Last Ticket to Paradise

by Carol Ericson

  “I know you can. That’s not the point, is it?”

  And then, little by little, she gave herself over to him again. He washed her hair and then toweled her dry. When he picked up all five feet, ten inches of her and cradled her against his body, she melted into him, her head dropping to the crook of his neck.

  He carried her to the bed, flicked back the covers, and settled her on the crisp sheets, perching on the edge of the bed beside her. “Go to sleep now. You’ve had a rough day.”

  Her long lashes fluttered, and her lips formed a pout. “If you think you can get me all worked up in the shower like that and not deliver,” she cupped his sac with one hand, “the goods, you’ve got the wrong schoolmarm.”

  Lust surged in his loins as her fingernails grazed his tender flesh. “Oh, I can deliver. You just tell me how you want it.”

  “Every. Which. Way.”

  They made love all night long, exploring each other’s bodies, bringing each other to dizzying heights, melding into each other until Jake had no idea where her body began and his ended.

  They finally fell asleep, exhausted and satiated, their limbs entangled, still joined together. As Jake wrapped his arms around Georgette, he had one thought: He never wanted to let this woman go.

  ***

  Georgette woke with a start, her heart rattling her rib cage. Her eyelids flew open, and she scooted up against the headboard. Her fists curled into the white sheets as she took in the empty space beside her.

  The heavy drapes didn’t allow a peep of sunshine into the room, so she reached for the clock on the nightstand to peer at the blurry numbers. She groaned and said, “One o’clock.”

  She didn’t need the clock to tell her it was p.m. and not a.m. She’d spent the wee hours of the morning getting to know Jake—intimately. She drew up the covers to her hot face as the memories flooded her brain.

  It had all started in the shower, or maybe the Jacuzzi...or maybe it started the first time she laid eyes on Jake on the airplane. She couldn’t help herself. She’d opened herself to him in all ways possible, had even come clean about her insecurities about being the dull twin.

  Had he used those confessions to take advantage of her? Had he subtly challenged her to keep up with Jamie? If Jamie’s intimate encounters with all of her men mirrored Georgette’s experience with Jake, she could understand why her sister went through relationships like tissues.

  But this hadn’t been Georgette’s first sexual experience, and the other two hadn’t resembled this one in the least. To be fair to Brice, she’d never made herself, her body, available to him as she’d done with Jake. Brice probably wouldn’t have known what to do with her anyway.

  Sighing, she swung her legs over the side of the bed, sending a slip of hotel note paper fluttering to the floor. She scooped up the note and read it aloud. “‘Had to get back to work. After you order room service and get dressed, we’ll pay a visit to Hallie’s family.’”

  She’d almost forgotten about Jamie’s disappearance, Jean-Claude’s accident, the Molotov cocktail tossed into his bungalow. Almost. Her gaze tracked to the wrinkled postcard.

  By the time she’d showered and dressed, her breakfast had arrived. If her presence in the boss’ hotel suite surprised the room service waiter, he hid it well behind a pleasant smile and discreet manner.

  She didn’t do the offering of colorful fruit justice, popping a few slices of guava into her mouth and grabbing her coffee cup to go. Her sandals slapped the tile steps as she jogged down the short flight of stairs.

  “I’m not doing it!” As the angry male voice rose, she slowed and took the turn on the stairs gingerly just in time to see a dark-haired man striding around the corner.

  She almost collided with Gunther at the bottom of the stairs.

  “Whoa.” She held her cup away from her as the liquid sloshed over the rim. “Sorry. I wasn’t expecting anyone to be lurking in the hallways here.”

  “I never lurk, my dear.” His color high, Gunther dabbed at a nonexistent spot on his white shirt. “And why wouldn’t you expect me? My room is in this wing.”

  “Oh, I didn’t realize anyone else had rooms here except Jake.”

  “He stashes some of the long-term old-timers in this building.” Gunther winked. “Don’t worry. Nobody else saw...or heard you two last night.”

  Georgette fought the heat that threatened to rise from her chest to her face. Notorious flirts and femme fatales did not blush. She’d never seen Jamie blush in her life—not even when Georgette had caught her with Brice.

