Blue Velvet

by Iris Johansen

  Blue Velvet

  Iris Johansen

  One

  "What other choice do we have?" Kate argued, run­ning her hand distractedly through her riot of short curls. Her eyes were fixed gloomily on the entrance to the waterfront tavern across the street. "We're caught between Scylla and Charybdis."

  "Scylla and Charybdis?" Julio asked blankly.

  "You know, the she monster of the sea and the whirlpool," Kate said, her gaze still on the door to Alvarez's Bar.

  He didn't know, but then Kate was always referring to things he knew nothing about. "What Jeffrey calls between a rock and a hard place?"

  Kate nodded. "If we don't go into that tavern and get Jeffrey, he's going to end up in the cockpit of the plane with a knife at his throat. Or they'll get him so drunk he'll tell them the location of the Cessna."

  "If he doesn't pass out first," Julio suggested hopefully. "According to the bartender, he was pretty close to that point a few minutes ago."

  "Then they'll wake him up and start all over," Kate said. She shook her head. "No, we've got to go in after him. Once we have him out of Ralph Despard's clutches we'll worry about getting him off Castellano."

  "And how do we do that?" Julio asked, his lips curving in a skeptical smile. "Despard is alone at the table with Jeffrey now, but Simmons and a few of the other men are in one of the back rooms. If we make any move, they'll pour out of there and be all over us."

  Kate bit her lower lip. "We can't make any obvi­ous moves. I don't want them to realize that you're a part of Jeffrey's crew. You've always been away guarding the plane when Despard has visited Jeffrey at the cottage. As long as he doesn't know you exist, you'll be safe. I'll go in by myself."

  "No, I will not permit it," Julio said firmly. He should have known how she'd react. Kate was as protective as a lioness with her cub about anyone she cared about and she cared about Jeffrey Brenden. Perhaps too much for her own good. In the four years he'd been with the two of them, he'd watched her nurse Brenden through hangovers, tease him into cheerfulness when he was depressed, and pull him out of scrapes. It never occurred to her to ask anything in return. Kate always gave with both hands. He couldn't criticize Jeffrey for taking from her; he himself had accepted her loving generosity and devoted affec­tion on many occasions. However, he couldn't swallow the idea of her walking into that bar alone. "If it must be done, we'll do it together."

  "No, I think I've come up with a way." Her brow was wrinkled in thought. "Did you check the loca­tion of the power box as I asked?"

  He nodded. "It's outside and in the back."

  "Good." She checked her wristwatch; it was just past midnight. "In ten minutes I want you to be at the power box. Give an on and off flicker as a warn­ing for me. Everyone will think it's just a power surge. Then a minute later turn off the lights alto­gether and remove the fuse. Okay?"

  "And what will you be doing while I'm playing with the fuse box?"

  "I'll be at the table distracting Despard and try­ing to find a way to ease him out of the picture."

  "Distracting?" Julio frowned. "I hope you don't mean what I think you mean. You wouldn't know how to handle a man like Despard."

  "Oh, Julio, I said distract, not seduce! It shouldn't be all that difficult to divert the man for ten minutes. He's made a pass at me almost every time he's been at the cottage." She made a face. "Not that I'm anything special. He probably makes a pass at every woman under eighty."

  But she was something special, Julio thought. Warm and loving with a clear bell-like honesty that he'd never known in any other woman. The idea of Despard so much as laying a hand on her made him a little sick. "I don't like it. You shouldn't even be in a bar like that."

  "I've been in that bar plenty of times, as you know very well. And I can take care of myself," she added. "Heaven knows, I've had plenty of practice." That was certainly true, she thought ironically. Jeffrey was a dreamer, always chasing fantasies, and she trailed along behind trying to hold his feet on the ground and keep him from being too badly hurt. "And this is no exception. I'll be fine, Julio."

  "I think I should ..."

  "No, Julio," she said with gentle firmness. "We'll do it the way I said. As soon as the lights go out, you dash around to the front door and come inside. I'll need help getting Jeffrey out of there. Until then, I want you to be as invisible as possible." She grinned impishly as her gaze traveled over his massive shoulders and intimidating bulk. "That should be enough of a challenge for you."

