Jimmy muttered beneath his breath. He grabbed her by the waist and lifted her off her feet. She squeaked and clung to his shoulders, feeling the hard muscles bunch beneath her fingertips as he carried her across the gap between the boat and the dock. Heat radiated from his body, countering the chilled sea breeze. His heady scent filled her nose, a hundred times more potent than the trace she’d inhaled off his sweatshirt.
How did a man who looked so grungy smell so wonderful?
The instant her bare feet touched the wooden planks, Jimmy released her waist. She shivered as a gust of wind licked her skin and stood there watching after him as he headed toward the shack.
Two police cars eased into the parking lot, the red and blue flashing roof lights made more ominous by the silent entrance. Their headlights threw Jimmy’s shadow across the boardwalk as the car tires crunched the graveled parking lot.
Sophie caught up to Jimmy and stood beside him, watching warily as two police officers climbed out of the vehicles. Perhaps someone had witnessed her kidnapping and reported it? But that didn’t make sense. How would they know she’d left Miami or that she was traveling to Key West by boat?
April and Greenlee emerged from the shack. “Hey, Officer Mirsky. Officer Oakman,” April said with a friendly wave. Both girls held old-fashioned glass bottles of Coca-Cola.
“Good evening, girls,” Officer Mirsky said. He looked at Jimmy and nodded. “Panama.” Mirsky, with his gaunt frame and comb-over, had the leathery skin of a person who spent too much time in the sun.
His partner was a dark, brown-skinned man with a handlebar mustache and a pugnacious bearing. Officer Oakman had at least twenty pounds of muscle and three inches on Jimmy. “H.Q. received a call from Miss Fiori’s sister this morning,” he said in a deep, rich base voice. “She said the girl had been missing for more than twenty-four hours. Then a short while ago she received a call from Miss Fiori claiming you kidnapped her and took her to Miami against her will. That true?”
“Greenlee,” April scolded her friend in a loud whisper. “What did you do?”
Standing several feet behind both officers and out of their line of sight, Greenlee gave April a quelling look.
“Were you in Miami with these girls?” mild-mannered Mirsky asked.
Jimmy shrugged. “They needed a lift back to the island and I gave them one.”
Mirsky shared a look with Oakman. “Did you take two teenage girls off the island against their will and hold them for more than twenty-four hours?”
Jimmy rolled his eyes as he shook his head. “Come on now, Sherlock. You really fallin’ for that bullshit?”
Greenlee moved forward, stepping even with Mirsky. “He kidnapped us and forced us to go to Miami!” Crocodile tears brimmed in her big brown eyes as she pointed at Jimmy with a trembling hand. “He’s lying if he says he didn’t do it!”
The officer nodded and put a hand on the girl’s shoulder to calm her down. He didn’t take his eyes off of Jimmy. “Were they or were they not on your boat?”
“I run a charter business. I’ve got a license to give people a ride.”
“Since when do you give tours on your private boat?” Oakman nodded toward the vessel floating in the water closest to them. “That’s The Salty Lizard. Where’s the Sea Esta?”
“Taking a nap. Look, I don’t have time for this nonsense—”
“The Key West PD takes kidnapping very seriously, Mr. Panama,” Mirsky said, interrupting him.
“What are you waiting for then?” Greenlee said. “Arrest him!”
As quick as a cat, Jimmy turned to face the girl. She took an involuntary step back. There was no tension in his body, but there was a definite edge to his lazy drawl. “According to April, the two of you spent the morning picking up Captain Ding-a-ling at the Schooner Wharf Bar. It won’t take much to call over there to confirm it or the fact you left with him.”
“Jerk,” Greenlee said.
“Brat.”
April set her Coke bottle on the ground and moved to put herself between Jimmy and her friend. “This is crazy. No one was kidnapped. Greenlee and I went to Miami and Jimmy was nice enough to give us a ride.” Her sarong slipped from her waist, but she caught it. She looked down to retie it as she continued, “We just went to a hotel pool bar in South Beach to have a little fun.” She wasn’t helping the situation, and she seemed oblivious to how her explanation sounded.
