by Kadi Dillon
Right now, he had to decide where he was going to hide the girl, and then he was going to go up on deck and bullshit his way out of this mess.
“Come here.” He walked to the closet and pushed back the shirts that hung there, revealing a compartment camouflaged in the shadows. “This is for storage, but right now it’s empty. Get in and don’t make a sound.”
She clutched her bag to her chest like a shield. “There won’t be spiders in there, will there?”
The girl had been dodging bullets, and she was worried about spiders? “Probably not.”
She hesitated. He threw her an aggravated look.
“All right,” she muttered.
Once she was in, he shut the door and arranged the shirts back in front of the compartment. Saying a quick prayer, he headed up to the deck.
A fishing boat similar to his own slowed down next to his. He recognized it as one of the docked boats back at the pier. He would have bet his island that it didn’t belong to the men driving it. The men were dead ringers for characters from The Three Stooges, minus Larry. They were opposite in size; one tall and thin, the other short and plump. The taller man’s hair curled from beneath his beanie. The other man’s hair was mainly on his face.
When the shorter of the two signaled to Gideon, he gave them a friendly wave, purposely mistaking their request for him to stop. When the man signaled more insistently by throwing his arms higher, Gideon nodded, smiled, and held up a hand telling them to wait a second.
He cut the engine. “Can I help you?”
“I’m a private investigator. This is my partner David. We’re working on a missing person’s case. I’m looking for the girl who jumped into your boat a little while ago.”
Where’s your badge? he wanted to ask, but only smiled and nodded. “She’s in my cabin. Do you want me to tell her you’re here?” Gideon turned toward the cabin, ready to oblige.
“No, no. I’ll go tell her. You don’t mind, do you?”
“Go ahead. She was taking a nap, last time I checked on her.”
“Great, thank you.”
The man hopped over onto Gideon’s boat and Gideon led him down into the cabin. He walked with a limp, and Gideon wondered what the girl must have done to him. He knew by experience that she could hold her own. She might be small, but she packed a punch and she packed it well.
“Well, where is she?”
“That’s odd.” Gideon stepped in and looked around the empty cabin. “She was lying right here on the bed twenty minutes ago.”
“Could she be hiding?”
“Not unless she’s…” Gideon lifted the lid to the storage space under the window settee. “No, she’s not hiding. This is the only place she could fit.” He moved his sleeping bag over and looked beneath an extra blanket. “Ah, hell.”
“What?”
“My inflatable life boat is gone.”
“She took it, snuck out of here, and you didn’t know about it? Wouldn’t she have had to blow the damn thing up?”
Gideon scratched his head and tried to look sheepish. “I kind of dozed off on the deck for a few minutes. Couldn’t have been more than a few. What time is it?”
“Barely after four.”
“Yeah, only a couple of minutes. She has to be close to the boat. The life boat hasn’t got a motor.”
“Did she mention where she was going before?”
“No. I told her I was going to drop her off at Lorain,” he told him, naming a town further westward than where he intended to take her. “I thought she was up to no good by the way she was running from you guys, the way those bullets were flying. Guess she’s dangerous?”
The man’s brow rose slightly, then fell again. He pulled out his cell phone, read the display screen, and closed it with a snap. “You could say that.”
“Well, I’m glad she’s out of my hair, then. I hope you find her. And my life boat. Would you return it to me if you find it? It wasn’t cheap.”
He smiled, reminding Gideon of a snake. His eyes were like black beads set too far apart—cold and mean. “Thank you for your cooperation. I’ll be sure to have it returned to you.”
Gideon waited for the boat to fade out of sight before going to the helm. He gunned the engine and drove for a while before cutting it again, wishing desperately for a pack of the cigarettes he had given up months ago. Satisfied that he’d misled the “private investigators,” he went to the back of the boat and opened the compartment that held his fishing gear. He needed to give himself time to think.
He cast off and sat the pole against the seat. He thought about going into the cabin and letting Sarah—if that was even her name—know it was clear to come up. But first he needed to decide what to do about his unwanted guest.
He could wash his hands of her faster by dumping her back in Cleveland. Let her fend for herself, he thought as he scanned the lake. As cruel as it sounded, it was more logical than letting her swim back to shore as she had wanted to do.
Had been desperate enough to do, he corrected himself. And because of that, he had a nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach that she needed help and he could be the one to help her.
He remembered the look on the girl’s face when he had yanked her off the side of his boat, wild and desperate one instant, determined and mean the next. Maybe he’d been a little rough with her, but considering the jabs and punches he suffered, he couldn’t regret it. She was a fighter. He didn’t doubt her when she’d told him she had kicked one of them in the crotch. And judging by the bruises already forming on her face and neck, she had plenty of reason for fighting back.
He fished for a few more minutes before going back into the cabin. He stopped in the doorway and listened to the silence. He half-hoped she had fallen asleep. That way, he could just coast his boat on over to the closest dock, wake her up, and dump her off before those big, blue eyes further clouded his judgment. But he’d already promised to take her to Lakewood, he reminded himself as he crossed the room to the closet.
He yanked open the door of her hiding spot and found himself at the pointy end of a wire coat hanger.
