Deborah Brown - Madison Westin 07 - Kidnapped in Paradise

by Deborah Brown

  “Pinter, meet Fab.” I pointed between the two. “Don’t let her good looks fool you; she loves to kick ass.”

  “What the hell is that?” Fab pointed to the pieces of rejected hot dog bun and made a retching noise.

  I laughed at her. “Give us the ten-word or less version of Fab’s adventure.”

  She screwed up her nose. “They’re alive.” She gave an unladylike snort. “I broke the bastard’s nose, but he’ll survive. That old bag didn’t get a scratch on her, but it will take a while to get her untied.”

  “Mother and son got into a fight. While they were distracted airing family dirt, I pulled my Walther. Sorry to tell you...,” she frowned, “but you need a new passenger window. It cracked a little…well, a lot. I bashed bony-boy in the nose. The crunching noise was so satisfying. Sorry for the blood. With my gun in the old lady’s face, I swerved over and gave them a three-count, and then kicked them out in the woods.”

  “Let’s go home,” I said. To Pinter, I said, “It’s getting dark, we’re giving you a ride.”

  “Not necessary.” He had a smile on his face, hanging on Fab’s every word, enjoying the retelling of her escapade.

  I ignored him and pushed his bike to the back of the SUV. Fab had the door open, and we lifted it in. I held the passenger door open for him and hopped in the back. “Sit up front and give her directions.”

  “How did Creole end up with someone so pushy?” Pinter asked.

  I laughed. “Creole's my cousin, sort of. Trust me, we’re well matched.”

  Creole grew up as a neighbor to my Aunt Elizabeth, and she had unofficially adopted him. We joked about being cousins and anyone who didn’t know us assumed that was why the Westins were so weird.

  Fab turned down a narrow road, which started off paved but quickly became gravel.

  “There’s no lights out here,” she said as she drove through the forest.

  The farther she drove, the darker it got. She pulled up in front of a log cabin nestled between the trees, the porch overlooking an inlet of water that rustled by. Pinter's home looked modern and up-to-date, peaceful and quiet. Two Border Collies came of out of nowhere and stood in the middle of the driveway, their eyes glowing yellow as they waited. Pinter barely got a leg out when they ran to his side.

  I held the back of my hand out to the dogs and let them sniff before I gave them a quick head rub.

  “If you’re ever in Tarpon Cove, stop in at Jake’s bar. Tell the bartender ‘Moonshine,’ and get your meal on the house. That’s going to be our new password,” I said.

  “Come back anytime. Go fishing,” Pinter said. “You’re both welcome. No need for an invite.”

  He stood and waved as Fab turned around. We drove back through the road nestled between the trees.

  “What did Ellie and her sons want?” I asked.

  “Gofer has a stolen car parts business. Not a lot of Hummers out here, so they saw a perfect opportunity. No overhead. When jailbird saw our ride, she called the twins. They flipped a coin to see who’d get to jack us.”

  Fab made zero effort to remember names.

  “What’s her connection to Brick?” I asked.

  “I asked, and she grumbled she never heard of Brick Famosa.”

  This was another one of those times I was happy not to drive; the headlights illuminating the foggy road weren’t enough for me. I wanted to go home and forget this day.

  “I have to call Creole,” I said.

  “Did that already. I also talked to Brick. He sent his brother to collect the tied-up felons. Thank you for threatening him for me. Now that’s a best friend.”

  Chapter 21

  “Do you suppose it’s safe to go in the house?” I asked.

  Fab and I sat in the driveway, staring at Didier and Creole’s autos parked in the front.

  “I don’t like it when they get together and one of us is not there to listen,” Fab said.

  “What about when they run around the state?”

  Besides bicycling, the guys ran together and did push-ups. They didn’t stop after one or two for a rest like I would.

  “You can’t talk and run. They’re out of breath, so no chatting it up about what we might be doing,” Fab said. “We know they talk, I just wonder what they share?”

  “They know we’re here,” I said. I figured Creole didn’t have to look out the window to know we were sitting outside. “Creole has a sixth sense. The longer we sit here, the guiltier we look, and we haven’t done anything wrong today.”

