She sipped tea without seeming to taste it. “I don’t know. I think he might have been sent by a guy who followed me from the airport earlier. He was watching me from the beach, so I thought I’d swim up the coast and avoid them both.”
Two guys? He felt a tightening in his gut. “Why are they after you?”
Antonia put the mug down on the antique trunk that served as a coffee table, her hands trembling. “Like I said, I don’t know. It could be just my imagination.”
It was unlike her to be guarded. “Better call the cops.”
Antonia shook her head, sending droplets of water through the lamp-lit lobby. “It’s nothing. Probably a misunderstanding.”
“Don’t think so. Cops are a good idea.”
Her eyes flashed at him. “The cops already believe I lied to support my sister, and so do you.” The words wobbled a bit at the end, and he saw her swallow hard.
He took the brunt of it, the anger that flowed from her and was nearly a match for his own. He spoke lower, hoping Gavin wasn’t hearing every word. “Keep the past out of this.”
“I’d be happy to.” Antonia stood, discarding the blanket, chafing her arms to warm up. He remembered the softness of those arms, tender, loving, and the memory awakened an ache deep inside. He stood, too, walking to the window and looking out toward the restless sea. He drew close to her, close enough to imagine he could feel the warmth of her skin, hear the soft purr of her breathing. Close, but far enough away to remember what she’d done.
“Stay the night. I’ll take you back in the morning if the storm will allow.”
Antonia was staring at the spotted junonia shell nestled on the marble fireplace hearth. “It’s the same one, isn’t it?” she said, voice low.
He didn’t answer.
She traced a finger over the broken edge, and he was drowned in the memory. Happy times, her finding the lovely specimen, him ready to throw the broken shell back into the surf.
“No, keep it,” she’d insisted. “It’s been damaged, but that makes it more beautiful.” She’d kissed him and run off to find another shell, leaving the broken junonia in his fingers.
He’d loved her for that, for finding beauty in the brokenness. He watched now as she carefully replaced the shell on the mantel and turned to face him with none of the tenderness he had yearned for in those black, beautiful eyes.
“I’ll walk you to the bungalow,” he said.
Gavin made no comment as he watched them go.
*
Antonia could not see much as they made their way over the dark path, wind chilling her even further. She was relieved to find that Paula and Silvio had gone, leaving a lamp on to illuminate the wood flooring and stonework above a tiny fireplace. A little settee with cheerful blue-striped cushions complemented the azure bookcase. It must be Paula’s work as Reuben was color-blind, which was why he usually wore all black to make the matching easier. Or maybe the decor was another woman’s contribution. Not hard to believe; Reuben was a poet at heart, gorgeous, loyal, and in the past one look from his chocolate eyes made her weak in the knees.
She swallowed the thought.
Reuben cleared his throat and shoved his hands into his pockets, a gesture she knew he’d learned in his childhood.
“Paula left you a change of clothes.”
Antonia saw the faded Gators sweatshirt and pants. The housekeeper hadn’t handed them over cheerfully, she was sure, but Antonia was in no position to be fussy. She could not wait to exchange her soaking garments for dry ones.
Reuben opened a small cupboard and handed her a flashlight. “Storm may take out our electricity, but we’ve reinforced the walls so it’s more up to code than the main house.”
He turned to go.
“Thank you,” she blurted. “I mean, thank you for getting me out of the water and, um, letting me stay here—just until morning.”
He smiled—a shy grin, like a teen after his first kiss. She could not look away from his lips, expressive and sculpted perfectly. Tender, she remembered, and loaded with promises. Promises he could not keep.
“You’ll be our last guest of the season.” Something sad flickered across his face.
“You haven’t made much progress on the hotel?”
“Dry July and August and frost last December messed up the oranges. Not a lot of cash to funnel into this place. I managed to fix up two rooms in the main house and this bungalow, so we’ve had only a few paying customers.”
His gaze ran over the wooden beams.
