Tropical Trouble (Billionaire Romance)

by Stalls, Yvonne

  Turning north, she resumed her trek. She hoped that the men would not march Paul all the way back to the resort. Instead, there was a good chance they may pick him up at a nearby beach. If she got there in time maybe she could do something.

  But what?

  As if on cue the trees ahead of her thinned out. She could see a long white beach extend out in front of her, which was nestled up against a little cove.

  Not here, she thought glumly. But as she started to turn away, her eyes caught movement.

  Peering through the trees she could see two men walk onto the beach, way down at the other end. They had Paul between them. She felt her heart leap in her chest. He was alive, and mostly unharmed.

  The three men stopped, looking out to sea. Lydia turned to look. She saw a large ship pulling into the little cove a short distance away. At first she thought it might be a rescue ship of some sort, but that thought quickly vanished when she recognized it.

  It was the same one that had arrived at the dock back at the resort. The pirate's ship.

  Still, she had to do something. What it was she did not have the foggiest notion. She started walking toward the beach.

  "Ah," someone said. "There you are."

  Lydia stopped in her tracks, just as a man stepped out from behind a large tree right beside her.

  They looked at each other.

  "Who is stupid?" The man asked. "You are. And I'm going to teach you some manners. Yes?"

  Lydia was shocked. It was the man Paul had tackled back at the resort. The man she had shot.

  He didn't look much worse for wear for someone who had been rendered unconscious a few hours earlier. He did have a huge red welt on his neck from the dart. But he was up and about now.

  And he was right here.

  Lydia's eyes went to the submachine gun he held in both hands, pointed at her. She noticed he had another dart pistol holstered on his hip.

  "You found me," Lydia said, trying to buy some time. She needed a plan. They were taking Paul away. She couldn't afford to waste time on this idiot.

  The man took a few steps toward her. He leered at her with his half toothed smile. "I think for a stupid woman you are pretty. Pretty enough to make me happy, huh?"

  Dread washed over Lydia. Ice shot up her spine. This was going to get ugly, and quick if she didn't do something. But what?

  As entered her personal space, she cowered in fright. He had been shorter than Paul, but was still a couple of inches taller than her. He was very wiry, and he stunk to high heaven.

  "You make me feel good, maybe I let you live, huh?" He licked his lips. His eyes raked over her body hungrily. Her legs, her breasts, her mouth. It made Lydia shudder in revulsion.

  "I... I think I understand," Lydia said. She allowed her look of fright to slowly morph to one of appeasement. She tried to smile at him.

  "That is a good girl. Stupid, yes. But maybe good for us both," he said. Now unable to contain himself he started to grab at her, pulling her up against him.

  Lydia endured it. He kissed at her neck and groped at her body. She even embraced him, rubbing up against his wiry frame. He was excited to the point of bursting.

  "That's a good girl," he said, breathing harsh smelly air into her ear.

  After a moment, Lydia stood upright and looked directly into the man's face, bare inches away.

  He was surprised, but scowled. "What is this? Stupid woman tricks?"

  "I have a question for you, you handsome devil," she grinned at him.

  Genuinely perplexed the man said, "What question?"

  Lydia shot him in the groin.

  The man gasped in pain and pulled back from her. He gaped down at the little dart that protruded from his crotch.

  "Who is stupid?" Lydia asked.

  The man then looked at her in complete surprise. Then he went cross-eyed, and fell to his knees. He made some sort of keening noise, then pitched forward into the dirt face first.

  Lydia allowed herself a moment of satisfaction. Letting this cretin feel her up gave her the opportunity to take the pistol from him. So intent on drooling over her flesh, the idiot didn't even notice.

  She cast the spent pistol aside, then quickly bent down over the man. Mr. Smelly was snoring loudly in the dirt. She managed to pull the submachine gun out from under his still form.

  She stood, examining it. This was exactly what she needed.

  "Thanks for this," she said to the unconscious man.

  She looked back down the beach again. To her relief, Paul was still there with his captors. The ship had dropped anchor and a small motor boat was making its way across the cove towards Paul. There were a couple of men on it. They were coming to take Paul away.

  Not going to happen, she thought.

  She hefted the submachine gun in her grip, and started hurrying toward the beach. She was going to show these idiots what an angry, armed Realtor would do to protect a client.

  She was going to rescue Paul.

  Chapter 16

  Paul

  Lydia was safe, Paul thought. That was all that mattered now. They wouldn't pursue her anymore. They got what they wanted.

  He tried to ease his worry with these thoughts as the two men half dragged him through the jungle. He had tackled the one that had been shooting and he stopped almost immediately. It was obvious they could not risk Paul getting seriously injured. They seemed to settle on just scowling at him, and cursing in their language.

