Under Fire

by Rita Henuber

  “Alvaro, I’m sorry. Have I disrupted your plans for the day?”

  “Not at all. I’ve had coffee and juice brought up.” He gestured to the sitting area where a silver tray with a coffee pot sat on the small table. “If there is anything else you need, I’ll have it brought right away.”

  “Nothing. Coffee and juice will do just fine. And some aspirin.” She rolled away from him, swung her feet to the floor and went to pour herself a cup. Keenly aware Silva watched her every move, Olivia sipped the strong coffee and casually walked toward the window…and stopped.

  “That’s funny. I could have sworn I opened that window. I always sleep with a window open.”

  “You did. I closed it when I came in.”

  She shook her head as if to clear it. “Those pills are powerful. I didn’t hear a thing.” She sat on the edge of the bed, watching him over the rim of her cup, looking for any sign he didn’t believe her. “What are your plans for today? Do I have time to go to my hotel?”

  “I’d like to leave as soon as you are dressed.” Silva rose.

  “I have no business clothes with me.”

  He walked to the door. “No need. I’m taking you on my boat. Giving you a tour of Miami. Dress how you want.” He gestured to the dresser where several pieces of clothing were folded neatly.

  “Do bring a bathing suit. We’ll take a lunch and go for a swim.” He swung the door closed. Listening for the lock to catch, she was relieved when it didn’t. She’d gotten away with it. Or had she? He could easily be taking her out to put a bullet in her head.

  No use thinking about the possibilities. Whatever was going to happen, would. How had Danny done this? He had been more honest and straightforward than she was. Yet this was what his life had been like every day he was undercover. Lies and deception. She had teased him about getting a real job. Now, she regretted doing that. No job could be more real than what he had done.

  Resolve and the need for revenge cleared her thoughts. She washed, started to put on makeup and thought better of it. It would smear in the humidity and water. She applied lip gloss and slathered 55 SPF sunblock on every part of her body that would be exposed, which was practically all of her, put on a bikini, and pulled on shorts and a top.

  Silva greeted her at the bottom of the stairs. “That was quick.”

  “I’m not high maintenance.” She smiled, taking his arm. “Besides, I can’t wait.”

  They walked through the room where she was sure the shots had been fired. A chair and one of the plush oriental rugs were missing. They walked silently until on the dock.

  “Which of the boats would you like to use?”

  “Which is faster?”

  Silva laughed and pointed to the yellow-hulled go-fast.

  “Then that’s the one.”

  He motioned to three men on the dock to assist them into the boat and cast off. Silva expertly maneuvered the boat into the channel. Once there, he went full throttle and the boat flew, its hull easily cutting through the water with a surprisingly smooth ride.

  “If we keep going this fast I’ll never get to see anything. It’s all a blur,” she yelled over the engine noise.

  “We’ll go out fast and return slow,” he yelled back.

  She nodded and settled in. It was a glorious day. Perfect cloudless sky. The water that crystal clear turquoise color found only in tropical waters and in Rico’s eyes.

  They went south for an hour, skirting the Florida Keys.

  “Won’t you need gas soon?”

  “No. The tanks are larger than normal and there is an extra also.”

  Olivia nodded.

  Twenty minutes later they veered away from the Keys toward what she’d thought was open water. A small island appeared and as they drew closer she saw a white sandy beach with low vegetation behind.

  “Our destination,” Silva said, and slowed the engines. “We’ll have lunch here.”

  She looked around. “We didn’t bring any food.”

  “Wait.” He idled the boat’s big engines and the bow drifted onto the beach. A swell pushed the stern onto the bottom.

  “Expertly done. I think you’ve done this before.” She grinned.

  “You found me out. Are you disappointed you aren’t the first woman I’ve brought here?”

  “Not at all. Do you think I am a childish woman like those of your associates?” she asked, watching him drop a small anchor. He turned to face her and she couldn’t read his expression. His eyes were covered by dark glasses. The bill of his ball cap pulled low on his face.

  “Can I ask you something, Alvaro?”

  “You can ask anything. If I choose to answer is the real question.” He smiled, his teeth white in the bright sunlight.

  “All of your associates have very young wives. How does that happen?”

  Silva burst into a laughing fit. It was a full minute before he could speak.

  “Not wives. Girlfriends, mistresses. When my associates, as you call them, come here they leave their wives and families at home. The girls are for fun and to fuck.”

  “Do their wives know?”

  Silva shrugged. “What difference would it make?”

  “I see your point.” She took some relief knowing if the man murdered last night had children, they had not lost both parents. Olivia could hear the steady hum of an engine coming closer. She searched the sky thinking a small plane was near. A large yacht rounded the island and headed in their direction. His yacht. She spun to look at him. The smile on his face told her he was quite pleased with himself.

  “Lunch. And our ride home.”

  The yacht anchored twenty five yards away. A small zodiac launched to fetch them. On board, Silva showed her around the main cabin. Olivia was astonished at the beauty and elegance. She found it difficult to put this much wealth in perspective.

  “Hungry?” he asked.

  “You betcha.”

