Rum Runner

by Tricia Leedom

  He squinted into the horizon, trying to recall. “Oh, I don’t know—”

  “Six years ago,” April said with absolute certainty. “I was in middle school. Seventh grade.”

  The Duchess sat back in her chair, staring blankly at the horizon. She looked a little nauseous again.

  April went on, oblivious to her distress. “Hamburger Man has become a legend on the island. Parents tell their children, if they don’t eat all their dinner, Hamburger Man will get them.”

  “April, why don’t you give me and the Duchess a little time to talk. Your friend Gretchen looks lonely up in front all by herself.”

  “Greenlee, you mean.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I said. How about it?”

  “Sure.” She squeezed the Duchess’s arm. “I really hope you find your father.”

  “Thanks.”

  The sun had begun its twilight descent, its last hurrah before marking the end of another day in paradise. Streaks of orange threaded the thin clouds hovering above the horizon, promising to deliver something extraordinary.

  The Duchess stared into the setting sun, her expression pensive.

  “Nickel for your thoughts?”

  The little quotation mark above the bridge of her nose was back as she tilted her head to look up at him. “Why not a penny?”

  “Inflation.”

  The corners of her mouth quirked but didn’t quite form a smile. Instead, her eyes narrowed and her lips pursed. “You didn’t tell me my father was a buffoon.”

  “Mad Dog just had a little too much to drink that day is all.”

  “He’s a drunk, then. I’m not sure which is worse.”

  Jimmy shrugged. “There’s no harm in letting loose once in a while.”

  “Mad Dog,” she said, turning sideways in the seat to face him. She still gripped the dashboard rail like a pit bull on a steak. “Tell me more about that. How did he come by the name? Or should I be afraid to ask?”

  “It was his call sign in the SEALs. The dude was fearless and unrelenting in the face of danger. Kinda like a rabid dog.” When the skeptical expression didn’t leave her face, Jimmy said, “He once walked down the center of a bridge toward an enemy-infested patch of woods armed with nothing but a MAAWS rocket launcher and a grin.”

  “Why was he grinning?”

  “His team had been pinned down for hours. They were out of ammo with little hope of getting out of there alive when one of his men stumbled on the weapon hidden beneath some brush. Looked like the enemy had meant to take out the bridge, but somebody fuc—goofed up.”

  “Were you there?”

  “Nah, it was before my time.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “He sounds a bit certifiable, doesn’t he?”

  “Oh, he’s crazy as a bedbug, but in the best possible way. He’s a computer genius and a wiz with all things mechanical. He never took any unnecessary risks with the men in his charge, but he would have laid down his life for any one of us.”

  “You respect him.”

  “Of course I do. I owe him for saving my ass, especially when—” Realizing the direction the conversation was going, he stopped.

  “When what?”

  The answer caught him between the ribs like a serrated bowie knife. He swallowed past the tightness in his throat. “Let’s just say he kept me from doing something stupider than I’d already done.”

  The chaotic images from that night came at him hard and fast.

  Mad Dog’s raspy baritone talking him off the proverbial cliff. “Put the gun down, Panama. Breathe, damn it. Just breathe and look at me.”

  Horrified by what he had done, he’d turned the weapon on himself. There was so much blood. The metallic tang in the air filled his nose as if it was infused with the ocean breeze.

  “Jimmy?” The sweet timbre of the Duchess’ voice called him back from that dark place.

  He shook the graphic images from his mind and inhaled deeply. The air was warm, but he shivered from the cold sweat that had blossomed on his skin. He loosened his death grip on the steering wheel.

  The Duchess was staring at him warily. “Where did you go just now?”

  He avoided her searching gaze.

  “Does it have anything to do with those ghosts Florez was talking about earlier? Does something haunt your dreams?”

  If anyone around here had brass cojones, it was the Duchess. She’d crossed a line and Jimmy was done with her. “Why don’t you just make both of our lives easier? Give me the medallion and go home. Why make this harder than it needs to be?”

