Masquerade by the Sea

by Traci Hall

  “Heath?” No answer. Her stomach cramped with nerves. “Heath!”

  “Here, Jolie. Stop shouting, hon. Don’t wanna wake the neighbors.”

  Heath, soaking wet, was pulling himself up the ladder next to the half-raised engine.

  “What are you doing?”

  He held out something square. Metallic. “I don’t know if we should call the cops.”

  She stopped to gather her breath, wrapping her arms around her waist. “Why would we do that?”

  “Jolie?” Jamison called.

  Heath bowed his head. “Damn it. He was my second choice.”

  Heath, still sitting down on the deck, couldn’t see Jamison or Rajah. Jolie looked down at him. What had he found? What the hell was going on?

  “Heath, I don’t get it.” She hugged herself harder.

  “Let me on board,” Jamison said. “Hurry, Jolie.”

  She turned.

  “No!” Heath, suddenly full of energy, jumped up, fighting for balance.

  “Of course you can come on board,” she said. “Rajah too. What is the matter with you, Heath?”

  “Rajah?” Heath asked, sounding confused.

  She started walking toward the bridge to let them on board.

  Heath grabbed her by the arm and pulled her back.

  “Jamison,” Heath said. “Whatchya doing?”

  “I found Rajah sneaking toward the boat.”

  Rajah squirmed in Jamison’s grip, his head down.

  Jolie stopped and took in the scene. Jamison wasn’t walking side by side with her First Mate as she’d thought. No, he had Rajah held captive, rope tied around his wrists. Rajah wore a wet suit. Why?

  Heath shivered next to her, his jaw set, curls dripping water down his bare back. He wore his boxers and had to be freezing.

  Jolie pushed free of him, looking at each of the men. “I’m going to call the police now.” It looked like Heath had a metal box or something.

  “Nrf!” Rajah said around the gag in his mouth, looking up with wild black eyes.

  “No,” Jamison agreed. “You can’t.”

  Heath took one of the palm fronds from the drooping flowers arranged on the deck and wrapped the item from her engine inside it, then he gave it to Jolie. “I found this stuck in the engine. It’s ruined, but not because of any bad rods. It was detonated somehow. Probably Rajah could tell us. Since Jamison caught him.”

  Jolie focused on Jamison and her First Mate. “Why can’t I call the police?” Rajah struggled but Jamison wasn’t letting go. He didn’t even break a sweat.

  She had a terrible feeling in the pit of her stomach. “Isn’t Rajah guilty?”

  “Yes, of trying to blow the engine and blame Heath for driving you into the sea grass.” Jamison nodded. “I found the detonator in his bag. He was planning on blowing up the rest of the engine.”

  “With us on the boat, too?” Heath asked, his brow furrowed in anger. His lips were blue with cold and his temper put two spots of red on his cheeks.

  “But there’s more to the story?” Jolie wondered what could be more wrong than what Rajah was doing. Blowing up her engine? She pinched the inside of her wrist to make sure she wasn’t dreaming.

  “Of course.” Jamison smiled sadly. “I really like you, Jolie. Heath. But the Coast Guard bringing you home provides a plausible excuse for your old yacht to blow. It’s Rajah’s fault, really. If he hadn’t lost his temper, gotten jealous of Heath, then we’d all be just fine.”

  “What happened?” Jolie had never felt so in the dark. Clueless.

  “You were the beneficiary of my underground fishing ring. I catch exotic fish and out of season items and sell them to the highest bidder.”

  What? It was true, he was always able to find what she wanted, but she’d assumed from a private source. “That’s illegal. You’re the supervisor of Ocean Green, protecting the ocean and the fish and...” Jolie’s voice trailed off.

  “Perfect cover,” Heath said and clasped her hand. Warmth and strength flowed through her.

  “I make millions a year. Benedict and Rajah work for me. Until Rajah here became a liability. He’s going to get on the boat with you. Still wearing his waterproof dynamite. He’s already confessed to providing fish out of season, which will get the Gaming folks off my back, and now, well, he’s lost his mind. Love does crazy things.” Jamison had the nerve to look sad about it, too, Jolie thought. How good of an actor was he?

