by Tia Louise
She leans across the bed to peck my lips. “See you in a few short hours.”
“I have a better idea.” Throwing the blankets back, I’m across the room and pulling a pair of jeans over my hips. “I’ll drive you.”
Her full lips twist, and she shakes her head. “Seth is too paranoid.”
“I don’t like that guy,” I say, pulling on a thin navy sweater.
“Don’t worry. I can handle Seth.” She disappears into the bathroom and I hear running water and the sound of her brushing her teeth.
Reaching up, I rake my fingers through my hair before following her into the luxury space and doing likewise.
“Then I’ll drive you into town and pick you up when you’re done.”
We’re finished, and I get a minty kiss. “Deal,” she says with a little grin.
I catch her before we leave in a long hug, closing my eyes and memorizing the feel of her small body against mine. My fiancée. My Zee. It’s perfect.
9
Betrayal
Zelda
We’re in Road Town at the very spot where Seth left me our first night on the island. That night, at two a.m., it had been deserted and empty, with long shadows and ominous, dark alleys. I’d been so angry at Seth for walking off and leaving me here alone.
Now, in the light of day, it’s simply a bustling tourist market. The streets are lined with souvenir stores, clothing stores, jewelry stores, and little kiosks with hair wraps and alcoholic slushies. I look ahead two blocks to where my old hotel was situated while Cal peruses the signs.
“Samarkand or Little Switzerland?” he asks.
Our fingers are entwined, palms pressed together, and I evaluate the competing jewelry stores. “Exotic or more conservative?”
“Switzerland has a higher GDP, which means I might get the better deal at Samarkand.”
That twinkle is in his eye, and I step into him, lifting my chin for a kiss. “Surprise me.”
“Here.” Pulling us up short, I watch him take a small gold coin from his pocket and place it in a red gumball machine.
A few twists, and out pops a clear plastic container. Inside is a copper band with an American flag etched on it in red, white, and blue.
“It’s so pretty!” I exclaim.
“It’s tin,” Cal says as he slides it on the third finger of my left hand and presses the adjustable band until it fits. “How does that feel?”
Tilting my hand side to side, I admire the painted enamel. “It’s so cute for something in a gumball machine.”
“Does it fit?” he asks, and I nod still admiring the trinket. “Take it off.”
My chin jerks up. “I want to wear it!”
He laughs, catching my waist. “You can wear it after I use it to size your real ring.”
“It’s the first piece of jewelry you’ve ever bought me.” I make a little pouty face, and he laughs.
“It won’t be the last, and I’m not giving you a tin engagement ring.”
“It’s like the one they had engraved in Breakfast at Tiffany’s.”
“I think that one was plain tin.”
“Get another one.” I clutch my hand to my chest. “I want to keep this one.”
Digging in his pocket he laughs. “It’ll turn your finger green.”
I watch as he repeats the process of small coin, turn the dial, out pops another plastic container. This time when he opens it, it’s a dull silver ring. He frowns at it.
“See! It’s one of a kind! I’ll never take it off.”
“Must’ve been in there fifty years.” He reaches for my hand and pulls the first ring off, using the second, dull one for sizing before sliding it back.
“Zelda Wilder, will you take this American flag ring, which isn’t even the flag of my country, to be my wife?”
“Since I am an American, and it is my flag?” I put my arms around his neck and peck his lips. “I will!”
His hands slide down and cup my butt, and I laugh as a tingle of heat surges in my lower stomach. “Text me when you’re done. I’ll be here.”
“This shouldn’t take long.” Another brief kiss, and I head off in the direction of Seth’s hotel. “Five blocks this way,” I say to myself, lifting my hand and examining the cute little ring.
It might be tin, but it has so much significance to me. I kiss it and continue walking, looking up at the palm trees, the blue sky overhead. Optimism is a new mood for me, but I love the feeling. Even thinking about the coming months doesn’t scare me. I’ll see Ava again. I want to talk to her and see her well and happy—not like the last time I saw her.
