Below her Lisa saw uniformed men running out onto the wharf, other men with machine guns and rifles. She heard police cars, the wail of sirens. The amplified voice repeated, “This is an arrest. Do not try to resist.”
The men aboard the ship froze. Those carrying boxes on their shoulders started to run. Shots were fired. Two of them fell. Another two jumped off the wharf into the water.
Howard screamed. “The police! They’re here! Oh, my God! What are we going to do?”
“Start shooting, you son of a bitch!” Montoya ducked behind an iron beam and began firing. The two Jamaicans next to him lifted their machine guns. The man holding Lisa let her go and pulled a revolver out of his pocket. A bullet pinged near her head. She ducked down behind a stanchion.
Uniformed Jamaican police jumped down onto the fishing boat. Others ran along the wharf toward the vessel she was on. There were other men, too, not in uniform.
Lisa looked frantically around. Could she make a break for it? No, bullets were flying; she had to wait. Behind her someone screamed, and when she turned, she saw the man who had come to the cabin to get her clutch his chest and fall. A man next to Montoya was hit. Montoya grabbed his gun and fired at the uniformed men below.
Two more of his men were next to him, firing at the police. An officer went down. More of Montoya’s men rushed onto the deck, firing as they came. But still the police advanced.
Howard Reitman crouched behind the railing, screaming, “They’ve got us! They’ve got us!”
Montoya swung around. “Shoot!” he cried. “Before I shoot you!”
But Reitman had lost it. Eyes gone blank and wide with fear, he scuttled on his hands and knees for the safety of the stairs. Montoya raised his gun and fired. Howard’s body jerked. He pitched forward, facedown.
Lisa stared, too horrified to move. In the beam of the spotlight she looked at Montoya. He saw her. His face was evil, menacing. As she watched, he curled his finger around the trigger. And she knew he was going to kill her.
A shot pinged just above his head. He whirled around and started firing.
She was hollow with fear. The men below were closer now, running toward the gangplank, firing as they came. Dark men. All but one. She cried out, “Sam! Sam!” But in the terrible confusion of noise, he couldn’t hear her.
He charged ahead of the uniformed men. She stepped out from behind the stanchion and cried again, “Sam!”
He looked up and saw her. “Get down!” he shouted.
Montoya turned and rushed at her. He grabbed her, his arm around her waist, and held her in front of him in a viselike grip. He screamed words in Spanish she didn’t understand.
Sam started up the gangplank.
Lisa felt hard metal against her temple.
“Stop!” Montoya said. “Stop right there.”
Sam looked up. The spotlight was behind him; his face was shadowed.
“Call your men off,” Montoya ordered. “If you don’t, señor, you got a dead woman on your hands.”
“Back off,” Sam said to the uniformed men behind him.
They retreated a few steps, guns at the ready.
“Now you,” Montoya said. “Get the hell out of here.”
Sam shook his head. “I’m not leaving, Montoya. Let the woman go. Give it up.”
The Cuban didn’t answer. Instead, without taking his gaze from Sam, he called out, “Pedro? Are you there?”
“Sí, capitán.”
“Engine working?”
“Sí.”
“Get the boat going.”
Lisa heard a clunk and a rattle. The purr of an engine starting.
“We make a deal,” Montoya said. “You back off. You let me go, maybe I don’t shoot the woman.”
Sam didn’t move. “Take me in her place.”
“No, I keep the woman till we’re out where it’s deep. Then maybe I keep her. Maybe I feed her to the fish.”
“I’ll throw my gun away.” Sam lowered his weapon and tossed it over the side. He held empty hands, palms up, out from his sides.
He was unarmed, vulnerable. He took a step forward and Lisa felt Montoya’s body tense. The drug lord took the gun from her temple and leveled it at Sam. She knew he was going to shoot.
“Do not go gentle into that good night....” That dark night...
She brought her right elbow back, flung herself sideways to pull his arm out of the way, twisted, then turned and ran toward Sam, arms outstretched to shield him.