  Jamison brandished a small gun, poking it into Rajah’s side.

  Jolie staggered back. “Um, are you saying you’re going to kill us? Because you can’t do that, Jamison.”

  “I can.” He shrugged and pushed Rajah jerkily toward her boat.

  “The price of paradise,” Heath said.

  “A million dollars?” Jolie shook her head.

  The sun rose, gilding the water and dock, giving Jamison an undeserved halo. Rajah twisted, fighting to be free, and Jamison slammed Rajah over the head with his gun. He collapsed at Jamison’s feet.

  Heath squeezed Jolie’s fingers.

  They could swim for it. Right? God, this was ridiculous! Jamison would kill them over a million dollar fish scheme? Good old Jamison?

  Heath whispered, “Deep breath and run balls-out off the foredeck. Don’t come up for air until you absolutely have to.”

  Speechless, Jolie trusted Heath with her life.

  He already had her heart and soul, so it was a no-brainer.

  Heath jumped feet first into the water, right after Jolie did a beautiful head-down dive. The cold water cooled his temper, his fury that those stupid men were willing to kill Jolie. Over fish.

  In the past, he’d been helpless against nature, against circumstance, but not this time. This time Heath was prepared to protect the woman he loved, even at the cost of his own life.

  He opened his eyes in the murky green canal, seeing Jolie up ahead. She swam like a damn mermaid, which would save her life.

  Shots fired into the water, little rivers of white bubbles just like in the movies. Could they see him, or was Jamison shooting blind?

  If Rajah and Benedict cooked, they must have used the fish from Jamison, which would put Jolie in the middle of the crime, whether she’d known about it or not.

  Jamison had said that both Benedict and Rajah worked for him. Poor Jolie. She put her trust in the wrong people.

  Well, he wouldn’t let her down. He stuck to the edge of the dock, popping just his mouth and nose from the water to draw in a breath. He was an athlete. Maybe not so good on the technique when it came to swimming, but he had staying power. He drew another lungful and dropped back beneath the green murk.

  Fish, iguanas, and yes, even a manatee shared this space. And Jolie, up ahead at the inlet. Once there, she could get out of the water and run for the nearest house and call the cops.

  He hoped she didn’t waste time and wait for him.

  She was, damn it. Heath swam faster, his legs kicking like a frog, his head down. He ignored the pain in his left leg. She touched him as he came up next to her beneath a dock. “There are steps here,” she said, her lips trembling. “A house.”

  “Okay. I can wait here. My leg...”

  “Together. You saved me. I’m not leaving you behind.”

  They each sank down as the roar of a jet ski flew by them to the right. Shit. They’d have to go before he found them, and be fast. Jolie wore white for heaven’s sake, a beacon of light when they needed to be invisible. And if his leg cramped because of the swim and the cold? They’d be dead anyway.

  They watched the horizon, two pairs of eyes just out of the water. At least they had dark hair, Heath thought, which might help camouflage them. Jamison sped by, searching in the shadows. Heath had been fooled, and that stung.

  “Now,” Jolie said, caressing his arm. “We have to be quick.” She shimmied up the ladder like an acrobat, easily lifting her weight and scrambling over the edge of the concrete bank.

  Heath hefted his body up, trying to get
his left leg to bend. The roar of the Jet Ski echoed along the water’s surface.

  “Hurry,” Jolie whispered. “Let me help you!”

  She jumped back in the water and Heath groaned. “Damn it. Why did you do that?”

  Jolie pressed her fingers into the cramped muscle, releasing the knot. The pressure allowed Heath to bend his leg and get up the slippery thin, wood slat stairs.

  He immediately turned around and lifted Jolie from the water, pulling her up so fast she landed on top of him with an “oof” sound.

  “We have to go,” he said, ignoring the throb in his knee cap. Had he pulled something loose?

  “Stay down for a minute until he goes by again.”

  But the Jet Ski stopped right outside the concrete wall they were hiding behind.