The memory of my beautiful little sister pale and weak in a hospital bed dampens my otherwise happy mood, but I hastily shake it away. Cal said she’s completely recovered! She’s at the palace with Rowan and the country loves her.
“Of course they do,” I say softly to myself, reading the signs as I pass.
I notice none of the buildings are taller than the palm trees, and I vaguely recall Seth saying something about that when we were driving down the first time, before we took the unexpected detour into St. Croix.
The black American Express card is in my clutch, and I pick up the pace a bit, wanting to be done with this obligation and running back to Cal in as little time as needed.
I pass a sign for a crafts store and another that says Simply Delicious. “I suppose that’s a restaurant.” Wrong, it’s a market.
At last I see the sign for Maria’s. It’s a two-story white structure that faces the shore. I’m approaching it from the opposite side, and it’s larger than I expected. I was expecting a private residence or a small, five to six bedroom establishment.
“Leave it to Seth to give himself the better room,” I say under my breath.
The hotel lobby is like the entrance to an embassy—or the waiting room of a nice hospital. Square, navy leather chairs are positioned around the space, mixed in with potted palms. A large check-in counter is staffed with locals in white shirts with navy epaulets on the shoulders and little hats. It takes me a moment to recognize the nautical theme.
Pulling out my phone, I text Seth. I’m in the lobby. Let’s get this over with.
I walk over to one of the low chairs and sit while I wait for his response. It doesn’t take long. Give me just a second. I’ll come down and get you.
I’m growing irritated. I don’t understand why he played games the first night, considering we were right on the shoreline. It’s like he walked me further into town just to hide where he was staying. What kind of bullshit are you up to, Seth? I muse. Why would he feel the need to hide his location?
The optimism I discovered only moments ago dims, and my survival instinct rises in my chest. Something feels wrong here. Standing, I’m about to cut out and reschedule, taking Cal up on his offer to escort me here next time, when the elevator door opens, and I see my partner in crime emerge.
He’s dressed in dark jeans and that same long-sleeved navy sweater he had on when we left Monagasco. His eyes dart around the lobby as he looks for me, and I survey his body language. I’ve worked with Seth for years, and when he’s pulling a stunt, his shoulders hunch and his green eyes dart around the perimeter looking for cops. It’s his tell, and he’s doing it right now. I’m on my feet stepping around a palm when his eyes hit mine.
His auburn brow lowers and his jaw sets. “Zee.” His voice is low, and he makes a beeline for me.
That does it. I’m out of here. I do a quick step to the side, keeping as many chairs, sofas, palm trees, and trash cans between him and me as possible as I head for the door.
“Stop,” he hisses, darting to the side, trying to catch me. “What are you doing?”
“You’re not at someone’s house. What is this?”
I’m out of obstacles between us, and I’m going to have to make a break for the door, but he’s on me. His iron grip closes around my upper arm so tight, I wince.
“OW!” I exclaim, and he squeezes me harder.
“Shut up,” h
e snaps, continuing to the door and pushing outside.
Now I’m really panicking. “What are you doing?”
It’s the only thing I’m able to say before a black SUV pulls up beside us and the doors open. I jerk and try to feint right, but it’s too late. Seth shoves me inside, following right behind. The doors are still open when I see a face that shoots ice through my stomach.
Sitting in the passenger’s seat, wearing a navy suit, his greasy, black hair slicked back and his thin mustache twisting is Wade Paxton.
“We meet again, Miss Wilder,” he says, and I immediately start to scream.
“NO!” I thrust away, charging across Seth’s lap for the still-open door.
A tall man, beefy and hairy as a gorilla steps into the empty space. He’s wearing a black suit and a scowl, and with a hand the size of my face, he shoves me backwards as if I were a doll, into the truck. The door slams shut.
“Nice work, Mr. Hines,” Wade Paxton says.
“Let me out,” Seth’s voice is urgent. “This is as far as I agreed to go.”
“Of course,” Paxton says, extending a hand to my ex-partner in crime. “I believe you wanted her card?”
Seth snatches my purse and digs inside, taking the American Express card.