“Is that right?” Oakman squared his massive shoulders and rested his hand on the handle of his holstered gun.
“Greenlee’s sister is a narc and Greenlee just doesn’t want to get into trouble with her parents for sneaking out of the house to be with her boyfriend last night.”
“Is that true, Miss Fiori?” Mirsky spared a glance at the girl.
The tears in Greenlee’s eyes vanished instantly and she shot April an irritated look no one could miss. Hands on her narrow hips, she leaned on one foot and gestured toward The Salty Lizard with her chin. “There’s a case of moonshine on that boat hidden beneath the bench seat in the galley.”
Mirsky’s eyebrows rose as he looked from the girl to Jimmy Panama. “Now there’s an accusation I’m more inclined to believe. As I recall, you were arrested once before for transporting illegal contraband. Moonshine rum, I believe it was.”
The expression on Jimmy’s face didn’t change. He looked bored and annoyed. “Don’t you have something better to do, Sherlock? I bet there are some tourists over on Duval that need to be harassed for jaywalking.
“Girls,” Mirsky said, “why don’t you go wait in my car? I’ll give you a lift home.”
“But, Officer—” April said.
“Go on now,” he said more firmly.
April shot Jimmy an apologetic look as she retrieved her Coke bottle and headed toward the patrol car with Greenlee.
“Search the boat,” Mirsky said to Oakman.
“Gladly.”
The Salty Lizard dipped beneath the big man’s weight as he boarded the vessel, but it leveled out as he crossed the deck and disappeared into the cabin.
Mirsky’s gaze was still intent on Jimmy. “You realize if there’s more than a gallon of moonshine in that case, the charge will jump from a misdemeanor to a felony. The judge let you slide the last time, but you won’t get off so easily again.”
Sophie’s heart sank. If Jimmy Panama went to prison for smuggling rum, she’d never find her father. “Officer,” she said, moving forward, “I can explain.”
“Who are you?” Mirsky looked at Sophie as if he was noticing her for the first time.
“Keep your mouth shut, Duchess,” Jimmy warned.
“My name is Sophie Davies-Stone. I was visiting Miami from the UK where I intended to meet my father when members of a drug cartel attempted to kidnap me with the intention of ransoming me to my father. Mr. Panama here saved my life by bringing me to Key West.”
Mirsky stared at her blankly. “Have you been drinking, ma’am?”
“No, I haven’t.”
“Can I see some identification?”
“Here we go,” Jimmy muttered.
Sophie shot him a dark look and then forced a smile for the police officer. “I just told you, some criminals tried to kidnap me and Mr. Panama saved me and brought me here. All of my things are in my hotel suite in Miami. Or, at least, they should be unless those thugs ransacked my room like they did to my flat back in London.”
“Right,” Mirsky said, eyeing her skeptically. “Ma’am, are you in this country illegally?”
“What? No! I have a passport. It’s back at the hotel.”
Officer Oakman reemerged from the boat’s cabin, hefting what looked to be a very heavy crate.
“Oh, dear God,” Sophie said. “It’s true. Who smuggles rum? What are you a bloody pirate?” She hadn’t wanted to believe it. She’d been holding out hope that the spiteful tart was lying about the case of moonshine too.
“I’m going to need you to come with me,” Mirsky said.
; Oakman set the crate on the dock and then he approached Jimmy from behind. The expression on his face said he was hoping Jimmy would resist arrest.
Jimmy didn’t move. And Sophie didn’t breathe.
“Both of you,” Mirsky added. “Let’s go.”
Sophie’s eyebrows shot up. “Both of us? I have nothing to do with this.”
“That remains to be seen. You’ve got no identification. For all I know you were part of the bargain.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
Jimmy chuckled. “He’s suggesting you’re a whore I bought with the booze.”
Heat flooded her face and she stiffened, “I am most assuredly not a prostitute! How dare you even suggest it! My stepfather is Lord Arthur Stone, a well-respected British earl.”
