by Payne, Lyla
Once the plates had been cleared, Blair cleared her throat. “There is one more thing, Uncle Xander.”
“There’s always one more thing with you, girl. Out with it.”
“If you talk to my father, please don’t tell him I was here. He might be upset with me for missing the last couple weeks of school.”
“Aw, you know I never rat you out to your pops. What he don’t know won’t hurt him, and your daddy knows everything he needs to know about you.”
We all got up and Blair gave him a hug. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I’ll meet you at the docks in the morning with your cash, and get the keys for the car, too.”
“Can you meet us there in an hour? We were hoping to catch the last boat to Athens tonight so we can grab a flight to Jamaica tomorrow.”
My eyebrows went up before I could stop them. We had been planning to go back to the beach, to spend one more night in our pretend world before moving forward, but apparently she’d changed her mind at some point. I didn’t know when, but I could guess: somewhere between that mysterious phone call and Xander talking too much about her relationship with her father.
“I can send one of my boys. No way I’m running anywhere after that feast. Delicious, as usual.” He tossed a few extra coins down on the table, even though he’d already left a generous tip, then kissed Blair on the side of the head. “You guys be safe.”
He walked off, guffawing at his own double entendre all the way out the front of the restaurant. Blair and I stood until the sound of his laughter faded, then I glanced down to find her looking up at me.
“We’re leaving tonight?”
“I think we should get going. It’s too easy here to forget why we’re together.”
She started to walk off, but I grabbed her hand to make her stop. “Why are we together, Blair? I thought it was because we were enjoying it.”
Her eyes closed, then opened. Just like that, she was the detached girl who had come to get me in Melbourne. But, as with her expression at the table, there was something else trying to push out from underneath. It said she had changed, but wasn’t ready to admit it yet. Or perhaps that was what I wanted to see.
“I’m enjoying it, Sam. I am. I just … we set out to accomplish something, and longer we sit around soaking up the sun and having sex on the beach, the farther we are from reaching our goal.” Her eyes pleaded with me to understand. “We need to find my dad. So we can get your money back, and so I can get my life back.”
“You said that you wanted to find your dad so you could turn him in, so you could put all of that out of your head and get on with your life.” My gut tightened at the question bubbling up from the depths. “Are you still part of your father’s schemes? Is that what Xander meant by you keeping in practice? Is that why you really want the authorities to put a stop to him?” I hated that she wouldn’t look at me. “It’s wrong of him to ask you to do that, if it’s true. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”
She snorted, then walked away, tracing Xander’s path out the front door of the restaurant. I followed her onto the street and down the steps to the water, until we were both sweaty and out of breath. Only then did she turn and look me in the eye. “You don’t have to worry about me, Sam. We’re having fun together. This is easy. Don’t make it hard.”
“Don’t make it hard by trying to actually be your friend, you mean? It’s okay if you let me between your legs, but the rest of your insides are off-limits?” The crude comment made me cringe the moment it left my lips, but it was too late to take it back. I didn’t think I wanted to, anyway.
“That’s about the size of things. Take it or leave it.” She stuck her chin out, challenging me.
We both knew I would take it. Somewhere along this road she had wriggled her way under my skin, and even though it had always seemed certain that we would part ways at the end of our adventure, I wasn’t ready for that day to be today.
But no matter what Blair thought, no matter how much distance she thought she’d kept between us, there were holes in her armor that, for some reason, I could see through.
I sensed her fear—I just didn’t know what scared her.
“Okay, Blair. Let’s go to Athens tonight. And then we’re flying to … ?”
“Jamaica,” she said, looking me in the eye hard enough for me to catch a flicker of relief.
Our next, and maybe last, destination had to be at least two days away. Two more days for me to try to make the holes bigger, until I could see enough to figure out whether or not Blair’s mysterious fear was unfounded, or whether it would make me feel better about the inevitable end.
Chapter 17
Blair
It had been another long day. Another twenty-plus hour flight, though at least the one from Athens to Kingston was direct. Unlike our first hellacious and never-ending trip, from Melbourne to Austria, Sam decided not to take advantage of his prescription sleeping pills. I was torn between wanting his company for every second of these last couple of days and wishing he would sleep so that I could feel guilty in peace.
There had been a slew of text messages on my backup phone after Xander had it activated. A bunch from Audra, just checking in. Two from different professors letting me know what final projects had been assigned. Two cryptic messages, one from Kennedy Gilbert and one from Cole Stuart, with strangely similar wording, piqued my interest, but one from my father drove any thought of getting involved in Whitman drama from my head.
There are better ways to get the rest of Bradford’s money. You have two days to get it done, or I’m going a different direction. I’ll call for the update 12/2.
He’d only sent one, because he wouldn’t deign to tell me anything twice. One was enough to remind me why Sam and I had come together, and that pretending otherwise would hurt us both. Being with him, feeling the physical manifestation of our connection, had been the tipping point. I couldn’t treat him like everyone else when he wasn’t like anyone else. Regardless of my change of heart, my determination to help Sam instead of steal from him, it wouldn’t alter the outcome. Sam would find out the truth, and this—pretend or real—would be over.
