Creole got in my face. “What in the hell?” he yelled.
I flinched and closed my eyes, tears trickling out of the corners. “I went to meet Brad,” I said softly.
Creole took my face in his hands. “Stop that, now.” His thumbs wiped the tears away. “You know I can’t handle it when you cry. Why were you walking in an area that had signs posted to keep the hell out?”
“I had to park a couple of blocks away and knew it was a shortcut. You have to get a hold of Brad and let him know I’m okay.”
“Stanhope will take care of that.” He ran his hands over my arms, lifting my leg, dropping a soft kiss on my scraped knee. “Any other damage I don’t know about?”
I shook my head and pointed. “My SUV’s parked over there.”
“I’ll get word to Brad. He’ll get it to your house. You won’t need it while you’re in protective custody.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“The leader, Ramon Arturo, got away, and as long as he’s on the loose, you’ll do what I tell you, when I tell you. He knows what you look like and he watched me run to your rescue, so he knows you’re important to me and wouldn’t hesitate to track you down and kill you in a most unpleasant way. Got it?”
His eyes turned dark blue when he got mad; something told me now wasn’t the time to argue. “Where are you taking me?”
“No, damn it. You answer my question and promise that you’re going to cooperate,” he said, his voice on the rise.
“Okay, I promise. Stop with the yelling and growling.” I covered my face with my hands resting on my bent knees. Let him think I was crying, I didn’t care.
He rubbed my back. “I was very proud of you back there, kicking and struggling until you forced him to drop you.”
I stayed silent for a few minutes trying to figure out where things went wrong. “This really is a crappy car. There’s no window handle, what do you do in the rain? The seats are so bad my butt feels like it’s banging on the floor, not to mention I can hardly see out the window.”
“I’m a drug dealer, remember?”
“Not a very good one, apparently.”
“I’m taking you to a safe house, where you will stay put. I’ll make sure you have what you need and then I’ll have to leave to help track Ramon. I’m trusting that when I come back you’ll be right where I left you.”
“What kind of stupid program is this? You don’t leave witnesses unprotected, I watch enough television to know that some fat guy stands guard and plays cards.”
“You’re going to pay for driving me nuts. I’m taking you to a house that no one knows about except me and now you.”
If his eyes hadn’t been smiling at me, the shivers running up my spine might have been those of fear. I entwined my fingers in his. “I’ll do my very best to do everything you ask.”
He threw his head back and laughed. “When this is over, come away with me—or will you make me kidnap you?”
“You’d force me?”
He ran his finger down my cheek. “A little uninterrupted time and I wouldn’t have to.”
My cheeks burned red. I turned my face to the window; “uninterrupted time” had me smiling.
He cut through all the seedy areas of town and jumped on the turnpike back to the Keys. I thought he planned to stash me in The Cove somewhere, but he passed up all the exits and headed further south. It surprised me when he got off at Hibiscus Key, which I assumed was nothing more than a turn-around for those going the wrong direction. A few feet ahead he veered off the pavement and onto a dirt road that wound its way toward a wall of trees where the road became paved again, curving around, hugging the water, passing an occasional house that didn’t look lived in. The smell of the ocean had me breathing deeply. I realized that I felt content and safe with Creole, knowing he’d never let anything happen to me. At the end of the road, he parked in the driveway of a welcoming beach cottage that sat perched over the edge of the water.
Chapter 34
“It’s so beautiful and quiet out here.” I looked around in awe, watching the egrets stroll the beach looking for food. As soon as the car engine died, the sounds of the water splashing against the rocks could be heard along the stretch of pristine white sand that discouraged visitors, forbidding parking on the street. “Whose house is this?” I followed him to the front door.
Creole inserted a key in the lock, and scooped me off my feet, carrying me inside, kicking the door closed. “Mine.”
The one room open floor plan had an unobstructed view of the water through a solid wall of sliding glass pocket doors that opened onto a patio, complete with swimming pool, that overlooked the Gulf.
