Cadie felt the color drain from her face. She really does know... this isn't one of her usual bluffs.
"What's wrong, darling?" Naomi asked sarcastically. "Don't tell me that in the course of her seduction she failed to mention that she was a professional assassin? Or did she only tell you about the drug dealer she worked for?" The senator raised her knee and rested her chin on her hand, watching Cadie with a tiny smile on her face.
"And how did you find out all this?" Cadie whispered, wondering just what was coming next.
"Like I said, darling. A US senator can talk to whomever she feels like when she has the right telephone numbers at hand. And I have the right numbers. The Australian Attorney General knows all about Miss Jossandra Madison."
"Then he should have also told you that she turned state's evidence in return for having her record expunged," Cadie said quickly.
"That means nothing if she reoffends." The senator smiled.
Alarm bells began ringing in Cadie's mind.
"You wouldn't—" she began.
"Yes, Arcadia, I would. But only if you don't do as I ask from now on." Again Naomi bared her teeth in the kind of smile most often seen on circling sharks.
Cadie felt a rising tide of nausea bubbling in the pit of her stomach. I don't believe this. No matter what I do here, I'm screwed. Or Jo is. She looked across at Naomi, who sat patiently, knowing she had the upper hand. This is so unfair on Jo. She didn't ask for me to waltz in here and turn her world upside down. She swallowed the lump in her throat. "What do you want from me?" she whispered.
"Stay away from Madison for a start," the senator yowled. "And then I want you to do what you agreed to do n long time ago. Be my wife. In every sense of the word. Obey me, support me," she paused, raking Cadie with a long, lingering look, "make love to me. Oh, and one more thing... work for me."
"Give up my business?" Cadie gasped.
"Oh yes," Naomi replied. "Don't you see that everything started going wrong for us as soon as you went off on your own? You need to be with me all the time, Cadie. We need you to be with me all the time."
Cadie felt a pounding at her temples which, combined with the nausea, made her feel like she'd been dragged backwards through a bush. "And if I don't agree to do what you ask?"
The senator stood and walked back over to Cadie, leaned down and rested her hands on the arms of the chair, her face close to her shorter partner's. "Then I make a few phone calls, the authorities search this boat and they'll find the drugs I'm sure your tall friend has onboard," Naomi replied.
Cadie looked up into hard, cold eyes. "I'll warn her," she whispered.
The senator snorted with laughter. "No Cadie, you won't," she said. "When I say stay away from her, I mean it. Besides no matter what you tell her, I can move faster. After all," she leaned closer and whispered in Cadie's ear, "I know exactly where the drugs are." She drew up to her full height and looked back down at the blonde. "You don't look well, Cadie. Perhaps you need to take a few minutes to recover." She paused, waiting for the blonde to meet her eyes and nod. "I, on the other hand, feel just grand. See you up on deck when you're better."
And with that the senator turned on her heel and left the cabin, closing the door behind her.
Cadie slumped forward, head in hands. Shock and fear did their work on her emotions and the tears flowed freely. For several minutes she let them, preferring not to think. Eventually the tears dried up but her body wasn't done reacting. A wave of nausea tugged at her throat and she dove for the head, just lifting the lid in time as her stomach rebelled.
What a waste of a great breakfast, she thought incongruously, leaning against the wall as the spasms eased. She let her legs give way and slowly slid down the wall till she was wedged in the corner of the tiny bathroom, resting her forehead on the arm draped across her knees.
For now I've got no choice but to do as she says. At least until we get back to the States and Naomi begins to forget about Jo and moves on to other things. Then I'll think of something. Absentmindedly she chewed on a fingernail. Until then I've got to stay away from Jo. That thought provoked a deep pang of grief and the tears stung her eyes anew. Damn it. I can't just let Naomi win this way. It's so... sleazy. She squeezed her eyes shut, fighting a wave of panic.
You're well and truly trapped, Cadie Jones. She banged the back of her head against the wall in frustration. And I can't warn Jo. She'll go in with-all guns blazing and that's just what Naomi is waiting for. She shook her head to clear it some. I'll have to keep thinking about that one.
Jo finned silently under the Seawolf's hull, sensing the sudden drop in temperature as she swam out of the sun-warmed water into the boat's shadow. It was mid-afternoon, several hours after they had motored back around the southern-most tip of Whitsunday Island and anchored off Whitehaven Beach once more.
The passengers were dispersed in all directions. Therese and Sarah lounged topless on the small swimming pontoon anchored several hundred feet away. The senator, Cadie, and the two boys were on the beach with Jenny where they had set up a large shade cloth. Lunch had been eaten under its shelter. Larissa and Kelli were on deck, sunbathing.
Jo moved slowly down the length of the yacht's hull, running her bare hands over the smooth surface, searching for any little flaws or barnacles. She'd talked Paul into the maintenance inspection on the pretext that the previous day's storm had been the wildest for quite some time.
"But we didn't hit anything, Skipper," he'd protested half-heartedly, recognizing the determined look in the tall woman's eye.
"Don't care," she'd muttered shortly. "Better safe than sorry, Paul, you know that."
So here she was, dressed in cutoff shorts, bikini top, weight belt, fins and mask. Jo inched her way along the hull, trying not to get tangled in the long breathing tube running from the air pump up on deck. The gentle, cool currents lifted the short hairs on her arms and swirled her long, black mane around her as she moved. Predictably, she wasn't finding too much wrong with the Seawolf's hull, but then she hadn't expected to. She was more interested in finding some peace and quiet.