  At some point they paused. One of them was speaking into a handset of some sort. Something short range, modulated so as not to be effected by their jamming device.

  Orders came over it, and they changed their course. Instead of heading north, back to the resort he assumed, they were heading east. Probably to the shore to be picked up.

  And then what? Whisked away to some unknown island not much different than this one. Chained up and thrown in hole? They would demand money, that was for certain. He would play along with them. His security firm, once they realized he was kidnapped, would leap into action. And those guys were good. It could be that they could home in on his position and attempt a rescue.

  If it was a success, he would give them all a bonus.

  But then his attention would turn to the only thing on his mind: Lydia. He would follow up with her, sending his security team to the island to scour it for her.

  He prayed she was safe, and unharmed. He also hoped she had enough sense to stay far enough away from him right now. No sense them both getting caught. Or worse.

  He and his captors suddenly arrived at a beach. Pure white powdery sand stretched off down the shore almost out of sight.

  But his eyes caught movement out at sea. It was a ship, the one the pirates were using. Great. This was it.

  The two men pushed him to his knees in the sand. Paul sagged. They had long before tied his hands together with twine, which cut into his wrists. He did not even have the energy to try and break them. Best to save his energy for whatever the future presented to him.

  A boat left the ship, and headed toward the beach. Paul could make out two men on board. One didn't look Filipino. Maybe a Westerner, or European.

  Paul closed his eyes. He would know soon enough. Instead, he listened to the waves lapping at the beach, and thought of Lydia's face, smiling up at him from behind the waterfall.

  The boat arrived, and the two men disembarked. The Westerner was tall, and commanding in presence. He grinned down at Paul, almost wild in his look.

  "Mr. Morgan, I presume?" the new arrival said, and then laughed at his own joke.

  Paul frowned at him. "I know you?"

  "Not formally, no. My name is Oswald. And I am your captor of the day." The grin never left his face. There was a glint in his eye. It was the look of absolute greed. And he was looking down at Paul, his treasure.

  "Looks like you got yourself a major payday in your future," Paul said. He found himself working at the twine around his wrists. Like it would do much good now.


  The man called Oswald laughed. "I am hoping it would be a sizable one."

  Paul looked up at him, sunlight causing him to squint. "Whatever it is, I could ensure it would be double that amount."

  Oswald looked pleasantly shocked. "Why, isn't that kind of you. Whatever would you want in return for this generous offer?"

  "Leave the woman alone," Paul said. "The one that was with me. If your men are still looking for her, tell them to stop now. And if they caught here, let her go. Do this one thing and I will promise that the ransom paid to you would exceed your wildest dreams."

  Oswald laughed, more with delight than anything. "A woman? You would cough up untold hundreds of millions for a woman?"

  Play to his greed, Paul thought. "That is the offer."

  Oswald seemed to consider it. Then he turned and asked one of the men a question in what sounded to be very broken Tagalog. The man shook his head.

  Oswald looked at Paul again. "It would appear that this woman of yours is evading my men. But, I accept your offer. We will cease searching for her immediately. Good enough?"

  Paul nodded.

  As if basking in his own glory, Oswald sniffed and grinned. "A woman. Ha! She had been nothing more than an annoyance. But I see now that she was useful to me after all. Her presence got me you."

  Oswald laughed. The other henchman laughed along with him. What did they care? They were rich now. Richer than they could ever dream.

  "Now you've really gone and ticked me off!" Someone shouted.

  Everyone jumped in surprise and stopped laughing. They turned toward the voice.

  Paul gasped in shock.

  Lydia emerged slowly from the jungle directly behind them, only a few feet away. To Paul's amazement, she was armed with a submachine gun, which she had leveled at Oswald.

  He also noticed something else about her. She was mad. Real mad.

  Everyone tensed. When she emerged, all the men either had their weapons holstered, or slung over their shoulders. They hadn't expected any armed conflict standing here.

  Lydia had caught them all completely by surprise.

  Paul beamed at her.

  "What? What is this?" Oswald said, stunned.

  Lydia stopped moving, standing with her legs slightly apart, the submachine gun firmly levelled, finger on the trigger. "What is this? The end of the line for you idiots. Now, drop your weapons."

  Paul could feel the tension rising amongst the group. Did they think the could get the drop on her? Would she even fire at them? He could sense these thoughts racing through their minds.

  They were killers, mostly all. But not Lydia. Did she have what it took to kill someone here and now?

  Oswald seemed to regain some of his composure. "Now, look miss, I don't know what you were thinking coming here, but this game is over. Drop the weapon and I swear you won't be hurt."

  "Yeah, I believe you," she said. She hoisted the gun up a little higher. "I said drop your weapons. All of you."

