by Kay Hooper
“Yeah, I’ve played against him. A number of times.”
“At the Serendipity?”
“There. And other places.”
Michael glanced at Robin, then said slowly, “We’re looking for a yacht we have reason to believe Sutton owns.”
Dane grinned. “I called her Lady Luck. He changed the name, of course. She’s the Dragon Lady now.”
“Any idea where she is?”
“No. I might know who to ask, though. Why? What’s your interest?”
“Personal.”
Dane lifted an eyebrow and waited.
“Did you know he was into white slavery?” Michael asked.
The laughter in Dane’s eyes vanished, and his slight smile disappeared. “No. Are you sure about that?”
“Ask Robin.”
Robin squarely met Dane’s inquiring gaze, still admiring his looks but glad to feel no tug of attraction. “I was at the Serendipity a few nights ago. I had one drink, and there was something in it. I woke up to find myself with four other girls in the cabin of a boat, a yacht. They kept us drugged most of the time, but I managed to get out and jump overboard sometime last night. Michael pulled me out of the water.”
“Sure it was Sutton’s yacht?” Dane asked.
Michael replied, “Robin’s a reporter, and she came up with Sutton’s name in connection with that club. I know he’s in the area because he’s waiting for me to contact him; he’s set a trap for me.”
“What’s the bait?”
“Lisa.”
Dane said something violent under his breath, and though she only half heard what he said, Robin wasn’t about to ask him to repeat it.
Michael went on steadily. “Robin heard another girl on the yacht, crying. It’s the only lead I’ve got, Dane.”
Immediately Dane said, “There’s a man who might know where the Dragon Lady is. Big guy, with a full beard and about half his teeth. Peculiar man, very dangerous. He’s a smuggler. They call him Jack, and only God is privy to what his real name is. He knows the waters around here like the back of his hand, and if anyone has illegal cargo, he’d know about it. He spends his evenings in a dive called the Gold Coast. Watch yourself in there. And don’t play cards.”
“Why?”
“They shoot the winner.”
Michael smiled faintly. “Thanks, Dane.”
“Say hello to Lisa for me.”
A little while later, as they left the building, Robin said, “I looked at his cards, Michael. Dane had a straight flush, ace high. He won that last hand.”
Michael didn’t seem surprised. “Did he?”
“And there must have been fifty thousand dollars in that pot.” She was bewildered. “Why would he pretend to lose?”
“I’m sure he had his reasons.”
“What reason would he have to throw away all that money?”
Michael took her hand as they emerged from the alley. “I know the Gold Coast; they don’t even open until after six. Why don’t we find a decent restaurant—if we can around here—and get something to eat. You must be starved.”
Robin ignored a sudden pang of hunger. “You didn’t answer my question,” she insisted.
He kept them moving but said dryly, “Dane’s probably setting up the man who was wearing all the diamond rings, Robin. And since he can’t hide his skill with cards, he just fakes a run of bad luck. It’s an old gambler’s trick. The mark wins a lot of money in the first few games and feels confident enough to keep playing; then Dane arranges one final game for huge stakes, saying he wants to try to win back what he’s lost. And he does.”
“Does Dane cheat?” she asked, disliking the thought.
“He doesn’t have to. He was probably playing poker in his crib, and he’s the luckiest man I know.”
“But you said he’d already lost several fortunes.”
“Sure. Lost, spent … and enjoyed. Dane may sometimes be down, but he’s never out. His luck always returns. Now, are you hungry?”
“Starving,” she admitted.
THREE
THEY ENDED UP finding a restaurant in a better area of the city, and Robin used the time before their meal arrived to place a call to New York to Teddy’s private number first, then the number of Long Enterprises, and drew a blank both times. There was no answer at Teddy’s home, and the voice answering the company’s phone merely reported that Mrs. Steele was out of town.
Robin, remembering Teddy’s impulsiveness, winced as she hung up the receiver. Her childhood friend, she reflected anxiously, was entirely likely to appoint herself the cavalry and come charging to the rescue. And from what Robin had heard and read of the group of people surrounding Joshua Long, a group that included Teddy and her husband, Zach, none of them would be inclined merely to report Robin’s disappearance to the police.
Worried, Robin returned to the table where Michael waited.
“Well?” he asked.
“No good. She isn’t home, and when I called the company—”
“What company?”
“Long Enterprises. Teddy’s husband, Zach, is security chief.”
Michael was staring at her, frowning a little. Then the frown faded, and he shook his head. “Those people,” he murmured in a voice that was half amused and half worried.
“You know them?” Robin asked in surprise.
“I’ve … well, I’ve encountered them, let’s say. They keep turning up in these kinds of situations. Is your friend like the others? I mean, the type to come down here and investigate rather than call the police?”
“I’m afraid so,” Robin confirmed. “But she might not have gotten the package I sent. The switchboard operator at the company just said she was out of town; she may have been gone for days or weeks.”
“But she may well be on her way down here.”
Robin sighed. “She may, yes.” She watched his face intently, a little surprised not to see anger or uneasiness; Michael seemed more thoughtful than anything else, and it was obvious he was thinking hard. “I’m sorry, Michael,” she ventured at last.