  We jumped out of the SUV, and I followed Fab up to the door.

  “What are we going to do about Kelsey?” Fab asked me, hand on the doorknob.

  “Have we chosen a side?” I hesitated. “I’d like to meet the gorilla. But for now, no more work talk.”

  The guys must be mind readers. They were both in bathing suits. Didier wore an apron that made him look even sexier than usual, if that were possible. He moved to the kitchen sink as we walked in the door. Creole was putting together some fish kabobs at the island.

  Fab slid over to Didier and they engaged in a long, smoochy kiss.

  Creole wandered a leisurely eye over me, up and down. I blushed at the scrutiny.

  He pointed upstairs.

  “You’re overdressed.”

  “Can you come upstairs and help me with my buttons?” I winked at him.

  “Come over here.” He crooked his finger at me. “I’ll unbutton you.”

  I pouted and backed out of the kitchen, not wanting him to see that my outfit didn’t have a single button.

  “We slaved all day in this hot kitchen and we’re eating in a half hour,” Creole called, as I dashed up the stairs.

  Fab ran up the stairs after me.

  “Here’s an incentive to hurry–– there's a pitcher of margaritas in the refrigerator.”

  * * *

  Fab beat me back downstairs, but she only had a couple of strings to tie on her hot pink bikini.

  From the top of the staircase, I saw Creole, out of the corner of my eye, leaning over the barbeque. Wait until Brad found out that someone had figured out how to turn it on besides him. All I knew about it was that it looked pretty, all shiny stainless steel. The old one stopped working, which surprised me. I thought you just threw in charcoals and lit them on fire.

  Opening the refrigerator, I smiled at the pitcher of my favorite drink. Creole had left a glass on the counter with salt around the rim.

  * * *

  I flipped on the lights that flooded the backyard; lights wrapped around the trunks of the palm trees, and every potted plant had a solar light stake.

  Fab and I tossed inflatable rings in the pool. We swam around, splashing water everywhere. We squawked and yelled, then dissolved into laughter.

  After the first few yelps of, “Help, she’s drowning me!”, the guys realized attempts at shushing us and evil glares had no effect, so they ignored us.

  They both cooked us dinner ––we didn’t have to lift a finger––and they cleaned as they used the dishes. Creole barbequed the fish and vegetables on skewers and served them on a bed of risotto prepared by Didier. Too many vegetables in my opinion, but they looked pretty on the plate.

  Didier was a health nut, and if he had his way we’d eat more of them, including drinking stinky green juice for breakfast. I didn’t utter a word of complaint; I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. Instead, I used my old trick from childhood and pushed everything I didn’t like around my plate, hiding little pieces under big ones and making it look like I ate more than I did. Times like these called for a dog.

  After I snuck up behind Fab and pushed her in the water, she grabbed my wrist and dragged me in along with her.

  Creole towered over us at the side of the pool, glaring. “Could the two of you make any more noise?”

  “Yes!!” we screamed in unison.

  “You’re cut off. No more wine.” Creole pointed to Fab, then looked at me, “No more tequila.”

  He dove i
n and came up under me, lifting me in the air. Didier pulled off his shirt and threw it on the chaise.

  “How are old you? You’re acting like children—loud, noisy, pain-in-the ass children!” came a woman’s high pitched voice.

  “Where in the hell did you come from?” Fab snarled at her.

  Mrs. Ricci stood in my backyard, looking down her nose. She was dressed in black knee-length shorts and a silk blouse, looking expensive. I spent a little extra time staring at her black leather slides. Her stance suggested it was her house, not acknowledging that it wasn’t and she hadn’t been invited.

  How did she find us?

  “You must be lost,” I said through clenched teeth. “Let me give you directions and you can leave. Go back the way you came in.”

  Didier climbed out of the pool and, being a gentleman, offered her a chair. Apparently she asked for something to drink, because Didier went to the outside refrigerator and retrieved a bottle of water for her. She flashed her dollar sign smile and eyeballed him as though he were a banquet meal.

  “Madison,” Creole whispered. “She’s uh… older.”

