by Lucy Score
There was a loud bang, and the ZR slowed. Smoke rose from its engine. The driver swore over the reggae pouring from the speakers as the dashboard lit up with warning lights. He pulled off to the side of the road and jumped out, a small fire extinguisher in his hand.
“Get out,” Aiden said, nudging Frankie to the door.
“How are we going to catch them?” she demanded, ducking to hop out of the door and the hem of her dress rose indecently high over the curve of her ass. Aiden gripped the material and pulled down as he pushed her out of the vehicle. “We can’t give up.” She slapped at his hand.
“We’re not giving up,” Aiden insisted. “We’re refocusing. Come on.” They left the van and its now ride-less occupants and started walking briskly.
The night air was thick with humidity. He could hear the steady thrum of ocean waves on the beach over a thousand tree frogs chirping.
“Shouldn’t we be heading north?” Frankie asked, trotting in her heels to keep up with him.
Aiden slowed his pace in the hopes that she wouldn’t break both ankles.
“We’re not going to be able to catch them.”
“So where are we going?”
“I don’t know, Franchesca. I need to think.”
He hadn’t brought any security with him, doubted that the Randolphs or Stocktons had either. The hotel had its own. Why would they need a personal security detail in paradise? He cursed himself for it now. His friend was missing, and he had no one but the local authorities to turn to.
Frankie stumbled and yelped.
“Your shoes are ridiculous.”
“I wasn’t planning on walking eighteen miles tonight.”
“Clearly,” he said dryly. He stepped in front of her. “Get on.”
“I beg your pardon?” She sounded haughty as a queen who had just been asked to perform the Cupid Shuffle.
“Hop on and save your feet.”
“You’re not lugging me around Barbados on your back, Aide,” Frankie argued.
“Get on my back now, or I throw you over my shoulder and show the entire island your pretty pink thong.”
She hopped nimbly onto his back, her thighs settling on his hips, arms wrapping around his shoulders.
“This isn’t exactly how I saw the night going,” Aiden announced conversationally. He cupped his hands behind his back under her ass. “I thought I’d have you on your back.”
She pinched him through the crisp cotton of his button down. “Hilarious, big guy. Fucking hilarious. Come up with a plan yet?”
“Still thinking,” he said, boosting her up higher.
“I don’t think it was random,” Frankie said thoughtfully. “I don’t think it was like ‘Hey, nice watch, now get in my van.’”
“Which means he was specifically targeted,” Aiden added.
“This is going to crush Pru,” Franchesca said half to herself. “She loves him so damn much. Did you know that when he broke up with her after college, she couldn’t get out of bed for a week? We just laid there and stared at the ceiling. She wouldn’t eat, wouldn’t get dressed. She didn’t even really talk for days. Her dad had the family doctor visiting her every day.”
Aiden felt the stirring of guilt. “I didn’t realize she cared so much for him back then.” He hadn’t. Had thought she’d been indifferent and immature.
“He crushed her when he left, and it took her a long time to get back on her feet. Now, if I were her, I would have spent the rest of my life hating him. But not Pru. She never stopped loving him. And now here we are in paradise for their wedding all these years later, and look what happens.”
“We’ll get him back,” Aiden promised.
“Do you think they’ll hurt him?” Her arms tightened around him.
Aiden heard the fear in her tone and reacted to it. “No,” he said, his voice gruff. “Odds are they took him for money. They lose their bargaining tool if they rough him up or—”
“Or worse,” she finished for him.
“They’re supposed to get married tomorrow. What am I going to tell her? God, why would anyone do this? Money? Ransom? Oh, Jesus. He doesn’t have ties to the mob, does he?”
“Doubtful,” Aiden said wryly.
They heard the groaning of brakes as a city bus eased to a stop beside them. Aiden let Frankie slip off his back to the ground. “Let’s go get some answers.”
Chapter Ten
As much as Frankie enjoyed seeing all six-feet four-inches of Aiden Kilbourn crammed onto a bus seat, nothing could take away the icy feeling in her stomach. Someone had taken her friend right in front of her and who knew what was happening to him right now. She hated the not knowing.
