Drowning Tides

by Karen Harper

  7

  When Nick came out of the bathroom after his shower, Lexi was sound asleep, and Claire was standing by the sliding glass doors, looking out at the dark sea. He wore only jockey shorts and had an extra bath towel over one arm. She’d thrown a T-shirt over her knee-length nylon nightgown. She’d been agonizing, not only wishing they had a way to let Jace know they were all right, but about facing Nick on their wedding night.

  “Is she a sound sleeper?” he whispered, with a nod toward Lexi.

  Her heart thumped harder. “Usually. Almost as much as me.”

  “Good. Don’t want this to wake her.”

  He dropped his clothes on his carry-on bag and tossed the towel on the sofa bed where he’d said he’d sleep. Then he bent and shoved the sofa about five feet to block the door to the hall.

  “I think we’re in the clear,” he whispered. “But right now I’m trusting no one but you two. And Heck,” he added as he came to stand beside her at the glass doors. He was referring to Hector Munez, his tech guru from Naples who had helped them on the St. Augustine case and did a lot of Nick’s online research, including the frustrating task of trying to trace Ames and his spider’s web of companies. “I’ve got him searching for Paul Kilcorse’s permanent residence as well as Clayton Ames’s now.

  “Have you taken your night narcolepsy meds yet?” he whispered. “I know you skipped them last night, so you must be really strung out. But, I hope, the worst of this waking nightmare is over.”

  “Part of it, at least—until we really get out of here. No, I haven’t taken the meds yet tonight. You changed the airline tickets from the ones he bought for us?”

  “Yes. Midmorning flight out. And we’ll call for our own cab for once instead of just waiting for one that’s probably waiting for us. But first, soon as the sun’s up, the three of us will take a walk on the beach together. We can’t leave Grand Cayman without that. He’s not going to ruin—or run—everything for us. Want to sit out on the lanai for a few minutes?”

  “I know I said she sleeps well, but I don’t want her to wake up in a strange place without me in sight.”

  “Okay. I know you’re worried about Jace too. Frankly, so am I, but we can’t risk cell phone contact in case that lets them trace him.”

  “I thought I saw him on the beach, in disguise, looking like a bum when Lexi was coming in from flying the kite. But then when she said the guy who snatched her looked like him, I realized it could just have been another of Ames’s gofers. Like, you know, right now your job is to go kidnap a child.”

  “Listen. Jace is a big boy and insisted on coming. You said he’s been in tough spots, in combat.”

  “Yes, but he’s a pilot, not some undercover agent!”

  “Okay, okay.”

  He pulled her to him, maybe a mistake this time. Her breasts through the T-shirt and nightgown pressed flat against his crisp chest hair. Her hips tilted into his thighs. As exhausted as she was, her entire body came alert. Oh, no, but oh, yes. She cared for this man in more ways than one. Thank heavens he set her back fast and kept his hands on her shoulders, as if holding her away.

  Some wedding night, she thought. They certainly weren’t strangers, but they had not been lovers, and they had to figure out some rules and regs for this forced marriage—didn’t they? When they got back and could really hash things out, what would Nick want and expect? They would have to live together for appearance’s sake, to keep Ames’s spies at bay, to protect themselves and Lexi. She didn’t fully grasp what that devil was expecting of Nick and her either. She dreaded facing her family at home, probably having to lie to them, having to move, to uproot Lexi.

  “Don’t cry. I know things look dark in more ways than one,” Nick whispered, raising one hand to lift her chin.

  He gently rubbed his thumb along her sensitive lower lip she chewed too much when she was upset or scared. Her lips parted. He skimmed the slick part of her lower, inner lip. His hand smelled of pine-scented soap and his breath of mint. She felt prickly hot all over from his merest touch.

  “You know—like I said, we can work things out,” he went on, suddenly seeming to stumble for words. His gaze devoured her. “We’ll work together. I promise to take good care of both of you. I—we’ll take things slow between us,” he promised, his voice not only quiet now but rough.

