Deborah Brown - Madison Westin 07 - Kidnapped in Paradise

by Deborah Brown

  Gunz’s meaty hand shot out to grasp Fab’s arm, digging his fingers into her skin.

  “Step back or you’re dead.” I whipped out my Glock, aiming at the center of his chest, tempted to lower the aim to his minuscule friend.

  Gunz turned at the sound of me cocking my weapon. “Nobody threatens me,” he growled as he dropped his hands.

  Fab jumped between him and me, hand on his chest. “Calm down and listen to me.” She gave me a ‘don’t shoot’ look over her shoulder. “Put your gun away.”

  She was always grouching at me to shoot to kill. Now, when I was finally in the mood, she sucked the fun out of the show down. I compromised and lowered my gun to my side.

  Fab explained to him everything she’d done.

  I smiled my approval when she added a few details that she hadn’t done, but it only made the re-telling of the story better. I’d have to tell Mother her tutoring was paying off.

  Gunz shook his head back and forth like a bobble head doll the whole time she talked. His face was bright red. He didn’t want to hear anything that stood between him and his auto.

  “You know where it is, so go get the damn car. I know you can do it. Bring it back in one piece. She’s a stripper; you can outsmart her,” he said.

  “Are you hard of hearing? She’s not going!” I yelled. I hadn’t realized we had attracted attention; two fishermen leaned against the railing, watching the show. “You’ve got two choices, and neither one includes her services. Get it yourself or call the cops.”

  “If you know what’s good for you, Bitch, you’ll shut up.” He took a step forward.

  I raised my Glock. “I know. Call someone else and don’t tell them it’s wired to explode. While the sheriff is scooping up what’s left with a teaspoon, I’ll spread it all over town that you’re the one to blame.”

  “Get her out of here,” Gunz blasted at Fab.

  Spoon materialized out of nowhere. “Is there a problem here?” He glared at Gunz. They nodded at one another.

  Translation: They knew one another, but weren’t friendly.

  “Yes there is,” I said, exchanging dirty looks with Gunz.

  “Shut your mouth,” Gunz roared.

  Spoon slammed his hand into Gunz’s chest, stopping his forward movement. “Apologize,” he ordered. “Don’t ever speak to her like that again. What’s the problem here?”

  Gunz mumbled something unintelligible.

  Fab gave me the evil eye, and I ignored her and gave Spoon the details.

  “Car’s sweet. Always liked it. You want to sell?” Spoon asked Gunz.

  “I want it back,” Gunz grumbled.

  “You find out who’s harboring your car, and I’ll retrieve it. Got a couple of flatbeds of my own. My boys will pick it up and dump it off anywhere you want. Use your manly prowess on Miss Ivory, and maybe she’ll cooperate.”

  I laughed at the sex comment. All eyes turned and glared at me.

  “Of course, you would owe me.” Spoon grinned. “One more thing. These two are no longer available for the job. Are you listening, Fabiana?”

  Fab ignored him.

  “Did you hear me?” he asked.

  I sighed in relief when she nodded.

  “I can call you as soon as I get the address?” Gunz asked.

  Spoon nodded his head in the affirmative, extracting a card out of his pocket and handing it over.

  “One more thing. These two,” he pointed to me and Fab, “they’re both under my protection. Nothing better happen to either one of them––ever. Just to be clear, I’ll kill you myself, and it won’t be quick.”

  I’d seen his creepy smile before. Not only did it send shivers up my spine, it unnerved me and made me happy it wasn’t directed at me.

  Chapter 28

  I stood at the kitchen sink watering the plants in the garden window, enjoying my ritual of morning coffee. It surprised me to see Fab pull into the driveway since, when I passed her bedroom door earlier, she had the Do Not Disturb ribbon tied around the handle. She thought she deserved privacy with Didier though, if the situation was reversed, she’d bang on my door and scream from the hallway. That's why Creole and I snuck off to his beachfront hideaway as much as we could.

  I grabbed my ringing phone off the island counter. “You could just come in the house.”

