Nandita perked up at the mention of Maureen. She had wondered what had happened. “What do you mean? How did he disappoint her?”
“Let me just say that you girls are too nice for him, so I wouldn’t be too upset if he’s not interested.”
“What do you mean, if he’s not interested? Brad and I are very close.” She felt a bit huffy, but was having trouble injecting strength into her voice.
So, Brad wasn’t interested in Maureen, so she had stormed off? Well, of course he wasn’t interested in Maureen, because he was interested in her. Nandita felt a little bad about taking over Maureen’s vacation when she knew she was still here, but if Brad had decided he didn’t like her, that wasn’t her fault—was it? She needed to lie down.
Joe smiled at her and opened her cabin door wider. “You need rest, Mommee. Go lie down and I will call you for dinner.”
She headed for her bed gratefully.
55
Going Down
Stephen didn't drive back to the yacht, but he floated, the steering wheel turned itself, and the wheels of the van stayed six inches above the road. He had spent two years drowning himself in guilt and self-pity. Who knew finding freedom would be as simple as choosing it? Perhaps he could have escaped the trap he had constructed for himself years ago, but he had needed a catalyst to move forward and take his life back into his own hands. Maureen was his catalyst, and he had a lot to thank her for.
The phone buzzed on the seat next to him, and he grabbed it, just in case it was Maureen. He would apologize for so rudely hanging up on her and tell her he was on the way to the boat to find out about her friend. He wouldn't tell her about coming over with sushi later—that would be a surprise. When he got to Water's Edge, he would finally be able to tell her everything. He couldn’t wait for her to hear his plan.
“Stephen?” He was so lost in his jumbled, excited thoughts that he had forgotten to say anything when he'd answered his cell.
“Don, hey, what’s going on?”
“I just wanted to let you know that Brad is back on the boat, as planned. Did you take care of the other situation?”
Stephen felt his chest fill with joy, and he surprised both himself and Don by laughing, “Yes, I did, Don! I took care of it!”
It was quiet on the other end for a second, and then Don answered, “Okay?” He dragged out the word and ended it as a question. “Based on that response, I am going to assume your meddling ex-wife isn't going to screw anything up. If so, everything is a go. The reinforcements are headed over from the airport right now—they want to make the arrest before there’s any trouble with Myron.
“Lester Butler called and said Brad was asking a lot of questions. He told Lester that he thinks Myron might be aggressive, so he asked him for some form of protection. Lester said he would send some guys over tonight, and that seemed to calm him, but he said he’s jumpy and thinks he might be a flight risk.”
Stephen’s heart sank as he realized his evening with Maureen had gone out the window. There was no way he could abandon Don now that they were close to the end. When this was over, they could all get off that damn, dirty yacht and he could pass it over to Lulu with pleasure. The Lauren Belle held nothing but bad memories for him; only today had he finally made the connection that the boat was an albatross hanging around his neck. He needed to be rid of it as soon as possible.
“I’m on my way, Don. I should be there in two minutes.” He was about to hang up when he remembered Maureen’s friend. “Wait! I need to ask you a question. Is one of the new guests an Indian girl?”
Don was distracted, Stephen could tell, as he heard doors closing and papers shuffling in the background. “I’m not sure, Stephen—I haven’t left the cockpit. Why?”
“Forget it. I’ll be there soon.”
Should he call Maureen? He'd already told her he wouldn’t make it there tonight, and he didn’t have an answer for her about her friend, but he was desperate to hear her voice. He hit Water’s Edge on his recent calls list and waited for Maureen to pick up, but there was no answer. She was probably in the pool or the shower. He would be patient and call her once he had more news.
56
Closer
Although her commitment to this rescue idea was still coursing through her veins, Maureen felt significantly less magnificent than she had fifteen minutes prior. The dreadlocked driver had pulled over at the corner of a busy street and turned in his seat to talk to her.
“Bridge is right der, lady." He pointed vaguely to the right. "I ain’t got no two dollars.”