  She flicked her hair off her shoulder. “I’m surprised nobody heard us. See you later at your birthday dinner.”

  She squeezed past Gunther and the speculative look in his eyes and strode toward the pool. If it got around that she’d snagged the biggest fish at the resort, all the better for her image. The full moon would make its appearance in two days, and the Palarosa gods would need another fallen woman to satiate their appetites. Why not her?

  Sipping her coffee, she waved to a couple of her admirers on her way to Jake’s office. If Linda had told her she’d be the hottest item at the Palumba Falls, she’d have laughed hysterically.

  Georgette’s lips twitched. It was pretty funny—if it weren’t also deadly serious.

  She tapped one knuckle against Jake’s door. “It’s Georgette.”

  The wheels of his chair squealed, and then he appeared at the open door, his long hair tousled and his eyes heavy-lidded.

  She almost pinched her arm to make herself believe she’d tangled in the sheets all night with this gorgeous man.

  “You look tired.” She started to reach out for him and then dropped her hand as he flinched. They’d had sex yesterday. Didn’t mean they were going steady. She crossed her arms over her stomach, where a thousand knots had just formed.

  “Any wonder why?” He rubbed his eyes as his lips twisted, but not in a smile. “I went out to Jean-Claude’s bungalow this morning, or what’s left of it, to clean up any evidence of the Molotov cocktail.”

  “Y-you don’t want the police to know someone deliberately set that fire? You don’t have to tell them we were there.” Her fingernails dug into her biceps.

  He cranked his head back and forth. “Bad for business. I told Clive that Jean-Claude left a lamp burning near some papers and the wind must’ve blown it over.”

  With a slight tremble to her hand, she set her coffee cup on a small wicker table by the door. Jake hadn’t even invited her to cross the threshold. He must’ve gotten what he wanted from her, and now he couldn’t distance himself fast enough.

  Her mother always warned her not to give the milk away for free until you had a ring on your finger—advice Georgette had followed with Brice. Somehow, her mother never felt it necessary to give that same advice to Jamie.

  Georgette blinked. “Are you ready to go to Hallie’s mother’s place?”

  “Georgette, we’re not going to see Hallie’s mother.” Jake swept his hand in the air. “Forget all this. Go home to North Dakota. Be safe. Whatever mess your sister got into will be sorted out by the authorities.”

  “Not if you keep lying to them about what’s going on.” She braced her sandals against the tile floor. “You said we’re not seeing Hallie’s mother? Well, you don’t speak for me. I’m going to investigate this with or without you, and I’m not going anywhere until I discover the truth about your precious island—and damn the consequences for Palumba Falls...and you.”

  As she spun around, tears trembling on her lashes, Jake touched her arm and she almost backtracked and fell against his solid chest.

  “Be careful, Georgette. You’ve meddled enough. It’s time to go home now.”

  “I second that sentiment.”

  Georgette’s head jerked up, her eyes widening.

  Jake whispered behind her. “Go home...with your fiancé.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “Brice!” Georgette covered her mouth with one hand. “What are you doing here?
”

  “I’m here to take you home, sweetheart. Home where you belong.”

  “I’ll leave you two to work things out.” Jake shut his office door with a click, leaving her on the outside—with Brice.

  “This is crazy, Brice. I’m not going home with you.” She raised her voice in the hope that Jake would hear her. He couldn’t really believe she was engaged to Brice, could he?

  She’d never told Jake about her former engagement. Had been too embarrassed and ashamed to admit to him that her sister had stolen her fiancé from her with a crook of her little finger.

  Brice grabbed her arm and laid a very wet kiss on her lips, which were still tender from Jake’s kisses last night.

  He pulled her away from Jake’s office, back toward the pool, and she stumbled along, her heart aching. When he stopped behind a tree, he put both hands on her shoulders and shook her. “Your mother has been updating me about your...investigation here. I finally got her to agree with me that we need to let the authorities straighten everything out and find Jamie. Your sister is a flighty creature, Georgette. Frankly, if she’s run off with some foreigner, that’s probably best for everyone.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “You clearly didn’t feel that way when she was...riding your cock.”

