Summer Vows (Arabesque)

by Alers, Rochelle

  “I’m having the jet fueled as we speak. I need you to get to the Marathon airport within the next two hours. Henri will meet you. He’ll have Ana’s passport.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “You know that private island I bought in the Bahamas for investment purposes.”

  “What about it?” Jacob asked.”

  “Well, you’re going to live there for a while.”

  “What changed?” He couldn’t believe he sounded so calm when his heart was pumping painfully in his chest.

  “We managed to bug Irvine’s girlfriend’s apartment. Our man told us she also worked at Slow Wyne.”

  “Worked?” Jacob noticed Diego had used the past tense.

  “Apparently someone discovered the bug but not before the investigators recorded his pillow-talk confession. He claimed next time his person wasn’t going to miss.”

  “Did he mention Ana’s name?”

  “No. What we were able to record was him saying, ‘that bitch at Serenity.’”

  “Do you know who uncovered the bug?”

  “Not yet.” There came a pause. “Her body was found in the desert earlier this morning with a single gunshot to the head and her tongue cut out. The police haven’t released her name pending next of kin, but our man has a reliable contact with the LAPD who identified her as Camille Nelson. Apparently she was an exotic dancer in her former life.”

  Jacob swore under his breath. Unfortunately the woman had become collateral damage. “What do you want me to tell Ana?”

  “Tell her I’m meeting with the cotton broker in Uganda and I can’t get away to take care of some problems at the resort. I’d like you to convince her that the two of you are going undercover as a couple, and that I need her to evaluate staff performance of the front desk, room service and the kitchen. I’ve already made reservations in the names of Mr. and Mrs. Jacob Jones. I told the manager you’re family, so you won’t be billed for anything. Meanwhile the investigators are going to step up the pressure on Irvine. We have to take down this sick sonofabitch before there’s another murder.”

  There was edge in Diego’s voice Jacob had never heard before. “It appears as if Irvine and/or his people are playing for keeps. Killing that girl execution style and cutting out her tongue is sending a message to anyone thinking of diming Irvine out. The man has to be psychopathic if he’d ordered a hit on a woman he was sleeping with. Do whatever you have to do to take him down, Diego.”

  That said, he ended the call and walked back to the porch. He sat down next to Ray. “Ana and I have to leave.”

  Ray removed his glasses and sat up straight. “Now?”

  Jacob nodded. “Yes. My friend is sending his jet to pick us up at the Marathon airport.”

  “Can you tell me where you’re going?”

  “It’s a private island in the Caribbean.”

  Ray stood up. “What the hell is going on?”

  “I wish I knew, Uncle Ray.” Jacob hugged him. “I’ll be in touch when we get back.”

  “You tell your girlfriend she still owes me a duet.”

  “I’ll let her know. Tell Mattie I’ll see her the next time I come down.”

  Jacob was practically running when he took the stairs two at a time. Opening the door to the bedroom, he stood motionless, staring at the bed. Ana hadn’t turned off the lamp on his side of the bed.

  He knew he wasn’t able to become actively involved in the investigation to identify the shooter. However, it had been different with Vivienne Cole-Thomas. Her late husband, a U.S. congressman had been killed in a hit-and-run. As the southeast regional supervisory deputy for the United States Marshal Service Jacob had worked closely with Vivienne to apprehend those behind the conspiracy responsible for the congressman’s murder.

  He hadn’t hesitated when Diego asked him to step in and protect his cousin, but his friend had upped the ante because now they had to pretend to be married. Jacob wanted to tell Diego that he and Ana couldn’t be any more married. They were living together and sharing a bed. All that was needed was a license, exchange of vows and consummating the union.

  Jacob had had liaisons with women—some brief and others longer than he’d expected, yet none of the women affected him in the way Ana did. It hadn’t been a week since she’d walked out of the terminal at the Marathon airport and somehow she’d managed to disrupt his very predictable lifestyle. And much to his surprise it had become a most welcome disruption.