  “Go!” Jolie said. “Crawl. Crawl to the back door and around the front of the house. I know where the police station is from here.”

  “We just need a phone,” Heath huffed.

  “I don’t trust him not to hurt somebody else!” She said this over her shoulder, on hands and knees through the grass.

  She reached the edge of the lawn, turned back to him and screamed. “Duck! Heath!”

  Bam. A shot missed his head by an inch.

  Was this the end?

  The back door of the house on the canal swung open and a large man wearing an open robe over tight briefs stood with a rifle on the porch. “Get off of my property! The cops are already on the way.”

  The sound of a Jet Ski peeling out along the water brought a wave of relief and Heath collapsed face-first to the dirt. “Thank God.”

  Jolie hurried back to him, putting his head in her lap. “Are you okay, Heath? Did Jamison shoot you?”

  “No. No, he missed.”

  “You folks all right?” The man lowered his rifle.

  “You saved us,” Jolie said. “Thank you.”

  “My pleasure, pretty lady.”

  Chapter Twenty Three

  The cops arrived in blazing glory, sirens blaring and lights flashing blue. They took their statements and even gave them a ride to the marina to watch her boat burn down to the water line. Jamison was in handcuffs, the gun he’d used to shoot at them wet at his feet.

  “Must’ve tried to throw it away,” Jolie said, looking at the Masquerade with tears filming her vision. As if to see the loss of her dreams clearly would be too much. Rajah was in the back of the squad car, crying for Benedict.

  Heath put his arm around her, the morning warmer now. They were each wrapped in borrowed towels, bare foot. Broke. Busted. “I told you it would be okay.”

  She turned and pushed at him, blinking quickly. His handsome features became perfectly clear as she narrowed her focus. “What? I’ve lost everything.”

  “You didn’t. You’re still alive.” He pulled her close again.

  “I don’t have a boat.” She leaned back, glaring at him. “Which means you don’t have a job. It’s a good thing you’re going back to Utah.”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” he said, rubbing her back. “Unless you want to try out the mountains?”

  She shivered and looked at him in confusion. What was he saying?

  “I didn’t think so. You’re a water chick. Which is cool, I mean, I’ve adapted.”

  Water chick? Where did he come up with these things? Her body heated from the heart out. He wasn’t leaving her. She slipped her hand into his and squeezed his fingers, turning again to look at the remnants of the boat. “I love you, Heath. Thanks for saving my life.”

  “All in a day’s work,” he said.

  “Do you love me?” she asked, batting her lashes.

  “I’ve loved you since you stood up to Kendra for me.”

  She felt the smile pull at her cheeks. “We should probably call them.”

  “No phone.” He patted at his towel and boxers. “You?”

  “No. Besides, my family is all on speed dial. I maybe remember my home phone, but nobody is there.” She frowned. “Mmm. I think Tandy comes home from a flight tomorrow.”

  Heath pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder.

  “We have no money. No phone. No boat. No clothes.” Jolie felt the ridiculous bubble start at her toes and work itself up into a belly laugh. She started, and just couldn’t stop. Heath grinned at her.

  When she managed to wipe her eyes and catch her breath he asked, “Well? What was so funny?”

  “All I could think of, you and me, barefoot on the dock watching my boat turn into embers, is remembering that I would give anything to see you smile. I didn’t think it would cost me the Masquerade, but I’m glad we’re both safe, Heath.”

  “I’m smiling because I know I’m not going anywhere.” Heath led her toward the marina office but stopped outside. “I love you. Since you don’t want to move, where I have a great job, by the way, that means we need to do something about your boat.”

  “It’s gone. Burned.” Jolie slipped her hand in his. What would Gramps think about what had happened? “My grandpa had a fishing charter. He would be furious at what Jamison did. Maybe that’s why the Masquerade burned?”

  “It burned because Rajah and Jamison are jerks. Your Gramps wouldn’t have put you in danger.”

  Jolie bowed her head, took stock of how she felt and looked at Heath. “You’re right. Jamison used Ocean Green to cover his illegal fishing. It really is worth a million dollars?” She couldn’t believe it, but the cops said it was true. They’d been watching him for months, waiting for Jamison to make a mistake.