“Are you going to put me down? Give me a tour?” I asked.
He slid my body down the front of his until my toes touched the floor and I thought I’d catch fire. He captured my mouth in his, and my lips slightly parted as I inhaled a shivered breath. I wanted his kiss as much as he wanted mine.
He grabbed my forearms and pushed me back. “Enough. I have to go.”
“Don’t take this off.” I ran my hands under his shirt, feeling up his bulletproof vest.
He took me into the kitchen with its bamboo cabinetry and flooring, granite countertops, and top-of-the-line appliances. “Since I know you’re a wiz with the microwave, you won’t go hungry with what’s in the freezer.” He opened the door to an impressive pantry and pulled out a can of my favorite coffee, setting it onto the counter. “I plan ahead.”
I hugged him hard. “So I don’t go near the windows, what else?”
“Don’t go out of this house, except for the patio area. No calls, which is why I’m keeping your phone.” He opened the drawer where a Smith and Wesson lay next to the can opener. “Just in case. I’ll be back in a few hours to check on you.”
I fisted my hand in the front of his shirt. “Listen to me very carefully, Mr. Luc Baptiste, a.k.a. Creole, I’ll be quite vexed with you if you get hurt.”
“That reminds me,” he said, as he picked me up and carried me into the bathroom, setting me onto the toilet seat. He opened the cabinet and took out some peroxide and cotton balls, and kneeled down onto the floor and cleaned my knee.
He looked so serious it amused me. “Thank you for rescuing me,” I said as I ran my fingers through his messy hair, kissing the top of his head.
“When I heard you scream I wanted to kill that gorilla-looking bastard,” he growled.
When he finished playing doctor, he kissed my owie and I sighed, wishing both knees had been scrapped. “This house is amazing.” The claw-foot tub faced the window; even the bathroom had a view, along with a walk-in shower that had room for four with multiple showerheads coming from all directions.
“I hired a contractor for the outside, but did the work on every square inch of the interior myself. This is my hideaway and it needed to be comfortable.”
“I’m impressed.” On the way into the bathroom we had passed a king-sized bed that sat tucked behind a double screen. It, too, enjoyed the same incredible water view.
He wrapped his arms around my middle and carried me to the couch, laying his head against my stomach. “My house is your house, so make yourself comfortable. Don’t forget your promise.”
“I don’t want you to go. You know how you don’t like it when I get hurt, well I won’t like it if you come back to me with so much as a scratch. All those cops and you couldn’t shoot the bad guys?”
“It makes my job easier if they’re hauled in alive so we can squeeze information out of them about friends and associates. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be back in a few to check on you.” He kissed me chastely on the lips and left.
The door closed softly and the silence engulfed me. It felt weird to be out in the middle of nowhere by myself with a very long walk to the main road.
I prowled around the house for a while, and then stood on the deck admiring the view. Sucking in the salty air, the steadiness of the Gulf waters calmed my nerves. I kn
ew that if I didn’t think of something fast, I’d break my promise and walk back to town, hiding out at the funeral home—at least I’d have someone to talk to. The only thing that stopped me, Creole angry was more than likely akin to controlling a wet cat.
Since I’d been told to treat this as my own house, I snooped through every cupboard. Creole had excellent taste. I never took baths but today would be the exception. I helped myself to the thickest bath towel I’d ever run my hand over, a cigar, dish soap, and a bestselling thriller novel from ten years ago that I found. I’d seen the movie, but everyone knows the book is always better.
I filled the tub with water and got a little carried away with my makeshift bubbles. Thank goodness he had decent lotion in the cabinet for what would be my dried out, pruney skin. The man thought of everything. I sighed, leaning back against a large bath pillow, not one of the squatty ones that barely supported one’s neck.