Her phone buzzed from inside her clutch.
“Oh, shit.” She showed the screen to Aiden.
“Answer it. Maybe someone contacted her?”
“Hey, Pru,” Frankie said.
“Where are you, Frankenstein?” It was Pru’s drunken moniker for drunken Frankie.
Frankie eyed Aiden for a moment. He shrugged. “I’m with Aiden,” she said.
“Ohmygod. I knew it!” Pru’s shriek put a couple of pin holes in Frankie’s eardrum. “I knew you two would hit it off. I’m like literally the smartest person ever.”
“The smartest,” Frankie agreed.
“Ask her about Chip,” Aiden whispered.
Frankie held the phone out so Aiden could listen too. “Sorry for bailing on you. Is everyone else still there?” she asked.
“Well, I think so. Margeaux passed out under the picnic table, so we had the driver carry her back to the car. And I haven’t seen Chip for a little while. I think he went to the bathroom a few minutes ago.”
Frankie covered the phone with her hand. “That’s Pru’s drunk clock. She couldn’t tell time right now if there was a Birkin bag on the line,” she explained to Aiden.
“We need them back at the resort with security,” Aiden told her.
Frankie nodded, not wanting to consider the possibility that Chip’s disappearance was just the beginning. “Is anyone there sober?” she asked.
“Oh sure. Lotsa people. There’s this guy over here. He’s got poodles on his shirt. I think he’s sober.”
“No, I mean a person you know.”
“Huh?”
Oh, for the love of god. Why was talking to a drunk adult harder than prying information out of a kindergartener? “Is Cressida there?” Cressida had the tolerance of an Eastern European man, a big one.
“Sure! Watercress! Phone’s for you!” Pru crooned.
“Yes? What is it you want?” Cressida demanded.
“Cressida, it’s Frankie. I need you to keep a close eye on Pru.”
“Why? Will she attempt a crime?”
“No, nothing like that. Just… don’t let anything happen to her.”
“That is annoyingly vague,” Cressida said.
“Yeah, I know. But I can’t help it. Can you get them all back to the resort? Just tell them that’s where the after party is.”
“I will do this. Mainly because my feet hurt, and I would like to swim naked in the lap pool.”
“Uh, okay. Great?”
“Goodbye now.”
Aiden snatched the phone out of Frankie’s hand. “Just a minute, Cressida. Put Pruitt on the phone again.”
They heard wild laughter and some yelling.
“Hellooooooo!” Pruitt sang into the phone.
“Pruitt, it’s Aiden,” he said.
“Aiden! I knew you and Frankie would fall madly in love! I totally knew it! I even told Chip so. Chip? Chip!”
Frankie covered her face with her hands. “She thinks her fiancé is going to come running.”
“Pruitt, do you need Frankie or me for the rest of the night?” Aiden asked.
“Ooooh la la! No!”
Aiden glanced at Frankie. “Good, then I’ll keep her to myself a little longer. Get some sleep tonight,” he order
ed.
“Yes, sir! I hope you two don’t get any sleep if you know what I mean,” Pruitt yelled.
The entire bus knew what Pru meant even without the help of speakerphone. “Great. Thanks a lot, Aide. Now she thinks we’re banging on a beach somewhere.” Frankie shoved the phone back in her impractical clutch.
“It’s better than knowing the truth at this point.”
“At this point?” Frankie screeched. “At what point do we call the cops? At what point do we have to sit Pru down and tell her the wedding isn’t happening.”
“Calm down.”
“Oh yeah, because saying that to a person who’s freaking out always helps.”
“Franchesca.” He gripped her chin and made her look at him. “I will fix this. I will find Chip, but I need your help. We’re in a foreign country. Yes, quite possibly the friendliest foreign country in the hemisphere, but it’s still different from the United States. How many drunken tourists do you think stumble off and disappear for a few hours? How many men fight with their wives and jump in a cab to go someplace else?”
