His boat’s here, Charity thought, looking around. Victor hated being away from Salty Dog; something she completely understood. She’d believed the guy when he’d said that Victor hadn’t arrived at the appointed time. So that meant that he was still somewhere on the island. An eighty-square mile island with nearly three hundred thousand people.
Leilani woke to see light coming in through the three back windows. “Get up,” she said urgently.
Brent didn’t move, which gave her a certain amount of satisfaction, remembering their activities the previous night. They’d continued searching, but found little else, and then turned their minds and bodies to other pursuits.
She shoved his shoulder roughly. He mumbled something, but it was unintelligible.
“We have to go,” she said, grabbing his shoulder and shaking him with both hands. “Come on, the sun’s already up.”
That seemed to get his attention. “Timezit?”
“Do I look like a cuckoo clock to you?” She rolled to the edge of the bed and looked down for the steps.
She quickly pulled the little blue dress over her head, and slipped on her sandals, as Brent dropped down beside her. “We don’t have to go back, you know.”
“What do you mean?” Leilani asked, smoothing out her dress.
“All that cash,” Brent replied. “And those passports. I’m the same size and build. I can color my hair like his and nobody would know.”
Leilani stopped at the bedroom door and turned around. “And what about me? I didn’t see any passports in there for a four-eleven, ninety-five-pound island woman.”
“There’s ways around that,” Brent said, moving toward her. “With that kind of money, we can get you one. I know a guy in Miami that does stuff like that.”
“Go back to the States?” Leilani asked. “Nuh-uh. No way.”
“Why not? Just me and you and all that money. We could be anyone we wanted. Buy a boat and drive it back. You’re American, nobody is going to ask for a passport.”
“You’re forgetting one little thing,” she said. “I have an outstanding warrant in the States. I killed two people in Boston.”
“Oh, yeah,” Brent said. “So we color your hair and make up a name. You’d look super-hot with blond hair. And it’s only until we can get you a fake passport — then we head to Mexico or somewhere.”
“You’re serious?”
“Think about it,” Brent said. “With that kind of money, we could live big time in Mexico, and never have to work another day for the rest our lives.”
Leilani unashamedly looked down at the naked man’s loins. He’d been everything she was hoping for last night, and then some. The truth was, she’d considered running off with the money herself, until they’d overslept. Brent had been the only thing in her way. She moved demurely into his arms, feeling his manhood stir.
And he was right, she thought, reaching down, and hefting the weight of him. It was easily the biggest haul any in the group had come up with. She and Brent hadn’t even counted it all. The bundles on top were twenties, but below that were a lot more bundles of hundred-dollar bills. The rush of the excitement had taken a different turn several times. But she was pretty sure there was at least three hundred thousand dollars in that black box. The guy Brent killed had been loaded.
“We have to move quickly, if we’re going to do this,” she said, slowly stroking him.
“Then you better quit what you’re doing,” Brent replied.
Her knee came up, and again Brent wasn’t ready. True to her word, she’d tortured the man’s testicles most of the night. Brent went down to his knees. This time, she resisted the urge to plant herself on his face.
“Get dressed then,” she said, turning for the door. “We have to get to Florida before dark.”
Going back up to the kitchen, Leilani looked through the cabinets for something to put the money and passports in. She didn’t find anything, then remembered the trap doors in the living room and went toward the front of the boat. Boaters usually kept dry goods in those sorts of places.
Opening the first one, she saw just what she was looking for: boxes of canned foods. She selected the biggest box and opened it, dumping the canned food out, which rolled all across the floor.
When she returned to the bedroom with the empty cardboard box, Brent was buttoning his shirt.
“We can put everything in this,” she said. “Less conspicuous. You realize that we don’t have any clothes or anything?”
“We’ll buy what we need when we get there,” Brent replied, taking the box and placing it between the two watertight boxes. He started to take the money out of the container to put in the cardboard box, but Leilani stopped him.
“Put the whole thing in,” she said. “If the cardboard breaks open, we won’t have a bunch of cash flying away in the wind.”
Brent took one bundle of twenties out and set it aside. “Think we can hire a boat for two grand?”
Leilani removed another of the bundles and put it with the one he’d kept out. “Better make it four. There’s a few marinas just across the street. One has a small clothing store; I was checking it out yesterday. You’re all set, but this dress isn’t exactly the right clothes for crossing an ocean. I’ll need to buy a few things.”
Brent put the big, shiny handgun in the box with the money, then started going through the passports. He selected two. “American and Canadian,” he said. “Both have the same name; Rene Cook.”
He added the passports to the plastic cash box; the lid barely closed. Then he put the whole thing in the cardboard box. It fit snugly, bulging the sides slightly. He closed the flaps and carried it to the hallway, placing it on the counter, then opened the engine room door.
“I bet there’s some duct tape in here.”
“Yeah,” Leilani said, joining him in the small room. She was right; he had to duck slightly to keep from hitting his head on the ceiling.
She went to a tool chest and opened one of the lower drawers, removing a roll of gray tape.