The irony confused her. Hector was rolling in money, yet Reuben struggled. But when push came to shove, she reminded herself, he had his brother’s back, not yours.
“I’ll be ready first thing in the morning,” she said, trying for a stronger tone than a dripping wet, exhausted woman should command.
“We’ll get you there as soon as we can. By morning we should have a better forecast on the storm.” He hesitated. “Nee…”
The endearment cut at her, and she saw that he regretted the slip.
Memories flitted through her mind.
“Why are you staring at me?”
His smile, those lips. “The light in your eyes, it’s like the sky just before the sun rises.”
She looked feverishly around the room. “Nice. Nice place.”
“Antonia, your life isn’t my business anymore, but if you were scared enough of that man on the Jet Ski to risk drowning, you should talk to the cops. I can arrange…”
“No,” she said quickly. “I don’t want you to arrange anything. I’m sorry I wound up here, Reuben. Believe me, it wasn’t my intention. I appreciate your help, but I’ll go tomorrow.”
“And then disappear again.”
“That’s what you want, isn’t it?” She swallowed. “The best thing for both of us.”
His gaze hardened, and she knew what was coming. “Where’s Gracie?”
“I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do. You’re helping your sister break the law. Ironic, since that’s what you accused my brother of doing.”
“She asked me to help her do what she had to do because Gracie’s life is more important than your brother’s selfishness.”
“It’s not selfish to want to see your child. He loves Gracie.”
“He put her in danger by getting back into the business. He attacked her mother.”
“He didn’t…” Reuben broke off, the muscles around his jaw working. “There’s no point getting into it now.” He exhaled. “You will probably never believe this, but he misses Gracie, and so do I. More than I can say.”
Without another word he opened the door and walked into the night.
She watched him from the window, standing behind the curtain in case he might turn around again and catch her there. He stopped at the bend in the path, looking not back at the bungalow, but straight ahead at the delicate peaked roof of the main house, wondering perhaps how it would escape the storm without damage. It struck her that she’d never considered how Reuben might have felt about losing Gracie. She should have known. In happier times she’d seen him spend hours on the floor stacking blocks or clomping around on his hands and knees pretending to be Gracie’s trusty palomino. Her throat tightened and tears pricked her eyes.
But Mia was right. Hector was dangerous, and she could not allow him back into her life. And that meant Reuben, too.
All around, the island twisted and bent under the increasing threat. It seemed to her that nothing on Isla Marsopa escaped unscathed. His mother died on her way to the island. Reuben was chained to a disastrously expensive repair. And Antonia herself would never be able to picture Isla without remembering what she had most treasured…and lost.
Her vision blurred and she blinked hard as the darkness swallowed Reuben up. Tomorrow she would choose to face the wrath of the storm, no matter how strong, rather than revisit the tattered wreck of her past with Reuben. It would be kinder for both of them.
THREE
Reuben w
as prowling the hotel grounds long before sunup, and the massive cloud wall illuminated by the moon didn’t bode well for the coming day. The scenario was all too grimly familiar. He and everyone else from Jamaica to the eastern seaboard had been tracking the progress of the monstrous storm, which started as a tropical wave that ballooned over the west coast of Africa before strengthening into a depression. From there it burgeoned into a tropical storm that parked for a while over the Caribbean Sea, taunting almost, before launching itself into what the National Hurricane Center had officially deemed a bona fide hurricane. It would strike land in less than forty-eight hours.
He swallowed a sick feeling. Hurricane Charley had been a Category 4 with wind speeds of 130 miles per hour. The hotel had barely survived. This approaching menace, which had now been named Hurricane Tony, was projected to equal or surpass that rating.
He arrived in the kitchen and grabbed a piece of the succulent green banana and pork patties left over from Paula’s delectable meal the night before. She’d been cooking all his favorites lately. The worse things got, the more Paula cooked. As he savored each bite, he decided to make a renewed effort to get her and Silvio off the island. And, of course, Antonia. His thoughts wandered to the tiny bungalow.