Something hit her. A fist in her back. She staggered, but kept running, legs pumping in slow motion.
Sam reached out for her. He cried, “Lisa! Lisa!”
But she couldn’t see him. The good light was dying, the night was dark....
Chapter 17
“Miss Collier?” Someone patted her cheek. “Wake up, Miss Collier.”
Her eyelids fluttered. She opened her eyes, then closed them because the light was too bright and because she was so tired.
“Open your eyes, Lisa.”
She opened them and saw him standing above her. “Sam? Oh, Sam. You’re all right. You’re here.” She tried to raise her arm to touch him, but it hurt, everything hurt, and she cried out.
“Easy,” a nurse with nice brown eyes said gently. “Don’t try to move, Miss Collier.”
“What’s the matter with me?”
A doctor in a white coat stepped forward. “You’ve been shot,” he said.
She looked up at Sam. “Is it bad? Am I going to die?”
He leaned down and, so that the doctor and nurse couldn’t hear, whispered, “Yeah, on your ninety-second birthday in the middle of a fantastic climax.”
She laughed, but it cost her and she yelped in pain.
The nurse said, “Really, Mr. O’Shaughnessy!”
The doctor frowned. “You have a shoulder wound,” he told Lisa. “It entered from the back. We’ve removed the bullet and I assure you you’re going to be all right.”
“But you need rest,” the nurse said with a look at Sam. “We’re taking you to your room now.”
Sam kissed her forehead. “I have to go,” he said. “There’re things I’ve got to take care of, but I’ll be back in a little while.”
“Is Montoya...?”
“He’s alive.”
“That’s quite enough conversation for now,” the doctor said. “We’re going to give you something to help you rest, Miss Collier.”
She felt a prick of a needle in her arm. Then Sam kissed her again, this time on the lips.
* * *
Lisa awoke to find Sam sitting beside her bed. Groggy from sleep and from the shot they’d given her for the pain, she managed to say, “Hi. How long have you been here?”
“Awhile. How do you feel?”
“Okay, I think.” She looked at the IV hooked up to her arm. “Everybody’s taking good care of me.”
“They’d better.”
He sat on the edge of the bed and took her hand.
“I won’t break,” she said.
Very carefully he put his arms around her. But he didn’t say anything because holding her close this way he remembered how afraid he’d been last night. He’d replayed those last moments on the boat over and over again in his mind. The way Montoya had used her as a shield. How she’d broken away from him because she’d known that Montoya was going to shoot him. He could still hear the terrible force of the bullet that hit her and see the puzzled look on her face as she staggered toward him. She’d taken the bullet meant for him. That humbled him. It brought him to his knees.
He kissed her and eased her back down in the bed. “I’ve got to go to New York this afternoon,” he said.
“New York?”
“I’m taking Montoya back.”
She bit her lip. “He’s dangerous, Sam.”
“Not anymore. One of Hargreaves’s men got him in the leg before he could take another shot at you. He’ll be handcuffed to a stretcher and when we get to New York there’ll be plenty of cops
waiting to greet him.”
“Be careful.”
“Always am.” He brushed the hair back from her face. “The doctor says you’ll be out of her in a few days, but you’re going to have to take it easy. Hargreaves will drive you back to the Poinciana. You’re to stay there—courtesy of the Jamaican police—until you’re feeling better.” He looked at his watch. “I’m sorry, Lisa. But I’ve got to go.”
She didn’t want him to, but there wasn’t anything she could do about it. “How long will you be gone? I...I mean, how long will everything take?”
“Don’t know. There’ll be paperwork to do and the guys at the DEA will be asking a lot of questions.” He smoothed the hair back from her face and wished he had the words to tell her how he felt. The doc had said she was going to be okay, but her face was so pale, she looked small and helpless lying here with her shoulder bandaged and an IV hooked up to her wrist.
He touched her face. “I was so damn scared,” he said. “When I saw you running toward me, when you were hit...”
“It’s over, Sam. I’m going to be fine.”