His gaze focused on her, and he smiled. “Don’t worry about it. I don’t know your friend, but if she brings any of that crew along with her, they won’t blunder in recklessly. They’re all too smart, and too careful. I did hear, though …”
“Hear what?”
Michael hesitated, then shrugged. “That Josh Long and several of his men had dropped out of sight. Something’s in the wind there, but I don’t know what. Still, there’s apparently nothing we can do but wait and see who turns up.”
“Isn’t that awfully risky?”
His smile went crooked. “Awfully.” He glanced up as their waitress approached with laden plates, and the conversation was over for the time being.
Robin was as grateful for the distraction of eating as she was for the food itself. During the encounter with Dane, she had managed to keep her mind occupied, but whenever she and Michael were alone she found it more and more difficult to ignore the tug of attraction that seemed to be growing stronger. And it didn’t help this time, knowing he was just the kind of man she had always resented. This time, her body and emotions refused to accept reason.
She caught herself stealing glances at him, grateful that he seemed preoccupied and unaware of her attention. She felt curiously, unusually, helpless, unable to fight this. As if something inside her knew, without doubt, that it was inevitable. And so strong was that conviction that Robin felt tense, on the brink, waiting. He hadn’t even touched her except casually or by accident, yet her body felt heavy and restless, feverish.
She could keep her mind on the dangerous situation they were involved in, yet just beneath that calm surface something was moving, slowly, like water under ice. And she was very much afraid that the ice would crack, splinter, leaving her changed forever.
Because she hadn’t dared return to her hotel, Robin was without money, and she hadn’t been happy about accepting even a meal or change for her phone call from Michael
since she already owed him so much. But her somewhat fierce assurances of paying him back were met with grave acceptance, and that eased her mind somewhat.
Still, she couldn’t help but feel that theirs was an unequal partnership; more than anything else she wanted to pull her own weight. It was just a few hours later when she got her chance. She and Michael finally had found the tavern Dane told them about.
The bar rejoicing in the name Gold Coast turned out to be just what Dane had called it—a dive. Sandwiched between two pawnshops with heavily barred windows and located on a side street in the worst part of the city, the tavern was dank, dark, filled with smoke, and echoing with the harsh sounds of coarse laughter. There were several rickety tables around which card games were going on; the long wooden bar was stained and splintered; and the bartender boasted the tattoo of a naked woman on one corded forearm and a ship’s anchor on the other.
Standing beside Michael outside and peering cautiously through a dirty window, Robin shivered inwardly. The man they had come to see was easily visible at the far end of the bar, and he looked more dangerous than any other man in the room. Just as Dane had described, “Jack” was huge, massive really, heavily bearded, and when he ordered another drink, she could see that several of his teeth were missing.
She could feel Michael tensing even though his face remained expressionless, and when he began to move toward the door she quickly grabbed his arm. “Wait!” she whispered.
His voice was low as well. “You stay here. And keep in the shadows. If anything happens to me—”
Robin wrapped both hands around his muscled arm and held on grimly. “Michael, you can’t go in there. We’ve been standing here ten minutes, and there have already been three fights. There’s no way you can expect to go in there asking suspicious questions and still come out alive!”
He looked down at her, mouth tightening. “What choice do I have, Robin?”
“You’re not even armed.”
“They’d kill me for sure if I was.”
“Wait,” she insisted, turning her head to look back into the tavern. “Let me think a minute.”
Michael drew a deep breath. “It won’t be the first time I’ve gone into a place like this. I can handle it.”
“I’m sure you can,” she said almost absently, staring into the tavern with her eyes suddenly narrowed. “But there’d be some kind of fight. You’re too dangerous; it shows too plainly. You’d be a threat to them.”
“Robin—”
She looked back at him quickly. “We don’t want to draw attention to ourselves, do we? That’s the last thing we need.”
“Agreed. But there isn’t a choice.”
She lifted her chin and struggled to hide the terror she felt. “Yes, there is. I can go in.”
“You?” He laughed shortly.
Robin hoped he was strong enough that he didn’t feel a need to prove it with macho stand-back-little-woman-and-let-me-do-it determination. Steadily she said, “I’ve done something like this before. Please, Michael, trust me. I know what I’m doing. But I’ll need a couple of props.”
“Props?” He was staring down at her, frowning.
“Yes. That pawnshop over there is still open. Try to find a necklace with a crucifix on it—the bigger the better. And if they have any clothing, get a pair of long pants for me; it’ll be better if they don’t fit.”
He was still frowning a little, but understanding had dawned. “What if it doesn’t work, Robin?”
She managed a faint smile. “Then you’re the rescue team.”
Michael hesitated, but he had a good idea of what she had in mind and there was a chance it would work. If he had been partnered with a female agent on an assignment, he wouldn’t have hesitated at all; as it was, he was worried about Robin and uncertain of her abilities. “Are you sure you’ve done something like this before?” he asked finally.
“Yes. And for the same reason. To get information.”
“Wait here,” he said, and headed next door to the pawnshop.