December 2nd was tomorrow. We’d land in Jamaica in the next twenty minutes, according to the pilot. We needed to find a boat and haul ass to the Caymans, come up with a plan, and confront my dad before my deadline expired. I thought seeing the two of us in the flesh, maybe looking at my face and glimpsing even just a fraction of how much I liked Sam, would convince him to drop the act. If not, I was prepared to threaten to go to the authorities with all of the information I had accumulated over the years.
I thought. It would implicate me, too, but there were things such as immunity, right?
Maybe I watched too much television, but all my years of conning wouldn’t go to waste. I could play the poor, abused little girl forced to participate in her daddy’s games or get tossed into the street. It might have even been true, once. Before I started to like the challenge.
I glanced at Sam, taking advantage of his fascination with the island landing to watch him without being caught. He had a gorgeous, strong profile, and his brown hair curled a bit at the ends now that it was too long. If he looked at me, his eyes would poke holes in all of the misdirection and sarcasm that served me well as protection with other people. Even so, I loved his eyes.
Every guy I’d ever dated had been good-looking. Especially Flynn. But, that’s all they had been—shiny toys I’d picked up, then tossed aside when they grew boring. While Sam was handsome by anyone’s standards, it surprised me to realize his looks were the last thing I would use to describe him, and far from my favorite thing about him. Mostly it was his patience. His surprising determination and depth. His easygoing personality and wry sense of humor.
Not that I didn’t enjoy his body. I thought that I could spend years learning every groove, and never tire of how it tensed and rippled under my fingers. The weight of him on top of me, watching his eyes
close in pleasure, feeling his hands squeezing my hips—the experience had been almost surreal. Otherworldly. As though fitting together with another person so well, so easily, couldn’t quite be real.
Spending another night having sex in that boat would have pushed me over the line—one where there was no way he wouldn’t take my heart with him when he went. I had no illusions that these twenty-four hours would end without Sam learning the real reason I’d come to get him, the real reason I’d dragged him halfway around the world. My father would rat me out, or I would have to do it myself in order to get Sam’s money back.
But that was the most important goal. Get Sam’s money back. If I could accomplish that, I would go back to doing my dad’s bidding for the next two years. Sam had poured his heart and soul into his career for way longer than that. He deserved the money more than I did my freedom.
For the first time in my entire life, the right thing to do was more important than what my father wanted, than what would keep me safe. It was more important than the knowledge that Sam would hate me. Keeping him with a lie would be so much worse than fixing this and letting him go.
Sam’s hand found mine, startling me out of my head. I realized he’d caught me looking, and when he gave me a sly smile a lump formed in my throat. My eyes burned, but I didn’t look away.
His gaze turned concerned. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I think I’m just sorry this is almost over.”
“Really? You’re going to miss the two-day flights, the dirty trains, smelly buses, hostels and bedbugs?”
I forced a smile. “Don’t forget the balcony jumping.”
“How could I?”
My heart had leapt into my throat when my confession had spilled free that not only did I know this was about to be over, but that it made me sad. Maybe nothing could come of this relationship, even in perfect circumstances, but the ferocity with which I wanted to try to hold on to it terrified me.
It had come out of nowhere. Chemistry had turned into friendship had turned into attraction had turned into … was turning into more. The thought of not being able to turn and talk to Sam made the lump throb. Tears pricked my eyes. “I’m going to miss you, that’s all.”
“Holy shit.” He unbuckled his seat belt even though the wheels hadn’t touched down, pulling me into his arms in one swift movement. “I can’t believe it.”
“Believe what? After all of this, after the other night, you didn’t think I would miss you?” I mumbled the words against his shoulder, trying so hard not to cry.
He pulled back, thumbs smoothing the heat of my cheeks. “Honestly, Blair? I didn’t think I’d hear about it one way or the other. You’re so … bottled up. After the other night in that boat, there was no denying the way we’re connected, but I didn’t expect you to admit it.”
“I didn’t expect me to admit it, either.”
“This doesn’t have to be the end, Blair. I know my schedule is crazy and you have two years of school left, we still have to figure out your dad and everything. But as stupid as it sounds, I’ve never felt this way about anyone—like nothing would be real if I couldn’t tell you about it. Don’t give up before we give it a try.”
It sounded wonderful, coming out of his mouth. The way he described it, like life would feel wrong if we couldn’t share it, mirrored the desperate desire to keep him that was ripping apart my own heart. The memory of my dad’s text message trampled the joy threatening to burst me open. There were too many things Sam didn’t know. I was falling for him, but I knew the real him. The girl Sam thought he was falling for wasn’t the girl who had spent the last ten days at his side—not totally.
He couldn’t possibly want to rearrange his life to include Blair the con-artist liar.
Sam watched me, a cautious hope in his posture, fingers gripping my waist. I wanted to make him happy, but more than that, I didn’t want to lie to him ever again. “Let’s figure out my dad first, then see where we go from there.”
A smidge of the light went out of his face, but he covered it quickly, pecking me on the lips. “It’s a starting point. That’s more than we had three days ago.”