“Sure you are.” He tried to sound tough because he knew if he yielded to all the emotions churning inside he’d be bawling like a baby. So he looked at his watch again and said, “Got a plane to catch.”
She looked up at him, wanting with all her heart for him to tell her he loved her. But he just stood there, uncertain, stumble-footed, a little embarrassed. Anxious to leave.
“I’ll try to get back to Jamaica before you leave,” he said. “If I can’t I’ll probably see you in Miami.”
Probably.
He leaned down and kissed her. She touched his face, then, because she didn’t want to see him leave, she closed her eyes. And kept them closed until she could no longer hear his footsteps in the hall.
* * *
Three days later Lisa left the Kingston hospital. Filoberto Hargreaves drove her to Ocho Rios, where an ocean-front room had been reserved for her at the Poinciana. When they arrived, he took her to her room and introduced her to a young woman whose name was Euphemia.
“Euphemia works here in the hotel,” he said. “I’ve arranged for her to take care of you.”
“But I’m fine now,” Lisa protested.
“Sam wants to be sure you take it easy. Euphemia will bring you your meals and help you any way she can until you’re stronger.”
“I be quiet like a mouse and I won’t be gettin’ underfoot,” Euphemia said. “I’ll help you when you need help and skedaddle when you don’t.”
She smiled and Lisa was hooked. “All right,” she said. “As long as you don’t mother-hen me.”
“Cross my heart and hope to kiss a buzzard if I do.”
Lisa laughed. “You win,” she told Filoberto.
“The clothes you left are in the closet. If you need anything, call me.”
“I will.” She offered him her hand. He kissed it, then sighed and let it go.
When he’d gone, Euphemia ran her bath and helped her into the tub. After the bath she asked Lisa if she would like to have lunch out on the balcony or in her room. Lisa said she’d prefer the balcony. Euphemia phoned the restaurant and, after consulting Lisa, ordered a steak, medium rare, and a green salad.
It was the best food Lisa had had in almost two weeks. She ate every bite, and when she finished, Euphemia helped her to the bed.
“You sleep now,” she said. “I’ll be back later. If you want anything you call number 5 on the telephone.”
That became the pattern of Lisa’s next few days. She slept late, and when she awoke, Euphemia ran her bath and brought her breakfast. And later her lunch and her dinner.
At the end of the week she told Euphemia she was well enough to take care of herself, that she really preferred taking her meals in the restaurant, and that, yes, she would call if she needed or wanted anything.
She spent the next few days at the swimming pool or taking long walks along the beach. Sam called to say he had no idea when he’d be able to return. There was a lot of paperwork to do, he said. Interrogations from both the NYPD and the DEA.
If he didn’t come soon, Lisa decided, she’d go back to Miami. She had obligations at home, rent to pay, bills stacking up and work to do. She didn’t have a lot of money, so couldn’t be a lady of leisure much longer.
The past few weeks with Sam, in spite of the danger, had been the happiest of her life. With him she had felt complete, as though she had found the other half of herself. She’d fallen in love and for her nothing would ever be quite the same again.
Their love affair had been heightened by the danger they’d been in. Add to that the incredible beauty of Jamaica, palm trees swaying in the off-shore breeze, wooded glens and shaded ponds, a turquoise sea and nights that were made for love. It was a perfect place to fall in love, and she had.
But had Sam? He’d never said he loved her, maybe he never would. Perhaps he’d be perfectly happy with occasional weekend visits to Miami. But that wasn’t her idea of till death us do part.
* * *
Sam flew into Kingston on Friday afternoon. He hadn’t called Lisa because he hadn’t been sure he could get away or that he’d be able to get a flight. He tried to call her from the airport.
The hotel operator rang her room. It rang for a long time before the operator said, “There’s no answer, sir. May I take a message?”
He said yes.
She said, “One moment, please,” and left him hanging while she answered another call. By that time they were announcing the last boarding call for the flight to Kingston. He had no choice but to hang up.
There were no rental cars available when he arrived. He called Filoberto and asked if he could borrow the Harley. Filoberto said, “Of course. I’ll have someone deliver it.”
