Hot Number

by Sheridon Smythe

  She surprised him. “I think that's a good idea. And I'm going with you."

  "No, you're not."

  "Yes, I am."

  "No—"

  "Michael—you can't stop me,” she inserted firmly. She threw the covers aside, revealing a long length of honey-kissed leg and a mouth watering amount of her perky bottom in her hasty dash to the bathroom.

  The door slammed, ending the peep show. From the other side, she warned him, “And if you try to sneak off without me, I'll never speak to you again."

  Since Michael didn't like that possibility, he decided she could come with him.

  * * * *

  Bart's wild Hawaiian shirt was hopelessly wrinkled, and he needed a shave. His eyes resembled the tomato juice Tanya had ordered with her toast.

  "I couldn't sleep, so I've just been walking up and down the sidewalks in front of the shops,” he explained, casting Ashley a grateful look when she handed him a cup of steaming coffee. “I didn't mean to throw everyone into a panic."

  "Oh, no. You didn't."

  "Not at all."

  "That's okay."

  Ashley listened to their lies, placing a hand on her hip. “Well, you scared me,” she admitted.

  After an hour-long search of the shopping area, the group had returned to the hotel restaurant. Twenty minutes later, in walked Bart, wearing the longest face in history. Ashley could have sworn he'd aged ten years.

  "Do you think you could eat something, Bart?” she asked, ready to signal a waiter if he so much as hesitated to answer.

  "Oh, no. I couldn't. Well, maybe a little something."

  He cast her a tentative smile that melted her heart. She quickly snagged the waiter's attention and ordered a man-size breakfast for Bart. After all, the man had to keep up his strength. She glanced at her watch, saw they only had an hour to go, and tried to quiet the butterflies in her stomach.

  The others didn't know that she and Michael planned to follow Bart to the drop-off point. She was unclear what Michael intended to do when they got there, but anything had to be better than standing around waiting for Bart to return.

  What if he never did?

  What if they never saw the Scotts again, and they had to get back on the ship and sail away without ever knowing what happened to them? She would go stark raving mad!

  Despite his haggard appearance, Bart ate like a hungry man, seemingly unaware of his shipmates watching him with varying degrees of surprise.

  Nobody had been able to eat more than a few bites of toast or a bagel before Bart arrived on the scene.

  Maybe he was the kind of person who had a tendency to eat when under stress, Ashley mused, as Bart swallowed the last bite of jelly-smeared toast.

  He drained his coffee and slapped the mug down. “Let's go get the money,” he stated, rising.

  Everyone followed suit.

  * * * *

  Bridgetown's Broad Street was rumored to be a shopper's dream, but for Ashley, everything was a blur.

  She had to skip to keep up with Michael's long strides. She was out of breath within minutes, while Michael looked as if he could go ten miles at the same killing pace.

  Finally, she huffed out, “Michael! Will you please slow down?” The heck with the shops, she just wanted to breathe!

  "We'll lose Bart if we do,” he said without breaking stride. “Do you want to lose him?"

  "No.” She cast a glance over her shoulder just in time to see Deckland yank Tanya into a shop doorway. “But you might want to know that we're being followed."

  "Tanya and Deckland?"

  "Yes,” she said breathlessly. “You knew?"

  "Well, I knew they didn't believe you when you said we were going to go upstairs to take a nap. You should have come up with a better excuse."

  "I couldn't think of a better excuse.” Just ahead, Bart, with duffle bag in hand, turned the corner and disappeared out of sight. Ashley's lungs burned, but damned if she was going to complain again! “He acts as if he knows where he's going."

  "He probably walked the route this morning just to be sure. I know I would have.” At the end of the intersection, Michael stuck out his arm to halt her forward stride. “Wait. We don't want him to see us. Might make him nervous."

  "As if he isn't nervous enough. Do you see him?"

  Michael peered cautiously around the corner of the building. “Yes. Come on.” He dropped his arm and resumed his killing pace.

  Ashley would have let out a breath of relief when she, too, spotted Bart up ahead, but she didn't have any breath to let out. She glanced over her shoulder to see if Deckland and Tanya followed, and saw half of Deckland's face peering around the corner of the building.