The wheels touched down, humming along the short runway. Sam sat back in his seat, watching out the window with a faint smile, while I gathered my things from under the seat. If only the conversation could have meant the same thing to me as it did to him. For Sam, saying we would figure things out after we dealt with my dad was a reason to have hope.
For me, it meant I knew when we’d say good-bye.
*
The nice thing about convincing Sam that my father’s vast, imaginary network of spies would find us if we traveled in our typical style was not having to wait for baggage. We climbed off the plane and went through customs before most of our fellow passengers had left the bathroom. I watched the agent stamp my passport, my mind going again to the vaguely threatening message from my dad. For the first time since spinning the yarn to try to talk Sam out of joining me on a fake quest around the world, I wondered how much truth there might be to it—if Dad had been notified about the “breakin” in Belgrade, and he probably had, he could have pulled the footage and seen us there.
He didn’t have any reason not to trust me, I reminded myself. He might think my methods were excessive, especially if he checked out how much money I’d taken out of my spending account in the past two weeks, but he wouldn’t think I’d gone soft.
I tried hard to recall if we did anything or said anything in Belgrade that would make him realize I had feelings for Sam that were getting in the way, but it didn’t matter. My dad had a perceptiveness that didn’t seem human. If he was in the Caymans, if he saw Sam and me together, there was no way he would miss the pull between us. It could make him nervous, but it more likely would make him angry. People did what my father asked. I did what my father asked.
“I can’t wait to go sailing.”
“You know how to sail?” My eyebrows went up. “You never mentioned it.”
“You never asked. I have many, many talents I plan to let you discover.”
His arms went around my waist from behind as we waited in line for a taxi. A thrill went down my spine before I could think about stopping it. “Is that right?”
“Mmm-hmm.” He murmured into the back of my neck, leaving a kiss in its wake.
“Next!”
The valet gave us a stern look that would have made me smile if my heart wasn’t in my stomach. Sam and I climbed into the backseat, and the cabbie, who was too much of a Jamaican cliché to make fun of —because he could probably put a voodoo curse on us—turned to ask where we were going.
“The Yacht Club, please.”
“Is the house here? Does your dad have a boat at the marina?”
I didn’t answer, unwilling to say anything incriminating in front of the cabbie, who stared into the rearview mirror without reservation. Sam got the hint, reaching over to hold my hand and then watching out the window. As was the way with all taxis, for some reason the guy had the windows down. In Jamaica, as in Greece, there wasn’t anything sweeter than the fresh, salty smell of the warm air. Going back to Florida would be downright dreary after the last two stops of our trip.
The Yacht Club had security, but the taxi driver just waved on his way through. I hadn’t spent a ton of time in Jamaica, but I knew the island had a growing problem with corruption and crime that worked in my favor. The plane tickets had soaked up over four thousand bucks for the two of us, which mean only about a thousand remained in my pocket. Sam had five or six hundred left at last check, and even though it would be plenty of money to get us to the Caymans, it was little enough to make me nervous about leaving the Caymans.
“You can just let us off at the docks,” I instructed, pulling out cash and a tip that might be generous enough to keep his mouth shut if news of a stolen boat reached his ears later tonight.
He took the money and sped off, then Sam turned to me and raised his eyebrows in a silent question.
I didn’t answer, wandering down the dock looking for a sailboat with specific specifications—not too big, since the two of us would be sailing it alone, but too small wouldn’t do, either. It would only take us six hours or so, depending on the wind and the chop, to make it to Grand Cayman. Too fast for anyone to notice their boat was gone, report it, and chase us down.
Especially if we found the right boat.
Third from the end, a little Catalina 335 series, gleamed like the answer. The sails and cushions were a tad faded and weathered, and the gorgeous teak interior needed a shine. It hadn’t been attended to regularly, which meant a higher likelihood that no one would miss it right away.
“I thought your dad’s boat would be bigger. And what’s with the name?”
I walked around to the rear, snorting when the boat’s painted name came into view. Who the hell named their boat Wiggler?
“I don’t know,” I replied, tossing my backpack in and climbing on board. I grabbed Sam’s backpack and tennis bag, stowing everything in a locker by the anchor.
“You don’t know why your dad named his boat the Wiggler?”
He hadn’t moved from the dock, squinting down at me in the bright midday sun. The set of his posture, the clench of his jaw, said he knew the answer to his question but still wanted me to say it.
A sigh spilled out before I could stop it, even though it would have sounded more at home coming from a petulant five-year-old or an exhausted mother of seven. Ever since I’d heard from my dad, I’d wanted nothing more than to get this over with and go home.
To stop pretending and accept the inevitable.
“It’s not our boat, Sam. We’re borrowing it.”
“Stealing it, you mean.”
“No. Same as the car in Austria. We’ll give it back. We’re just taking it on a short trip to the Caymans. No big deal.” He didn’t move. “This is it, Sam. What we set out to do. If my dad is on dry land, he’s in the Caymans, and this won’t be the first crime you’ve committed since insisting you come along instead of giving me your information and letting me use it. If you want out, give me what I need and go. If not, get your ass in the boat.”