  Calling the Coast Guard meant that her boat would be under scrutiny, and since it was tied in with Ocean Green, Jamison hadn’t wanted any evidence from Rajah’s illegal fishing leading back to him.

  Heath brought her fingers to his mouth and slowly kissed each one. “There’s a quote about passing through the fires of hell to reach paradise. Think this counts? You have insurance right?”

  Jolie widened her eyes to stare at him. She had insurance, which meant she could start again—boating was in her blood. Maybe call it the Melody. “It’s not the same,” she said. “But it’s a start. Right now, I want something with rum. Pineapple. And a coconut.”

  “I don’t want you to worry,” he said, tugging her close for a toe-curling melding of their mouths. When she could breathe again, he added, “I have a little money. I’d like to invest in a boat. In your fleet.”

  She felt as if she was falling. No net, nothing to catch her and she stumbled. “Your own boat?”

  He tugged her close. “Our boat. I want to be where you are. You can be the captain, and I’ll be your First Mate. Or I can be the captain. We can take turns being captain. For life. Forever.”

  “You’re buying a boat instead of an engagement ring?” Jolie’s eyes stung with happy tears.

  He whirled her around before setting her on her feet. “What d’ya think?”

  “It’s, it’s crazy.” She lifted her gaze, holding his and seeing the promise there. Her heart responded first, thought her head agreed for once.

  “Perfectly crazy. Let’s do it.”

  HOLIDAY

  by the Sea

  Late, Teagan Becker tugged her green and white tights up over her not so tiny ass and winced as the elastic band dug into her waist. The last time she’d worn this outfit she’d been a senior in high school.

  Good German stock, her mom liked to say, handing over a cinnamon nutty bun fresh out of the oven, dripping with real butter. College had saved her from ballooning to two hundred and having a heart attack before she turned legal drinking age, but at 5 foot 5 and one hundred sixty pounderoos, she was very, very curvy.

  She shrugged into the green velvet elf costume her mother had made specifically to fit her, what, six years ago? Always top heavy, Teagan sighed with relief when she was able to button the last ceramic candy cane over her breasts. Make-up done, elf ears in her purse. Go.

  Grabbing the keys to the delivery van, Teagan got a look in the mirror by the door and stopped short
. The once knee-length costume now hit her thigh. The cuckoo clock cooed and her heart thumped. Late. She had a thousand cookies waiting in the van to be delivered to the elementary school, by her, dressed as Santa’s helper.

  She winced and checked out her back side. Elf, hooker, please God she wouldn’t get pulled over.

  The phone rang, the wall-mounted antique shaking with each brrrring. She ignored it and raced to the garage. Ten years old, the Town and Country was in mint condition due to regular oil changes and indoor living. Still, a van was a van and this one had Becker’s Bakery emblazoned in gold on the side. Not her chariot of choice.

  The house phone’s shrill ring stopped. On cue, her cell phone rang. Ignoring that too, Teagan pressed the garage door button, started the van and pulled out into the street. She blinked against the bright South Florida sun, checking the time on the dash. Shit. If she got caught by the bridge over the Intracoastal, it would knock her back another ten minutes.

  Teagan set her phone in the car mount and answered, “Hey Ma.”

  The terrible connection usually made it sound like her parents were on the other side of the world, only this time they were. Cologne, Germany to be exact.

  “You should be at the school already,” her mother scolded. Her accent was thicker than normal due to the proximity of her homeland.

  “Just leaving the house.”

  “Did you lock the door?”

  Teagan refused to go back and see. “Yeah. How are you feeling, Ma?”

  “I hate it when you call me that,” her mother complained.

  “Are you taking your meds?”

  “Pah.”

  Teagan turned onto Commercial, very conscious of the carefully packed cookie boxes in the back. “What does that mean? Let me talk to Dad.”

  “You never want to talk to me!”

  “Because you don’t answer my questions.” She tapped the steering wheel with a long candy-apple red nail.

  “What questions?”