He wondered if she had been warm enough. Perhaps he should have lit a fire or brought her a snack…. He mentally chided himself. Over and done. She’s not yours to worry about. As he wrestled the front door open to round up boards and nails, he stopped short. A boat was moored next to his. An expensive cabin cruiser that looked out of place against the rickety dock. He froze, thinking whoever had been after Antonia the night before had come to finish the job.
He’d sprinted a yard down the path toward the bungalow when a voice stopped him.
“Slow down before you hurt yourself.”
His brother stood at the side entrance to the hotel, a cigarette held between his slender fingers. He flashed a lazy smile. “We need to talk, brother.”
Reuben sighed in relief and joined Hector on the veranda, where he got a better look at the bruise darkening his cheekbone. “What happened?”
Hector shrugged and shot a look at the roiling sea. “Inside. No need to stand in the rain.”
“Lose the cigarette,” Reuben said.
Hector did so without the usual flippant comment.
Reuben followed his younger brother inside, suddenly colder than he had been moments before. The hotel lobby was gloomy, quiet, as though the old building itself was waiting for the storm to land.
Hector paced in front of the bay window, and Reuben let him do so without interruption. You couldn’t hurry Hector, no matter how hard you tried.
When he’d gazed out at the wind-lashed palms for a while, and then seemingly studied every inch of the pine molding and floors, he turned around. “There’s trouble coming. I tried to keep it from you, but it’s bigger than me.”
Reuben braced himself. That his brother would admit to weakness was the most telling thing. He was not talking about the storm. “Who?”
Hector broke off, eyes narrowing as the floorboards creaked. “Who’s that?”
Gavin came into the room, his expression sheepish. “Sorry. Didn’t want to interrupt.” He held up his pack. “Thought the boat was leaving.”
Reuben introduced Gavin to his brother.
“A pleasure,” Hector said in a voice that indicated it was anything but.
“I’ll just go back upstairs. Call me when you’re ready to go.” He left.
Hector waited a long moment before he resumed. “It’s Garza. He wants Isla.”
Reuben steeled himself. “He’s always wanted it.” It was the perfect hub for him to get his drugs into Florida. The Garza family, led by Frank Garza, was in tight with the Colombian drug lords who flew their products to the Bahamas, using a number of ingenious methods to get it to prearranged spots in the ocean where speedboats would pick it up. What Garza needed was a piece of land with few people to interfere, within close proximity to the mainland, from which he could set loose his fleet of speedboats for any given operation, so many that the coast guard could not possibly nab the one vessel that held the illicit cargo.
“He’s decided it’s time to acquire it. Now.”
Reuben groaned inwardly. Plenty of dark shallow shoals around Isla where boats could lead authorities on a goose chase if it came down to it. Isla was perfect. Garza had sent people before with offers to buy. When he’d declined, one of Reuben’s bungalows had mysteriously burned down and his best boat had been scuttled. “I told him to his face that Isla was mine and I won’t sell it at any price, and he’s not going to bully me into handing it over.”
“And he believed you,” Hector said with a wry smile. “That is why he means to take it without your permission.”
Reuben studied his brother. “So he’s asked you to persuade me?”
“I refused, of course. My guy, Benny, arrived before they got too far into trying to convince me, but he knows we are close and so he asked me to tell you as a courtesy. I guess he thinks since we were in the same business together once, I will understand the urgency of his request. I do. He’s dead serious, Reuben.”
“I can’t believe this. I’ll go to the cops.”
“If you wish, but you and I both know that’s a waste of effort. You can never get any proof to stick on Garza. He’s like Teflon.”
Reuben’s mind raced. He forced himself to say it. “Hector, you’re clean, right? You weren’t trying to leverage your way back into the business using Isla?” He waited for his brother to face him, to look deep into his eyes and proclaim he had not returned to running the cocaine trade that had made his father rich.