  "Kate, it's too—"

  "It's the only plan we've got," she interrupted. She looked at her watch again. "Ten minutes, remember." She started across the street without giving him a backward glance. Julio would keep her out here all night arguing and it would only end the same way. As she'd told him before, they were caught between Scylla and Charybdis.

  The interior of the crowded bar was dim; the odors of whiskey and sweat mingled with the acrid-sweet aroma of marijuana. She paused a moment beside the long polished oak bar that was Hector Alvarez's pride and joy, her eyes searching anxiously around the room for the familiar gray-streaked head.

  A woman at the corner table was lushly attrac­tive and vaguely familiar, Kate noticed. Perhaps she'd even met her. Jeffrey liked company while he drank and the more attractive the company the

  better-But the man the woman was with tonight cer­tainly wasn't Jeffrey, though he looked as if he might be an American. He was dressed in black jeans and a short-sleeved knit shirt that was either gray or black. It was hard to tell in the dim light. But his hair was definitely a shining bronze. She was about to turn her attention to the other end of the room when the man glanced up swiftly as if suddenly aware that she was staring at him.

  Dangerous. The thought came out of nowhere. There was a reckless curve to his well-shaped mouth and his smile had a mocking deviltry that was obviously very appealing to the bar girl next to him. His eyes narrowed on her and a thrill of uneasiness surged through her. She glanced away. How stupid she was being.

  For a moment she'd actually felt more threatened by that stranger than she'd ever been by Ralph Despard. It must be because her nerves were stretched taut that her imagination was running away with her. She finally spotted Despard in the far corner. No wonder she hadn't seen Jeffrey, she thought gloomily. He was slumped forward, his curly head resting on the table. That was all she and Julio needed to make the situation perfect—a totally unconscious Jeffrey. Well, they'd just have to cope.

  "Hector lets me use a room in the back of the bar." The brunette's voice was soft and throatily inviting. Her hand beneath the table moved up on his thigh to caress him with a boldness that caused an immediate response and brought a glint of satisfaction to the Latin woman's eyes. "You see, I can please you very well. I know ..."

  Beau Lantry lost the thread of the exact extent of the knowledge the woman was confiding to him. What was her name? Liane, that was it. It wasn't her conversation that was important anyway. It was that lushly curved anatomy . . . and what that excitingly wicked hand was doing to his own anatomy beneath the table.

  He'd dropped Barbara off at Barbados almost three weeks ago and he'd been without a woman ever since. He'd decided the instant he'd wandered into this waterfront tavern and the bar girl had smiled at him so invitingly that abstinence was going to end. She was clean and attractive and will­ing for anything, according to that husky murmur in his ear. It was exactly what he was looking for tonight. To have his frustration eased with no involvement and only a generous wad of bills left on the dresser in the morning.

  He couldn't expect anything better without going farther afield into the town and he had no inclination to do that. He'd heard that the island republic of Castellano was a hangout for half the criminals in the Caribbean, and its governmen
t was almost as corrupt as its inhabitants. He wasn't about to wander around its principal city of Mariba and end up rolled and stabbed in an alley. No, he was very content right where he was. He'd stay in Hector's back room with Liane and in the morning go back to the Searcher. Then he'd tell Daniel to cast off and they'd be halfway to Trinidad by noon. That should relieve his captain. Daniel had been uncharacteristically cautious ever since their arrival in Mariba this afternoon. He'd refused to give the men shore leave and had stayed on board the ship himself.

  As usual, he'd made no attempt to dissuade Beau from going ashore. Their compatibility was based on a policy of strict noninterference. Daniel never indicated by word or expression that he approved or disapproved of Beau's escapades . . . except when he indulged in a rare burst of roguish behavior himself and then he obviously approved very much indeed.

  The woman was still murmuring in his ear and Beau supposed he should have been listening. She might have been talking money and he didn't want her to get huffy and think he wouldn't be generous with her. Still, he had all night and wasn't in any particular hurry. If he acted a bit reluctant per­haps it would spur her to greater inventiveness. His gaze drifted casually around the smoky bar­room that was boringly similar to a hundred oth­ers he'd frequented in the last two years.