  He would make a lousy detective, she thought, shaking her head. Up ahead, Bart began to slow down. They did the same—and boy, was she glad.

  Bart turned into an open doorway and disappeared again.

  "He's gone in the hotel,” Michael said without slowing down. “You keep walking. I'll follow him inside."

  "Michael—"

  "Don't argue, Ashley. I can't stand the thought of you getting hurt."

  His words temporarily robbed her of speech. She swallowed a lump before she said, “I feel the same way, which is why—"

  "No.” He grabbed her elbow and pulled her into the alley beside the hotel. “Stay here and wait for Deckland and Tanya. Keep out of sight until you see me come back out, understand?"

  Mutely, she nodded. The moment he disappeared into the building, she followed, pausing long enough at the door to signal Deckland and Tanya to follow her. She wasn't about to let Michael go without her. Why, that creep might have a gun! If he was going to get himself shot, then she wanted to be there.

  Terror seized her heart at the possibility, and doubts assailed her. What were they thinking? They should have gone to the local police or at least reported the kidnapping to ship security. They were amateurs—

  Michael paused at the desk. Ashley hastily darted behind a cluster of potted palm trees in the foyer. She nearly shrieked when a hand landed on her shoulder.

  Heart in her mouth, she whirled around, relieved to find that it was only Tanya. Deckland, looking grim but determined, stood behind her.

  "You scared the life out of me!” she hissed, immediately turning back to see what direction Michael had taken. She was lucky to catch the bottom of his loafer disappearing out of sight around a corner.

  "We should wait here,” Deckland said. Both women shot him a scornful look that made him flush. “Well, we don't want to jeopardize Birdie's life, do we?"

  Tanya grabbed her arm. “Look!” she whispered, pointing, yet at the same time dragging Ashley deeper behind the palm trees. “There's Bart with Birdie!"

  Ashley's mouth went dry. “But—but where's Michael?"

  "Possibly trying to keep out of sight?” Deckland suggested with veiled sarcasm. “Like we should be."

  As one, they shuffled around the concealing foliage as Bart and Birdie approached them, continuing to inch around and out of sight until Bart and Birdie reached the gleaming glass hotel doors. Bart, Ashley mused after a quick glance at the couple, looked grim, but strong. Birdie looked none the worse for her adventure. In fact, she looked rightly relieved that it was over.

  Ashley started to step out from behind the palms and call out to them, but Deckland yanked her roughly back.

  "What are you doing? He could be watching!"

  "You guys!” Tanya whispered frantically, her round-eyed gaze fixed on something over Ashley's shoulder. “There's—there's a man coming, and he's carrying a duffle bag just like the one Michael put the money in."

  "She's right,” Deckland said, keeping his voice low. “It looks like the same duffle bag."

  Unable to take her eyes from the tall, thin man approaching their hideout on his way to the door, Ashley could do nothing but watch helplessly as he marched to freedom. With dark, thinning hair, dark eyes and swarthy skin, he looked every inch the ruthless kidnaper.

/>   And he had a jagged scar along his left cheek.

  What would Michael do? Where was he when she needed him most? Ashley worried her bottom lip, trying to think, think! If they didn't do something, in another moment the man would be out the door and on his merry way with their money and a kidnapping charge he would never have to face.

  "We should stop him,” she told her companions. If she had known Tanya would take her so literally, she might have reconsidered her rash words.

  Before they could realize Tanya's reckless intent, she went dashing into the foyer toward the man, coming to a sliding, clumsy halt in front of him. Dazed, Ashley thought for one crazy moment that she meant to curtsey.

  Instead, Tanya smiled sweetly into the man's startled face and brought her knee up and into his groin.

  He howled and doubled over, dropping the duffle bag. Tanya snatched it up and ran back to them, her expression a mixture of elation and almost comical terror.

  "I've got it! I've got it!"

  The man was on his knees, moaning, both hands covering his groin. Ashley dragged her stunned gaze from the man to the duffle bag Tanya held in her triumphant hands.

  She did a double-take on the bag.

  Slowly, she put her hands over her face and moaned.