Robin closed her eyes briefly and commanded herself to stop shaking. Still, it took a ridiculous amount of time to remove her shoelaces because her hands trembled so. She arranged her long hair in two ponytails and used the laces to tie them just below her ears. Then she bent and rubbed her hands in the dirt that had collected against the building; some of the dirt was also transferred to her face.
Michael reappeared suddenly beside her. “I did my best,” he told her, handing over a long silver chain and a bundle of dark cloth.
She put the necklace on, satisfied with the big silver crucifix that showed clearly against her black windbreaker. Then she stepped into the dark pants and pulled them up over her shorts; they were too long and the waist was far too loose, but the baggy appearance was what she’d wanted.
“How do I look?” she asked, gazing up at him.
Michael had an odd expression on his face, and his voice had rough edges. “Like the littlest hobo. Robin—”
“Good,” she said, cutting him off. “I’ll try to be as quick as I can.” She hoped desperately that he couldn’t see her fear.
He bent his head suddenly and kissed her, briefly but firmly. “Be careful,” he urged.
Robin found herself at the door without being aware of moving, thinking vaguely that it wasn’t at all fair of him to have done that just when she needed all her wits about her. Then she took a deep breath and went into the tavern.
Michael waited tensely by the window, never taking his eyes off the scene inside. He could feel as well as see all conversation and activity cease when she walked in, and he silently approved the timid way she glanced around. With the baggy clothing and hairstyle she looked about twelve years old, and it was clear that appearance made the men doubtful enough to do nothing while she walked slowly to the end of the bar where Jack sat.
Tensing even more now, Michael almost held his breath as the big man looked at Robin. She must have said something, for Jack nodded and she climbed up on the stool beside him, sitting with hunched shoulders and a hesitant tilt to her head. Immediately the crowd of men seemed to lose interest, and returned to their former activities.
Michael found himself smiling in admiration. By God, she’d done it! Now if she only could get the information and get out of there in one piece.
Robin had never been so terrified in her life. It hadn’t even been this bad when she had woken up to find herself in the possession of white slavers. And she knew why, of course. Because this time someone was counting on her to get the job done. This time someone else expected her to be strong.
“Who sent you to me?” Jack asked her in a rumbling voice.
She fixed her gaze on the big gold crucifix he was wearing, and didn’t have to try to make her voice timid and shaky. “I think he said his name was Dane. He said you might be able to tell me where I could find the Dragon Lady.”
“Whatcha want with that tub, kid?”
Inventing as she went along, Robin answered softly. “Mr. Sutton offered me a job a while back. I need to talk to him.”
Jack was chewing on the stub of a cigar, his eyes narrowed against the rising curl of smoke as he stared at her. With a short laugh he said, “You don’t want no job that bastard offers you, girl. Do yourself a favor and forget the idea.”
With a facility that had been hers since childhood, Robin allowed tears to form in her eyes, and let her voice quaver. “I have to find that boat. Eddie works on that boat, and I have to find him.”
“You don’t look old enough to have an Eddie,” Jack said, but in the world-weary tone that expected budding adolescents to have dangerous boyfriends. “In trouble, eh?”
Robin let her eyes skitter away from his. “I have to find Eddie,” she repeated dolefully.
Jack sighed and shifted the cigar to the other side of his mouth. “Girl, Sutton’s carrying valuable cargo, and he ain’t going to want no crying girlfriend pestering one of his men.”
“I won’t pester h
im,” she said, allowing hope to creep into her voice. “I’ll just stand by and wait till Eddie’s shift ends. Unless … they’re at sea?”
Jack grunted in brief amusement. “None of us are at sea with the waters boiling like they’re from hell,” he muttered.
Robin didn’t react to his awareness of the law enforcement activity all around the coast but merely looked at him with a spaniel-like expression. “Please tell me where the boat is,” she begged.
Almost angrily he said, “It’s no skin off my nose if you want to get your silly ass shot off. Sutton usually anchors in a cove off one of the Ten Thousand Islands. They call that island the Maze, and for good reason.”
“Thank you,” Robin said breathily, sliding off the stool.
“Here.” He reached out suddenly and stuffed something into one of the pockets of her windbreaker. “Hop a bus back to Iowa, or wherever you’re from. Now, get outta here.”
She nodded and moved quickly back to the door, relieved to find no further attention paid her by the men in the tavern. Immediately outside the door Michael took her hand and drew her into the shadows.
“Anything?” he asked.
His hand felt very warm, and Robin knew her own was ice cold. “Yes,” she murmured, trying to get the shake out of her voice. “An island in the Ten Thousand group. It’s called the Maze. He said Sutton usually anchors in a cove there.”
“I know where it is. Good work,” Michael said sincerely, then asked, “What’s that?”
Robin was staring in astonishment at two hundred-dollar bills she had pulled from her pocket. “He—he gave me this. Told me to get a bus back to wherever I was from.”
Michael grinned a little. “What line did you give him?”
“I said I was looking for my boyfriend, that he worked on Sutton’s yacht. He, that is, Jack assumed I was pregnant.”
Still holding her hand, Michael began moving away from the tavern. “You must have touched his soft spot if he gave you two bills,” he said philosophically.
“I can’t keep the money!” she protested.