He reached behind him and opened the door. Maureen had no clue what the guy meant, but it was clear her ride was over. She stumbled out of the car, waving a thank you as he sped away, rap music blaring.
She looked around, trying to catch her bearings. She was standing on the corner of a busy downtown street. Across from her was a park surrounded by a stone wall and to her right was another wide road providing access to a massive bridge that stretched over the bay. Was that the bridge they had come across on the way to Water’s Edge? It didn’t look familiar, but she hadn’t been feeling that great on the journey. It could have been a different bridge—she hadn't been paying attention.
“Whatcha need, lady?” a man on the other corner called from his seat on the stone wall. He must have been lying there under the shade of a huge tree, but she hadn’t noticed him.
The man had a large shopping cart piled high with empty beer bottles, fronted by a square of cardboard with a message scrawled in black magic marker. She tried to read it, but it didn’t make any sense to her—something to do with government, she gathered.
“I’m looking for Marina Village,” she called out, carefully stepping back as cars swung wildly around the corner and headed for the bridge.
“Straight ‘cross that bridge, there. You can walk it.” He pulled his hat back down over his face and lay back in the shade of the tree.
“Thanks!” she called out, and the man lifted his hand in a sleepy wave.
She crossed the street feeling a little like a frog in that retro video game and started walking up the steep bridge. To her left was the cruise ship port, and she heard a deep, sonorous version of “When You Wish Upon a Star” as a ship moved toward the open sea. It must have been the Disney ship, and it made her smile.
The sun beat down in a relentless attack on her bare head, and her curls were too hot to touch. She was starting to feel a bit dizzy with thirst, so she picked up her speed as she crested the bridge and headed downward toward Paradise Island. There were toll booths ahead. Two dollars. Now what the dreadlock guy had said made sense.
After passing through the tolls, she had a momentary feeling of loss and confusion. Where was she? Thankfully, she recognized the gates to Marina Village and jogged in its direction. She felt a flurry of anxiety as she considered the fact that she might have to confront Brad. She then imagined Stephen, though, and her flutters calmed down. She hoped he would be there, but she had a job to do first: she was going to save Nandita.
57
Oh, Nandita
Nandita stood in front of Brad’s cabin door, wiping her damp hands on her pants. She was nervous, but at least she didn’t feel like she was going to pass out. The last hour had been hellish for her. She had been lying in her bed, trying to figure out what to do about the situation she’d found herself in.
The facts were that she liked and trusted Brad. They had spent hours in honest and vulnerable conversation, so she knew in her heart that he was a good guy. He wasn’t interested in Maureen, which was good, because she had been worried about hurting her feelings. It sounded like Maureen had hurt Brad’s feelings, instead, by saying nasty things about him to that nice man, Joe.
Nandita was here on this yacht—she had chosen to come here. Okay, so she’d had a minor panic attack when things had gotten a little too much for her. Misty’s disappearance didn’t help, but Brad was glad she was here—he’d said so—and she was glad she was here. Brad ha
d seemed a little distracted when he’d arrived, but he'd just come from a meeting. Just because she hadn’t gotten the reception she had expected didn’t mean she had made a mistake.
I’m here to spend time with Brad, she thought as she knocked quietly on the cabin door a young guy in a Lauren Belle uniform had pointed her to.
“There you are!” A quick glance up and down the hallway, and Brad reached out a hand and drew her into his cabin. He closed his door and led her to a seat on the bed. The room was a mess. The bed didn’t look or smell as though it had been made up in days, there were papers everywhere, and clothes were strewn around the room. Brad hustled around, picking up various items of clothing—was that a skirt?—and apologizing.
“So sorry this room is such a mess. I don’t let the cleaner in, you know; I like to keep things private. You can’t trust people, so the room stays locked when I’m not here.”
“Brad, is everything okay?” Nandita asked.