  “What makes you so certain I have the medallion with me?”

  “White cotton becomes transparent when it’s damp, darlin’.” He looked down at her breasts and grinned shamelessly.

  The medallion wasn’t the only thing he’d noticed. Beneath the outline of her lace bra, her nipples pointed up at him as if they were calling him out.

  She gasped and pulled the clinging fabric away from her skin. “You’re depraved.”

  He shrugged. “What can I say? I’m a man. Men look.”

  “Andrew wouldn’t have looked. Andrew would have averted his gaze and offered me a towel or something to cover myself. But then he’s a gentleman, isn’t he?”

  “Sounds like a tool,” Jimmy muttered.

  “What was that?”

  “Sounds cool. Who’s Andrew? Your boyfriend?”

  “It’s none of your business.”

  “Ex-boyfriend, then.”

  “Shut up.” She turned away and leaned back in the chair, holding onto the edge of the seat. She crossed her long legs and her skirt rose higher, showing off a tantalizing amount of smooth, toned thigh. He averted his gaze to salvage what was left of his sanity.

  “I’m not going anywhere until I meet my father,” she said.

  Jimmy’s blood pressure spiked. “Why are you so hell-bent on meeting a man who, according to you, has ignored you for the last quarter of a century?”

  He had to hand it to her. She didn’t rattle easily. She raised her chin a notch and said, “It may not be what he wants, but it’s what I want.”

  “Well, hell. I’d rather be sitting on my dock with a Corona in one hand and my fishing rod in the other watching the sunset, but we can’t always have what we want, can we?”

  “How do you expect me to board an airplane without my passport? My handbag and the rest of my belongings are back at the hotel.”

  “I know a guy who can get your things to you by tomorrow.”

  “You know a guy? Brilliant. Do you think I want some dodgy friend of yours riffling through my knickers? No, thank you. I’ll fetch my things back on my own. As soon as we arrive in Key West, I’m going to phone the Miami police and tell them exactly what’s happened. I’m the victim here.”

  Jimmy gripped the steering wheel tighter. “You want to be a sitting duck for your daddy’s enemies? Because that’s what’s gonna happen. The police will haul your ass back to Miami for questioning and Florez will be waiting for you.”

  “My mum warned me my father has a propensity to associate with disreputable characters, but I hadn’t realized the extent of it. Who does Florez work for and what does he want from my father?”

  “Hector Bautista. A big, bad Colombian drug lord who likes to masquerade as an innocent businessman.”

  “And my father stole something from him?”

  “According to Florez, he did.”

  “That’s just terrific, my father is not only insane but he’s a criminal to boot.”

  “I don’t know about that. Is stealing something from another criminal actually a crime?” He chuckled at her disapproving glower. “What? Your daddy might have his faults, but he’s a good man at heart, and somebody you should be proud of no matter what your momma might have said about him.”

  “She said he was a handsome, irresponsible rogue who loved chasing after his dreams better than he liked facing reality.”

  “There are two sides to every story, darlin’.”


  “I know that, but I also know he’s never made an effort to see me. All I’ve ever had of him were his letters.”

  The sun dipped below the horizon, leaving behind an array of reds and oranges. Most people watched just until the sun disappeared and then went on their way, but Jimmy always stayed behind to admire the afterglow, when the sky would ignite with all sorts of glorious colors.

  “It’s stunning,” the Duchess said, and he realized she was enjoying the afterglow too.

  “Why are you looking for a man you so clearly despise?”

  Her head snapped around. She looked at him. “I don’t despise my father.”

  “But you’re appalled by him. You think there’s no way a classy lady like yourself could’ve come from the loins of a loud-mouthed, half-cracked American stooge.”

  “I’m finished speaking to you.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you take too much pleasure in pricking me.”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “Honestly, darlin’, you’re not my type.”

  “I said pricking! As in poking—”

  The chuckles he was holding back exploded into hearty laughter.

  “That’s not what I meant. Ugh! Never mind.”

  She was cute when she was flustered.