  She began to tremble as she whispered, “We need to talk about what our marriage means. I won’t hold you to it once we do what he says, once you can get him arrested or whatever it takes to stop him. But that means we have to be so careful now.”

  “If I’m too careful, you will drive me crazy. Good night, wife. Let’s both get some sleep, so I don’t do something out of my mind right now.”

  He kissed her hastily but hard on her mouth, reached down to pat her bottom and headed to the sofa bed in front of the door. He yanked the single throw pillow there under his head and flapped the big bath towel over himself, waist to feet.

  Claire hurried to the bed and downed the dose of her bitter-tasting sedative on the bedside table. Surely her narcolepsy, the medicine and her physical and emotional exhaustion would knock her out.

  She carefully tugged the sheet Lexi had pulled away over both of them. The room had seemed cool before but not now.

  For once she didn’t sleep right away. She was worried about Jace, but it was Nick’s tossing and turning and heavy breathing that made her thoughts and heart race.

  * * *

  Jace’s captors half dragged, half marched him through the wrought iron gates of Nightshade, into the service entrance of the house. In what was obviously a laundry room, they turned on the overhead light and tied his arms and legs to a wooden chair with a couple of clotheslines from a plastic basket. The small, windowless room held a washer, dryer, sorting table and one chair beside his.

  “Go tell the boss,” one goon said to the other.

  “I have others who know I’m here,” Jace told the man who stayed with him.

  “Yeah, well, I do too and I’m betting on them,” he said, going through Jace’s pockets. Luckily, he’d taken his ID info out. His passport was still in the plane parked in a rented hangar. Man, he’d really blown this but when he’d seen those pictures of Claire and Markwood—with Lexi—getting married he’d lost his mind, lost control.

  The man pulled out the key to the motorbike, the one to his room, American dollars and his cell phone. “We know who you are and where you’re from,” he said. “But I’ll let the boss decide where you’re going.”

  Jace’s insides did a nosedive. What if this Clayton Kilcorse-Ames was not only a kidnapper but a killer? Blinded by his passion to save Lexi and help Claire, he had not realized it could come to this. Could they still be on the premises? He figured not or he would have been gagged as well as tied in case he shouted for help.

  His guard turned on his cell phone and started to skim through something on it. He stopped a moment to lay the keys and cash on the washing machine and sat down in the other chair to glare at the phone.

  “Nice pics you got of the outside of Nightshade from across the street,” the guy said. “Looking to buy multimillion-dollar property here? Coupla good ones of the balcony with the party.”

  “Were you at the wedding?” Jace dared to ask.

  “Part of the reception. Great coconut shrimp and lobster with hot sauce,” the guy replied as if they were just buddies shooting the breeze. But when he’d been hustled in here, pressed between the two goons, he’d felt both carried pistols under their jackets.

  Jace tried to get more out of him, but the guy clammed up. He wasn’t sure how long he waited. He had no idea what time of night it was and couldn’t see his watch. Finally, he heard footsteps in the hall. The door opened. A short, white-haired man stood there in a white terry cloth robe over what looked like black silk pajamas. He motioned for t
he man guarding Jace to step out in the hall, where he also glimpsed the other man. They closed the door, and Jace faced the man he assumed was Clayton Ames alone.

  “Well, the third leg of the triumvirate,” the man—the boss—said. “That is, if we don’t count your little girl, Lexi.”

  “Is she all right? Did you let her and Claire go home?”

  “And your nemesis Nick Markwood, Claire’s new husband. You see, he’s my nemesis too, so I think you and I might be able to do business, Jason—Jace—Britten. Frankly, I can use a man of your skills and connections. You can call me Mr. Kilcorse as I’m known around here.”

  “Yeah, well, Mr. Kilcorse-Ames, I’m previously employed. I’m an international airline pilot, but I suppose you know all that. You’re the one who sent me the photos of Claire and Markwood together when they were in St. Augustine.”

