She forced a smile, hoping a change of topic might lighten the mood. Tracing the outline of her wineglass with her fingertips, she met his troubled gaze. “Guess who I saw today?”
His eyes roamed the busy restaurant, appearing more interested in the crowd than what she was saying. “Who?”
She winced. Why bother trying to hold a conversation with him at all if he was intent on brooding the entire evening? She regretted coming. “Patty Reinhardt.”
He stiffened. Perhaps it wasn’t such a good idea to bring her up. He never liked the woman. “Oh? Small world isn’t it?” Aloof gray eyes returned to the chandelier.
“Yes, I suppose it is.” She shrugged, taking another sip from the expensive crystal.
They ate dinner in silence, which enabled Esa to overhear the conversation from the table just behind her. The mention of a familiar name caused her heart to slam against her chest. She leaned back in her chair in hopes of hearing more.
“…poor Tom didn’t know what to do; he was just trying to help the fellow out. Jacque LaFleur, can you imagine?” The man chuckled. “The lunatic held Tom in the air with the police standing right there watching the whole damned thing! I’m telling you Joyce, this pirate festival gets more out of control with every passing year. If these people insist on sponsoring it, they should consider serving only non-alcoholic beverages. Someone will end up getting hurt one of these days, mark my words.”
Jacque LaFleur? The obstinate rogue was wreaking havoc everywhere he went. Unbelievable. The memory of powerful arms pulling her in for a sweltering kiss warmed her cheeks. She shifted in her seat, head lowered so Sid wouldn’t see and misinterpret the lust she knew lit her eyes. The ring of his cell phone startled her back to the present. My goodness, but she was jumpy!
Frowning, Sid apologized and excused himself to take the call.
Alone with her roaming thoughts, Esa wondered again what the hellacious playboy did for a living. He must be an actor from some exotic country—or was the flesh melting accent part of his act?
“That was Jeff.” Sid informed her as he slid back into his seat. “The Key West Police called the office. Where’s your cell?”
“Oh, I must have left it in the hotel. Why? Has something happened?”
“Apparently there’s some whacko on the island inquiring about you.” Dark eyes probed her as though looking for the tale-tale signs of deceit.
“And?”
“And, there’s nothing to worry about darling. The man is in police custody as we speak. They are unable to obtain any information about him and were hoping you could help.”
“Me? Wh—how can I help?”
“Well,” he paused to pop a shrimp into his mouth. “It appears the only name he will give them, besides yours of course,” he said in that accusing tone, adding, “…is Jacque LaFleur!” He snorted. “Crazy, huh? I told Jeff I’d have you get in touch with the police. Why would he be looking for you?”
Esa felt the color drain from her face and sat there with her mouth open. Jacque LaFleur? The drama king was looking for her? That damned gigolo would surely be the death of her! The delusional fool, what on earth could he possibly want with her?
She knew nothing about him that could possibly be of any service to the police, except that the bullheaded con belonged in a mental institution! Though they’d soon discover that for themselves, if they hadn’t already.
“Uh,” she stammered, making a feeble attempt at keeping the shock from her voice. “I have no idea. I just met him on the beach today, in passing,” she added. The bastard! How dare he place her in such an uncomfortable predicament. “He was looking for his stolen ship.” She released a pathetic laugh. “Probably just a deranged fool that, for whatever reason, seems to be stuck on my name. I mean, come on, the man thinks he’s Jacque LaFleur for heaven’s sake. You know, Keats was his first mate. He probably didn’t even ask for me personally.”
“Uh-huh,” Sid groaned. “Then that’s what you tell the police.” Jaw squared, he shoved his cell phone in her hand.
Ugh! “Er, later. I’ll call when I get back to the hotel.” She sat the phone on the table, perspiration dotting her hairline. Sid cast a suspicious glare and she added, “It’s much too loud in here for me to hear, you know how I hate talking over a crowd. Besides, the psycho is locked up, he’s not going anywhere, you said so yourself.” She smiled and picked up her fork, returning her attention to the half eaten lobster. Thankfully, Sid seemed to accept her reasoning and let it rest.