  Fab got out of the pool and stood in front of her. “Lift your top. Now,” she barked.

  Didier said something in French and Fab ignored him, but Mrs. Ricci laughed.

  It surprised me when she reached inside her waist band and handed over her gun. “I want it back when I leave.”

  “Who is she?” Didier whispered.

  “Take your eyes off my boyfriend before I kick the hell out of you,” Fab sneered at her. “He’s not for sale either.”

  I cleared my throat. “Let me make the introductions,” I said, flashing a half-hearted smile. “Carlotta Ricci, Carmine's mother. You may remember her from the headlines; she just got arrested for being a pimp. We were hired to keep her out of jail, and she paid us back by threatening to shoot us and locking us in her pantry closet. You remember?” I asked Creole. “You didn’t show up until after we escaped.”

  “The car thief?” Creole laughed.

  “That pimp nonsense was made up by so-called journalists for headlines,” Carlotta sniffed. “If I ever get to tell my story, you’ll find out that I facilitated in making love connections between very wealthy discerning men and beautiful women.”

  “Does Snot Nose know you’re out on the loose?” I asked. “That’s her sweet nickname for her son,” I explained to the boys.

  “Oh shut up!” Carlotta yelled. “You owe me and I’m here to collect. I need to hire the two of you to hide me from Carmine.”

  Fab yelled back at her. “Have you lost your mind? Who has ever crossed Carmine and lived to tell about it? Besides, it’s unanimous––we don’t like you.”

  Carlotta, not to be intimidated, stood and got in Fab’s face. “It’s your fault I ended up caged in Carmine’s house.”

  “Ten thousand square feet of waterfront property and plenty of household help to attend your every whim is hardly a cage,” I said unsympathetically.

  “What happened with your court case?” Fab asked.

  “Carmine shelled out big. I got a fine and community service, and he took care of that already, but that doesn’t mean I want to be locked up with a body guard watching my every move. When I mentioned re-opening my business and that I’d call it a matchmaking service if I had to, would even make it appear legit, he flipped out and locked me in a guest suite.”

  Fab fisted her hands at her side. “And when Carmine finds out we’re harboring your old ass, what then?”

  “Fabiana.” Didier pulled her against his body.

  The ringing of my phone was a welcome reprieve and, as I raced across the patio, I said to Fab, “Get rid of her.”

  I whooshed out a breath when I saw Brick’s name. For once he might be the best one to help get rid of Carlotta, but I decided against it. He might call Carmine, to hell with Fab and me. Rather than blow him off, I’d answer so he wouldn’t burn up the phones.

  “This isn’t a good time,” I said.

  “Why the hell is her phone turned off,” Brick yelled.

  “Yell at me again and my phone is going off. By her, I assume you mean Fabiana. Does she know she’s on call tonight?”

  “Don’t you dare hang up. I’ve got an emergency and I need you both. Now.”

  I never heard Brick sound frantic before. While I was inclined to be sympathetic, I had problems of my own. I looked over and saw that the madam had now made herself comfortable in a chaise lounge.

  “Can’t this wait until tomorrow?” I asked.

  “Carlotta Ricci has run off and Carmine wants her found, pronto. Triple rate.” Brick blurted.

  “Quadruple! And that’s not enough for that pain in the ass. She’s here now,” I whispered.

  Dead silence.

  “Are you still there?” I asked.

  “Carlotta is at your house?” he whispered back.

  I rolled my eyes. “You don’t have to whisper. No one can hear you unless you yell. Yes, she's here, and she wants us to hide her. She wants to hobnob with the little people or get back to pimping or something, who knows.”

  Brick continued to whisper. “Keep her there and I’ll call you back.”

  “You listen to me, I don’t want you-know-who at my house or any of his goons. You promise me.”

  “Answer when I call back.” Brick hung up.

  I felt nauseated and hoped I wouldn’t get sick. “We have a job tomorrow,” I nodded at Fab.

  Carlotta and Fab were in an animated conversation about Carlotta’s demands and how we owed it to her to be helpful. Let them fight it out. I sat on the chaise next to Creole.