  “Brilliant deduction. I see we have your cell phone, so I’ll be sure to send you a few of the wedding pictures.”

  “I’ve seen some and that was enough.”

  “I’m sure you’d like a few reminders of why you’ll want to work for me. But to answer your first question, Lexi is fine, a little charmer. She will be going back to Naples soon, with her mother and new stepfather. And I need you to leave that alone, for now, at least.”

  “Meaning what? And why would I work for you?”

  “Ah, let me count the reasons. One, because you like to fly and are a skilled pilot and are likely to be asked to take a leave from your assignment flying to Singapore, which you like so much. By the way, Singapore’s getting to be quite a tax haven, and I’d like to have a man on my payroll who knows his way around there. I might have you fly me there yourself. Much better than those crowded public planes, even in first class.”

  “I’m not on that run anymore. I’ve asked for assignments closer to home, so if you don’t know that, you’re slipping.”

  “Actually, I think the airline has pegged you as unstable in general.”

  Jace just gaped at him. This guy thought he was God, with his all-knowing information—or just the opposite of God, Satan himself.

  His captor went on, “You’d be best off flying a second new Learjet I just bought. It seats eight, and for long flights you’d have a copilot, not be one. I’d pay you about four times the salary you’ve been making now with a big bonus up front. You can keep the Lear in Naples until I need it somewhere, keep an eye on your little girl and ex-and-future wife if you play your cards right.”

  “Future wife? What the hell are you talking about?”

  “By your dangerous presence here, you’ve proved you love your daughter and would risk anything for her, and I believe, despite your frustration and anger, you feel that way about your ex too. You’ll never get Lexi away from Claire or really be a part of their lives unless by eventually marrying her again. Oh, let me tell you, Nick Markwood is a take-charge guy in every way. But who would Claire and Lexi run to if it doesn’t work out with Nick or if something happened to him?”

  “You’re not—not thinking I’d kill him for you?”

  “Of course not. You’d be the first one they’d look at. But I am thinking that the third reason you’ll work secretly for me is that if you don’t agree, I’ll have the two gentlemen who brought you here take you out in a boat to Cemetery Reef and feed you to the fish. Now let’s talk business.”

  * * *

  “I wish my daddy was flying this plane,” Lexi told Nick as their flight took off from Grand Cayman the next morning.

  Claire silently wished he was too, that she knew he was all right, at least.

  “I’m sure he’s a very good pilot,” Nick said.

  Lexi was in the seat between them with Claire next to the window. They had made a few hasty plans during their beach walk earlier this morning and agreed again not to talk about serious strategies until they were home. They’d learned to put nothing past Clayton Ames, including trusting no one on the plane, even if Nick had arranged the tickets.

  Claire was grateful he was handling Lexi so well. She sighed and pressed her forehead to the window and watched below as the plane circled to head north. In a stretch of blue-green water, she glimpsed the outline of what might be one of the many wrecked ships that had run aground on the rocks or reefs here over the years.

  “Lots of sailboats out today, and new cruise ships are putting in,” she observed.

  “I like boats,” Lexi said. “Ones with sails like big wings, lots bigger than Tinker Bell’s wings in Peter Pan.”

  “So you like boats?” Nick asked her. “You know, that gives me an idea about where we could live for a while. And it would be lots of fun.”

  Claire’s head snapped around. If he meant on a boat, at least that might keep Ames’s lackeys and their eyes and ears away from them.

  “But your boat isn’t big,” she said.

  “No, but I know someone whose boat is.”

  “Mr. Kilcorse doesn’t like boats,” Lexi said, still holding her green stuffed turtle they had checked again for listening devices, though Nick intended to have it x-rayed too. “Just like Daddy, he likes airplanes. I heard him talking on his cell phone, walking back and forth. He was telling someone he had to pay a lot of money to fly into Cubes.”

  “Cubes?” Nick asked. “Could he mean Cuba?”