If this were my bathroom, I’d rethink my bathing ritual. It felt indulgent to sit in piles of bubbles, cigar hanging out of my mouth, looking out over the water, music blaring in from the living room. I forgot all about the book and dozed off, one leg hanging over the side so I didn’t slip in and drown.
My foot twitched as something large crawled across the bottom. I jerked upright and screamed, kicking water all over the window and floor, my eyes flying open.
“Don’t kick me in the face.” Creole grabbed my ankle, easing me back into the water.
“Shouldn’t you knock or something?” I sputtered.
“I don’t knock at your house. Besides, who could hear with the music turned up full blast? Good thing I don’t have neighbors.” He took the sponge and ran it up my leg. “I’d be happy to bathe all the hard to reach places.” He stared at the water as though he could see through the bubbles.
I blushed and my body tingled. I changed the subject. “What’s the update?”
“We’ve got someone working on Ramon’s exact location now, and once we narrow the coordinates, the bust goes down tonight.” He picked the cigar up off the floor. “You ruined a perfectly good cigar and didn’t even light it?” He looked at the dish soap. “Remind me to put real bubble bath on my grocery list.”
“I don’t smoke!” I took the cigar from his hands and put it in my mouth. “Hand me the book.” I hung my leg back over the tub. “I’m feeling pretty decadent in this sexy bathtub.”
He groaned and picked up the sponge again.
“If you’ll close the door on your way out, I’ll be out in a minute.”
I slapped on his lotion and wrapped myself in a terrycloth robe, pulling the belt tight. I smiled in the mirror, happy he came back so quickly and in one piece.
Creole lay across the bed. “I like my favorite robe on you. Come kiss me, I have to leave.”
“You just got here,” I whined. “Promise me, same as before, you’ll be careful.” I shook my finger at him moving to the edge of the bed.
“I promise I’ll be here when you wake up.” He pulled me down next to him. Our lips collided in a ruthless kiss. He groaned and ran his tongue against me, urging my mouth open as he deepened the kiss, toying with my tongue and biting my lips until I was breathing hard, longing for more. He drew back, hooking one of my fingers into his mouth, and sucked. Then brought my hand to his lips and placed a lover’s kiss on my palm.
* * *
Last night had been a complete bore, cut off from the outside world. I brooded, deeply in phone withdrawal. I missed the constant stream of people in and out of my house. The television only had local channels, and there was no laptop—it had been hard to entertain myself. I double checked the door locks, read, and then left the television on with the sound down for company.
I had my morning coffee and breakfast, made the bed, and paced the floor watching the clock. Where in the hell was he? He said when I woke up, not hours later. Creole wouldn’t leave me waiting, he knows I’d do something rash. Yesterday I found a change jar while snooping. I helped myself to the paper money and left an IOU note. I grabbed a cloth grocery bag that still had the “Congratulations, you’re a winner” sticker attached, threw in three bottles of water, and hoped the walk to the road wasn’t as long as I remembered.
I loved his house and really liked the idea that he hadn’t brought another woman to share the view. I daydreamed about sitting out on his deck, sharing breakfast, and doing something as mundane as talking about our day and enjoying every moment.
It had been a healthy hike to the main road, and sucking down one bottle of water, I thought to myself that those long walks on the beach were paying off. I mulled my options; my thumb might very well get me a ride with a weirdo. I couldn’t remember how far the next exit that boasted businesses was, and stopping at someone’s house might get me the same result as sticking my finger out. I stuck to the far side of the road as cars whizzed by blowing my hair every which way. Hoping to get to civilization before dark, and wondering why the hell Creole hadn’t passed me up to turnaround so that he could yell at me, I refused to think anything negative.
Up ahead a sheriff car sat parked, lights flashing. Of all the bad luck, Johnson sat behind the wheel. He lowered the passenger window. “It’s dangerous to walk alongside the road.”
I started to say something and noticed that the car in front belonged to Tropical Slumber. Before I could step away, Johnson called me back. “This is official business, I suggest you move along.”