“But that’s not what happened,” Frankie argued.
“You and I both know that. But a local cop is going to tell you to sit and wait for him to show up.”
The hell she’d do that.
Half an hour and what felt like sixty-four bus stops later, they were back at Oistins. The crowds were thinner now nearing midnight and even more inebriated than when they’d left before. But the cab line was busy. Frankie suggested they split up to cover more ground, but Aiden wasn’t having it. He stuck by her side like a shadow as she quizzed the first two cab drivers. Had they seen this man? She showed them a picture of Chip taken earlier that day. No, they hadn’t. How about a van driver with a gold tooth? No.
It went like that for an hour. No, no, no. No one had seen anything or anyone. There was, of course, the helpful cab driver who announced that all drunk tourists look the same to him, which drew laughter from his friends. But it didn’t help.
Frankie was losing hope fast. Every minute felt like Chip was getting farther and farther away from them. He could be anywhere on the island by this point.
She saw the cop whistling on the corner and remembered Aiden’s warning. “Fuck it,” she whispered, ducking away from Aiden as he quizzed a couple of local fish fryers near the sidewalk.
“Excuse me, officer?”
He tore his eyes away from the in-progress argument that was happening over a parking space. “Yes, ma’am.”
“My friend is missing.”
“Um-hm.” His gaze was back on the two women and the parking space. He clearly wasn’t impressed by her story.
“I saw him get taken by someone in a van. He was kidnapped right here about an hour ago.”
The cop sighed. He lifted the brim of his hat and wiped his brow. “Miss, just because someone gets into a van doesn’t mean they’ve been kidnapped. They’re called ZRs, and they’re public transportation. Maybe your friend just went back to the hotel early.”
“No, you don’t understand. He’s getting married tomorrow, and he wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t leave his fiancée and not tell her where he was going.”
The shouting at the parking space got louder. Horns were honking in the street as the argument spilled into traffic. The yelling turned to shrieking as one woman grabbed a fistful of braids and yanked.
The cop sighed, swearing under his breath. He yanked a whistle out of his pocket and blew it furiously as he ran into the fray.
Frustrated, she turned and found Aiden standing much too close to her. He didn’t say a word, but his face did the talking for him.
“Yeah, yeah. You told me so. I get it.”
“They’re not going to take a disappearance seriously for at least twenty-four hours.”
“Fine, smarty pants. What do we do now? We lost the van. We have no idea where he could be or what they want with him or even who they are.”
Aiden’s phone rang and he fished it out of his pocket. “Unknown number,” he read from the screen.
“Maybe it has something to do with Chip,” Frankie said, eyes full of hope and dread.
“Kilbourn,” he answered. Frankie snatched the phone away from him and hit the speaker button.
A garbled voice on the other end of the call chuckled. “Well, well, Aiden. It looks like we have some business to do after all.”
“Who is this?” he demanded.
“That’s not important. What is important is the fact that we have a mutual acquaintance.”
“Where’s Chip? Why did you take him?”
The voice laughed. “I’m going to fuck him up when I meet him,” Frankie hissed.
“Patience. All will be revealed.”
“Who does he think he is? A Bond villain?” Frankie demanded.
Aiden rolled his eyes and mouthed the words “Shut up.”
“If you hurt him or so much as mess up his hair, I will hunt you down,” Aiden promised.
“Then let’s not let it come to that,” the robotic voice on the other end said amicably. “What I want is easily within your grasp of giving. You give me what I want, I give you your friend back, and we all go home happy.”
“What is it you want?” Aiden asked.
“I want you to be ready for a meeting tomorrow. I’ll contact you with the time and place.”
“A meeting?” Aiden repeated.
“It’s just business. Nothing personal. Oh, and don’t tell anyone. No cops, no security. Just you, me, and Chip.”
The call disconnected and Aiden swore.
“Christ. Now what the hell do we do?” Frankie asked. “They make contact and give us nothing? Why didn’t they ask for money?”