  “Is Didier home?” Fab asked in an almost-whisper.

  “Not unless he’s sneaking around like apparently you are.”

  The line went dead at the same time that her driver’s side door opened. Fab got out, coming around the front and dragging herself up the driveway. Fab was not looking her usual sexy self. She looked disheveled, her hair clumpy on one side. It had me wondering how the other person looked.

  She peeked into the kitchen. “I need a favor.”

  “Is that grass in your hair?”

  “You’re not to say one word to Didier. Promise me.”

  “Not a word, unless asked by Creole. And on the condition that you give up every single juicy detail.”

  Fab let out a short breath. She labored under the misconception that she could best Creole at not getting caught sneaking around, and I hated to remind her in her weakened state that it hadn’t happened yet.

  “Didier’s due home any minute. Stall him. I just need enough time to take a shower.”

  I watched her move slowly up the stairs. I could picture the reunion. Didier would take one look at her, frown, and they’d be arguing in French as he hustled her into their bedroom to wring the details out of her. I wondered if he ever got tired of squeezing the slow truth out of his girlfriend. I thought not, because Fab told me once he had creative ways of getting her to open up. She'd smiled as she said it, so his ways must be enjoyable.

  Creole pulled up behind the Hummer, blocking it with his super-sized pickup truck. Good thing I didn’t have a sneaky getaway scheduled for today. He put his face up to the heavily tinted windows of the SUV, first back, then front. Any coincidence that he showed up right behind Fab?

  I eyed him suspiciously when he came through the door after picking the lock. I once offered him a key and he'd laughed. He was dressed for a day off. His hair was slightly damp, and he wore shorts and tennis shoes. I ogled his long, tan legs before making eye contact.

  He lounged against the doorway, arms crossed, and a sinful glint in his eye. “What are you up to?”

  I backed up behind the island. “I don’t like your insinuation,” I frowned.

  He slid slowly toward me, knowing that whichever way he faked, I’d go that direction.

  He crooked his finger. “Come over here, Babe.”

  “After you tell me why you were checking out the SUV.”

  “Your friend blew by me at a signal. I thought perhaps she might have a dead body to dump. You want to fill me in?”

  “I’m going to catch you, you know,” Creole teased as he went left.

  I went right and laughed. “I don’t know anything. You’ll have to ask Fab.”

  I jumped when the front door opened.

  “Why is this door unlocked?” came Mother's voice.

  Creole’s arm wrapped around me.

  “Caught you,” he whispered in my ear.

  Mother entered the kitchen with an unhappy expression on her face, Spoon right behind her; both had shopping bags loaded with food containers in their hands. Mother boasted of her home cooking, but in reality she was the connoisseur of to-go food. She served the food on pretty dishes and threw the containers in the trash.

  “It’s his fault.” I looked up at Creole. “He was the last person in.”

  “Why do you look surprised to see us?” Spoon asked me, then peered at Mother. “Did someone forget to mention that she planned a party at your house?”

  “Party?” I didn’t bother to hide my confusion.

  “You don’t mind, do you?” Mother hugged me.

  My family had an open invitation to flop at my house anytime they chose. “Of course not,” I kissed her cheek.


  The door opened again and Didier entered, travel bag in hand. He said an all-inclusive “Hello” and scanned the kitchen for Fab. Fab squealed from the staircase, and Didier tossed his bag aside and swung her around into a hug. I was the only one to notice her wince.

  Brad and his family popped in through the front door. Liam brought up the rear with dessert boxes from the bakery, as always. Liam had long ago been assigned the job of getting dessert, and he did a good job always choosing both a long-time favorite and something new to try.

  I turned in Creole’s arms.

  “You know, if you had gone all caveman after breaking and entering––thrown me over your shoulder and slipped out the back, we could be at your house doing naughty things.”

  Creole nudged me in the back and motioned in Fab’s direction. She had left Didier upstairs and returned by herself, showing no signs of trauma. She looked her usual put-together self again, in black knee-length shorts and strappy sandals.