“What? Are you going to skewer me with that thing after I covered for you?”
“Sorry,” she said, releasing a sigh of relief. “I couldn’t know—I mean, I thought that—”
“I get it. You thought I’d screw you over. Are you going to put that thing away?”
“Sorry,” she said again and dropped the hanger onto the floor of her hiding place. She swung her long legs around and scooted out of the hole. “Thank you for hiding me.”
“Just sit down.” The guilt was returning now that he was facing those big, vulnerable eyes again. He had nothing to feel guilty about, he thought as he rooted around the cabinets for coffee. She was nothing to him, after all. He should have no problem taking her and her troubles to Lakewood.
After the coffee was taken care of, he turned around and stared at her.
Her dark eyes were a little too wide, but no longer panicked, as they had been when she’d realized she’d been found.
“Are you going to tell me what’s really going on?”
“I told you.”
“No.” He turned around and took two mugs out of the cabinet. After pouring them both one, he sat down across from her at the table. “You told me what you figured would get me to let you go. Who are those guys?”
“I don’t know them. I don’t,” she insisted when he only stared.
“You keep pulling this shit, you’re going to really piss me off, lady. You want to play it straight with me.”
Her chin came up at that. He watched the vulnerability fade. “Look, I don’t know you. And you don’t know me. That makes my problems none of your concern. I’m sorry I jumped on your boat, but it was the only option I had. I asked you to let me jump off, but you refused.”
“You wouldn’t have made it very far.”
“That would have been my problem.”
He drank his coffee. He would have scar
ed the truth out of her if he had the mind to. “Are you in trouble with the law?”
“No.”
Her offended tone had him hiding a smile with his coffee mug. “Do you owe anyone money?”
“Of course not.”
“Why were they chasing you?”
“I don’t know!”
Gideon stood up, more than a little pleased when she jolted. He took his mug to the sink and rinsed it out. “You live in Cleveland?”
“Yes.”
“Do you want me to take you back there?”
“No, Lakewood is fine.”
He turned around and looked at her. It was obvious to him that the men chasing her were crooked, but what about her? If she really was wanted for a crime, he could go down with her. They would impound his boat and likely put him in jail. The sooner he rid himself of her, the better.
She shifted in her seat, bringing him back from his thoughts. “All right, Sarah. Drink your coffee. I’ll take you to Lakewood.”
Rebecca watched the land draw closer as Gideon guided the boat toward the shore. She scanned the pier, but noticed nothing out of the ordinary.
She would need to find a pay phone so she could check on her mother. At that thought, anxiety started to creep up again. Rebecca pressed her teeth into her bottom lip as she thought about the secret fortune stashed away in the trunk of her car, under the false bottom where she kept her spare tire. The goons had probably searched the house by now. Lilah might have been home. The housekeeper certainly would have been.
If the goons hadn’t deliberately hurt her, she may have just given them the painting. It would have served her father right. But she hadn’t, and now her head throbbed, her cheekbone burned, and her throat felt like she had swallowed nails—and she wasn’t giving them a damn thing.
But it wouldn’t have mattered anyway, she realized on a ragged sigh. She wouldn’t have given it to them, even if they asked for it. No matter what, she would keep her promise. In that case, she was not her father’s daughter.
She was jolted from her thoughts when Gideon cut the engine. She moved over to help him dock but was issued a stern command to stay put. Seething a little at his order, she took her seat on one of the long, padded benches. She watched Gideon tie the rope to the wood with quick, efficient movements. The muscles in his bare back strained as he moved. She averted her gaze quickly, annoyed with the little tug in her belly and her increasing heart rate.
“Need a hand up?”
She looked back up to see Gideon opening a door on the side of the boat. She stood up on heavy legs and crossed the deck.
“I got it.” She managed to jump off the boat and onto the dock without falling face-first into the water. She turned back to Gideon. His dark brows were raised in question. “Thank you for everything. Sorry I was so much trouble.”
She didn’t wait for a response. She slung her bag over her shoulder and set off at a brisk pace. When she finally rounded the first corner, she began to breathe easier. She was grateful to Gideon Avery more than she could say, but it was relief—pure and simple—she felt now that she was away from him. As much help as he’d been, there was something untamed about him. Yet, her gut told her to trust him. But she didn’t dare; the stakes were too high.
She was unfamiliar with the area, so she picked a steady flow of pedestrians and tagged along. Tourists snapped pictures of the great lake and children scampered up and down the sidewalks. The smell of corn dogs made her stomach growl, reminding her again that she needed food. She watched a group of men carry tackle boxes toward the pier and smiled. Everything felt so normal—like she hadn’t just taken a running dive into a boat, escaping gun shots, and being saved by a modern day pirate.
She spotted a pay phone and dug for loose change in her bag as she walked. After slipping the coins in the slot, she dialed her house number and sighed with relief when Mary answered with her normal ‘Channing residence’ greeting.
“Mary, its Rebecca. Is my mother home?”
“Miss Lilah’s plane left hours ago,” their housekeeper informed her with a hint of New Orleans in her accent. Rebecca pictured the plump lady who’d given her cookies after school as a girl.