  She put her hand up. “Just stop talking.”

  Jimmy’s chuckles died away, and they traveled in silence for a while. As the night air grew colder, the girls moved to the stern bench seat and wrapped themselves in blankets. The Duchess accepted his offer of a jacket and ventured into the tiny cabin to retrieve it.

  The murky darkness affected his mood.

  They’d reach Key West in a couple of hours. He had until then to figure out how he was gonna get the Duchess to hand over the medallion. He didn’t want to take it by force, but he would if it came to that. As for putting her sweet little backside on the next plane out of the states, he had to figure that one out too. He might have told her he’d let her go her own way once they reached the island, but he couldn’t do that. He owed it to Mitch to see this mission through to the end. Jimmy didn’t make promises, but he believed in repaying debts. Mad Dog had been there when Jimmy needed somebody to pull him back from the brink. Now he was in a desperate situation and Jimmy was going to square things up no matter how much aggravation it caused him.

  The woman needed to face facts. The family reunion wasn’t going to happen this time. Wherever Mad Dog was, he no doubt had dug himself in deeper than a tick. He wasn’t coming up for air anytime soon—not with a pissed off drug lord breathing down his neck and Florez looming large.

  The Duchess reemerged from the companionway. She shoved a dry shirt at him before returning to the mate’s chair.

  “Thanks,” Jimmy said, surprised by her thoughtfulness. It was getting a tad nippy out. He slipped the gray rash guard tee over his head and grinned at her.

  She didn’t return his smile.

  His black and gold Saints hoodie swamped her narrow frame. Seeing her in his clothes did something funny to his insides. He didn’t want to examine the warm-and-fuzzies too closely, so he focused on the water and brooded about how her scent was going to seep into the threads of his favorite jacket and ruin it forever.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Sophie gripped the handhold across from her seat as The Salty Lizard made a mad dash across the water. The chilled wind stung her eyes and whipped her hair into a frenzy. It sank into her bones giving her goose bumps from the inside out. Gloomy darkness swallowed everything beyond the reach of the boat’s navigation lights. The fact that she couldn’t see the water or the distance they were from the shore should have been a relief, but the scent of the briny sea taunted her, not allowing her to forget where she was for a moment.

  Death by drowning. She could not imagine a more frightening way to die, but she had to suck it up. This was just another trial of courage on this unholy crusade she had embarked upon.

  She stole another surreptitious glance at the blond, bronzed giant beside her. Cast in the glow of the masthead light, he stood at the helm with his feet braced apart and gaze forward as he expertly maneuvered the boat through the night-blackened water with no apparent trepidation.

  “Tell you how this is gonna go,” his deep voice penetrated the wind. The flat tones and twang of his accent held a strange appeal.

  “How what’s going to go?”

  “The next twelve hours of your life. I’ll set you up in a decent hotel for the night and have your stuff to you by morning, but then your butt’s gonna be on the next plane out of here.”

  “We made a deal—”

  “We both know that was bullshit.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Yes. You are.”

  Spots of light danced on the horizon like fireflies on a summer’s night. The first signs of civilization after hours of nothingness. Jimmy eased off the throttle, slowing the boat as he guided it between two buoys. The shoreline was closer than she’d realized. She could make out palm trees and the beach, and a hodgepodge of homes and hotels. They passed a large marina packed with several dozen smart-looking yachts and sailboats. Then they turned into a narrow channel and entered a more commercialized area.

  Time was running out. She could stubbornly refuse to leave the island and he would eventually give up and go away. However, if she was going to have any chance of finding her father, she needed Jimmy Panama. The thought of spending more time in the Neanderthal’s company was dreadfully unappealing, but what else was she to do? “Do you still want the medallion?” she asked Jimmy’s hirsute profile.

  He snorted. “What do you think?”

  “I’ll give it to you, but only in exchange for your help.”

  “I am helping you.”

  “You’re helping my father. You’re doing what he wants, not what I want.”