  Brice’s mouth dropped open, and his fingers pinched into her flesh even harder. “What has gotten into you? I’ve never heard you use such language before. It’s...unbecoming in a professor’s wife.”

  She twisted away from his grasp. “That’s just it. You haven’t been hearing me. We’re not getting married—not now, not ever. It doesn’t even have to do with your betrayal of me with my sister. You’re not the man for me. Go home.”

  She ended her proclamation on a sob, not because of Brice, but because of the misunderstanding with Jake. She had to tell him about Brice—but first she had to get rid of Brice.

  And she knew just how to do it.

  “Georgette, you don’t mean any of that.” Brice removed his glasses and wiped the sweat from his brow with a white handkerchief. “I told you I was sorry about what happened with Jamie. She seduced me. That will never happen again with any other woman. I promise.”

  “Don’t care.” She flicked her fingers at him and began to unbutton her shorts as she backed away from him. Then she kicked off her sandals and yanked down her shorts, dropping them at Brice’s feet.

  Turning from him, she pranced out to the pool deck, calling out, “Who’s gonna come and save me?”

  She pulled her blouse from her head, untied her bikini top, and threw it at a group of men lounging poolside. Then she screamed and ran, topless, to jump into the pool, making a big splash.

  Two of the men from the targeted group dived in after her, one coming up between her legs, lifting her out of the water on his shoulders. A few seconds later, the other man had another bare-breasted woman on his shoulders, and she and the other woman tangled limbs in a game of chicken.

  As she shrieked and giggled, Georgette gazed across the deck to see Brice, arms folded, looking ready to blow a gasket. Just beyond him, Jake stood at the door of his office, shading his eyes. Then Jake turned and shut the door.

  And Georgette’s heart broke just a little.

  ***

  She stayed close to her resort friends, avoiding Brice and his icy stares. When Brice finally left the pool area, Georgette gathered her shorts and blouse and pulled them on over her bikini, which had dried in the Palumba sun.

  She traipsed through the Costa Azul and crossed the street to the overgrown path toward the area where many of the locals who worked at the hotel lived. She traversed the bridge over the river and held her breath as she passed Fiso LaCroix’s house.

  Last night, Jake had mentioned Hallie’s mother’s name and where the family lived. If he thought she’d forget those tidbits of information, he didn’t know her memory for details.

  Her sandals squished the wet sand on the trail, and she slapped at a mosquito as she rounded the last bend into the thick island foliage. She drew up in front of a cottage, very similar to Fiso’s, but neater and better tended.

  She tapped on the screen door. “Hello? Mrs. Bonnaire?”

  A petite woman with a long braid over one shoulder appeared on the other side of the door and opened it. “Yes? I’m Mrs. Bonnaire. Who are you?”

  Georgette twisted her fingers in front of her. “I’m here to ask you a few questions about your daughter, Hallie.”

  As the woman began to close the door, Georgette held up her hand. “My sister disappeared, too. I’m trying to find her.”

  Mrs. Bonnaire glanced over her shoulder and then pushed through the screen door. “Over here.”

  Hallie’s mother gestured to some chairs carved from wood and settled into the one closest to the house. She tossed back the dark braid, laced with silver. “What do you want to know?”

  Georgette swallowed. “Do you believe the rumors about your daughter?”

  “Which one?” Mrs. Bonnaire tipped her head to one side like a bird considering a worm for breakfast. “The one that has her running off with her lover, or the one where she’s the human sacrifice to Lokin?”

  “Either.”

  Mrs. Bonnaire stretched her arms in front of her, linking her fingers. “Hallie did have a lover, and he’s gone, but I have a hard time believing she’d take off without saying a word to me. We’re close.”

  “I’m sorry.” Georgette curled her toes in her sandals. “Nobody knows where the man went?”

  “He was a bum.” Mrs. Bonnaire’s nostrils flared. “Not that Fiso was much better. My girl had no sense when it came to men. Drugs...both of them were into drugs. Fiso was a user, and Lalos was a seller.”