  It wasn't Michael's bag. Michael's bag was black. This bag was navy blue. Same shape. Similar in color.

  Not Michael's bag. Not the money. Not the kidnaper.

  "Ashley? What is it?” Tanya tried to pry Ashley's fingers from her face, but Ashley held firm.

  She just wanted to disappear before Michael found out that they had not only followed him into the hotel, they had also tackled the wrong—

  "What's going on here?"

  It was Michael, and he was helping the poor man to his feet. He had spotted them clustered behind the potted palms.

  "Michael!"

  The excited triumph in Tanya's voice moved Ashley to action. She grabbed Tanya's arm, halting her in mid-flight.

  Tanya scrambled to hold her footing on the slickly polished floor, slapping at Ashley's bruising hold. “Ashley! Let go! Don't you see that Michael's—"

  "It's not him!” Ashley hissed, holding on to her arm. “I mean, that's not Michael's duffle bag."

  "What? What do you mean it's not—"

  "It's not,” Ashley repeated, wishing she was wrong. Oh, how she wished that she was wrong! “Michael's duffle bag is black. This one's navy blue."

  Finally, realization dawned. Tanya's eyes grew big, then bigger, until Ashley felt certain they would swallow her face.

  "Oh. My. God. You—” Tanya swallowed hard, and shook her head, her face flaming to match Ashley's. “You mean I attacked the wrong man?"

  Ashley winced. “Yes. You attacked the wrong man.” Beside her, Deckland swore softly, then quickly apologized like the gentleman that he was.

  Tanya looked at the moaning man, then at Michael's frowning, exasperated face. She turned back to Ashley. “But we all thought—"

  "Yes, we did.” Ashley turned to give Deckland a flinty look, daring him to deny it. “Didn't we, Deckland? We all thought he was the guy. The kidnaper."

  For a moment, it looked as though Deckland would defect, but in the end he gave a short, resigned nod. “Yeah, we made the mistake together."

  "Oh.” As if it had finally, totally sunk in, Tanya's eyes watered. She put a hand to her mouth and spoke between her fingers. “Oh, oh.” Holding the duffle bag, she walked back to the man and held it out. Her mortified, apologetic expression would have made the devil hesitate.

  "I'm so sorry,” she began. “I thought you—"

  "Stay away from me!” the man shrieked, throwing one hand in front of his groin. He used the other to snatch his bag from her fingers.

  Ashley had never seen a man limp so fast.

  When he had gone, Ashley sighed and said, “Let's get this over with, shall we?” She took Deckland's arm in a firm grip—just in the off-chance the coward considered bolting—and led him to where Michael and Tanya stood.

  After all, he couldn't eat them, right? He wasn't the big bad wolf. Just her ex-husband.

  Okay. An extremely angry ex-husband.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  "You could have been killed,” Michael said, his heart stuttering at the thought. He couldn't decide if he wanted to kiss her senseless or bend her over his knee. To think that she might have actually run into the real kidnapper—

  "The same applies to you, Michael.” Ashley's chin came up several notches. “Anyway, nobody was hurt, so let's just drop it, okay?"

  Oh, so she wanted to drop it, did she? When he had a few new gray hairs as a result? When he wasn't at all certain he hadn't suffered a mild heart attack when he realized the reckless stunt they'd pulled?

  He thought not.

  "What if he'd had a gun?” he persisted. For good measure, he turned his angry, quelling gaze to Deckland. “And is this how you protect the ladies?"

  "Hey, I'm the one who brought him down,” Tanya began in Ashley and Deckland's defense. She shrank back when Michael whirled on her.

  "Yes, you did. Had he been the real kidnapper, you would have been the first to die."

  "Oh, get over it,” Ashley snapped, coming between Michael and a white-faced Tanya. Her confident look said she knew Michael's bark was bigger than his bite, even if Tanya didn't. “We're wasting time on something that might have happened, but didn't,” she emphasized for his benefit. “What did you find out?"

  With a sigh, Michael dug into his back pocket and pulled out a set of handcuffs. “The window was open and the room was empty. He got away, obviously. I found these."