Hector’s eyes burned, and Reuben knew he’d made a mistake. “It was not enough to have my wife almost kill me because she didn’t believe me? I’m to repeat it over and over to you, brother?” Hector closed the gap between them. “I made a promise to you. I was out of it. I promised Mia, too, but she wouldn’t believe me, and now I have no wife and she took my child.” His voice cracked slightly. “My wife, my daughter. Don’t tell me it will cost me my brother, too.”
Reuben gripped his brother’s shoulder. “No, it won’t.”
Hector allowed a tight smile, his gaze wandering around the aged kitchen. He touched the bruise on his cheek. “Isla is a wreck, you know. Maybe it’s not worth it.”
Anger flamed inside Reuben’s gut. It was worth everything. The old hotel and the island on which it barely stood were their mother’s legacy, the shining piece of hope she held on to when her husband took up drug running, when he turned into someone she could no longer respect. “I won’t let it go.”
“Our mother wouldn’t, either,” Hector spat, “and now she’s dead.”
The past crackled between them like lightning. “We’ve been through this. She wanted more for us.”
He shook his head. “She ran.”
“She felt she had no choice.”
“Our father loved her, worshipped her, like I did Mia.”
“Our father worked for drug runners.”
“Yet she did not mind the nice clothes, the private schools for her boys, the trips. She didn’t protest about those things, did she?”
“She stopped respecting him, Hector, and that was the end.” He added quietly, “You can’t force someone to love you.” That lesson was ground into him, at least.
Hector did not answer.
A palm branch slapped against the window. Reuben took a deep breath and stepped back. It was not the time. “I’m not giving Isla to anyone.”
Hector sighed. “I know, and I would be disappointed if you gave in. I just needed to warn you. There’s more coming at you than a hurricane, and you were never the ruthless type.”
Ruthless, Reuben thought, is a relative term. Though he wanted nothing more than to live a quiet life with his orange groves and to shuttle guests to and from the island, it might be necessary to fight.
I’m not afraid of a fight, little bro
ther.
Not afraid at all.
*
Antonia hurried through the rain to the main house, hoping there might be some instant coffee she could help herself to before anyone else awoke. Truth was, she was hungry, too, but she would not take food from Reuben. It seemed wrong to take anything from him now.
Letting herself in quietly, she saw Reuben standing, hands on hips, face a mask of irritation or concern, she could not tell. She stopped in the doorway, uncertain. She’d just made up her mind to turn around and go see if she could find Silvio and convince him to ferry her without involving Reuben when, to her horror, Hector stepped out of the shadows, seeming not the least bit surprised to see her.
“Like the cat that keeps coming back,” Hector said, giving her the once-over.
Antonia straightened, wishing she didn’t look quite so much like a half-drowned tabby. “I didn’t come back. I had an accident. Reuben is giving me a lift back to the mainland.”
“He isn’t hard enough to hold a grudge,” Hector said, eyes narrowing. “But I am.”
Reuben moved between them. “Not now.”
Hector shrugged. “We are finished with our talk. Don’t stay here, Reuben. It’s dangerous.”
Antonia noted the look between the two Sandovals.
“I’m going up to the cupola. I want to see this monster storm approaching. Maybe I will stay here and ride it out.” Hector walked close to her to pass by. She felt her nerves go taut, and she cemented her feet to the floor.
“You know that I will find my daughter,” he murmured.
“No,” she shot back. “You won’t touch her.”
He smiled. “Oh, yes. I will spend every penny and every remaining minute of my life until I find Mia, and then she will return to jail for stealing my daughter from me.”
Antonia felt her fingers balling into fists. “You won’t get a chance to hurt them again.”
“When Mia tried to kill me, she ended her right to be Gracie’s mother.”
“She figured out you were dealing drugs. You attacked her and she defended herself. She paid for that decision by going to jail, but now she’s free and you have no hold on her anymore.”
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