  Now Oswald had worked up enough bravado that he obviously felt he could call her bluff. "You aren't going to shoot anyone. You don't have it in you, do you now? Now, put down that gun and we'll - ."

  Lydia shot at Oswald.

  The noise was deafening as it was sudden. Paul blinked as sand shot up from the beach.

  No, she didn't shoot Oswald, but she had shot a line through the sand between him and one of the other men.

  A feeling of unease grew amongst the men.

  "Drop them. I will not repeat myself," she said.

  She had said it so angrily, that if Paul were carrying a gun at that moment, he would have dropped it, too.

  Oswald scowled. "Drop them. Everyone."

  Slowly, and under her very watchful gaze, the men dropped their weapons in the sand.

  "Now untie him," she said.

  Oswald nodded to one of the men, who bent down and quickly undid his bindings. Once free, Paul stood, rubbing at his wrists.

  "Well this is a pleasant surprise," Paul said, grinning wildly.

  Lydia's features softened a little as she glanced at him. "Well, we can talk about that later. Grab a gun now, honey."

  "Oh," Paul said. "Right." He selected a machine gun from the ample pile then walked over to stand by Lydia.

  They both looked at their new prisoners, who stood with shoulders slumped in defeat.

  "Now what should we do with them?" Paul asked.

  "I dunno," Lydia said with a slight shrug. "I was hoping at some point now the cavalry would arrive."

  "Cavalry?" Paul said.

  There was a distant rumbling. Everyone looked about, blinking in confusion.

  "What the hell?" Paul said.

  Just then a helicopter shot over the jungle canopy and passed above them.

  Stunned, the only thing everyone on the beach could do was stare in surprise.

  The huge machine banked hard, and lowered a bit over the water right next to the beach. The water sprayed outwards, and kicked up sand.

  A uniformed soldier hung out an open side hatch, a massive mounted gun pointed down at them.

  Paul blinked at the lettering along the side of the helicopter. United States Navy.

  Paul blinked in amazement. "Well, I'll be damned!" he said.

  Lydia and Paul laughed.

  Chapter 17

  Lydia

  "You knew my paranoia would pay off in spades, one day, didn't you, sister mine?" Mary said, her image crisp and clear on Paul's phone. Now that the jammer was off, Lydia was able to call Mary.

  And Lydia was very happy to see her.

  "How did you know we were in trouble?" Lydia asked. She glanced up at the beach.

  The chopper had landed on the beach, and marines had secured the prisoners. In the distance, a United States Navy frigate had just made anchor not far from Oswald's own boat.

  Mary laughed. "My dear, when you said you had something very, very important to tell me, and that I had to listen, only then to have the connection cut off, I suspected something was amiss. I tried your number many times. And when that didn't work, I tried Paul's phone. And when that didn't work I went into full panic mode. I called his assistant, who called someone in the government, who contacted the navy, and, well, there you are."

  Lydia grinned at her sister. "Sister, mine. You can be as paranoid as you want. Don't ever stop." Lydia glanced up to see Paul talking to one of the marines. He then started to walk over to her.

  "So tell me," Mary said, her voice all conspiratorial. "Is he handsome or what?"

  "Who's that?" Paul said, walking over to stand next to Lydia.

  "Oh!" Mary cried in surprise.

  Lydia laughed and pointed the phone at Paul. "Paul, this is my sister Mary. Mary this is Paul Morgan. He's very talented at cutting ropes."

  "Nice to meet you Mary. And thanks for bringing us the cavalry," Paul said, smiling into the phone. Lydia knew the effect this would have on her sister.

  "Oh, my!" Mary said. "Such a pleasure to meet you... Oh, ropes? Cutting? What are you not telling me, Lydia!"

  Lydia and Paul both laughed.

  "I'll call you once we make it back to the main island. I promise."

  "Of, course. Take your time, I understand. But, you must know, I am absolutely starving for details!" Mary said.

  "And you will get them," Lydia said. "Bye for now." She signed off and looked to Paul. He looked a lot more relaxed than he had a short while ago, tied up on the beach.

  Paul smiled at her. "They're searching the island for Oswald's other men. I don't think it will be much of a problem for these guys." He looked over at the marines who were now loading the prisoners onto the chopper.

  Oswald was about to step on board when he looked in Lydia and Paul's direction. He grimaced.

  Lydia waved, and Oswald vanished into the helicopter.

  "Now what?" she asked Paul.

  He stepped closer to her, and eased his arms around her. She liked it. She really liked it. He beamed down at her.


  "Well, I think we have some unfinished business to attend to."

  Lydia's eyes widened in surprise. "Really? After all of this, you still want this island?"

  Paul blinked, then looked around at the jungle as if seeing this place for the first time. "Oh, yeah. Right." He looked back down at her. "I just consider the island a bonus. I already found what I really wanted."