  He approached the bed and sat down. Ana’s eyelids fluttered before they opened and she stared at him. “I tried waiting up for you. What happened?”

  Jacob nuzzled the side of her neck. He wanted to tell her the game was on the West Coast, so it didn’t start until late. “You smell good.” He knew he was stalling for time.

  “You didn’t answer my question, Jacob. What took you so long?”

  “You’re going to have to get up and get dressed.”

  With wide eyes, she sat up. “Where are we going?”

  He repeated what Diego had told him, deliberately withholding the information Diego had told about the body in the desert. Jacob suspected he wanted Ana out of the country before she saw news footage about Basil Irvine’s girlfriend’s murder.

  “We’re going down tonight.”

  “Is it that critical?” she asked.

  “Diego believes it is. He’s invested too much in this venture to have it fail.”

  Ana swung her legs over the side of the bed. “I suppose I’d better get dressed and packed.”

  She’d shocked him again. Jacob hadn’t expected her to accept the justification for their unexpected departure from the Keys to the Bahamas without balking or further questioning. He rarely, if ever, lied, but apparently Ana either believed him or she’d reached the point in their relationship where she’d begun to trust him unconditionally.

  * * *

  Reaching for Jacob’s hand, Ana held it tightly when the jet began its descent into Cannamore Cay. She didn’t like flying at night, and especially with the aircraft landing on an island runway in the Caribbean. The island was made up of three hundred and sixty acres.

  She closed her eyes, counting slowly. When Diego had disclosed that he’d bought an uninhabited island in the Bahamas she’d given him a look that spoke volumes because ColeDiz hadn’t needed another vacation property. Then her cousin explained that Cannamore Cay wouldn’t fall under the control of the family-owned conglomerate, but that he’d purchased it as a legacy for his children.

  When Diego’s driver met her and Jacob at the Marathon airport, Henri had handed Ana her passport. It was apparent her parents knew she was leaving the country because her official documents were stored in a safe at their house. They were driven to Jacob’s Miami apartment where he’d retrieved his passport, then they were back in the air on their way to Cannamore Cay.

  She opened her eyes as runway lights came into view and Ana felt as if she’d been holding her breath until the wheels to the sleek Gulfstream G550 touched the macadam, landing smoothly as if gliding on an icy surface.

  “You can let go of my hand now,” Jacob said in her ear. She was certain her nails would leave half-moon impressions on his skin.

  Ana removed her hand. She stared at Henri who’d reclined his seat into a bed within seconds of takeoff and now was seated in the upright position when the voice of the pilot filled the cabin asking them to prepare for landing. When the taciturn driver/bodyguard met them at the Marathon airport he’d revealed that he would accompany her and Jacob to the Bahamas, go with them to the resort and then return to the jet for the flight back to West Palm Beach.

  The jet came to a complete stop and the copilot emerged from the cockpit to lower the steps. Whenever she had flown in the company jet it had been with a crew that included the pilot, copilot and one or two att
endants. Tonight there were no attendants, just an armed bodyguard. Jacob told her he’d left his handgun in a safe in his apartment, and had only brought his passport, shield and photo ID.

  A limousine bearing the logo of the island resort on the passenger-side doors waited as they disembarked. Henri and Jacob transferred their luggage from the jet to the trunk of the limo and minutes later they were seated inside the luxury vehicle and heading toward the resort that had taken more than two years to complete.

  Henri closed the partition separating the rear of the limo from the driver. He handed Jacob an envelope, then ring boxes. “Starting now you’re Mr. and Mrs. Jacob Stephen Jones. The envelope contains a valid marriage license.” He held up a hand when Ana opened her mouth. “Please let me finish, Mrs. Jones,” he urged in French-accented English. “Mr. Cole-Thomas arranged everything, including your marriage in absentia. If you have any questions, then you will have to ask him once you return to the States. He told me to tell you that the marriage is legal and binding, and he’ll also arrange to annul it.” He nodded to Jacob. “Mr. Jones, I suggest you put your rings on now.”