  “Maybe. They locked me in a bedroom and said to sleep but I was too scared and peeked and listened under the door. And then he said—”

  “Okay, enough for now,” Nick said with a pointed look at Claire. “You and Mommy and I will talk about this later.”

  Claire nodded. It was going to be interesting to use her forensic psychologist training to depose her own daughter as a witness. She’d vowed she was all in to help Nick solve his two cases. One, what was Ames up to and how could they expose and stop him? They had to get something on Ames so the FBI or IRS could step in.

  And two, she’d told Nick she’d question witnesses or people of interest in the so-called Mangrove Murder case he’d promised to take to defend his friend. So much for her promise to herself that, after surviving the St. Augustine murder/suicide case, her next Clear Path assignment would be for a local department store that wanted her to question office workers about possible embezzlement.

  While Lexi had skipped shells into the water this morning, Claire had told him that she’d help. This trip to Grand Cayman had been bad enough but communist, Castro-held Cuba? That sounded more risky than any other offshore hideout Ames could have holed up in.

  Since Nick had said that Ames just disappeared sometimes, could it be to Cuba? The place was off-limits for American businesses and visitors, but Claire knew Cuba had tourists from Canada, so an American could surely sneak in, especially one with money and clout. She’d ask Nick if people had to do big business with the Castro brothers to get a foothold there. No one was going to play with people’s lives—forcing them to marry, kidnapping children—not if she could help it. She knew Nick was dedicated to that devil’s demise, and surely Jace was too.

  As if Nick had read her thoughts, he leaned over Lexi and said in a quiet voice, “I’ll get Heck on it, since he has Cuban heritage, but I’ve learned to put nothing past ‘Uncle Clay.’”

  “I see that now. I understand.”

  “Do we have to whisper?” Lexi asked. “I can’t hear good with the sound the jet engines make. And I know we’re not there yet, ’cause Daddy says you can always tell when you’re going down to land. Mr. Nick—I mean, Nick—sometimes Mommy says, don’t keep asking this, but are we there yet?”

  “Mommy is absolutely right,” Nick said with a laser beam look at Claire. “We are definitely not there yet but we’re going to be soon, in more ways than one.”

  8

  “You did what?” Claire’s sister, Darcy, cried. She jumped up to close the kitchen door to the livi
ng room where their daughters were playing.

  “It’s no secret. Lexi knows, and she’s happy with it,” Claire insisted, crossing her arms over her chest. “We just got back last night, and I didn’t want to tell you over the phone. I’m surprised Lexi didn’t blurt it out. It was all rather rushed, but—yes, Nick and I got married in Grand Cayman at the house of a—a friend of his.”

  Her blue eyes wide in her freckled face, Darcy collapsed in her seat across the kitchen table and raked her fingers through her spiky blond hair. “Claire, you eloped once before but you were young and crazy. And look what happened to you and Jace—”

  “That’s way in the past. I wanted you to know about this.”

  “How thoughtful, after the fact, after all we’ve been through together. So you won’t be an almost neighbor to us anymore. How can I watch Lexi for you, how can the girls stick together—how can we?” Her voice rose to a shrill pitch and tears clumped her eyelashes together.

  “I’m so sorry I let you down—all of you, Steve and Drew too. But it was—it happened and it was necessary, and you’ll just have to trust me on th—”

  “Necessary! You’re pregnant?” she gasped. Finally, Darcy leaned across the table and reached for Claire’s clenched hands when her body language before had been stern and standoffish. One of Claire’s skills was reading body language and Darcy was hurt as well as mad.

  “No, not that kind of necessary,” Claire assured her.

  “I guess not, now that I think of it.” Darcy sat back again. “You’ve barely known the man three weeks. You could be pregnant, but you wouldn’t know this fast. Don’t tell me you married him for his money. For financial security? You said you were going to build your consulting company. But it looks to me like you can’t even walk a straight line right now, let alone a clear path. You’ve been bound and determined to be self-sufficient. I get it that the guy is Nick Markwood, eligible bachelor, great-looking, well-off and all that but—I—I just wish I’d been there.”