She forced herself to remain calm, inwardly shaking and cursing the dark rogue for his unwarranted interruption in her already jumbled life. What had he done to land himself in the slammer anyway? Kissed the wrong woman no doubt!
All right, she’d call the station when she reached the hotel and tell them all she knew about the wannabe pirate. Perhaps she’d call the Guinness Book of World Records while she was at it. Should be the shortest phone conversation in all of history.
~ * ~
Jacque LaFleur. Was it some sort of code? Had she only pretended not to know the identity of the chosen appointee?
Sid briefly entertained the idea of his rattled fiancée having fled their home in order to spend time with a secret lover. And Jeff’s phone call had only rekindled his suspicions.
It wasn’t like Esa to keep secrets. The possibility that her lover might be none other than Charles Keats’ hand picked replacement made his skin crawl.
No, he decided. The absurd speculation was just too surreal to lend credence to. She didn’t have a deceitful bone in her well-padded body.
Yet, she’d visibly paled at the mention of the name. Why? And why would some deranged loon specifically ask for her? It didn’t add up. Had the man somehow scared her? Was that the cause of her retreat?
And who in God’s creation would just sit back and allow a total stranger to step in and take over what was rightfully theirs? It just didn’t make sense. And come hell or high water, he planned on connecting each piece of the puzzle before it was all said and done.
He’d had to promise not to bring up the cursed will again. And he wouldn’t. Not tonight anyway. But Esa Keats was a fool if she thought the subject dead and buried.
He’d not spent the last four years of his life at Keats Port & Shipping Industries to end up with nothing more than what he’d come with, which was little more than a bit of luck and a sack of knowledge pertaining to the shipping industry.
Given the unfavorable outcome out of recent events, Sid gave a sigh of relief that he hadn’t married her yet. He supposed he had Ol’ Chuck to thank for that. Although, if he could convince her to contest the will, and if she won, he’d pursue the matter more fervently.
She was far from the model woman, yet Esa was a prize to be won by any man. She wasn’t exactly a cow, but he’d always preferred his women a bit thinner, blonder and possessing at least a breath of passion. Sex wasn’t fun and spontaneous, but a mutual task—as exciting as washing the car.
Her assets were a little too rounded, she possessed chocolate tresses and although fun loving by nature, she was far from what he’d describe as outgoing. Her life had been much too sheltered by that umbrella-like father of hers. Yet, he’d taken one look at her and lost himself in those huge childlike eyes. Black gems shaded beneath lashes that stretched from here to China and beheld the richness of truffles that melted a man through plush layers of timeless warmth. Second only to the family fortune, her eyes were her best feature by far.
“Why don’t you let me take you to the station sweetheart? We can clear this mess up tonight—”
“No. That’s all right. Thanks, I do appreciate the offer, but I’m suddenly much too tired to deal with this tonight. I’m sure it can wait until morning.”
Sid ground his molars. “All right darling. We’ll go in the morning.”
“You don’t have to—”
He raised a hand cutting off her denial. “Nonsense, darling. I’ll not have this lunatic upsetting you any
more than you already are. You’ve been through enough.”
~ * ~
Sid had not wanted to discuss their crumbling relationship on the way back to the hotel, which suited Esa just fine.
Was it over between them? Did she even care? Oh, who was she kidding, of course she cared. Unable to separate the turmoil of emotions cascading through her at such a devastating time in her life, she wasn’t sure she cared about anything at the moment. She needed more time. Maybe she should see a doctor. Perhaps there was some magic prescription that could help her over the hump.
As they entered the hotel, Esa placed a hand on the crook of Sid’s arm causing him to waver and face her. “Maybe it would be best if you got your own room.”
“What?” His body went rigid. There was no mistaking the scorn that flashed in his eyes before a soft veil fell over them. “Why would I agree to such a foolish proposal?” He chuckled as if amused, his body suddenly relaxed as he attempted to pull her into his arms and nuzzle her neck.
