Her Very Strict Captain

by Carpenter, Maggie

  “Don’t play the innocent with me,” he warned, leaning across the table and lowering his voice. “It doesn’t suit you and it insults my intelligence. Finish your breakfast. I want to get to the house before the weather rolls in.”

  A tremble rippling through her, she picked up her fork and took a mouthful, but an awkward silence fell between them.

  “These eggs are delicious,” she finally remarked, desperate to break it. “Probably the best I’ve ever had.”

  “Thanks. I spent some time with a Brit who’d once been a chef. He taught me a few things.”

  Taking another mouthful, his tantalizing but disconcerting threat still hanging in the air, she tried to think of something else to talk about.

  “This house of yours. How do we get there? Is it a long walk?”

  “Not really. We’ll be taking the dinghy to the small beach, then hiking up the hill. It’s not steep. You won’t have any trouble.”

  “Do we need to take any supplies with us?”

  “I have a housekeeper who takes care of the place and keeps it stocked up. There are a few shops on the other side, but, Elizabeth, we won’t be going anywhere until you start opening up.”

  “I’ve already told you—”

  “You’ve told me very little, and I can’t help you if I don’t know the whole story.”

  Letting out a heavy breath, she stared at him intently. “Sometimes ignorance is bliss,” she said gravely. “You can’t begin to imagine what I’m facing.”

  “I might surprise you,” he said, his voice softening. “You’ve survived because you’re as smart as an alley cat, but think about this. Telling me won’t hurt you. Keeping it to yourself very well could.”

  * * *

  Letting his words sink in, Scott began devouring his breakfast. She was connected to Conchello, and a crooked cop was hunting her down. He had no doubt her life was in danger, but her problems could probably be resolved. He just needed to know what he was dealing with. Pouring coffee into his mug, he was about to take a drink when his phone buzzed. Lifting it from his pocket and checking the screen, he saw the caller was Jerry, one of the captains who worked for him.

  “Hey, Jerry, what’s up?”

  “Didn’t you see it?”

  “See what?”

  “The cat you brought in last night was broken into.”

  “Dammit, I’ve been busy and I didn’t check the footage last night. Was anything taken?”

  “Not that I can see, but I’m standing in cabin two and it’s the craziest thing. The cushions are unzipped, and the stuffing’s been pulled out. Not only that, a new package of toilet paper that was in the bathroom cabinet has been ripped open, and the rolls are lying around on the floor. It looks like someone rifled through the salon too, but there was no mess there, not like the cabin and bathroom.”

  “Have you been approached by a cop out of L.A.—Detective Dan Miller?”

  “There was a guy here last night asking for you, but he didn’t give a name.”

  “Tall, long dark hair, bizarre mustache?”

  “Yep, that’s him,” Jerry replied, “and I got a bad vibe.”

  “I know what you mean,” Scott muttered. “What did you tell him?”

  “Just that you’d left and wouldn’t be back for a few days. What’s going on? Do you think he’s the one who broke in? Sorry, that was probably a stupid question. If he’s a cop, that’s unlikely, or is it? Do you know why he’s looking for you?”

  “I’ve already spoken to him,” Scott replied. “He was interested in someone I took out a few months ago, but it was a case of mistaken identity. I don’t know why he needs to see me again, but regardless, report the break-in to the local police, and also tell the marina. They need to stay vigilant, and make sure our office alarm is set when you leave.”

  “Will do. Speak to you later.”

  “Yep, I’ll be in touch. Thanks, Jerry,” Scott said, ending the call, then turned to face Elizabeth. “Looks like Dan broke into the catamaran. Strange though,” he continued, scrutinizing her expression. “He pulled the stuffing out of the cushions that were on the bed in your cabin, and ripped open a package of toilet paper.”

  “Toilet paper?” she breathlessly repeated.

  “That’s what I said. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

  “I… uh…”

  “Start talking, Elizabeth, before we run out of luck—and time!”