  Blue eyes, clear and deep and utterly fearless.

  He experienced a queer breathless shock as he met them across the room. He didn't think he'd ever seen anyone with eyes that reflected quite that degree of bold honesty before. He felt slightly annoyed at his overreaction. It must have been the unexpectedness of that blue gaze in a room full of dark-eyed Latins that had shaken him. After all, the woman possessing those eyes wasn't attractive enough to have disturbed him so. She appeared to be in her early twenties and her features were vir­tually nondescript except for those incredible eyes framed with long dark lashes. Her lips had a rather nice curve and a touch of vulnerability that was appealing, but her nose was definitely too turned up for beauty, much less glamour.

  "You think she's pretty?" Liane asked sharply, following his gaze. "She's much too thin. Take those clothes off her and she would be all skin and bones."

  "You think so?" Beau drawled, his gaze traveling over the woman standing by the bar. She was a lit­tle over average height and dressed in jeans faded by many washings to a pale white-blue. The loose man's shirt she wore was a blue of a slightly darker shade, its tails veiling the curve of her hips. She was no longer looking at him but at a table in the opposite corner of the room and there was a curi­ous tenseness about her stance. "You can't really tell in that loose shirt and jeans. Do you know who she is?"

  Liane shrugged. "Kate something or other. I have seen her in here a few times." She leaned for­ward, revealing a bounty of lush cleavage. "She is not nearly as popular as me and she would have to take you somewhere else. I am the only one Hector will let use his back room."

  "I'm sure you've earned his generosity," he said, removing her hand from his thigh. Suddenly her curves seemed a trifle overblown and her attrac­tiveness a little too common for his taste.

  The woman called Kate was walking toward the corner table now and she moved with a free grace­ful stride that was very pleasing. Her short curly hair, sun-tipped here and there to pale gold, was

  an acorn brown and as baby soft and silky clean as In a shampoo commercial. Her skin appeared that soft, too, he mused, lifting a glass of ginger ale to his lips. He suddenly felt an urgent desire to touch that skin.

  "You will go with me, then?" Liane asked with a sultry smile.

  "What?" he asked. He set his glass down and rose to his feet. "Perhaps another time." He placed a large bill on the table and strolled in the same direction as the blue-eyed, winsome Kate.

  That silky-soft skin was too appealing to pass up and he could visualize how delicious she would be with those boyish clothes removed. Thin, perhaps, as Liane claimed, but there was a pert femininity to that little derriere that was very tempting. And he'd never been one to resist temptation when it beckoned so seductively.

  The only problem was the lady seemed to have a target in mind. The table she halted at was occu­pied by two dark-haired men. There was a half-empty bourbon bottle before them; one of the men had passed out. At least he wouldn't be any compe­tition for Kate's favors, Beau thought. It was the one with the little pig eyes who was looking up at her with a grin on his dark bearded face that he'd have to remove from the scene. Money? If not, he might have a more interesting evening that he'd planned. There was suddenly a touch of reckless­ness in Beau's smile as he quickened his steps. He had a hunch that a night with silky-skinned Kate might be worth a little minor mayhem.

  She was saying something to the bearded man now and the man's hand was reaching out and cas­ually fondling her buttocks. She appeared to be paying no attention to the intimacy but Beau found he was experiencing a curiously possessive resentment. He shrugged it off impatiently. For heaven's sake, all he had in mind was a one-night stand with an accommodating bar girl. What the hell was the matter with him?

  However, there was still a lingering edge to that possessiveness as he stopped beside the table. The woman broke off in midsentence and those start­ling blue eyes widened in surprise as she glanced up at him.

  He sketched a mocking little bow. "Sorry to dis­turb you in the middle of negotiations. I just didn't want you to get too far along before I could enter my own invitation, or should I say, bid."

  "Buzz off," the bearded man snapped out. He straightened slowly in his chair. "The lady and I are just reaching an understanding."

  "But that's because she hasn't heard my offer," Beau drawled, and looked at Kate, his gaze full of a smoldering promise. "I'm prepared to be more than generous. Come with me, Kate." His voice was coaxing. "You won't regret it."