“I don’t care if your stepdaddy is the King of England. You are coming down to the station for questioning. Now, do I need to arrest you to make that happen?”
Sophie couldn’t believe this. This imbecile thought she was a common strumpet. Most prossies couldn’t afford the clothes she was wearing. Was he blind as well as dumb? “I am not going anywhere with you.”
Mirsky smiled grimly. He looked at the ground, inhaling deeply through his nose. “Guess that’s the way it’s gonna be, then.”
Oakman circled Jimmy, reaching for his handcuffs as he approached him.
Jimmy held up his hands in supplication. “Take it easy, Bubba.”
The big man pounced. Spinning Jimmy around to face the lamppost, he shoved him against it hard making him grunt. Sophie winced in sympathy.
“You are under arrest for transportation of illegal contraband. You have the right to remain silent…”
Jimmy didn’t say a word as the officer cuffed him and finished reading his rights.
Mirsky removed the handcuffs from his belt. “Hold your hands out in front of you, ma’am.”
“I most certainly will not!” Sophie looked at Jimmy for help, but he stared at the ground, his jaw tightly clenched. “This is preposterous! What am I being arrested for?”
“For not complying with an officer of the law, resisting arrest, and suspected prostitution.”
“I told you, I am not a whore!”
The wiry officer grabbed her left arm and attempted to shackle her.
“Stop it. Don’t touch me!” Her tender bare feet slid on the coarse gravel as she struggled to pull herself free. She shouted over the policeman’s docile tones as he recited her rights and slipped the cuffs over her wrists. He clicked them shut, one and then the other. By the time he was finished, Sophie had settled down and was staring blankly at the shiny, silver badge on his chest.
The heavy, awkward weight of the cold metal handcuffs pulled on her arms like an anchor dragging her to the bottom of the sea. She might as well have been drowning.
“Ma’am?” Mirsky said. “Do you understand these rights as I have read them to you?”
Sophie blinked back the tears swimming in her eyes and nodded because she couldn’t find her voice to speak. This wasn’t happening. Not to her. Stones did not get arrested. They did not get handcuffed or incarcerated or do anything that would mar their precious reputation.
They certainly did not get arrested for prostitution! “Forty-sixth,” she murmured.
“What was that?”
“My stepfather may not be the King of England.” She squared her shoulders and raised her chin a notch. “But he’s forty-sixth in line for the throne.”
“Let’s go,” Mirsky said. He pulled her by the arm, guiding her toward the police car a little more roughly than was necessary.
This was exactly the sort of thing that happened when she didn’t listen to her conscience. The last time she strayed too far across the line between right and wrong, she’d ended up grounded for the summer, missing her friends and her twelfth birthday. Her stepfather was worse than the gestapo when it came to enforcing the rules and her mum let him administer punishment however he wished. That day, her mother just stared out the window and said in a weary, scornful voice, “Sometimes it frightens me how much you’re like your father.” It wasn’t the first time Sophie had heard the accusation, but she’d made a decision that day that it would be the last.
And she’d done nothing to warrant her mother’s scorn, until now. She’d had the chance to do the right thing back in Miami, but she chose not to for selfish reasons and this was where it had gotten her.
Arrested.
For prostitution.
Humiliation burned in the pit of her stomach. If word of this reached the newspapers back in Britain, her career would be over. Her stepfather would have no choice but to give her the ax, and he’d likely disown her for embarrassing the family.
When they reached the police car, Mirsky opened the back door. He put a hand on her head to guide her so she wouldn’t bump it when she slid onto the sticky, faux leather seat.
Jimmy, who was already seated in the back, didn’t acknowledge her presence as she stared at his profile. He didn’t even twitch.
“This is my fault,” she said. Tears climbed up her throat, but she swallowed them back ruthlessly. “I shouldn’t have listened to you. If I’d done the right thing and gone to the police, I wouldn’t be in this mess.” She faced forward. “This is what I get for being selfish and irresponsible. I’ve just ruined my career. I’m an associate development director for The Stone Foundation, a very old and esteemed charitable organization started by my stepfather’s ancestors. Image is everything in my job. If anyone finds out about this…” Her voice trailed off as she imagined the horrible repercussions.