  Chapter 8

  But Elizabeth didn’t speak.

  Wordlessly jumping to her feet, she hurried from the salon back to her cabin.

  Surprised by her sudden retreat, Scott stared after her.

  Deciding to give her some time, he cleared the table and washed the dishes. When she still didn’t reappear, he walked to the cabin and knocked lightly on the door.

  “Come in.” Her voice sounded weak.

  Stepping inside, he found her perched on the edge of the bed gazing at the floor, her bag buckled up and ready to go.

  “Hey,” he said casually, walking in and sitting beside her. “Why are you so rattled?”

  She turned to face him with bloodshot eyes, and her cheeks wet with tears.

  “Problems, even big ones, have a way of working themselves out,” he said softly, putting an arm around her. “I’ve been in dire circumstances, really dire, but here I am on a yacht in paradise with the wench from my dreams.”

  “This isn’t a joke,” she sniffled.

  “No, but a little levity can help, and who knows, maybe you are that wench.”

  “You don’t believe that for a minute.”

  “Miracles can happen.”

  “I’m glad you said miracles,” she muttered with a heavy sigh. “I need more than one.”

  He paused. “Is this about the money?”

  Jerking back, she stared at him, shock in her red-rimmed eyes. “M-money? What money?”

  “Elizabeth, I know about the cash in your bag.”

  “You went through my stuff?”

  “You left me no choice,” he said gravely. “You’re running from a cop and you refused to talk to me. What was I supposed to do?”

  “I told you I was set up,” she retorted. “What else do you need to know?”

  “Everything, and that means every sordid detail. It’s the only way I can help you. Surely you must understand that.”

  “Actually, I do,” she admitted with a sigh, “but I’m surprised you’re still willing to after finding that money.”

  “I don’t care if he is a cop, there’s no way I’d let Dan Miller get his hands on you.”

  “The way he used to stare at me there were times I thought he was an evil psychopath,” she muttered, “but then he’d go out of his way to avoid me.”

  “That evil psychopath broke into my boat,” Scott said grimly, “and when you heard about the toilet rolls on the bathroom floor I saw you freak out. Now I walk in here and find you in tears. I need to know why. Please, Elizabeth, tell me what happened—what is happening.”

  “Okay,” she said, her shoulders slumping with resignation. “I’m freaking out because now Dan thinks I have the rest of the money that disappeared.”

  “I don’t understand. What do rolls of toilet paper have in common with stolen money?”

  “I hid rolls of cash inside the cardboard tubes.”

  In spite of the drama, Scott broke into a grin. “That’s pretty damn clever. Most people wouldn’t give a package of toilet tissue a second look.”

  “Dan isn’t most people. He’s crazy smart, and nothing will stop him now. He’ll hunt me down for the rest of my life.”

  “But didn’t he already know you had the cash? Isn’t that one of the reasons he’s chasing you?”

  “He didn’t know for sure, and he thinks he does now, but he’s wrong. I only have a very small chunk. It’s a long story, but a great deal of money was in a sports bag. Someone must have been interrupted when they were stealing it. I only have a small amount that was
left.”

  “Which I assume you hid in the cushions when you first came on board?”

  “Yes, but after stuffing the cushions, I still had the rolls. That’s why I put them in the center of the toilet tissue, but you were in such a hurry to leave I didn’t have time to get them out,” she exclaimed, her voice rising. “Now Dan’s found them and—what’s that?” she asked, startled as the yacht suddenly rocked.

  “Wake from a passing boat,” he replied, standing up and moving quickly to look out the window. “Yep, there’s a speedboat zipping around out there. We should get to the house.”

  “You sound worried.”

  “If Dan breaks into my office he’ll find a bill of sale for this yacht, and an invoice from the contractor who painted the name,” he declared. “I’m surprised he hasn’t already. Mind you, I have signs everywhere warning about alarms and security cameras.”