She folded her hands in her lap and moved to the edge of the bed so she could plant her feet firmly on the floor. She had never been in a man’s bedroom in her life, and her discomfort and Brad's erratic behavior caused a lump to rise in her throat. She tried to swallow it down and willed herself not to have another panic attack. Her plan had been to invite Brad out to the deck for that glass of champagne she had missed. Sitting on a man’s bed behind a closed door had not been the plan.
“Of course it is, beautiful!” Brad moved to sit next to her on the bed; she was surprised when she caught a whiff of spirits on his breath. Hadn't he been drinking champagne? She then caught sight of the open bottle on his desk.
She stood slowly and took hold of his hand to see if she could lift him off the bed. “I thought we could go out on the deck for a drink?”
She was undeniably attracted to this man, but right here, right now, she felt out of her league and even slightly afraid. Maybe Misty would know what to do to manage Brad’s expectations, but she was clueless. Brad had been nothing but kind and respectful on the phone, so she hadn't expected that anything more than a passionate kiss would happen on this trip. She was getting the feeling Brad had other ideas.
She felt his eyes on her, but he didn’t say anything. She put some light pressure on his hand to see if she could give him a hint as to what she wanted to happen next.
“What the hell? Let’s have a drink on the deck.” He mumbled under his breath something about help being on the way, anyway, and stumbled as he got to his feet. Nandita realized he’d definitely had more than a glass of champagne.
He was drunk, and she was out of her depth. She looked at his slack face, his jaw hanging open as he breathed heavily through his mouth, and she felt her attraction dissipate.
This was not what she wanted at all. She had to get out of this cabin. She would get him upstairs, have one drink, and then retire quickly to her room. Tomorrow when she woke up, Misty would be here, and she would insist they book the next flight home. This had been a terrible mistake.
The glass sliding doors in the living room were wide open to the glorious weather. The light surrounding them was tinged pink as the Bahamas prepared for another awe-inspiring sunset, and the breeze was cooler without the relentless sun. Nandita felt better immediately as Brad, still holding her hand, pulled her down to sit with him on the leather couch.
“Don’t you think it would feel nicer outside?” She tugged at his hand, but he held firm.
“Why go outside when there are people out there, and we are so cozy in here? People will see us if we are outside.”
Her belly fluttered with nerves. “Do you have a problem with people seeing us?”
Brad stretched, his back lifting off the cushions and his arms stretching over his head. “Only certain people,” he said through a yawn. Nandita found herself praying the yawn meant he might fall asleep, or at least that he would plead fatigue and go back to bed. She was done with this.
The champagne from earlier was still sitting in the bucket on the table, and Brad reached forward and filled a flute. He handed it to her with a grin. “I think you will enjoy this.” He watched her carefully as she took a sip and tried to keep a smile on her face. It was flat and left a syrupy feel inside her mouth.
Brad laughed at her expression and took the glass from her hand. He swigged the remainder in a single swallow and moved toward Nandita. His knees pressed against hers as he moved his arm around her waist and gave her a tug, pulling her into his warm body. She tried to pull back, but was wedged quite firmly between his hand and hip. She kept her head turned forward, because they were so close that, if she turned toward him, their noses would touch. The liquor smell on his breath was stronger than ever.
“You are a beautiful woman, Nandita. You are my dream wife.”
Had she heard those words from Brad’s mouth maybe fifteen minutes earlier, she probably would have fainted again. Now, as she looked at his red-splotched, drunken face and the little pools of spit at the corners of his mouth, she thought, Brad’s wife? No way!
He leaned forward to kiss her, and she leaned heavily away, trying to avoid him. They fell backward onto the couch, twisted together. Brad must have taken that as a sign of her passion, because he said, “Oh, Nandita,” and went in for a kiss. She felt her body quicken with panic.
58
Boys Are Back in Town
Stephen trotted up the gangplank stairs, wanting to find Don quickly and grill him on the plan for this evening. He deserved for this arrest to go as smoothly as possibly. First, though, he would settle Maureen’s fears and head straight for the guest suites. He was confident the new guest would not be her friend, but he needed to have proof. Maureen would still be concerned that she was missing, but relieved that she wasn’t under the paw of the wolfish Brad.
