Deborah Brown - Madison Westin 07 - Kidnapped in Paradise

by Deborah Brown

  I grabbed a pillow from behind my head and curled up into it. “What’s the latest?”

  “Bonnet lives out on Bonnet Island. When you’re rich, you can buy a private island and name it after yourself.” She half-laughed, clearly not amused. “It’s only accessible by boat, and it's purported to be well-guarded. Mr. B is well known to law enforcement. He keeps his hands clean by farming out the dirty work to his minions, who line up to commit a felony or two to stay in favor.”

  I sat up and scooted over, shoulder to shoulder with Fab.

  “There’s only one person who can help us and that’s Mr. Bad Ass himself.” I dialed and held the phone between our ears. Repeating everything was getting old.

  After a pause and a cautious hello––no one liked blocked numbers––I said, “You remember when we first met and you told me you were a problem solver, big or small, didn’t matter, and offered your services?”

  “Where in the hell are you?” Spoon growled, his exasperation radiating through the phone.

  “We need your help.”

  “Get your ass to the houseboat and plan on staying,” he barked, hanging up.

  It surprised me that Creole’s phone went to voicemail after he’d left messages all over town.

  “Meeting with Spoon at his houseboat within the hour,” I told him.

  I hugged Fab.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “Bonnet’s only interested in me because of Jax. You should go to Miami and stay with Didier.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” she sniffed. “Get off your ass and help me clean this place. We don’t want to leave anything incriminating behind that will get the guys in trouble. Good time to be leaving, too. Several funerals are booked, so we’d have to stay up here or not return until after dark.”

  * * *

  Spoon, in a fashionable pair of ragged jeans and a t-shirt showing off his biceps, leaned against the concrete wall on the side of the Dock Master’s building. From his vantage point, he could keep an eye on the comings and goings or slip away unnoticed. I felt his eyes on us before we got out of the car.

  I’d been under the impression he lived in the apartment over J S Auto Body, his primary business a couple of blocks away. It came as a surprise when Mother informed me he lived on the water. According to her, it had plenty of interior living space and an outdoor entertaining area, and she liked staying there. Any socializing he did was on his other boat, the one Jax was currently repairing. No one got an invitation to stop by here.

  “You got any other bags?” he gruffed as he checked out our shoulder bags. “Promise me right now that you two won’t be sneaking off anywhere, scaring the hell out of your mother.”

  He held out his hand and helped us on board.

  I climbed aboard and came face to face with Creole, who sat crunched down in a chair; he looked good, his long tan legs hanging out of a pair of shorts. I honestly didn’t know what to say. “Sorry we jerked you around" seemed more like a fight starter.

  It surprised me that he’d shown up, instead of writing me off and looking for a new girlfriend who’d graciously accept help in the life-saving department. The thought of him being with someone else pained me, but it would be my own damn fault. I also opted out of launching myself in his arms and begging for mercy, as it might fall on deaf ears. Instead, I offered up a weak smile.

  He crossed his arms across his chest and didn’t say a word. His body language read, ‘Done with you.’

  “Didn’t know you’d be here,” Fab flashed Creole a suspicious smile.

  I could kick myself for not having the ‘be nice’ talk with her.

  “Sit.” Spoon indicated some deck chairs that were situated under cover. To be seen, a person would have to be standing at the back of the boat. He pointed to a bucket of beverages on the table. “Help yourself.”

  “Did you talk to Jax?” I asked, stalling the conversation to come.

  “The only reason his ass is still on my boat is because of your mother. She assured me that he knows boats and that I won’t be disappointed. Besides, she still has some misplaced fondness for him, and it appears it’s reciprocated.”

  Creole groaned and shook his head.

  Spoon glared at him and continued. “As added incentive, I told him once he’s done with the repairs, I’d get him a plane ticket to wherever he wants to go.”

  I relayed what Jax had told me and refrained from a single embellishment, telling them how the two dead men screwed Bonnet. I told them how Jax claimed a certain amount of ignorance in the beginning and that I believed him. The Devereaux and Westin families had history, and therefore I didn’t want to see him sacrificed only to end up dead.