  “This is such a nightmare,” she groaned. “I need to disappear. That’s the only way out.”

  “Hey, I’m a pretty resourceful guy,” he said, lowering his voice and taking her hand. “You can tell me about the rest of this mess when we get to the house. We’ll figure it out together.”

  “You may not like what I have to say.”

  “You told me you didn’t kill anyone. Is that true?”

  Fresh tears suddenly sprang from her eyes.

  “Yes, but I abandoned someone when they were dying,” she whispered, her face crinkling.

  “We need to go, but I will tell you this. If staying meant you’d die too, then you did the right thing.”

  * * *

  She wanted to believe him, but the tragic events of the disastrous raid had replayed itself in her head with harrowing regularity. Her dream about the sexy, strict Scottish captain had been mercifully distracting. Now she was with a modern day version of him, whose name just happened to be Captain Scott. The coincidence was titillating, and a welcome relief from the traumatic memory and perilous circumstances she faced.

  Making their way to the beach in the small dinghy, he pulled it up on the sand and dragged it into some brush behind a group of impressive boulders. Standing at the water’s edge, she noticed dark gray clouds hovering low over the ocean.

  “How long do you think it will take that storm to reach here?” she asked as he joined her.

  “No more than an hour.”

  “Aren’t you worried about Hi Ho Silver?”

  “No, she’s well anchored, and I know this inlet. I come here often.”

  “I like storms, but I don’t like the wind. We get the Santa Anas in Southern California. They’re horrendous.”

  “Yeah, I know,” he said, hoisting on his backpack and picking up her bag.

  “I can take that,” she offered, reaching for it, “you shouldn’t carry everything.”

  “This is nothing,” he said with a chuckle. “Come on, let’s go.”

  The path through the tropical vegetation and up the hill was wide and well-traveled. Though the slope wasn’t steep, by the time he turned off the trail and started down a narrow track she was panting.

  “Is it much further?” she asked, amazed he wasn’t even breathing hard.

  “Just around this bend,” he replied. “It’s well hidden. No one will find you.”

  “Maybe I could just stay here for the rest of my life. That would—oh, wow,” she exclaimed as the vast ocean suddenly appeared off to her right. “Scott, this is incredible.”

  “Yeah, it’s pretty cool. There’s the house.”

  A white two-story home with a wide verandah sat amongst the tropical foliage, but the prodigious plant life had been cut in the front and around the sides to allow for unobstructed views. Walking up the steps, she was surprised to see a code box on the front door.

  “No keys?”

  “No keys,” he replied, punching in a series of numbers, “and it would take a battering ram to break down the door.”

  Intrigued, and following him inside, she found a comfortable home at odds with the high-security entrance. Large windows offered panoramic views, and the furniture was cozy. When he led her into an expansive bedroom, she kicked off her walking shoes and collapsed on the bed.

  “This place is a slice of heaven,” she declared with a grateful sigh. “I’ll never want to leave.”

  “Catch your breath,” he said, placing her bag on the floor. “I’ll get us something to drink.”

  “No, I’ll come with you, I want to see the rest of the house.”

  Moving down the hall and poking her head around each of the doors, she found the home much larger than it appeared from the outside.

  “Why so many bedrooms?”

  “I have guests from time to time,” he replied vaguely as they entered a large gourmet kitchen.

  “Holy crap. This is crazy. When you say guests, how many people are you talking about?”

  “It depends, and it’s not often, but when it happens I need all this,” he said, opening a two-door, stainless steel refrigerator and pulling out a pitcher of lemonade. “Emily always leaves this for me when I call ahead.”

  “I assume Emily is your housekeeper.”

  “Yep,” he said, fetching two glasses from an overhead cabinet. “I don’t know what I’d do without her.”

  “I think she’s also left you a letter,” Elizabeth remarked, spying a folded piece of paper on the counter with his name scrawled across it.

