goose bumps. She didn’t understand Cheyenne’s frown.
Squeezing the book to her chest, she scrunched her nose in confusion. “So Alice was a cat?”
“Just check out Chapter Six.” Mitch chuckled. “Hey, I’ve got somewhere to get too. I just wanted to drop that by.” He turned to Molly. “I bumped into Anders in the lobby. He wanted me to tell you, he’s got a limo waiting for you downstairs to take you back to Key West whenever you’re ready.”
“A limo?” In the midst of picking a knot out of one of her curls, Molly frowned, confused. “He never said anything to me about a limo. I thought we were flying the rest of the way home? Where’s Anders now?”
Mitch shrugged. “On his way to the airport, I imagine. He said he had to hustle back to Key West for a business meeting and didn’t want to wake you, if you were sleeping in.”
Blood roared in Molly’s ears. She couldn’t hear the rest of what Mitch said to Cheyenne or their goodbyes at the door. Anders had left her. He’d just walked out of her life and left her in Miami like he had absolutely no obligation to see her the rest of the way home.
He had no obligation though. Not to her or Cheyenne. He’d brought them safely back to the States, put them up in a nice hotel, and made arrangements for their ride home. That was a hell of a lot more than Trevor had ever done for them. Molly had always been the one covering his rent and making his car payments. But still, she couldn’t help but draw comparisons and expect more from Anders. Why would he think Molly would rather drive three and a half hours to Key West when she could’ve just gotten up a little earlier and flown home in an hour? He could have asked her what she wanted to do, but he’d made the choice for her and the reason for that was kind of obvious. He was done with her.
When Trevor had left, Molly had been mad and hurt, but down deep, she was relieved. She’d only known Anders for a few days, and they’d made no promises to each other. They weren’t even actually a couple. But this, this felt a hundred times worse because she loved him. Really loved him. Her palms were sweating, and her heart was palpitating, and she felt like throwing up.
She loved him. And he’d abandoned her.
When Cheyenne came back into the room, talking excitedly about her treasure hunt, Molly put on a brave face. She didn’t want her daughter to know there was a giant bloody wound where her heart used to be or that she was inches away from crumbling into a pile of dust.
Molly wanted to refuse the limo and rent her own car, but she wasn’t in the right state of mind to drive three and a half hours in traffic on a two-lane road. So, she accepted Anders’ last bit of charity with resignation and climbed into the back of the car with Cheyenne.
The closer they got to the island, the more her feeling of despair morphed into anger. She was royally pissed at Anders for ditching her in Miami without so much as a goodbye. There was absolutely no excuse for his behavior. They might not have a future, but they’d survived a dangerous adventure and risked their lives together. And besides having sex, they’d bonded as friends. She deserved his respect. She deserved an explanation. When she realized how hard she was trembling with contained fury, she forced herself to calm down. Taking a deep breath, she gazed at Cheyenne.
She was deeply involved in her book and only spoke to Molly when she wanted to show her one of the pictures scattered between the text. Instead of going straight to Chapter Six, her methodical child had started on page one and read her way through. By the time she finally reached the section, she didn’t seem too impressed.
“This chapter is talking about Hemingway’s wife, Pauline, and her obsession with spending money on their house.” She turned the page and then pulled the book closer to study one of the photographs. Turning the book to Molly, she said, “Look! It’s a picture of Alice.”
The cat was lounging wantonly across the tiled base of the infamous fountain in the backyard of Hemingway’s Key West estate. “So?”
“So? So I need to talk to April as soon as we get back to Key West. I called her from the hotel while you were in the shower this morning. She said she’s going to Dixie’s for Anders’ press conference.”
Molly’s was staring out the window again, but her head whipped around at the mention of Anders. “Anders is having a press conference today?”
“Yeah. Didn’t he mention it?”
He had, but Molly had forgotten it was today. It still didn’t let him off the hook for leaving the way he did. “I guess that was the business meeting Mitch was talking about.”
“Can we go?”
Molly’s gut burned. She knew she should probably go home and stay home, at least until she cooled down and could think more clearly, but she didn’t always do the smart thing. “Yeah. We can go.”
Dixie’s was packed with press who took up the first few rows of tables and curious onlookers who stood behind the cameras and flashing bulbs, gawking. The stage had been turned into a dais for t
he long, white cloth-covered table that was set up for the press conference. Anders sat behind the table with another man Molly didn’t know. Chubby and balding with a neatly trimmed brown beard and a gold stud winking from this left ear, he might have been Anders’ manager or a representative from his music label.
When she spotted Anders, her foolish, hopeless heart skipped a beat. But a beat was all it took for her to remember she was furious at him for abandoning her in Miami. She might have understood if only he’d stopped by to explain.
Someone bumped into Molly and she realized she was blocking the door. Cheyenne was already pushing her way through the crowd, following the wall of tinted windows toward the stage.
The chubby man with the earring said something funny in response to a reporter’s question, and Anders grinned. He was back to his charming, good-natured self, looking handsome as the dickens in a white button-down shirt with his hair combed back from his face.
Anders leaned into the mic and his deep, amplified voice danced along Molly’s nerve endings. “Uh, I believe that would be a question for Fry.” He looked off to the side of the stage where Selena was standing by. She shook her head emphatically, and the crowd chuckled.
A reporter in the front row raised her hand. “What can you tell us about Miss Conway’s death?”
“I spoke with the Las Vegas police department this morning,” Anders’ tone sobered to match the question. “While they’ve arrested Casey’s stalker, Albert Everett Mooney, for his involvement in the murder, they haven’t gotten any relevant information out of him regarding the woman who paid him to put the strychnine in Casey’s food.”
As Molly made her way through the crowd to Cheyenne, she found herself feeling sorry for Casey. Strychnine was awful stuff. Cheyenne wrote a report on it for extra credit once after she read the Agatha Christie novel The Mysterious Affair at Styles. Chey always gave Molly her school papers to proofread even though she rarely made a mistake. The poison caused wild uncontrollable spasms, frothing at the mouth, and eventual asphyxiation. It wasn’t a pleasant way to die.
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