When the motorcycle arrived, Sam stowed his gear on the back, thanked the guy who’d brought it, and took off for the two-hour drive to Ocho Rios.
It was after seven when he reached the Poinciana. He checked in, thought about calling Lisa’s room but decided he’d clean up first. He’d gone directly from his desk at the NYPD to the airport and he’d been driving hell-for-leather on the Harley. He was rumpled and he needed a shave. He didn’t want to look like a bum when he saw her.
After a quick shower and shave, he grabbed a clean pair of jeans out of his suitcase and a blue denim shirt. When he was dressed, he reached for the white dinner jacket that he’d bought yesterday at a men’s shop on Madison Avenue. He’d never worn a dinner jacket before, but he wanted to look like a gentleman tonight.
He put the jacket on over the blue denim shirt and looked at himself in the mirror. “This is as good as it gets,” he grumbled. Then he pulled his sneakers on, without socks, and placed a call to Lisa’s room.
She answered on the second ring. “Hi,” he said. “It’s me. I’m here.”
“Here? In Jamaica?”
“In the hotel. What’s your room number?”
She told him. He said, “I’m on my way,” and hung up.
She opened the door when he knocked and she was every bit as beautiful as he remembered. She had on a white dress with a low neckline and a short, full skirt. Her skin was tanned, her hair was sun-streaked.
“Hi.” He kissed her and when he let her go, said, “You look great. How are you feeling?”
“Much better, thanks.” She led him into the room. “Why didn’t you let me know you were coming?”
“I tried to call from the airport in Miami. The hotel operator kept me hanging and my flight was called. I couldn’t wait. I’m sorry.”
“No, no, that’s all right. Would you like a drink? We could order something.”
“It can wait. I’ve got a couple of things I want to tell you.”
“Oh?” Her heart gave a strange little lurch. She held her breath.
“Why don’t we sit outside?” He took her hand and led her out onto the balcony.
Waves pounded against the shore. A full moon shone through the
palm trees and music floated up from the dance floor. It was a perfect setting for what she hoped Sam was about to say.
He cleared his throat. “Lisa, my dear,” he said. “I have something to tell you.”
This was it. She held her breath.
“I found your brother,” he said.
She looked at him, unable to understand. “Jimmy? You found Jimmy?”
“Through the Navy. He got out three years ago and moved back to Ohio. Back to the farm.”
She stared at him. “With my father?”
“No, Lisa. Your father’s dead. He died last year.”
“My father’s dead?” She knew she was repeating everything Sam said, but she couldn’t take it in. His words ran round and round like a kaleidoscope in her brain. Jimmy. Her father. The farm.
“I talked to Jim,” Sam went on. “He sounds like a nice guy. He spent a lot of years trying to find you while he was still in the Navy and since he’s been out.”
“Jimmy’s alive,” she said, and her eyes filled. “It’s been over twelve years, Sam. I just...I just don’t know what to say.”
“I know.” Sam squeezed her hand. “He said he’d fly to Miami to see you as soon as you get back. One other thing, Lisa. About the warrant. I checked with the local police. You were underage when you left home and your father had listed you as a runaway. The warrant should have been dropped from the books years ago. It has been now.”
He moved his chair closer. “Now about us.” He looked uncomfortable. “I’ve been thinking about us, about how close we got in such a short time. I realize a lot of...well, of what happened between us was because of the danger we were in and because...you know...” He made a wide gesture with his arm. “All of this, Jamaica, the trade winds, palm trees—”
“I understand,” Lisa put in quickly, cutting him off.
He raised an eyebrow. “You do?”
“We’ve had an exciting time, Sam.” She tried for what she hoped was a cheerful smile. “It’s been an adventure I’ll never forget.”
One eyebrow shot up.
“But now it’s time to get on with our lives. Yours. And mine.”
“I see.” He stood. “Have you had dinner?”
She looked startled by this change in the conversation. “Uh, no.”
Moonlight Lady Page 20