  Ana closed her eyes, unable to believe what Diego had concocted. There was no doubt her cousin had instructed his bodyguard to wait until they were on the ground in the Bahamas to mention the sham of a wedding. Diego had to know she would’ve never agreed to a marriage of convenience if he’d presented it to her before their abrupt departure.

  Controlling and dictatorial; the two words didn’t begin to describe the CEO of ColeDiz. Her hand was trembling noticeably when Jacob reached for her left hand and slipped an unadorned platinum band on her third finger. He handed her his, and she repeated the gesture with the matching band. Ana didn’t want to ask Henri how Diego had gotten their ring sizes because his answer would only add to her annoyance as to Diego’s intrusion into her life. Had he, she mused, even spoken to her parents about his plan, or had he come up with it on his own?

  A slight gasp escaped her parted lips, and she temporarily forgot about being Mrs. Jones when a two-storied structure appeared, as if growing from the earth. Abundant plantings around the main house and smaller matching structures claimed the ocean as their playground. Even in the dark Ana recognized the exquisite architectural lines reminiscent of the grand plantations built under British Colonial rule.

  The driver maneuvered into a circular drive, got out and opened the rear door. Henri alighted first, then Ana, and finally Jacob. Flanked by the two men, she walked to the entrance with automatic sliding doors. The lobby was an indoor oasis with potted palms, trees and baskets of hanging orchids and other exotic flowers growing in wild abandon. A waterfall took up an entire wall, the sound of water flowing over rocks and into a large pool with schools of colorful fish was visually hypnotic.

  The colors of white and sea-foam green predominated, contrasting with white wicker sofas, love seats, chairs with seat cushions and accent pillows in the calming green hue. A white concert piano was positioned nearby in an area with a built-in bar and a dozen small round tables with pull-up chairs.

  A pale, middle-aged man wearing crisp white slacks and a green floral shirt with large white leaves came over to greet them. The green was the same shade as the seat cushions. Ana bit back a smile. There was no doubt Jacob would feel quite at home at the resort with his colorful print shirts.

  He inclined his head. “Good evening. I’m Shanley Osgood, resident manager of Cannamore,” he announced in a clipped British accent. He extended his hand to Jacob. “Welcome, Mr. Jones. Mr. Cole-Thomas told me you were coming with your wife.” He smiled at Ana. “Welcome, Mrs. Jones.” He then nodded to Henri. “Sir.”

  Henri inclined his shaved head. “Shanley.”

  “I’ve taken the liberty of giving Mr. and Mrs. Jones the guest cottage near the garden. Will you need assistance bringing in their luggage?” he asked Henri.

  “I believe your driver and I can manage,” Henri replied.

  Shanley ran a hand over his neatly brushed salt-and-pepper hair, then pinched the bridge of his nose. “I know you want to settle into your rooms, but I had the chef prepare a little repast just in case you wanted something to eat. The kitchen staff is available around the clock, so if you want or need anything just pick up the phone and dial the operator.”

  Jacob curved an arm around Ana’s waist. “My wife and I are looking forward to some rest and relaxation.”

  “This is what Cannamore is known for,” Shanley said with a practiced smile. “We do have a number of amenities you may take advantage of. There’s a golf course and several boats available if you wish to go sailing. And of course there is gear if you wish to go snorkeling or scuba diving. Most of our guests request anonymity, and every staff member adheres to that rule.”

  Ana and Jacob shared a smile. “Thank you, Mr. Osgood.”

  “You’re welcome, Mrs. Jones. If you’re ready I’ll show you to your cottage.”

  She held on to Jacob’s hand as they followed the manager outside of the main house and along a lighted path to the cottage partially concealed behind an outcropping of trees. The fragrant smell of flowers and ripening fruit mingling with salt water wafted in the night air.

  Shanley handed Jacob two card keys. “Our housekeeping staff will not enter your bungalow if your doors are locked. If you need housekeeping you may leave it unlocked or hang the placard on the handle outside the door.” He affected a slight bow. “Again I welcome you to Cannamore Cay.”