“Plane?”
“For Texas. Her cruise ship sails this evening. Didn’t you know?”
Of course she didn’t know. Lilah hadn’t told her. Rebecca closed her eyes. “It must have slipped my mind. Mary, I’m staying a week at a friend’s house. Would you like some time off? Paid. You can come back Saturday to get the house ready for my mother’s return if you’d like.”
“Are you sure, Miss Rebecca?”
She had no idea if this whole situation would be resolved by Saturday, but at least Mary wouldn’t be alone in the house. If her father still hadn’t contacted her by then, she’d think of something else.
“Of course. No one will be there until then. It’d be silly to stay.”
“I’d like that real well. Thank you, Miss.”
Rebecca yelped in shock when a big, hard hand closed over hers on the phone. She spun around and saw Gideon.
“What are you doing?”
“We need to talk.” He guided her hand to replace the phone back in the cradle before pulling her to the street with him. Without another word, he hailed the next taxi and all but shoved her inside.
“Just drive. I’ll tell you when,” he said to the driver.
“What in the hell are you doing?” she asked again.
“I couldn’t help but notice your friends were waiting at the dock. They followed you into the city.”
Rebecca jerked her gaze from Gideon’s grim face to look out the window. “There’s no way they could have known I’d be here.”
“Unless they have people at every dock.”
Damn. She should have considered there could be more involved. “Well, hell.”
“From what I saw, it’s the same men who were shooting at you from the dock.” He turned his stormy grey eyes on her. “And they didn’t look very happy.”
“No, they wouldn’t be,” she agreed absently as she scanned the streets they passed. Any minute now, she expected to see her pursuers pop out from an alleyway and shoot them through the window of the cab. Tremors of unease coursed through her.
“This is good,” he told the driver moments later and handed him a twenty. “Keep the change.”
He pulled Rebecca out of the cab and began to walk. She could either be dragged or keep up with him, so she set her pace to match his ground-eating strides.
“Why did you come back?”
She thought she heard him swear but his gait never slowed. They rounded a corner and quickly changed directions again. Rebecca’s gaze shot around them, but she didn’t see any scary men in black suits. Gideon pulled her into a phone booth and shut them inside. He craned his neck around, checking the streets. Seeing no one, he turned toward her.
“Listen—” His cell phone rang inside his pocket. Lynyrd Skynyrd filled the nerve-racking silence that ensued in the booth. Gideon held his hand up to silence Rebecca and, with his eyes never leaving hers, he answered the phone.
By the way he tensed, Rebecca had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that whoever he was speaking to was looking for her and now knew how to find her.
Despite her panic, she noticed that he had put a shirt on. It was navy blue and smelled like it had just come out of the laundry. He’d left the top couple of buttons undone, showing off dark, curling hair. She felt heat in her cheeks as she recalled what his entire upper body looked like naked.
He ended the call and slid his phone back into his pocket.
“Give me your bag.”
“What?” She clutched it to her chest.
“Give me the fucking bag.” He didn’t even need to raise his voice. Rebecca reluctantly handed the bag over and watched with confused detachment as he pawed through it. He pulled out her oversized wallet and unzipped it.
“Rebecca Lynn Channing, age twenty-four, black hair, blue
eyes, five-seven, one-hundred and ten pounds of lying, conniving female. Yeah, that matches the description I just got—right down to your goddamned outfit.”
The fury in his voice had Rebecca involuntarily shrinking back against the wall of the phone booth.
“What do they want?” Gideon demanded.
“I don’t—” Her lie ended on a gasp when he grabbed her arm and yanked her against him. Dimly, she registered the hard muscle that held her trapped. He didn’t hurt her, but the threat was there. The massive hand he’d clamped on her could easily snap her bone, she thought—or worse. Ice skittered up her back, but her chin came up on its own accord.
“Don’t lie to me again. What do they want?”
“A painting.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. My father gave it to me and asked me to keep it for him and I am.”
“Where is it?” He swore viciously when she didn’t answer, but released her quivering arm. He pocketed her license, handed her bag to her, and before she could feel relieved, pulled her out of the phone booth. She didn’t ask where they were going; he probably wouldn’t have answered her anyway. She let him lead her several blocks before saying a word.
“You didn’t have to come after me, you know.”
“I’ve always had bad judgment when it comes to women.” Gideon stopped and looked around. “I’m pretty sure we’ve lost them. Come on.”
Not that she had a choice, she thought as he led her into a motel. She noted the chipped paint and spray-painted profanity on the wall of the building and cringed. She was almost horrified enough to offer to pay for a better hotel.
“I need a room,” he told the clerk. He pulled out his wallet and paid cash. After signing an insurance waiver, he pocketed the key and led Rebecca up the narrow stairway.
“Why are we here?”
“Just shut up.”
But she was weary of his orders and rough handling. She called him every name she knew and even made up a few. He didn’t flinch, didn’t even falter. He continued to pull her up the stairs and down a dinky hall.
He didn’t have to come after her. She would have preferred it if he had just gone his own way. Now on top of running for her life, she had a cranky sailor dragging her around and guilt gnawing at her.