Stephen had gathered from conversations that this Nandita was a bit of a rebellious teenager, anyway, reveling in her newfound freedom in America. So what if she had gone away for a few days? She’d be back when she ran out of money. Parents and guardians always imagined the worst-case scenario, but it rarely came true.
He crossed through the patio doors into the living room and stopped with a gasp. Okay, so he was wrong: the worst-case scenario sometimes did come true.
Spread across the couch under the insistent attention of their guest and soon-to-be-arrested criminal was a lovely, young girl. Her hair, which spilled across the white leather, was a sheet of jet-black so shiny that he was sure he would see his reflection in it if he got close enough. He looked to her face and confirmed quickly that, yes, it had to be Nandita.
She looked no more than fifteen to him, but he knew she was older. As he stood, frozen, in the doorway, she glanced over at him with panic in her eyes. Brad was going in for the kiss when he noticed her distraction and turned toward Stephen, shooting him a look of utter disgust. He was sleepy-eyed, sloppy drunk.
“Do you mind?” Brad was about to speak again, but before he could spit another word from his drooling mouth, Stephen had a handful of his expensive, cashmere sweater and was hauling him across the floor, away from Nandita.
He pushed Brad onto the opposite couch, and the man huffed and struggled to stand again. His balance was off, though, and Stephen only had to give him a gentle push to make him fall backward. He was about to turn back to take care of Nandita when he felt the pounding of little fists on his back and a high-pitched, angry voice yelling, “Stop, stop!”
What the hell? He’d been saving her, hadn’t he? She had been trapped by Brad!
He turned around, surprised to see Nandita still on the couch, because the little fists kept pounding on his chest, this time. He stepped back to see who it was.
“You can’t touch him like that! You don’t even work here!” Ginny’s face was blotched and streaky from crying.
“Ginny, what are you doing here?” Brad asked, sounding exhausted as he struggled to his feet. “What do you mean he doesn’t even work here? What's going on?”
“I don’t want you
to be with anyone else, Brad!” Ginny was crying, now, and Stephen was surprised to feel a surge of tenderness for her. He reached out toward her. “Don’t you touch me!” she screamed. “I don’t know what’s going on, Brad, but he doesn't work here. He's my loser uncle, and he's got a different job. I think he lied, and I don’t even think Don is a real captain. If he was, then why haven’t we even left this stupid port?”
Stephen tried to lift a finger to his lips to silence Ginny, but Brad was in front of him, shoving him in the chest. “What is she talking about, dude? What does she mean, Don’s not a captain?” Brad shoved again, his nose about two inches away from Stephen’s. The face that had looked apathetic and slack just a few moments before was now infused with rage and flashes of panic.
Stephen held his ground against Brad's increasing agitation. He didn’t want to fight—he didn’t want to hurt Brad.
“Let’s not even deal with this.” Ginny was grabbing Brad's arm and trying to pull him toward the exit. “Let’s just go. We can check into a hotel and get away from all of this weird shit.”
Brad turned his anger toward Ginny, and Stephen watched her shrink backward with fear. “I’m not going anywhere with you, bimbo! You think I want a rich, spoiled airhead? You’re good for one thing, honey, and I’m done with that, now.”
Ginny collapsed to the floor, crying. Stephen caught a glimpse of Nandita rushing toward her as Brad turned his attention back on him. He shoved him again, getting right in his face. “Now you are going to tell me what the bimbo was talking about. What does she mean when she says you don’t work here? Who are you?”
Stephen stepped backward again and put his hands on Brad’s chest. He kept his voice as calm as possible, “I’m nobody, Brad. There’s no problem here. Ginny's just upset, that’s all. Why don’t we all go back to our cabins and calm down?” Ginny’s sobs grew louder, and he could hear Nandita murmuring softly to her.
Unstoppable: A Sweet Romance (Jersey Girls Book 2) Page 22