“Because they don’t want money,” Aiden said quietly.
Frankie stopped in her tracks. “It’s you isn’t it? This isn’t about Chip at all. They called you because you have what they want.”
Aiden wouldn’t meet her gaze.
Chapter Eleven
“Great. Just fucking great. You do something stupid or illegal or whatever, and innocent people have to pay the price. My best friend’s wedding is ruined, her fiancé is missing, and now we have to wait until tomorrow to find out who has him and what they want?”
Frankie ticked off the infractions on her fingers. And Aiden rubbed a hand over his forehead. He’d feel guilty if necessary later. Right now, he needed answers.
“Jesus, Franchesca. Will you shut up for two seconds so I can think?”
“Think? How about we do something? How about we find the driver with the stupid gold tooth and dirty red ball cap and beat the ever-living shit out of him until he talks?”
“By all means. Go ahead and find him. Call me when you do,” Aiden snapped back.
“Do you mean Papi, miss?”
Frankie and Aiden both whirled around. And then looked down. The boy couldn’t have been more than twelve or thirteen. Skinny with a big grin. He wore a white short-sleeved Oxford and neatly pressed khaki shorts. The ball cap he wore on his head was clean but rakishly askew.
“Papi?”
“Yeah, gold tooth.” The kid pointed to his own pristine front tooth. Gray hair. Greasy hat that looks like it was used to soak up motor oil? Calls all the ladies Mami?”
Frankie dug her fingers into Aiden’s arm. “That’s him.”
“Does he drive a white van with a red square sticker by the taillight?” Aiden asked.
The kid’s head bobbed. “Oh sure. He borrows it from his brother-in-law sometimes when he has a driving job.”
“Where can we find Papi?” Aiden asked.
“You want a taxi? Glass bottom boat ride?” the kid asked.
“No—”
He snapped his fingers. “I know. Swim with the turtles. Snorkeling, lunch, lots of rum punch.”
“No—”
“Ah, drugs then? I can get you better than Papi,” the kid promised.
“Ganja, coke, X—”
A natural born salesman, Aiden decided.
“Christ kid,” Frankie groaned. “Look, we need to find Papi he knows where a friend of ours is.”
The kid clammed up.
Frankie looked like she was going to shake him like a ragdoll until he coughed up some answers. Aiden put his hand on her arm. “Let me handle this businessman to businessman.” He opened his wallet. “You look like an entrepreneur who recognizes a good opportunity.”
--------
“Are you even old enough to drive?” Frankie asked clutching the back of the passenger seat as the little van climbed a steep hill.
The boy—Antonio, their new personal tour guide—shrugged and laid on the horn as a car swerved into their path to avoid a pothole the size of a city block in Manhattan. “What’s really in an age?” he waxed philosophically. “Over there is where my grandfather grew up.” He said pointing into the dark. “And Rhianna, too.”
Aiden’s wallet was significantly lighter thanks to Antonio’s entrepreneurial nature.
“We don’t need the full island tour,” Aiden reminded him mildly. “We’re looking for Papi.”
“Papi’s got five, six rum shops he hits after a good night’s work.”
“Does Papi kidnap people often?” Frankie wanted to know.
Aiden laid his hand over her thigh and squeezed, telegraphing a message to shut the hell up.
“Papi’s like… what do you call them? A jack of all trades? He does whatever needs doing. Then he goes and celebrates.”
“At a rum shop,” Aiden filled in.
“Exactly. First one coming up.” He pointed at the shack on their left. It sat smack against the road with six generous inches of sidewalk between its occupants and the stampede of traffic. He yanked the parking brake and opened the door.
“You can’t just park in the middle of the road,” Frankie protested.
“Lady, this is Barbados. We park wherever.”
They piled out after him, and Aiden put a possessive arm around Frankie’s shoulders. Who knew what they were walking into or how friendly the welcome would be when word got out why they were looking for Papi. Antonio pushed open the door. Its hinges creaked in protest.