  Ashley gasped, staring at the gold-plated handcuffs. “That creep! He handcuffed her with her own handcuffs! I saw her put those in her overnight bag—"

  "What?” Tanya sounded totally bewildered. “What would Birdie be doing with handcuffs?"

  "Do you really need to be told?” Deckland whispered in her ear, but loud enough for the others to hear.

  For the second time that day, Tanya's face flamed. “Oh, now I get it. But aren't they a little too old—"

  "You have no idea,” Ashley muttered, but Michael noted that she was staring at the cufflinks, frowning.

  Before Michael could question her further, Tanya spoke.

  "They couldn't belong to the Scotts, Ashley. Birdie's bags were in the hotel room with Bart's. I saw them when we were looking for him this morning."

  "Right. You're absolutely right, Tanya,” Ashley said, a little too strenuously for Michael's peace of mind. “Let's get back to the hotel and get our bags before our ship sails without us. I feel the need for a drink."

  It was the second clue that something was wrong. Ashley wasn't a drinker, unless she had taken up the habit since their divorce. Michael had to admit, however, that after their harrowing adventure, even a Mormon might consider a stiff drink or two.

  * * * *

  Getting back on the ship proved to be a little more complicated than they expected.

  Since Michael was leading the way—and it was Michael that set off the metal detector—everyone in his group had to be thoroughly searched.

  A moment too late, Ashley realized what the security guys would find when they went through their bags.

  Or Michael's bag, to be exact.

  When the security clerk confirmed her fears by dangling the handcuff's in the air, she gave serious thought to jumping ship. The dozen or so passenger's crowded behind them got an eyeful.

  "These belong to you?” the security clerk trilled in a high, squeaky voice that grated on Ashley's nerves. The snicker that followed made her want to sic Tanya on him.

  When Michael unexpectedly popped off with, “No, they belong to your mother,” Ashley had to press her face into his back to muffle her spontaneous laughter.

  Behind her, Tanya did the same to her back.

  Deckland, however, began to laugh and couldn't seem to stop. The mor
e he laughed, the redder the security clerk got.

  "Hey, man. That wasn't funny."

  The laughter spread from Deckland to the man standing behind him, to the woman standing behind him, and on down the line until the dozen passengers who could see and hear the security officer were all laughing or chuckling.

  Without cracking a smile, Michael shrugged. “You asked me."

  The red-faced security officer slapped the handcuffs back into Michael's bag and waved the entire group on through.

  Tanya continued to giggle. When they were out of ear shot, she said, “I thought he was going to have a stroke!"

  "Yeah. Did you see his face?” Deckland wiped tears from his eyes, clapping Michael on the back. “I have to say, Michael, you managed to surprise me."

  Ashley linked her arm through his and gazed up at him, batting her eyelashes. “My hero,” she purred sweetly.

  "Knock it off,” Michael growled, encompassing them all with a fierce scowl.

  They quickly sobered, but the moment he turned his back to Deckland and Tanya again, they burst into laughter. Ashley suspected their response was a delayed reaction to their adventurous morning.

  She quickened her steps at the reminder, anxious to see for herself that Birdie had suffered no ill effects from her kidnapping. She also had a question or two to ask her about those handcuffs...

  * * * *

  By the time they reached the hall to their cabins, the group had sobered to the point of silence. Bart was waiting in the hall outside his door.

  The moment Bart spotted them, he met them halfway, placing them in front of Tanya's cabin. He angled his head at the door, keeping his voice low. “Can we talk in there?"

  Tanya opened her mouth, but before she could answer, Ashley hurriedly spoke up. “Deckland's cabin is the biggest. Why don't we meet there?"

  "I second that motion,” Deckland said. “I've got a fully stocked bar, too."

  "Amen,” Michael muttered, and Ashley knew he wasn't referring to Deckland's mention of liquor.

  She met his gaze for an instant, her cheeks flushing at the memory of their heated encounter in Tanya's bathroom. He quirked an amused brow before breaking eye contact.

  Together, they walked to Deckland's cabin and waited for him to unlock the door. They piled inside, Tanya and Deckland heading for the bar, Bart seating himself at the small table in front of the portal, while Michael and Ashley remained standing.