  It hadn’t escaped my notice that Creole hadn’t said a word. Nor had Fab, who threw furtive glances in his direction.

  “Leave Bonnet to me,” Spoon said. “I’ll arrange a sit down and come up with a truce. It might take a day or two; he’ll want the meeting to take place out in the Gulf. You two stay here and out of sight. Under no condition do you leave this boat. Got it?”

  We both nodded.

  “Warning: All bets are off if Bonnet gets his hands on you first. Negotiations at that point might well prove useless.”

  Creole snorted. “You might want to issue a warning of your own to Bonnet,” his voice was calm and quiet, hard words spoken softly. “If anything happens to either of these women, retribution will be sought, and it won’t be a quick bullet to the head.”

  Spoon held out his hand. “Give me the car keys. Where do you want it returned?”

  Always faster than me, Fab said, “Leave it there. It will disappear in a couple of hours.”

  I hadn’t realized I’d held my breath until I saw that the explanation went unchallenged. Fab covered for me. They thought the car came from one of her shifty connections. She must have come to the same conclusion as me, although we hadn’t talked about it. We needed to keep the extent of Phil’s abilities a secret. Spoon probably knew of her informational talents; he just hadn’t connected her to us yet.

  “Billy Keith is on the way over; he’s sleeping on deck.” Spoon wagged his finger, “Behave yourselves. I told him a well-placed bullet in one of your ass cheeks will stop the other one from escaping. I’ll be stopping by tomorrow and expect to see the both of you.” He climbed over the side and disappeared down the docks.

  Fab jumped up, practically sending her deck chair into a spin. With a glance between Creole and me, she headed off in the opposite direction, looking eager to get away. I hoped this would be one time she wouldn’t take cover close by and eavesdrop.

  I gave myself a mental kick and moved to a small table in front of Creole, sitting down. “I’m sorry for the worry we caused.”

  “Are you really?” he spit out. “Sorry? You’re damn lucky it’s illegal to strangle you.”

  “I… uh… I’ll make this up to you.”

  “Do you trust me?” He held up his hand. “Apparently not, with the duo Wonder Woman act you two pulled off.” He stared at me and stood. “I have to get back to work.”

  “Don’t leave like this. I really am….”

  He cut me off. “I can’t help with Bonnet. I’d like to put him in a prison cell where he belongs. Considering he manages to remain rather elusive when it comes to leaving his fingerprints on anything, I don’t expect an arrest in time to help you.”

  I wanted to cry when he left without another word, a kiss, or a hug.

  When Fab reappeared almost immediately, I wondered why I thought she’d go hide out in another room.

  “I suppose you were listening?” I asked.

  “That didn’t go well.” Fab hugged me.

  “Is the beautiful Fabiana going all soft and sentimental?”

  She snorted, a most unladylike sound. “His feelings are hurt. Hopefully he’ll get over it and realize that except for the occasional quirk, you two are quite happy together.”

  I arched my brows. “Quirk?”

  “Hey, can I get some he
lp over here?” a male voice yelled.

  Billy Keith stood dockside in knee-length bathing trunks, a t-shirt, and sun-bleached windblown hair. He had a couple of brown shopping bags in his hands.

  “I ordered dinner,” Fab announced, proud of herself.

  “If one of those bags holds a pitcher of margaritas, I’m going to think you’re the sweetest ever,” I told Billy.

  His laugh was a deep growl.

  “I’ve never been sweet a day in my life. Don’t let my boyish charm fool your ass.”

  That would be a big mistake.

  I’d heard the rumors and personally witnessed his charm in a three-on-one fight in front of Jake’s. Terrible odds. I’d been ready to call the sheriff, but Billy made short work of them, knocking them unconscious and dumping the bodies next to the trash for pick-up the next day.

  Billy minded his own business and kept to himself. The only thing I knew for sure was that he worked for Spoon, doing something. One day at Jake’s, I challenged him to play twenty questions. He didn’t answer a single one. He just yawned and informed me, “You ask too many questions.”