“You fucking liar!” I lunge forward, slapping him as hard as I can.
Seth’s green eyes flash, and he grabs me by the throat, slamming me against the opposite door. The handle jams into my back painfully, and my eyes water as he leans into my face.
“Don’t fuck with me, Zelda Wilder! You’re the liar. There’s twenty thousand on this card. You said it was only ten.”
“You’re a bastard!” I struggle against his chokehold on my neck.
He releases me and starts for the door, but I push off, right behind him. “You’ll regret this!”
“Stop her,” Wade says calmly, and Gorilla Man has my shoulder in his meaty fist, pulling me back.
My survival instinct kicks in. Never go with a kidnapper to a second location.
“I’M BEING KIDNAPPED!” I shout as loud as possible while the door is open. “IN THE BLACK SUV! THEY’RE TAKING ME AGAINST MY—”
BAM! Lights explode behind my eyes as Wade’s hand smacks across my face. I fall to the floor of the vehicle, and my mouth fills with the coppery taste of blood.
“SHUT UP!” Wade snarls. “Reginald Winchester is not here to protect you, and I’d advise you to be still and be quiet or I will cut you.”
He hit me so hard, it takes me a moment to regain my bearings. I blink several times before I’m able to see the grey-carpeted floor. Blood is in my mouth, and a towel is shoved over my face quickly. Something else… Moving my lips, I work the hard object around until I pull out…
“A tooth,” I mumble through swollen, slippery lips.
It’s a small tooth. Without a mirror, I can only guess it’s from beside my canines.
“Give it to me.” Wade snatches it away. More blood in my mouth. He shoves the towel harder at me. “Stop that bleeding.”
I take it from him and pull myself onto the back seat again. “Where are you taking me?”
“That is none of your concern.”
We’re moving at a steady clip down the road. I’m injured, but I don’t feel any pain, only adrenaline. Outside the windows I see trees and vegetation on the roadside. My heart beats painfully hard and my cheek pulses in time with my fear. I watch frantically as mile after mile goes by, and I’m taken further from Road Town, further from Cal waiting in the little shopping area.
Cal… it’s a plaintiff cry in my mind and tears heat my eyes. I want Cal…
Gorilla Man is to my left. Another, black-suited man is driving. Wade is in the passenger’s side on his smartphone when the vehicle slows at what looks like a stop sign. Without hesitating, I lunge for the door, gripping the handle and pulling. It could be my only chance.
The door doesn’t budge. The rear door locks are disabled.
“NO!” I scream, jerking it over and over. Tears are slick on my face, and I throw all my weight against the door.
“Deal with her,” Wade orders.
His words echo in the small space, and I’m fumbling with the power window mechanism. It’s also locked.
Movement behind me. I barely have time to glance over my shoulder when Gorilla Man closes the space between us, brow lowered. His bottom jaw juts out, and he looks like a true ape swinging his meaty fist almost faster than I can see it. It slams into my temple, and everything goes black.
10
Regrets
Cal
Samarkand is elaborately designed with striking mosaics in an assortment of turquoise, sea, and royal blues. Pointed arches line the walls, and the jewelry cases are low, square boxes arranged in a maze around the room.
I enter, and a few clusters of obvious tourists are ahead of me looking at the array of Rolex watches and glittering cocktail rings. I stroll to the one filled with diamond engagement rings and pause. A beautiful art-deco style ring with a square setting and what look like tiny angel’s wings flaring on each corner catches my eye. It’s perfect.
A salesman in a white linen coat and pants approaches me smiling. He is clean-shaven and wears a black skullcap.
“May I help you, sir?” He smiles and does a little bow.
“I like this setting.” Pointing in the case, I fish in my pocket and pull out the dull tin ring. “I need it in this size.”
His brow lowers and he squints, taking the piece of tin from my fingers. “You did not get this in our store.”
“No, actually, it came out of a gumball machine,” I say with a smile.
Black eyes dart up to mine. “A… gumball machine?”