“I know the owners of the funeral home. I’m just trying to get back to The Cove or the next town where I can use a phone.”
“You’re not far. The next gas station is about a mile up the road.” The window went back up.
I walked past the Cadillac. Dickie had the visor down and was playing with his hair while looking in the mirror. I stepped in front of the car where Dickie saw me and waved. I stuck my thumb out.
Johnson’s eyes bore into me as he approached the driver-side window. “No hitchhiking,” he yelled and pointed to the sign.
I had tired of brisk-walking, my feet preferred to shuffle now. I glanced over my shoulder constantly, not able to walk backward because it made me nauseous. Finally, Johnson got in his car and drove around Dickie. Before he could drive off, I ran back. Dickie got out and opened the door, always the gentleman.
“Please, oh please, give me a ride home. I’ll owe you a favor.” I turned slightly but couldn’t see in the back.
“I’ll give you a ride home and no favor needed, what kind of person would do that? Don’t worry, there’s no one else but the two of us, dead or alive,” he laughed.
Must be funeral humor. “Any breaking news I should know about?”
“I bet you’ve got a good story—no car, walking, inquiring about the news. Just a few drunks we know, getting into fights. Are you going to tell me?” he asked.
“I can’t now, but I’ll share when I can.” If the story were only about me, I’d tell him. I trusted Dickie, but with others involved, it was not my story to tell.
“Butch quit. Good thing, we wanted to fire him without a confrontation. Took the Cad and had it detailed on the inside.” Dickie shook his head. “We hired a nice older gentleman.”
“Will you drop me at the main beach parking? I’ll walk the rest of the way. Don’t tell anyone you saw me.”
His dark eyes clouded over. “If you’re in trouble, we’ll hide you at the funeral home.”
“You and Raul have certainly become good friends.” I got out after he took a space in the far corner. “Thank you.” I waved and sprinted across the sand and down to the water.
Chapter 35
Coming in the back way, I noticed the patio doors were closed so, not having a lock pick handy, I got out the hide-a-key. I called out, but no one answered. I picked up Jazz and hugged him until he meowed. I took him upstairs with me, where I sat him on my bed, next to my purse. That was nice of someone. My replacement phone sat on top, dead, and I plugged it in while taking a shower. The phone company had it replaced
within twenty-four hours with a lecture that insurance didn’t cover the carelessness of throwing it in the water. I thanked her and asked when my contract would expire and made a note to switch companies.
My first phone call was to Harder. I wanted to hear Creole’s voice but didn’t want to be a distraction on his case either.
“Where are you?” he asked. It surprised me that he saved me as a contact.
“Creole promised to check in this morning and I haven’t heard from him. Just need to know he’s okay.”
“I didn’t know where he had you stashed or I would’ve come for a visit myself. Creole’s in the Tarpon Cove hospital.”
I shrieked. “Is he going to be okay? I have to go.” I hung up and grabbed my purse, running downstairs.
My phone rang several times, but I left it unanswered until I skidded out of the driveway.
“Don’t you ever hang up on me again,” Harder yelled. “I’ll arrest you.”
“Tell me he’s not going to die.” I cut over to a side street, knowing the route the ambulance used to avoid traffic.
“He got shot, but it’s not life threatening. He took a tumble off a second floor parking structure. An awning broke his fall but when he rolled off, he bumped his head and he’s in a coma. It’s not as bad as it sounds; he’s showing signs of coming around any time now.”
“Did you get the drug lord?”
“Him and three of his bodyguards. One is in the hospital. We’re going to amp up the pressure on that one for information.”
I pulled into the parking lot, irritated that the pedestrians I just braked for seemed to be taking their sweet time. “I’m at the hospital, so I’m hanging up on you now, okay?”
“Talk to you later.”
I ran into the hospital, slowing to a walk when I got to the nurse’s desk, happy to see Shirl. “Where is he?” I asked, out of breath.
Greed in Paradise (Paradise Series) Page 18