  Pouring the refreshing drink, he handed Elizabeth a glass, then picked up the note.

  “She just wants me to call her,” he said casually, then jerked his head toward the door. “Follow me. I need to show you something.”

  Leading her down a second, short hallway, he stopped at a door with another keypad. Punching in the code, the door clicked open, and closed behind them as they entered.

  Her eyes quickly scanned the room.

  A wide desk held three large computers.

  An impressive telescope positioned in front of floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the ocean, and she spied a narrow patch of land between the house and what appeared to be the edge of the hill.

  A conversation pit sat against the far wall.

  Folding plantation doors could be hiding a closet, or an entrance to another room.

  “One of those packets of money had a tracker,” he suddenly announced.

  “What did you just say?” she asked, her heart skipping.

  “Yeah, you heard right,” he replied, settling into the desk and powering up a computer. “Come and sit with me.”

  “So that’s how Dan must have found me,” she exclaimed, sliding into a chair next to him.

  “I don’t think so. If he’d known where the money was he would have picked it up long before now. Someone else has been pulling the strings.”

  A shiver pricked her skin.

  The drug lord’s evil face loomed in her mind’s eye.

  “Who are you?” she whispered, staring at Scott as the computer came to life. “Where are we? What is this place?”

  “All in good time,” he promised, pointing at the screen. “Tell me what you see.”

  “A hotel room,” she replied, trying to focus though her head was swimming.

  “Dan Miller’s, to be exact.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “While you were sleeping last night, I followed the tracker. It led me back to St. Thomas and into that room. I found the rolled-up cash stuffed in socks, and the cash with the tracker is keeping them company. Before I left I placed a camera in the overhead light.”

  “Holy crap. So that’s Dan Miller’s room, but how did you know he wasn’t there?”

  “He was busy on my catamaran. Elizabeth, I have a security system on all my boats. My phone beeped alerting me to an intruder. When I got that call from Jerry—”

  “Who’s Jerry again?”

  “One of my captains. He called and told me about the break-in, but I couldn’t let him know I already knew about it. He would have wondered why I hadn�
�t let him know.”

  “If there are cameras, why didn’t you know about the cash in my bag?”

  “I would never spy on anyone in their cabin. Mind you, I was tempted,” he added with a wink.

  “This is incredible, but, uh, what now?”

  “If I’m right, and I hope I am, Dan will soon be having visitors,” he replied, then turning his chair around, he leaned toward her. “A moment ago you asked me who I was. Now I’m asking you. Elizabeth, who are you? I believe you’ve suffered, and you were close to the man who was murdered. Those weren’t crocodile tears I witnessed, but you’re also too savvy to be a helpless victim.”

  “I’m not sure—”

  “For example,” he continued, cutting her off, “why are the packets of money wrapped in cling film? The obvious answer? To preserve fingerprints and DNA. Tell me I’m wrong.”

  She paused.

  “You’re not wrong.”

  “When you first showed up, I found it hard to believe you just happened to stumble down that particular wharf at the very moment I’d just docked. I took a little swim, and what did I find?”

  “Shit,” she groaned, rolling her eyes.

  “You know all about trackers, don’t you, Elizabeth? You’ve been following my catamaran for six months.”

  “Not strictly true,” she exclaimed. “I thought I might need to—”

  “Come back down here to disappear for a while if things went south?”

  “Something like that.”

  “You’re a very cunning, very naughty girl, Elizabeth McKay. It’s time to start talking, and I mean every, last, fucking detail. Who are you, why did you choose me to help you, and why did you really come back here?”

  Chapter 9

  Rising from her chair and walking across to the sliding glass window, Elizabeth stared out at the distant slate gray clouds. They seemed to touch the ocean, turning its pristine turquoise blue to an ominous olive green. Wondering if the approaching storm was a harbinger of the hours ahead, she took a long, deep breath, then turned to face the man who made her toes curl and her heart thump… and had saved her life.