  She looked away, but not before he'd seen a glim­mer of fear in her eyes that puzzled him. "Go away," she said jerkily. "Ralph is right, we're hav­ing a discussion."

  The man called Ralph gave a low laugh of trium­phant satisfaction, his hand once more moving in a caress on Kate's bottom. "You see, you're not wanted and I definitely am." He glanced up at her. "Aren't I, Kate?"

  "That's right. How could you doubt it, Ralph? You've always told me how good we'd be for each other."

  "We'd be better together," Beau said softly. "And I'll give you whatever you want. Tell me what you want and it's yours."

  "Please." She moistened her lips nervously, then smiled down at Ralph.

  God, she had a lovely smile. It lit up her entire face with such warmth that it made one forget she wasn't really beautiful. Beau found himself resenting the smile she was giving the other man more than he had that hand of his on her bottom. The reaction was just as crazy and totally irrational as all his other responses. He knew he should forget about her and go back to Liane. He was obviously going to have to fight both her and her chosen mark for the evening to obtain her services for himself. He also couldn't say much for her taste in men. The fellow had a distinctly shifty look in those little pig eyes. The eyes reminded him vaguely of someone. George. That was it. Good old greedy gut, Uncle George. He felt his antagonism swell with a sudden intensity that had nothing to do with logic. The Uncle Georges of the world man­aged to snatch quite enough for themselves with­out having it handed to them on a plate. There was no way he was going to let pig eyes here get his hands on anything he wanted. And he was begin­ning to want Kate more every second.

  As the tense silence lengthened, Kate glanced furtively at the leather-banded watch on her wrist and then stared at Beau. "Please go," she ordered. "Now!"

  "Not until you go with me."

  The bearded man's hand dropped away from Kate's hip and he scowled menacingly. "I told you to—"

  The lights flickered and Kate's face went tense with strain and exasperation. "Oh, damn!" She reached for the bourbon bottle in the middle of the table. "Triple damn!" She brought the bottle down forcefully on Ralph's head. "I told you to leave,
" she wailed at Beau as Ralph's eyes glazed over and he slumped forward, knocked unconscious by Kate's blow. "Why couldn't you do it, blast it?"

  The lights went out and sudden darkness threw the patrons into an uproar. Their shouts muted the screech of hurriedly pushed back chairs and

  were followed by angry curses as they stumbled around.

  "I'll remember next time how strongly you tend to reinforce your wishes," Beau said dryly. "You didn't have to get rid of him yourself, you know. I would have done it for you. Besides the fact that he was in our way, he reminded me very unpleasantly of Uncle George."

  "Oh, be quiet," Kate muttered. "You almost ruined everything. I was trying to keep his guard down and you had him practically bristling."

  Beau's eyes were becoming accustomed to the darkness now and he could see that Kate was mov­ing around the table toward the gray-haired man who'd remained in blissful Alcoholic unconscious­ness during the entire episode. What the devil was she up to now?

  "Kate?"

  The voice was strong and masculine and came from the direction of the door.

  "Over here," Kate called. She was tugging at the gray-haired man's chair. "Straight forward and all the way to the back."

  "May I help?" Beau asked politely.

  "Just stay out of the way," Kate said crossly. "You've been enough bother. We don't have much time left." A huge hulking shadow appeared at her side.

  "Kate?" It was the voice from the doorway, a trifle subdued now.

  "I'm standing right beside him, Julio." Kate's tone was relieved. "I've taken care of Despard but someone is bound to find a flashlight soon. We've got to get Jeffrey out of here before Simmons comes barreling out of that back room."

  "Don't worry. I'll have him out of here and safe in just a minute." Julio's soothing answer had a trace of a Spanish accent as he bent forward and lifted the smaller man onto his shoulder in a fireman's carry. "You go ahead and make sure there's no one in front of me."

  "I'll run Interference," Beau offered. He was becoming more intrigued every moment. "Provid­ing you're not plotting any dire fate for that inani­mate object you're carrying. You're not planning on committing murder as well as assault, I hope?"