“Don’t.” She pushed him away and took a step back. “I’m serious Sid. I need time. I think we need time, apart. I would hope you’d be able to respect that.”
Internally, he was fuming; she could see it in the way his ears twitched. “If that is your wish my dear,” he replied through a masked grin, kissing her hand. “I’ll do my best to honor it. I love you Esa. I only want what’s best for you. Remember that.”
He seemed to choke on the last few words causing a pang of guilt to stab at her heart. She nodded but did not return the sentiment and left him standing alone at the entrance as she made her way to the elevator. She didn’t look back, but felt his eyes sear her backside and was glad they weren’t capable of shooting daggers.
Sid watched the sway of Esa’s softly rounded hips in her departure, more confident than before that she was hiding something.
Back in the hotel and still dressed in her evening attire, Esa kicked off her heals and plopped onto the bed. She sighed, drained from the day’s events and a little saddened that her relationship with Sid had taken a sour turn.
It was her fault. She was overreacting. Maybe she shouldn’t be so hasty in her decision regarding her father’s will. “Why Pops?”
Massaging the throbbing at her temples, visions of the troubling actor invaded her thoughts. He was like some terminal illness that would haunt her till her dying day. Why was he looking for her? A pang of fear shot through her stomach, then quickly dissipated.
Should she be afraid? It would be a normal reaction, yet, oddly enough, she wasn’t frightened of the fantasy pirate. What she felt was more like sorrow, and perhaps a little pity at what she saw reflected in those intriguing eyes.
Had he felt the magnetic connection between them? It went far beyond physical attraction, almost as though their souls cried out to one another, pleading for a sense of belonging. What exactly was it that she’d glimpsed lurking in the shadows of those unsettling eyes?
What was it about the mysterious man that held her senses captive, caused an ache in her loins like no other ever had before? Sure, he was handsome—strikingly so—but she’d seen handsome before. Was it the sad truth that rode the tides of his words? Or just the pure erotic pleasure his kiss evoked, the burning desire he’d ignited with a single touch, the way her skin blazed as expert hands traced the curve beneath her arm.
It had suited him, that playful piratical air. The thick accent he so casually allowed into his rich, dreamy tone when he spoke. She swallowed the lusty lump in her throat.
Eyeing her cell phone, she sighed again. This time with great dread. She may as well call the police station and get it over with before Sid made good on his promise to take her there in the morning.
Holding her left hand out in front of her, she fingered the two-karat marquis Sid had given her. Guilt tugged at her heartstrings. If the mere thought of the bronzed rippling corsair caused her to pant like a bitch in heat, how would she act if she came face to face with him again? Good grief, the last thing she needed was to make a blithering fool of herself in front of her fiancé!
Her meeting with Hercules was something Sid didn’t need to witness. With any luck, a simple phone call would severe her connection to the wayward drifter.
“Meddlesome men.” Why couldn’t she just disappear for a few weeks to collect herself? Was that too much to ask? “Good grief,” she muttered and grabbed her cell phone. As if she didn’t have enough problems in her life.
~ * ~
“Hello Miss Keats!” Burk couldn’t hide his enthusiasm. He’d been anticipating her call for hours, often wondering if it would come at all. “Would it be possible for you to come down to the station? We seem to have somewhat of a dilemma down here and would appreciate your assistance. I’d rather not discuss the details over the phone. You understand.”
Esa stammered. “I-I don’t know how I can help, but if you think—”
“Marvelous. Thank you, Miss Keats. I’ll explain everything once you arrive.” He hung up the receiver and absently chewed on the end of his pencil. For the umpteenth time, he weighed the circumstances surrounding the bizarre case.
The pieces just didn’t match up.
Here was this odd fellow claiming to be a notorious pirate that had been dead for almost two and a half centuries with no form of identification, no prior record—at least there were no mug shots found that lined up with his—and possessing possible valuables, presumed genuine Letters of Marque, signed by the King of France in the Eighteenth century no less, along with a very rare five-karat ruby.
The deranged man’s words rang in his head. “I tell ye, King Louis gave me the bauble in exchange for a favor!”