  “I could put her in jail; let her sit there until Snot Nose picks her up.” Creole and I laughed.

  “I love that name. Wouldn’t you love to see the big tough guy’s face when she calls him that?” I continued to laugh.

  I had turned the sound off on my phone, and it buzzed in my hand. I jumped and turned, walking to the other side of the pool. Creole followed me, and I leaned against his chest.

  “What?” I snapped at Brick.

  “Put her in one of those cottages of yours and let her mingle with the regular people. Let her enjoy a real life experience. She’ll be running back to the mansion,” Brick said. He was at ease now, his agitated tone gone.

  “Are you out of your mind? She’ll run off the guests with her sparkly personality. Does Carmine know and approve?”

  “Keep me informed; let me know what she’s up to.”

  “Don’t you dare….” But it was too late, he’d hung up.

  I knew just how to send Carlotta packing back to the mansion. I called the professor to find out if there was a vacant Air Stream.

  “Do we have any vacancies?” I asked when he answered.

  “We got two empty until the weekend. You need a place to hide out?” he asked in his crotchety style.

  “I’m bringing over a woman to stay for a few days. I want you to lay on the charm and have her running for the road, the sooner the better.”

  “Speak the hell up. I’m not hard of hearing, because I could hear just fine before you called,” his surly voice boomed through the phone. “A criminal friend of yours?”

  “One more thing, you need to keep an eagle eye on the wily b…woman. She’s slippery. Just consider it repayment for one of the many favors you owe me.” Babysitting Carlotta would drive Fab and me nuts.

  I stashed my phone in my pocket and went over to the battling duo. Interrupting them, I glared at Carlotta. “I’ve got a place for you to stay. One hint of trouble or anything illegal––you’re out.”

  Fab looked at me like I’d lost my mind. Creole whispered to Didier, who relayed something to her, and she flashed her creepy smile.

  “I thought I’d stay here,” Carlotta said.

  “You thought wrong. Now let’s go.” I leaned down and kissed Creole. “Be back in a half hour.”

  I didn’t have to explain anything to him. I let him listen in to the
calls so I didn’t have to repeat anything.

  “Fab can stay here. I’m coming with you. I don’t trust Carlotta.” Turning to the older woman, he lectured her. “I suggest you behave. I don’t have any problem kicking your ass out of my truck and leaving you on the side of the road. No one has accused me of being a gentleman like Didier here.”

  “You have impeccable manners,” I pressed my lips to his.

  “I can’t wait to see her face when she finds out her choices are a trailer or back to Snot Nose,” he chuckled in my ear.

  “Let’s see how fast we can get there. Come along, Carlotta,” I said, motioning with my hand. “You can have as much freedom from Carmine as you can stand.”

  Chapter 22

  “What the hell is this place?” Carlotta beat the back of the seat with her hand. “Answer me.”

  I was disappointed when she hadn’t jumped out at one of the signals and run down the street. The scenario entertained me, until I thought of having to tell Carmine I’d lost his mother and I shuddered.

  “You do have choices. You can stay here, return to the bosom of your son, or there’s the Bluebird Motel, down the highway a few miles. Pay by the hour, cash only. They do a brisk all-night business, if you get what I mean. Decorated with mirrored ceilings, all night porn, and I hear the beds jiggle and shake in exchange for a fistful of quarters.”

  Carlotta had sucked every bit of sympathy from me after she pulled her gun on Fab and me. The only reason I relented and decided to be the slightest bit cooperative was for Fab. She wanted Brick as a client, and this would have the man owing her big. I smiled at the bill I would be sending him––to hell with quadruple rates.

  Creole pursed his lips, but not before letting a snort escape.

  I slid out of the truck and shut the door, effectively cutting off Carlotta’s harangue. Just outside the picket fence, Crum leaned against his ratty red pickup in his tighty whities. He'd had exchanged his rubber boots for a worn down pair of flip flops. In his arms he held a gigantic ball of white fur.

  “What is that?” I sputtered.

  He looked at me as though I was one of those ignorant stoops he claimed to have taught at that top-rated college where he was granted tenure.