I haven’t been addressed with such disgust since my mother saw the photo of me snorting coke off the toned ass of an unidentified supermodel. I can’t help wishing Zelda were here, since she is the one who mentioned Breakfast at Tiffany’s.
“It’s just outside the store,” I happily turn and point to the door, but the man shakes his head and raises his eyebrows as if I’ve offended him.
“It matters not,” he says.
“Either way, I didn’t know the lady’s ring size. It was my only idea.”
He shrugs. “It will have to do. Now, which one did you say?”
“This one here, the rose-gold art-deco—”
“Ahh!” he clasps his hands. “An excellent choice, sir!”
I take that to mean I’ve just picked out the most expensive piece in the entire shop, but I don’t give a shit. Only the best for my girl.
“If you could just be sure it matches that size,” I say. “How soon will it be ready?”
He looks over my shoulder. “Will you be staying overnight? I can have it sized, polished, and gift wrapped for you by tomorrow morning?”
It’s not what I had in mind for our lunch date today, but I like the attention to detail. “What time tomorrow?”
We’re settled up, and I have the claim ticket in my pocket as I sit outside in the warm afternoon sun. Pulling out my phone, I notice it’s been more than an hour. Tightness moves across my shoulders, and I look up the street in the direction I last saw Zelda headed. She’d been so pretty in her halter dress. Her pale blonde hair was styled away from her face in that cute, messy bun, and I smile remembering how excited she’d been about a silly piece of tin.
Opening my messenger, I tap out a text. Did you get lost looking at ur first piece of jewelry?
Leaning back, I wait for her reply. A cool breeze sweeps through the courtyard, and I watch a slim woman with skin the color of milk chocolate dance to a classic Billy Joel song. “Zanzibar.”
Examining my palm, I try to dismiss the tightness in my chest at the delay in Zelda’s reply. It’s been longer than she said, but perhaps it took longer to transfer the money than she thought it would?
Looking again up the street in the direction I last saw her walking away from me, I don’t like the uneasiness settling in my
gut. I push off my knees and start to walk the direction she went. My hands are in my pockets, and I’m taking a leisurely pace. I’ll meet her on the way back. I don’t want her to think I’m going to be one of those helicopter husbands always checking up on her if she’s the slightest bit late.
I’m a block from where I was sitting, about to cross the street, when a black Mercedes cuts me off with a screech. Anger tightens my throat, and I’m about to shout at the driver when the door opens and Logan stands out of the driver’s side.
“Sir!” His voice is sharp, and a lead weight is in my stomach.
Pulling the rear door open, I’m in the car before he’s had a chance to say another word. “What happened?”
Freddie is in the passenger’s seat, and he turns to face me. “We’ve just received a communiqué from Wade Paxton.” His voice is grave, and the skin on my forehead tightens.
“What does it say?” I ask, my voice flat.
His eyes are full of concern, and he looks down. “It says, ‘When you’re ready to discuss terms, we’ll be waiting.’”
My voice is a notch below a shout. “What the fuck does that mean?”
“I’m sorry, sir.” He turns his phone to me, and the image on the face almost makes me lose it.
“Stop the car!” I shout, and Logan immediately pulls onto the shoulder.
I’m out of the vehicle in a flash, pacing the small space between the car and the road. My hands are clutched in my hair, and all I can think is No, No, NO!!!!
On the face of Freddie’s phone is a grainy photo of my love sitting on a brown tile floor against a dirty beige wall. Her hands are tied behind her back, and a black sleep mask is over her eyes. Her pretty hair is messy, but what guts me is the palm-sized purple mark on the side of her face and the brown stain of blood on her mouth.
“Jesus!” I shout, bending at the waist. How the fuck could I be such a fucking idiot? How could I let her go alone like that to meet that bastard? “If anything happens to her, I’ll never forgive myself.”
“Sir?” Logan approaches me with slow, measured steps. “I’ve already alerted His Royal Highness of the situation, and we’ve gained access to the security cameras at the hotel where she went to meet that man. We’ll find her, Sir.”