“What does the charity support?”
She hadn’t realized he was listening. She looked at him again. “We provide educational scholarships to disadvantaged young people who exhibit the exceptional moral character and industriousness regarded in Victorian times.”
Jimmy snorted.
“What?”
“Nothing. It’s just kinda ironic that somebody who awards kids for being holier-than-thou got arrested for prostitution.”
A fireball of white-hot rage roared through her head, leaving her deaf and blind for several seconds. When the cloud thinned, she was still trembling. “I find nothing about this situation the least bit ironic or amusing,” she hissed and her stomach churned. She was going to be sick.
Jimmy’s blasé expression didn’t change.
She took a deep, calming breath and held on to her lunch. “I shouldn’t have come looking for my father. I thought filling in the blanks about my past would make me feel whole. I see now, it was a mistake.” That was putting it mildly considering she was nearly kidnapped by members of drug cartel only to be rescued by a dodgy rum runner, forced to shoot a man, mistaken for a prostitute, and falsely arrested. “I need to get as far away from here as soon as humanly possible.”
“You think?” Jimmy said, cocking an eyebrow as he continued to stare straight ahead.
Oh, how the insufferable man pushed her buttons! “I especially cannot wait to get away from you.”
“Darlin’, that moment can’t come soon enough.”
CHAPTER SIX
The police car stopped on the horseshoe drive in front of Casa Linus’ white-columned portico. April looked out the passenger seat window at the looming tan stucco mansion her father had built to impress his friends. Philip Linus didn’t do anything halfway. His Cornucopia Hotels and Resorts had the same lush tropical oasis feel and same five-star swagger, but for April, Casa Linus was simply home. The only home she’d ever known.
She climbed out of the front seat of the car and shrugged off the jacket Officer Mirsky had let her borrow. “Thanks for the lift.”
“You’re welcome. You sure you don’t want me to come in and explain things to your stepmother?”
Taking into account all of the extra cars parked in the driveway, she laid the jacket on the seat and said, “No, it’s okay. It looks like my stepmom has company.”
Courtney would freak if April
crashed her party with a uniformed police officer.
After watching the police car drive off, April entered the house through the French doors. Casa Linus was a true billionaire’s beach house. The entrance faced a white marble art-deco style staircase that curled like a half moon up to the second floor. A custom-made saltwater fish tank followed the left side of the stairs up, revealing the living room below, where a dozen strangers stood sipping tropical drinks.
April’s beautiful, blonde-haired, twenty-four-year-old stepmother emerged from the group wearing a tight leopard-print dress. “April, you’re home!” she exclaimed, drawing curious glances her way.
April froze on the bottom step. It was one thing to wear a skimpy bikini to a pool. To a cocktail party, not so much. She was still getting used to her new implants and when men of a certain type ogled her—men like the one with the saggy jowls and hair coming out of his nose who was checking her out right now—it gave her the creeps.
“Run upstairs and change.” Courtney grabbed her arm before she could escape. “You must join us. I insist.”
“That’s okay. Really. I have homework.”
“Your father’s home.”
April’s heart lurched. “He is?” She looked past her stepmother and scanned the crowd of wealthy, middle-aged, wannabe salt-lifers for her father. “Where is he?”
“He went up to his office to take an important call. Come back down when you finish your homework.”
“Okay. Thanks,” she said even though there was a fat chance of that happening.
April dashed up the stairs, relieved to be away from Courtney and her skeevy friends. Philip Linus’ study was on the west side of the house, and she turned in that direction. When she reached the door, she paused, surprised to find it open a crack. She could hear her father talking on the phone. She peeked through the crack and saw him sitting behind his big mahogany desk beneath the giant painting of a tall ship battling a stormy sea. The image matched his current mood.
“No more stalling,” he growled into his cell phone. “We make the deal now or I’ll find another way to get what I want.” A pause. “Stolen by who? When?” Another brief pause. “That is unacceptable. If that information should fall into the wrong hands—”
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