  Silva led her to the main stern deck where lunch waited, and gestured the crew to leave them. He held a chair, seating her. As he poured them both a generous glass of champagne she heard the zodiac fire up, and watched it go to the beached go-fast. They were alone.

  “To our continued business and future pleasure.” He lifted his glass.

  Lifting hers in return, she gave him a demure nod.

  Silva settled into his chair. “I had the cook prepare my favorite lunch. I hope you will enjoy.”

  What was not to enjoy? Champagne, ceviche, chilled lobster, shrimp, crab, crisp plantains with salsa, a variety of breads. She sat spellbound looking at the food.

  “It’s okay to have a good time, Olivia. You’ve done well for your boss. Now enjoy. It’s an order.”

  “Since you insist, I will,” she said, serving herself a generous portion of ceviche. She hoped it was good. She loved the dish, fish cooked in nothing more than lime juice.

  Silva watched as she tasted. She couldn’t stop herself. She was almost enjoying this. When he opened the third bottle of Cristal she realized she’d far exceeded her limit and was well on her way to being drunk.

  “No! No more,” she cried when he filled her glass. “I’m going for a swim. Join me?” She needed to sober up fast and get a grip. She went to the deck railing, stepping over on wobbling legs.

  “Olivia, you’ve had a lot of champagne,” Silva cautioned.

  “Exactly.” She peeled her shirt off, threw it toward him, and dove in. She kicked hard, going down as far as her lung capacity would take her. The water felt good, warm, like silk gliding past her body and what she needed to clear her head. She surfaced to find Silva watching from the deck. “Come on, join me.”

  “In a moment.” He waved. “Go to the back of the boat. I’ve lowered the swim deck.”

  Olivia swam to the back and found him sitting on the edge of the swim deck with masks and fins. He joined her, diving to the sandy bottom searching for shells. Silva was not a strong swimmer and surfaced frequently for air.

  “Olivia,” he gasped. “I�
��m ready for a break. And more wine.”

  “Last one to the boat has to pour.” Olivia’s long easy strokes had her climbing the swim deck ladder with Silva still fifteen feet away.

  She uncorked a bottle of champagne and filled two glasses.

  “I was supposed to do that,” he called out.

  “I couldn’t wait.” She took a long drink.

  “You are a very beautiful woman, Olivia,” he said from behind her. He was so close, water from his hairy chest dripped on her back. She put her glass down and remained silent. Silva untied her skimpy top. His arms slid around and up until his soft hands covered her breasts. “I cannot contain my desire any longer.”

  This was the moment she knew would come. She’d gone over how she would react dozens, maybe even hundreds of times. At all costs she must stay in control. Make no moves herself, only react to his. She closed her eyes and thought of Danny, doing this for him, but Rico edged Danny from her mind. His touch, his voice, his instructions allowed her to maintain control.

  Silva grasped her shoulders and turned her. His head dipped to her breast.

  “I’m not ready for this.”

  “I will make you ready.” His tongue circled a nipple.

  “I’m telling you no.”

  “No woman tells me no.” He nipped her breast.

  “This one does.” She jammed the fork under his jaw, over the carotid, pressing until he stood straight. Rico was right, she did know what to do.

  “Take that away from my throat,” he said through clenched teeth.

  “Not until we come to an understanding.”

  He raised a hand. She wiggled the tines against the soft flesh of his neck and shook her head. Silva glanced to the boat waiting a hundred yards away.

  “Try it and you will be dead before they get here.”

  “What do you want?”

  “I want you to respect me as a business partner.”

  He sniffed. A wild fire of anger spread through her. Under the tines of the fork, blood pumped through the large vein. A quick jab, a twist and it would be over.

  Olivia backed off on the pressure and relief flickered in his eyes. “I told you I was not like other women.” She trailed the fork down his neck to his furry chest. “I choose when and where I have sex, and with who.” She circled a nipple. “The when and where was not acceptable. The who is.”

  They stood still, gauging each other. Stubbornly, Olivia remained silent, determined not to move first. An angry sound escaped Silva. He stomped to the railing and waved at the men in the go-fast, motioning for them to return.

  “Alvaro.”

  “Not now.” He grasped the railing so hard the muscles in his arms bulged. The zodiac was a few yards away. “Get dressed,” he ordered.

  The two men came aboard and, sensing Silva’s dark mood, quickly set to their work. Petro cleared the remains of lunch away. Ernesto brought the zodiac aboard and prepared the yacht to leave. Silva sat in the sun, scowling. The man in the go-fast was signaled. The moment it came alongside, Petro hopped aboard. Ernesto fired the yacht’s engines, heading them back to Miami at full throttle.

  Olivia settled onto a deck chair in the shade and kept a cautious eye on Alvaro as the Florida Keys slipped by. Soon Key Largo could be seen ahead on the starboard side.

  Silva stalked past her into the main salon, where he noisily opened and closed drawers and cabinets. Looking for a gun to kill her? No. If he planned to kill her, he would have done it when they were in the middle of nowhere. Chancing a look in his direction, she watched him move forward, a cell phone to his ear. No sense worrying about something she had no control over. She relaxed, enjoying the scenery.