  Waiting until the manager retreated the way they’d come, Jacob swept Ana up in his arms. “Well, Mrs. Jones. Are you ready to be carried over the threshold?”

  Her arms went around his neck. “I didn’t know you were so traditional, Mr. Jones,” she crooned.

  Smiling, Jacob kissed her nose. “You just don’t know the half, m’ija.”

  Holding her effortlessly in his arms, he inserted the card key into the slot, waiting until the light glowed green, then shouldered the door open. Overhead lighting in the entryway glowed automatically. Slowly lowering Ana to stand, they walked into a living/dining room. Here sea-foam green was the dominant color with contrasting white accents. A sitting area with a sofa, love seats and chairs with footstools were positioned in front of a wall of glass that looked out on to the ocean. A flat screen and audio components sat on a mahogany credenza doubling as an entertainment unit. Large blocks of slate that made up the flooring were covered by area rugs woven in patterns to conform to the tropical setting.

  Ana walked ahead of him, turning to her right and entering a fully functional, modern, state-of-the-art eat-in kitchen. She read the placard on the granite countertop: This is an ecofriendly island. Please conserve water and recycle. She opened and closed cabinets and closets. There were dishes, glassware, flatware and a stackable washer/dryer.

  “Jacob, come and look at this.” When he joined her in kitchen she stood to one side while he peered into the fully stock refrigerator.

  He chuckled softly. “I think this is more than a little repast.” The tray on the lower shelf was filled with sliced pineapple, mango, strawberries and cheese, a tin of caviar and several bottles of champagne. “Very nice. We’re going to have to do a little celebrating before going to bed.”

  Ana closed the door to the refrigerator. “What are we celebrating?”

  He wiggled his eyebrows. “Our marriage, of course. You are Mrs. Jones, aren’t you?”

  “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

  Jacob took a step until they were less than a foot apart. “I’m not complaining. We are on vacation. Or should I say our honeymoon?”

  Ana stopped herself before she told Jacob that he, and not she, was on vacation. If she hadn’t had to flee the country she would’ve been joining her friends when they sailed to Puerto Rico. “You’re right. We are on vacation, so let’s make the best of it.”

  He noticed she’d cho
sen to ignore his reference to honeymoon. “That’s my girl.”

  “I’m going outside to look around.”

  “Don’t go too far,” Jacob warned at the same time a bell echoed throughout the cottage. “That must be our luggage.”

  It was only when Ana opened the French door to step outside that she realized that while she could see out the wall of glass she wasn’t able to see in from the exterior, which eliminated the need for drapes, shades or shutters.

  Strategically placed floodlights and solar lights lit up the path leading to the garden, while a full moon silvered the landscape. Sitting on a stone bench, Ana stared down into a man-made waterfall surrounded by palms and broad banana leaves. The sound of the incoming surf washing up on the beach, the incessant chirping of insects and an occasional croak from a frog had become a nocturnal symphony.

  The peace that had evaded her for days, hours and minutes swept over her as she sat motionless, eyes closed, and inhaled all that was Cannamore Cay. Here she didn’t have to hide under wigs and behind sunglasses. She didn’t have to constantly glance around her to see who was watching her, while silently praying she wouldn’t be recognized.

  Ana inhaled a lungful of air, held it, and then let it out slowly and opened her eyes. She’d escaped death, been given a second chance to live, dream and maybe even fall in love where she would have her own happily ever after. The thumb of her right hand touched the ring. She’d never envied her older brother and sister, believing they’d chosen to alter their lives and lifestyles when both had fallen in love and married.

  Gabriel had left Florida to live in Massachusetts, unaware he would fall in love with a woman who had been living a double life. Summer Montgomery had come to the high school where Gabriel was an artist-in-residence to teach musical theater, and as an undercover DEA agent to identify those responsible for selling drugs to students. Summer didn’t vacillate, giving up her gun and shield once Gabriel proposed. She’d traded the excitement of undercover assignments for marriage and motherhood. They were now the parents of two sons and a daughter—all under the age of five.