  I intercepted her and linked my arm through hers. I nudged her through the French doors to a secluded spot on the far side of the pool. A favorite when you didn’t want anyone overhearing. With an unimpeded view, you could see anyone approach and have time for a quick change of topic if needed.

  “I need coffee,” Fab whined.

  “Then tell me what happened and make it quick.” I gripped her arm and she winced. “You can’t hide that you’re injured from Didier. Look at me! Tell him yourself.”

  “I fell at the lighthouse.” She looked away.

  “What the hell did you do that you can’t tell him the truth?” I shook my head. “And me. Your younger, more attractive sister.”

  It made me smile to see her smile. She had no come back, though. I wanted to hug her and reassure her that she’d be feeling better soon.

  “Remember my corporate client? Turns out the information I gave him implicated the VP and his assistant. He wasn’t satisfied with knowing who betrayed him to the competition and almost bankrupted his company. Now he wants to know why.”

  “Why don’t you have him ask when he confronts the two of them? Or confront them separately and see which one decides to save their neck first.”

  Creole stood in the doorway, arms crossed like a bouncer. He kept a watchful eye on Fab and me as he monitored the activity going on inside the house.

  “My client didn’t confront either one. He must have a legal background, told me he doesn’t want to ask any questions he doesn’t know the answers to in advance. That’s where I come in.”

  “You broke in again?” I yanked on the ends of her hair. “You snuck out in the middle of the night and didn’t take me?”

  “You made it clear you were averse to driving the getaway car for felonies. Before you go off on a tirade, you’re right. It’s my case; I should be the one to risk jail. Besides, I’d need you for bail and jail visits.”

  “Maybe I could have talked some sense into you.”

  “When do I ever listen?”

  I hugged her gently.

  “I hired Phil to dig around in the thieves’ backgrounds. All she came up with were rumors of money problems and a gambling addiction regarding the VP. The assistant? Who knows, possibly love or money and she made a ton; her lover paid her well. My client wanted documented proof.”

  “Move along to the good part.”

  “You don’t sound very sympathetic,” she pouted.

  I imitated Creole and growled at her.

  “Last night I drove out to Plum Island and broke into his mansion. Unfortunately for me, he and the Mrs. came home early from a charity function, brawling. They were calling each other interesting names, back and forth, questioning about their parentage. I got caught off guard and had no time to make my getaway without being discovered. I wedged myself under a wooden ladder used for the top shelves of the bookcase.”

  “You should’ve called. What if something bad happened and no one knew where you were?”

  “And get us both arrested? Believe me, I thought about it, but I couldn’t come up with a Plan B,” Fab said.

  “How did you get out? Hurry up before we get interrupted.”

  Brad had taken control of the outdoor kitchen, setting up for all of us to eat and drink outside. The impromptu party had now been officially moved outside.

  “Coffee,” Fab groaned. “I can smell it, or I’m hallucinating.” She noticed my irritation and continued, “I didn’t think they’d ever stop fighting. I had to wait until they went upstairs and it took a damn long time before all was quiet. I hoisted myself out the window, lost my footing on the sill. I fell about five feet, landing on my back; the bushes broke my fall.”

  “Why not go out the same door you picked the lock on?”

  “They brought the dogs in the house. Two big ones. They didn’t seem to be particularly scary, but I was just afraid if they heard me or caught a glimpse, they’d start barking.”

  “I’m not giving you any more good advice, only to have you ignore it. Just so you know, Creole asked questions. It seems as though you blew by him on the highway.”

  “Can you keep him quiet?” she asked.

  I shook my head. She always thought she could manipulate the alpha males in our lives, and I hadn’t seen any evidence it had worked.

  “I’m happy you’re back, even in one slightly-blemished piece.” I peeked over her shoulder. “Didier is headed this way. Good luck.”

  I kissed Didier’s cheek and welcomed him home. Skirting around the pool, I headed straight for Creole’s open arms. I congratulated myself for not running and drawing rude comments.