  “Just give me a tidbit, free refill on your beer,” I'd offered.

  “I’m a NASCAR fan.”

  “Favorite driver?”

  He stabbed his finger at me. “That’s a second question.”

  My x-ray vision failed to see if there were margaritas in one of those bags. No matter. Soon I would stop feeling sorry for myself. I didn’t take my eyes away as Fab helped to unload the dinner. No liquid refreshment.

  Billy stretched up to his skinny six feet and cleared his throat.

  “Listen up, ladies. I’m going to tell you the rules.”

  “Don’t waste your breath,” Fab hissed at him. “Here’s the rule. You don’t make us mad, and you won’t find yourself gagged and bound to a chair.”

  I stepped between them and tried for a reassuring smile.

  “Calm down, you two. We already promised Spoon. And besides, I like it here.”

  “If I can get the two of you to stay put and not have to hurt you, I get triple pay,” he said.

  “I like ‘triple pay’,” Fab told him. “We’ll make sure you get your money.”

  Poor Billy. The fast acquiescence meant nothing, but why spoil his dreams of a big payday?

  Chapter 39

  We were on our second full day of lying around Spoon’s boat. He had yet to show his face, nothing more than a phone call to say that he was working on negotiations and that we needed to be patient. Fab pulled a new phone from her bag and disappeared into one of the bedrooms. Turned out that Billy knew his way around a barbeque and the kitchen galley. He grilled us a perfect piece of white fish with vegetables. He fixed up a side dish of crispy fried potatoes, enough for ten people, which made me groan. Luckily, Billy had a healthy appetite, or a hidden third leg. I wasn’t sure where all the food disappeared to on his thin frame.

  After dinner I sacked out on some boat cushions and stared up at the stars in the darkened sky. The slight rolling of the boat made me drowsy. As I was dozing off, a hand clamped down hard on my mouth. My eyes flew open and I felt faint, realizing that I was staring up the muzzle of a gun. A pair of dark eyes that I’d never seen before stared down into mine. From the corner of my eye, I saw Billy lying motionless on the deck.

  “Gotcha,” the bright red-haired woman said, sticking a cloth over my nose.

  * * *

  The pain in my neck was excruciating. My head hung at an odd angle. I couldn’t move my arms. I pulled, and something scratchy and unyielding bit into my wrists.

  My eyes blinked open. Why was I tied up, slumped over in a leather chair? Nice office, I thought as my brain started to function. I skimmed over the lavishly decorated space to the chair next to me. Fab glared at me in pure frustration. She shook her head slightly, which I interpreted to mean, 'quiet', since she hadn’t said anything.

  “We’ve been waiting for you to join us, Miss Madison,” a male voice boomed from behind me. He moved past, his Top-Siders coming into view. He wore silk shorts and a tropical shirt. He was fiftyish, with a full head of grey hair. The man settled in a chair behind the massive burl wood desk. His gold Rolex caught the sunlight coming in through the large porthole window; he had the air of a wealthy boat captain.

  “Let me guess: Mr. Bonnet?” I half-smiled, more of an exhale of breath.

  The redhead in my vague dream draped herself across the corner of the desk, wearing a tight black pencil skirt and button-down shirt, the lace of her white bra peeking through. She wore stilettos that would make Fab seem graceful, but me, not so much. Would now be a good time to ask how many colors of dye she had to mix together to get that garish hair color? Had anyone ever told her that it wasn’t a good look?

  She caressed a silver finger nail file between her fingers, a look of excitement in her eyes that unnerved me. Whatever dirty work that needed doing, Bonnet chose her.

  “Good, introductions are over. I have a few questions for you ladies. If I deem you fully cooperative, you’ll be leaving here fully intact. If not….” He smiled and managed to maintain a mean glint to his dark eyes.

  Fab cut him off. “Skip the detailed threats and get to the questions. We get that you’re a bad ass.”

  “Where’s Jackson Devereaux?” he boomed.

  I fought to suppress a gulp. Here we go! “I saw him a few days ago, on the docks in Lauderdale. Said he was leaving the area.”