“Perfect,” Brent said, taking it from her and returning to the box. He pulled off a long strip and with Leilani holding the flaps of the box, he sealed it. Hefting the box, he put it under his arm. “Heavy, but I can carry it so it looks light.”
“Don’t forget your hat,” Leilani said, grabbing it off the counter.
“You just make sure the guard doesn’t spend too much time looking at me.”
They left the boat, and several workers in the yard stopped what they were doing to watch Leilani climb down the ladder in her little blue dress. At the bottom, she stretched her arms up over her head, both because she needed it after the previous night and to keep the workers’ eyes on her. Brent was the same build as the guy he’d killed but looked nothing like him, and he was struggling with the weight of the box.
They crossed the street to the first marina they saw. At the door, Leilani looked back and didn’t see anyone paying attention to them. Inside, she spent twenty minutes picking out clothes, and bought a suitcase large enough for her new things and the box of cash.
Going behind the marina store, they quickly decided to move on to another marina. The only boats tied to the piers were sailboats and a handful of older and slower-looking boats. At the second marina, they found even fewer to choose from, and none looked fast.
“We’re going to have to hurry this up,” Leilani said, taking Brent’s free arm as he carried the suitcase. “The ship will sail soon. And the others are going to miss us.”
“What do you think they’ll do if we’re not back in time?”
“That’s right,” Leilani said. “You weren’t part of the group last summer. We had a guy who usually worked with Rayna; he said he wanted to leave. The Pences made us kill him. I don’t know what they’d do if we didn’t get back in time. They could all just leave the ship and come looking for us
. One thing’s for sure — they catch us trying to ditch them with all this money, we’re both dead meat.”
Brent reached into his pocket and took a throwaway cell phone out. A light was flashing. He flipped it open and looked at the screen.
“It’s a message from Pence,” he said, looking at Leilani. “He says the ship’s departure is delayed. Something to do with the electronics.”
“Let me see that,” she said, taking the phone and stopping in the shade of a withered tree. She quickly composed a reply and sent it.
“What did you say?” he asked, as they entered another marina.
“I told him that was good.” She handed the phone back. “Because the boat had lots of hiding places and we’d only found a gun after looking for hours, and that we were about to give up.”
His phone vibrated in his hand and he flipped it open again. “He says to keep looking, but be back to the ship no later than one. The captain said they’d be departing at two.”
“By then, we’ll be halfway to Florida, if we can find a fast boat.”
There was a fast-looking boat at the third marina, but nobody was around. Leilani went to the office to ask the man at the desk where the boat owner was.
“No good,” she told Brent when she returned. “That boat has a dead engine; not going anywhere.”
Leaving the marina, they walked toward the bridge. “This is the last one,” Leilani said, as they approached the next marina. When they reached the docks, Leilani saw just the boat they’d need. “Over there,” she said, pointing across the docks.
They walked toward a brightly colored boat that looked very fast. A man was lounging in the back. He looked impatient.
“Are you for hire?” Leilani asked as they approached the man.
He rose and looked up at the two of them. “Waiting for a client right now,” he replied, “but he’s late and I can’t reach him.”
“How long do you plan to wait?” Brent asked.
“Not a whole helluva lot longer. Where do you want to go?”
“Can this boat get us to Miami?” Leilani asked.
“Miami?” The man stepped up to the dock beside them. “Yeah, I can get you to Miami, but I’ll have to take on more gas and do a thorough check of the engines.”
“How long will it take to get there?” Leilani asked. “And how much will you charge us?”
He eyed them suspiciously. “It’s just the two of you and the one suitcase?”
“Yeah, and we’re in a hurry,” Brent said. “We missed our ship, and we’re about fed up with cruising anyway.”
“Yeah, right,” the guy said, looking the two over. “Twenty-five hundred. Five hundred before you walk away, so I can pull her around and get gas, and the other two grand before we leave the dock. Cash.”
“How soon can we leave?” Leilani asked, as Brent counted out the money.
“Go get some lunch,” he said. “There’s a nice restaurant just next door. Be back here by two o’clock and I’ll have you in Miami by ten. We’ll have to stop at Bimini for gas.”
“And if the other guy shows up while we’re gone?” Brent asked.
“I’ll tell him to find someone else,” the man said. “He was only chartering me to run him about forty miles north to see his girlfriend or something. Besides, he didn’t give me a deposit like you folks.” They agreed, and the man gave him a card with his name and number on it. “Call me if you change your plans — but if you do, the five hundred’s not refundable.”
“We’ll be here at two,” Brent said, taking Leilani’s hand and turning back up the dock.
Once out of earshot, Brent said, “We’ll be in Miami by ten, but that guy’s not gonna live that long.”
Leilani looked up at Brent and smiled back. You’re never going to make it to Florida either, she thought. That money will last me a lot longer than it will the two of us.
Though she’d never intentionally hurt anyone since poisoning her captives, she felt certain that Brent would kill her and keep the money once he’d used her for whatever he needed.
Self-defense in advance, she thought.