  “Lalos was a drug dealer?”

  Mrs. Bonnaire nodded. “Not that Hallie knew it. I don’t think she did, but Lalos had more money than Fiso and flashed it around. Stupid girl.”

  “But you don’t think Hallie took off with Lalos?”

  “It’s not just that she didn’t say goodbye to me.” Mrs. Bonnaire sniffed. “She and Lalos had a falling-out a few weeks before her disappearance.”

  A drop of sweat started making its way from the back of Georgette’s neck down her spine. “Do the police know this?”

  “The police.” Mrs. Bonnaire kicked at some dirt with the toe of her sandal. “I told Clive, but he’s not interested in the truth.”

  That didn’t surprise Georgette. “What is Clive interested in?”

  Mrs. Bonnaire lifted her shoulders. “Money.”

  Georgette sat up straight and squared her shoulders. “Do you believe Fiso died of an overdose?”

  “Fiso had nothing to do with Hallie’s disappearance.”

  “I’m not saying he did.” Georgette clasped her hands between her knees. “But maybe he knew something, and Lalos had him taken care of. Maybe Lalos...harmed Hallie, and Fiso knew.”

  “I thought about that, too.” Mrs. Bonnaire tugged on her earlobe. “But what about your sister?”

  A feather of fear brushed the back of Georgette’s neck. She’d almost forgotten about Jamie in her quest to go all Nancy Drew, but Mrs. Bonnaire must think there’s a link between the two missing women.

  “My sister.”

  “You’re here because your sister vanished just like my Hallie, aren’t you?”

  “Yes. Yes, I am.” That bead of sweat had reached the waistband of her shorts, but Georgette had the strange sensation of being hot and cold at the same time. The warm moist air still clung to her hair, saturated her skin, but inside a cold dread was building. “Both women disappearing on the night of the full moon is just too much of a coincidence, don’t you think?”

  “I do.”

  “And you don’t believe in the Palarosa ritual rumor.”

  Mrs. Bonnaire nibbled on the end of one finger, the nail already bitten to the nub. “There are those who believe. There are those who would return to the old ways if they could.”

  “Human sacrifice?” Georget
te raised her eyebrows about as high as they could go. “Surely people don’t believe in those customs. It’s m-murder.”

  Mrs. Bonnaire emitted a dry laugh from unsmiling lips. “People don’t commit murder anymore? Where are you from, Ms. Lawson?”

  “Murder, yes, but human sacrifice? A crime of passion, revenge, greed. A murder for a Palarosa god?” Georgette’s laugh died in her throat.

  “What if,” Mrs. Bonnaire wrapped her braid around her hand, “it was all of those things? A human sacrifice to Lokin that took care of the other motives as well? The motives that seem so much more acceptable to you.”

  “Acceptable? I wouldn’t call murder acceptable at all.” Georgette folded her hands in her lap, trying to get the conversation back on a track she understood.

  “Of course not.” Mrs. Bonnaire’s eyes closed in her still face, and Georgette thought she’d fallen asleep until the other woman’s eyelids flew open. “They knew each other, you know.”

  Her words, delivered in a hushed whisper, had Georgette pressing her hand against her galloping heart.

  “Hallie and Jamie?”

  “Hallie worked at the resort. She met your sister and was very taken with her. She talked about her clothes and her style of life—traipsing from one island to another, leaving broken hearts in her wake.”

  “Nobody told me this.”

  “Why would they? They want you gone.”

  Georgette’s fingers curled against her throat. “Who does?”

  “Maman!”

  Georgette jerked her head to the side, toward the sound of someone crashing through the bushes. Two men emerged from the deep green, wearing matching scowls.

  The larger one, bare-chested, tattooed, and pumped up, circled behind his mother. “Who are you and what do you want?”

  “I-I stumbled on your mother’s house while I was out walking, and she was kind enough to invite me to sit down before I made my way back to the resort. I’m afraid I got rather lost.”

  The big guy’s companion, who must’ve been his brother, and was no shrimp himself, stood shoulder-to-shoulder with his kin, crossing his arms. “Liar.”