  Bonnet clinched his fist several times. “Where’s he going?”

  “Normally, I’d say he’d go home, but I suspect he’ll show up on some friend’s doorstep. He’s lived several places around the country.”

  “Does he have my money?” Bonnet cracked his knuckles.

  In the silence of the office, it was an unnerving sound; even Fab had a slight reaction.

  “He had nothing to do with the sale of your product. It was sold by the time he hit town, and he never took a cut. That scheme was the brainchild of the two entrepreneurs that have already turned up dead.” I made a split second decision to stick to the facts as closely as possible. I had no idea what he did and didn’t already know. Getting caught in a lie could be detrimental to my health.

  Bonnet never took his eyes off me as I answered his questions. “How do you know Devereaux’s telling the truth?”

  “Jax isn’t a particularly good liar. He has no reason to lie to me, anyway.”

  Fab shifted in her chair. She too was trussed up. “You murdered the two that ripped you off. What do you want from us?”

  “I want Devereaux and my money !” The big man pounded his fist on the desk.

  He already had his answer. So now what? The ‘what’ made me inwardly shudder.

  Fab and I jerked at the fierce pounding on his office door. The redhead slithered off the desk. Well over six feet tall, she walked with an exaggerated wiggle. She cracked open the door and stuck her head out. She exchanged words in an excited voice. It was hard to distinguish if she was speaking to a male or female. Once concluded, she slammed the door, motioning to Bonnet to join her in the corner for a private chat.

  I winked at Fab, happy we were both alive and not fish food. She had a look of concentration, doing what she did best, trying to eavesdrop. I listened, but couldn’t make out one word of their whispering.

  The door closed behind us, the footsteps unhurried as Bonnet made himself comfortable behind his desk, smiling at the two of us in a way that made the hairs on my neck tingle.

  The redhead slinked up behind me and leaned over. “Get up,” she barked in my ear. She gave me a helping hand by twisting her fingers in my hair and propelling me out of the chair with a none-too-gentle shove. I sailed across the room, banging my head on a second door that I'd missed from my previous vantage point. Fab, with her killer muscles, managed to lift herself from her chair to a standing position. Fab got the same manhandling shove, but she didn’t stumble.

  Red unlocked the door, held it open, and swept
out her hand. “Move,” she ordered.

  We brushed by her and entered a long, narrow hallway, then down a short flight of steps with only the dimmest light bulb overhead.

  “Stop at the open door.” The redhead snapped her fingers. Raising her skirt, she withdrew a knife from her garter belt, the blade springing up. I stood still and tried not to squirm, certain that she’d leave us bleeding. “You can thank Boss-man for this. I wanted you hog-tied and gagged.” She pushed me inside.

  The blood came rushing back into my arms, and my fingers tingled when I flexed them.

  “Go ahead, girlie,” she told Fab. “Try and get away.” She sliced the rope away.

  “Get comfy,” she laughed. “Make all the noise you want; no one will hear you. I’m going back to lobby to give you guys a little one-on-one time.”

  The door slammed behind her, followed by a key turning in the lock. The room was smaller than a jail cell, with a stained concrete floor, an old rusted out toilet in the corner, and small sink. The only light source came from a small window that held no chance for escape.

  “Don’t you dare faint,” Fab grouched. “You’re pale even with your tan. Sit. I’ll help you; you’re not as coordinated as I am.”

  I squeezed my eyes closed, trying not to succumb to fear. Despite the guilt and feeling selfish, it calmed me somewhat when she sank down next to me.

  “Now you listen to me,” she said. “We’re going to get out of this hell hole.”

  I put my head on her shoulder. “You always say that. How are you going to get us out of this one?”

  “Have I ever been wrong? No!” She leaned her head against mine. “I’m not sure, but I promise you this. I’ll be around to give the redhead the attitude adjustment she so richly deserves.”

  “That amazon scares me. Way worse than you ever did.”

  Fab sniffed. “When were you ever afraid of me? You need a little refresher to your memory. You targeted me, then stalked me until I agreed to be your friend.”