  “Damn straight. It’s him I owe, not you. I was paying back a favor. Mad Dog wanted me to pick up a package in Miami and bring it back to the island. Didn’t matter if the content of that package was in my pocket or around your neck. It just needed to get here and stay here. When I put you on the next plane heading across the Atlantic, he and I will be square.”

  Jimmy guided the boat into a much smaller marina. They both fell silent as he concentrated on a tricky turn.

  “I have money,” Sophie said. She couldn’t believe she was resorting to bribery, but there it was. “I’m rich. I can pay you. Name your price. How much will it cost to convince you to help me find my father?”

  “I’m not interested in your money. And what makes you think I’m the man for the job anyhow?”

  Sophie took in his broad, muscular shoulders and scraggly beard. He looked like the Unabomber on steroids. She scrunched her nose in distaste and sought an explanation for what she herself didn’t understand. How could one explain an instinct? “I saw the way you handled yourself with those men at the hotel. You obviously haven’t lost all of the skills you learned in the Special Forces. And, to be honest, you know my father. You spoke with him just this morning. That makes you the closest I’ve ever gotten to him.”

  Jimmy’s brow furrowed. There was no humor in his eyes. “Why is finding your father so gosh-darn important to you, darlin’?”

  “Hey, Jimmy.” April suddenly appeared between them gripping the captain and mate’s chairs to steady herself. “Can Greenlee borrow your phone? She wants to call her sister for a ride but both our cells are dead.”

  Jimmy dug into the thigh pocket of his cargo shorts and pulled out his mobile.

  “Here,” he said. “Tell her sister to pick you up at Fat Cat Charters in the Conchville Marina.”

  “Thanks!” Before the girl turned away, she grinned at Sophie. “Cool hoodie.”

  Sophie glanced down at the oversized sweat-jacket. It smelled like him—clean and masculine with a hint of coconut oil. When she’d first slid it over her head, she’d covertly put her nose to the cotton and inhaled deeply. She hated the giddy fog that moved into her
brain every time she did that.

  She avoided doing so again because she had to keep her wits about her if she was going to deal with Jimmy Panama. Something about him set her off balance. His unapologetic masculinity and steely confidence had its allure. A woman would have to be dead not to straighten up and take notice when he entered a room. He was obviously a natural leader used to having things done his way. He was going be a difficult person to persuade, but he was the right man for the job. She was certain of it.

  The dozen or so boats docked in the small cove were older and quainter than the posh fleet in the first marina. Jimmy’s aging cabin cruiser fit right in amongst the rabble.

  As Jimmy moved about the deck tying the boat to the mooring, he said to the girls, “Why don’t you go on and wait inside the shop. The door is unlocked. You can take a couple of Cokes out of the cooler if you want.”

  “Thanks, Jimmy,” April said. “We appreciated the ride. Right, Greenlee?”

  “Whatevs. Thanks for crashing our party, Mr. Panama.”

  “Be nice.” April pinched her friend’s arm.

  “Ouch! Thanks,” the ungrateful girl amended, flinging the word over her shoulder as she climbed off the boat.

  “Don’t mention it.” Jimmy winked at April, garnering another one of her sunbeam smiles before she climbed off the boat and caught up to her friend.

  The pair crossed the empty parking lot arm in arm and entered a rustic, whitewashed building. Fat Cat Charters was not much more than a shack. The simple, black on white sign above the building stated the company’s name in cartoonish, hand-painted letters. Paw prints from a cat marred the right corner of the sign.

  “Let’s go, Duchess.” Jimmy motioned with his hand.

  Sophie froze as nausea, thick and volatile, climbed up her throat. The thought of stepping across the gap between the boat and the dock made her ill.

  “If you’re waiting for me to change my mind about helping you find Mitch, you’ll be standing there for a very long time.”

  Sophie put one foot in front of the other until she reached the gunwale. She dried her sweaty palms on her skirt and blinked away the spots that were dancing before her eyes. The buzzing in her ears grew louder. She swallowed her pride. “May I have your hand to cross?”