The fool sounded as though he actually believed the impossible tale.
As if. For someone as mentally touched as the guy obviously was, why didn’t the hospitals have record of him? Surely this wasn’t the first time he’d claimed to be the pirate? On second thought, maybe it was.
It was possible something had snapped inside his head. But where the hell did the ruby and Letters come from? The suspect’s peculiar actions could easily be dismissed to his imbalance, but it didn’t account for his possession of the items in question.
He must have stolen them, but from where? A private owner? A museum?
Nothing of the kind had been reported missing.
Unless he was an upper class con, working with someone on the inside and his eccentric pirate gig was all part of the act, a plan to claim incompetent should his mission fail.
The woman’s call filled him with hope. He wanted to see this Esa Keats and the self-proclaimed sea bandit together, to secretly observe their interaction. After all, recent events gave the woman a motive to be an accomplice in the suspect’s grand scheme. Or was she the mastermind?
He glanced down his sloped nose at his scribbled note pad. Keats’ father had passed away a few weeks ago and shocked her by leaving the family business to someone else. That alone was enough to make her a suspect in this mystery. And, by far the most compelling piece of evidence, was the fact that she worked in a museum.
Vengeance. A powerful motive.
Had Keats and the suspected thief forged a coalition to smuggle out exclusive artifacts, perhaps intent on selling them here in the Keys?
Not on his watch.
If the extraordinary items turned out to be authentic, the facts would prove one of two things: this man that called himself Jacque LaFleur had either stolen them himself, or the poor fool was the casualty of a woman scorned.
~ * ~
Esa was led down a narrow hallway and into the confined, drab and nicotine-painted office of detective Burk. The detective wasted no time updating her on the baffling case of the man known only as Jacque LaFleur.
“I don’t understand it,” Burk sighed, leaning back in his chair, hands resting atop his head. Esa thought at any moment the creaking chair would give way beneath the hefty weight and Burk would go crashing to the floor.
“As far as we ca
n tell, crazy or not, the man simply doesn’t exist. We’ve searched every database but found no match for his prints. We’ve checked the system for any reports of missing persons, stolen gems or artifacts, only to come up empty-handed at every turn. We’re still waiting for the final report on the Letters. I’m no expert, but they appear to be authentic. Perhaps we shoulda called you first, eh? Tell me, how is it you know the suspect, Miss Keats?”
Esa had been sitting quietly, absorbing the obscure information. Why did she feel like she was the one in the hot seat? Should she call her lawyer? “What can I tell you Mr. Burk? I only met him earlier today. We spoke for ten, maybe fifteen minutes, tops. I don’t know anything about a letter. I’m sorry.” She shrugged indifferently. There was certainly no need to trouble her attorney for that.
The detective appeared to study her intently, as if he were searching for something but not finding it. As if he questioned the truth of her statement. “I’ve requested a psychiatrist evaluate him as he seems a few cards shy of a full deck, if you know what I mean.” He paused to scrutinize her once more.
“He attacked an innocent man in the harbor today. For whatever reason, the fellow changed his mind and decided not to follow through with the charges. I’m afraid we can’t hold him here against his will. We have no choice but to restore his belongings, although the Letters may take several days to return from the lab. We were hoping you could shed some light on the matter. Do you know who is he? Where he got the five-karat ruby?”
Esa gasped. Five-karat ruby? His acting gigs must pay very well. Visions of the handsome devil sprawled amidst a bed of costly jewels and aboard some extravagant, fully loaded yacht filled her mind. Was he rich? Or, was the bogus pirate a genuine thief? If the latter were the case, his frilly getup was all the more suiting.
Or perhaps the brazen rogue made of living seeking out women of fortune. Perhaps that’s why he’d assaulted the poor man in the harbor. The man was probably defending his wife, or daughter.
“Maybe it’s his, how should I know? Look, I’m sorry detective; I simply don’t know anything about this guy that might help you. As I already told you, I tripped over him on the beach this afternoon. Until then, I’d never laid eyes on him.”
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