  When the high-rises of Miami loomed in the distance, Silva came out and stood next to her chaise. “Do you have anything to say?”

  Did he think she was going to apologize to him? The man’s audacity was colossal. Slowly, deliberately she removed her glasses, wanting him to see her expression. “I have no words to describe what a pathetic asshole you are,” she said in a low, controlled voice, and put the glasses back on.

  He took a step back, looking for all the world like he’d been hit in the chest with a sledge hammer. It had probably been years since anyone had spoken to him this way. Seething, he leaned over her.

  “I should—”

  “Should what?” she interrupted. “Treat me like one of your sluts? Attempt to have me arrested? Lie to me?”

  “How have I lied to you?”

  Interesting, no denial for the other two accusations.

  “Please.” She waved her hand in a dismissive motion. “This afternoon it became painfully clear you have no intention of doing business with me. You’re interested in doing one thing with me. Fucking.” He straightened. “Now, you are treating me like one of your whores. It’s insulting you think I’m so stupid.”

  “Olivia.”

  “I made a mistake coming to you. This is done.”

  “It’s not done until I say it is. I am in control here,” he said with deadly resolve.

  She removed her glasses again. “No, Alvaro, I am in control.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You really don’t see?”

  He said nothing.

  “You could take your anger out by killing me. While you would be rid of me, it would create a huge problem.”

  “How would your death create a problem for me?” He seemed amused at her audacity.

  “When it became known who killed me—and be sure it would eventually be known—my uncle and knuckle-dragging cousins would stop at nothing to get revenge. As I told you before they’re old school. In the meantime, it will appear to all you have made a move on our business. It would be a logical conclusion the next step would be to take control of all small businesses in Vancouver. Once that became clear the Asians would join forces with us to stop you. Eventually the Mexicans would join in. You would have created problems in Central America, the Pacific Rim and made many enemies.” By the look on his face this was not sitting well.

  “You could send me packing. No business completed. I go to a smaller competitor of yours. On my return to Vancouver I would spread the word how you treated me like one of your whores. Disrespected me. The knuckle-draggers would come after you.” She shrugged. “You kill them. It clears the way for me. They get you…” She smiled. “Either way I win.”

  Olivia paused to take some deep breaths. To conceal her trembling hands she used the hem of her shirt to clean her sunglasses. “I want your decision before I put my feet on dry land.”

  Silva looked like he was going to explode.

  Mansions filled the shore line. The yacht slowed considerably. Soon Ernesto was bringing them alongside Silva’s dock. Olivia stayed in her chair waiting for the mooring to be completed. When all was finished she rose. Walking past Silva, she asked without looking at him, “Will your driver take me to my hotel or do I need to make other arrangements?”

  He didn’t answer. She kept walking.

  Two months ago she would have killed the man rather than walk away, not caring what happened to her. Today she understood how the game was played, and for some reason she did care about the consequences.

  She was about to put her foot on the dock when he called out, “We should do business.”

  He would have to do better than that. One foot on the dock, the other on the boat. Play it out. Never back down. Rico’s voice hummed in her memory.

  “If you are expecting an apology forget it.”

  Looking up she found Silva leaning over the deck railing. “Apologies are for fools,” she called out. Two feet on the dock.

  “Our deal is the same,” he said hastily, “but better—for you. I pay all the transportation costs. I want a meeting with you and your employer to talk about future business deals.”

  She stopped, without facing him. “And tonight you’ll introduce me to your associates as a valued and trusted client?”

  “Yes.” The word hiss
ed out.

  “What time is supper?”

  “Eight.”

  “Don’t bother me before then.” She walked the path to the house with confident strides. Things very definitely had changed.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Rico’s cell buzzed. The ID said it was the kid, not Olivia. “She there?”

  “No.”

  He cursed. She’d been gone since yesterday noon. Thirty hours.

  “Dude, there’s another problem. A big one.”

  “What?”

  “I’ve been waiting outside the hotel watching for Miss Olivia. Two guys came up to me. I thought they were cops. Had the look, ya know.”

  “Get to it, kid.”

  “They showed me a picture of Miss Olivia. She was in a uniform. Asked me if I’d seen her.”

  Rico pinched his eyes closed. Trouble. “What did you say?”

  “Told ’em I’d been staying at the hotel with my dad for a week. Hadn’t seen anyone like her around. Said if I had I would’ve remembered. Told ’em if my dad had seen her he would have said something. That he’s always on the prowl.”

  “Did they go inside?”

  “No.”

  That was a relief.

  “I asked them if she was a missing cop or something, since she was in a uniform and all. Said she was military, not missing—they needed to talk to her. I laughed. Told ’em they were in the wrong neighborhood. Too expensive for somebody in the military. Told them the cheapest room in the Obsidian was a grand a night.”

  “What did they say?”

  “They looked around, said something about going to the beach to look. One gave me his card. Said to call if I saw her.”

  “What’s the name on the card?”

  “Lieutenant Tom Crenshaw. United States Coast Guard.”

  “Son of a bitch.” Her crew was looking for her.

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “Can you drive a bike?”

  “You mean like a bicycle or scooter?”