They turned left upon reaching the street, still holding hands. Brent even held the restaurant door open for her. She knew it was mostly so he could look at her ass again.
v
After a leisurely lunch, Brent paid the tab, then he and Leilani left the restaurant. They’d be half an hour early but figured if all he had to do was gas up the boat, it shouldn’t take more than an hour.
“Where’s your hat?” Leilani asked, as they walked along the sidewalk.
“Left it at the restaurant,” he replied. “I won’t need it anymore.”
A woman came through the marina’s gate as they neared it. She had long blond hair in a ponytail, and tanned skin nearly as dark as Leilani’s own. Even in simple boating clothes and dark sunglasses, she was quite beautiful.
Brent’s eyes lingered on the woman a touch too long, and Leilani grabbed his arm and yanked him away.
“Chapman’s waiting,” she hissed, when they were out of earshot of the woman. “And I owe you a kick in the balls for that.”
“A guy could get used to that, knowing what comes with it.”
When they reached the boat, Beaux Chapman looked pissed. Which was difficult to pull off wearing only a Speedo.
“Ah, you’re back early,” he said. “Come aboard, I was just about to go down and change after checking the engines over.”
He disappeared through a small door in the console and Brent stepped down into the boat, offering Leilani a hand.
“Got the money?” Chapman asked, when he returned from the cabin.
Brent reached into his pocket and took out the cash bundle they hadn’t spent any money out of. “Two thousand,” he said. “Where can I put our bag?”
The man took the money and reached for the bag, but Brent pulled it away.
“Take it below,” Chapman said, a bit indignantly, as he turned the key to start the first engine.
Walking back toward the marina where her boat was located, Charity stopped at the entrance. She hadn’t intended to hurt the guy, but when he’d grabbed her arm, her instincts took over.
Behind her, she heard two powerful engines start and rev several times. It was probably Chapman revving the boat’s engines to reestablish his manhood among the other boaters that had seen what happened — or maybe to impress the young couple with the suitcase.
Charity looked across Bay Street at the boatyard where Victor’s boat sat on the hard. Crossing the street again, she approached the gate shack once more. Through the fence, she could see Victor’s boat, but didn’t see anyone on it. If he wasn’t here and he hadn’t taken the boat he’d planned to, Charity was worried that something bad had happened.
“I see yuh found him,” the old man at the window said.
“What? No, I found the boat he was supposed to leave on, but the man said he never showed up. Why do you say that?”
He pointed down the road. “Dat was him, yuh jest walk past.”
Charity spun around, searching the street. There were several people walking this way or that, but none was Victor.
“I’m not following you,” she said, turning back to the man. “I didn’t pass Rene on the street.”
“Yes, miss, yuh did. He was carryin’ a suitcase and was wit di tiny Asian princess.”
She heard the roar of two powerful engines, as a boat left the marina where she’d just met Beaux Chapman.
“That wasn’t Rene!” she said urgently, as she stepped closer to the window. “The man with the Asian woman was a lot younger and had dark hair. Rene’s hair is lighter. I think the man you saw with the suitcase has robbed Rene’s boat.”
“I don’t know ’bout dat,” the guard said. “Mistuh Cook left jest ’bout di time I went home. Di night guard
say di Asian woman came with di key, and Mistuh Cook was jest a minute behind her. Dey left together a few hours ago. I saw dem enter di marina yuh jest came from.”
“I’m telling you, that wasn’t Rene,” Charity said, leaning closer to the window, and removing her sunglasses. “Do you let anyone come and go here without asking for identification? I’d like to speak with your boss. Would you get him please?”
Whether it was the look in Charity’s eyes or the sudden realization that he might have let a stranger in, the old man became much more cooperative. He picked up the receiver of an old rotary phone and dialed a number, explaining to whoever answered that he had a problem.
A few minutes passed, then another man appeared. He was younger, early thirties maybe, dressed in work clothes with a bright red bandana tied around his forehead. He opened the gate from the inside and invited Charity in.
“Hello, miss. I am John, di owner. What seems to be di problem?”
“My boyfriend is missing,” Charity replied, pointing to Victor’s boat. “His name is Rene Cook, and he owns that ketch. I think that your guard let someone else aboard who was pretending to be Rene.”
“Is dat possible, Caleb?” the man asked, turning to the guard.
The old man explained the events as he knew them; seeing Rene leave just after sunset and how the night guard told him that he returned with a young Asian woman a few hours later.
“And you’re sure it was him?” John asked.
The guard shifted his weight back and forth uneasily. “No, suh. Di truth is, I was looking more at her dan at him.”
“How do I know you’re a friend of Mistuh Cook?” John asked her.
Charity opened her bag and removed a small wallet. From it she pulled out a neatly folded document. “We each carry one of these,” she said, handing the man the paper. “We have separate boats. Mine is across the street. That’s a power of attorney, allowing me to take care of Rene’s assets if anything happens to him, and vice versa.”
Enduring Charity: A Charity Styles Novel (Caribbean Thriller Series Book 4) Page 7