  “You two looked intense,” Creole commented, his blue eyes scanning my face.

  I ignored his unasked questions. Since I hadn’t been with Fab, I didn’t feel compelled to share. I knew she’d see it as a betrayal. “What’s the plan?”

  “Early barbecue. Everyone has evening plans. Including us.”

  “You never said anything, so I made other plans.” I smiled sweetly.

  “A date or something?” His lips tightened.

  “Not a date, more like something…,” I said. I scooted out of his reach, turning my head to smile.

  “You’re not going,” he yelled as I disappeared into the living room.

  Chapter 29

  I rolled to my side of the bed, enjoying the sight of Creole’s bedhead and deep blue eyes devouring me in a wolfish way. We’d actually slept in––a rare occurrence, since we often woke up when the sunshine streamed in through the windows.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “I’m checking out my legs. Do you think it’s time for a pedicure?” I held my foot out for inspection.

  “I like the hot pink toes.” He ran his hand up and down my leg. “Why are your legs always so soft and smooth?”

  “The hair doesn’t grow back anymore––they’re afraid. I used to wax, and I’d hear them scream, 'owie!' when I jerked them out by the roots.”

  Creole scrunched his nose. No waxing in his future.

  “You haven’t said a word about Fab’s new business. Has she gotten a client yet?”

  Uh-oh! Did he know something, or was this just casual conversation?

  “You know, she stays busy,” I said. That sounded evasive, so I inwardly groaned and changed to a less dodgy response. “She did get a new account, a corporate account. She’s keeping it separate from the legal car-boosting we do.”

  “Did you go along with her?” His tone was casual, but the detective didn’t fool me. Right now he was in good-cop mode, but I knew he could hop back and forth between good and bad cop in a heartbeat.

  He turned over on his back, pushing up against the headboard, tucking his hands behind his head.

  “You know I like to hear about everything you do.”

  I made it a rule to never lie to him. Somehow he got me to include no vague story-telling in that promise. I rolled off the bed on the opposite side.

  “I’ll make coffee,” I said as I scurried off
in the direction of the kitchen.

  “If you run out the door, don’t forget your shoes. I’ll track you down. You’ll be the only naked woman running down the side of the road.” He gave an evil little laugh.

  I sighed, happy I had my back to him, because my cheeks blazed with heat. The thought of him in hot pursuit made my knees weak. I loved our little games of chase. He’d catch me and scoop me into his arms.

  While waiting for the coffee to brew, I grabbed his t-shirt off the chair. Slipping it over my head, I went out to the patio and cleaned off the table. The view over the Gulf of Mexico was spectacular any time of day, any kind of weather.

  How Creole found this isolated piece of beachfront property amazed me. He had the last house on a dead-end that curved around the water. Only a handful of houses had been built here, the nearest one at least a quarter of a mile down the road. A real estate investor friend alerted him to the tear-down after the owner decided it would require too much cash for an investment property he wouldn’t live in and couldn’t unload on someone else at the profit margin he required.

  Creole had stripped it down to the studs, keeping the original footprint. What had once been a small three bedroom home, he rebuilt into one large space with a separate bathroom that rivaled the kitchen in size.

  Figuring his coffee was ready, I stopped my musings and went inside. My coffee only required a microwave and some mix. Creole preferred some sort of smelly dark roast. Not as bad as Fab, though, whose morning beverage brewed up into thick slime.

  Creole ran his fingers up my back and pressed me up against the counter. “Hands over your head,” he barked.

  My hands shot up. He pulled his t-shirt over my head and wrapped his arms around me, nibbling my neck.

  “You get the shirt back when you answer my questions.” He pushed me down, kissing up my spine.

  “You’re so mean,” I moaned.

  “I see you’re going to need a full interrogation.” He left a trail of biting kisses across my shoulders. “Do you want me to stop?”

  “Nooo,” I whimpered.

  “This time she didn’t include me,” I said breathlessly. “Not a word that she had a job or that she was leaving. Any particulars about the job, you’ll have to ask her.”