Just want to hear myself think for a bit. She stopped to pick off a stubborn barnacle with her knife tip. She reckoned on about 20 minutes peace before Paul tired of manning the air pump and hauled her back aboard.
The Seawolf floated in water deep enough to give about 10 feet of clearance under her keel. Jo stopped amidships and let the weight belt do its thing, drifting down to the sandy bottom where she let herself hang.
Visibility's incredible today, she thought, turning full circle and gazing for hundreds of yards in each direction through the pristine water. The seabed sloped down from her left to right. The water color varied from the clear transparency of the shallows to the darker azures and indigos of the deeper water where the bay's bottom dropped away to open ocean. Schools of tiny fish ducked and darted around Jo's body as she hung motionless. She let her mind drift with them.
It's been the strangest day so far. God, I hope the rest of the trip isn't like this.
Cadie had emerged from her cabin half an hour after the senator. It hadn't taken a genius to work out the conversation between the two women hadn't been pleasant. Cadie was red-eyed and silent, not meeting Jo's sympathetic gaze for even a second.
Jo was surprised how much that had hurt. Of course she had expected they would have to be incredibly circumspect once they returned to the Seawolf. She kicked back up to the hull of the boat and renewed her inspection.
But not even a look, Jo thought, as she scraped some weed from the boat's keel. Something's badly wrong. Grim possibilities bounced around the inside of her skull. If that bitch touches her I'll... She blew bubbles for a few quiet seconds, settling her temper, but not her resolve. If she crosses that line, then paying customer or not, I'll take Cadie out of here, I swear, and to hell with the consequences.
Inspection completed, she drifted aimlessly for a while. She disturbed a sleepy stingray with a wave of her fin, sand billowing
up as the disgruntled creature undulated away. Jo watched as he found a new patch of sea bottom, shaking himself until a layer of sand settled over him, providing a perfect disguise.
I wish I could do that. No, I wish we could do that. Just disappear.
There was a tug on the breathing tube and she glanced down at her watch.
Fifteen and a half minutes. Paul's getting impatient in his old age. With a sigh she tucked her knife back in its sheath on her hip. Jo kicked back up to the hull, patted the keel one last time, and pushed up to the surface.
She emerged into the baking sun to find Paul sitting on the deck, legs dangling over the side, breathing tube in one hand and a stubby of beer in the other. The contents were obviously ice-cold, judging by the droplets of condensation running down the side, and Jo found herself craving a taste.
Paul read her mind and grinned. "I figured you'd be panting for a coldie, Skipper," he said, waving another, unopened, bottle at her. "Come and get it."
"You twisted my arm," she agreed and she struck out for the ladder, tossing her mask and fins up on deck before pulling herself up the metal steps.
Unclipping the weight belt, Jo plopped herself down next to the bare-chested crewman and accepted the cold bottle gratefully. She sucked down a long drag of the liquid amber, releasing an unladylike but deeply satisfied groan. She leaned back against the deck cowling and closed her eyes against the sun.
"You all right, Skip?" asked Paul, looking at the lines of tension on his usually sanguine boss' face. "You look like you've gone 10 rounds with Kostya Tszyu."
Jo snorted an ironic laugh, tipping her stubby up again for another lengthy swallow. "Gee, thanks, Paulie. It's just been a long couple of days," she said, clinking her bottle against his in a toast. They both looked back over their shoulders at the sound of the tinny returning from the beach. "Hey Jen," Jo called as the brunette tied off to the stern and clambered aboard.
"G'day," Jenny replied cheerily. "Oh God yes, give me a beer, Paul. I'm parched." The crewman yanked another bottle out of the icebox by his side as Jenny sat down cross-legged on the deck next to them. "Thanks, darl."
Jo was content to listen to the two crewmembers' conversation for a while, closing her eyes again, and trying to block out thoughts of Cadie on the beach with the senator. She's got to do what she's got to do. And I've just got to find a way to survive it.
An expectant silence punctuated by Paul clearing his throat forced Jo to open her eyes to find both crewmembers looking at her.
"What?"
Jenny and Paul exchanged a glance, the brunette eventually reaching out with a foot to nudge the big man with her toe. "Go on, Paulie, it was your idea."
"I smell a conspiracy," Jo said, taking another swig. "Come on, guys, spill it."
Paul put his beer down on the deck and leaned back on his hands. "Well, Skip, we've been thinking..." he began tentatively.
"Oooo, scary thought," Jo teased. "I'm beginning to think you want something and that this cold beer wasn't just from the goodness of your heart."
Paul clutched a hand to his chest in mock hurt. "Me, Skipper?" he objected. "Would I be that manipulative?"
Jo grinned. "Bloody oath. Now stop stuffing about and tell me what's on your mind."
"Hamilton Island Race Week," he replied bluntly.
"Ah, I should have known," Jo said, pointing her beer at him accusingly. "Here I was thinking you were sewing that patch on the spinnaker just to give yourself something to do the other day."
Paul had the good grace to blush, but he launched into his argument nonetheless. "Come on, Skip, it's a great idea," he said. "Toby, Jason, and Cadie are pretty handy around the sheets and winches. The others at least know enough to stay out of the way. And we've got a great chance this year."
Jo said nothing but leaned back against the cowling once more. Privately she agreed with Paul, but there was some fun to be had in giving the big man a hard time. Hamilton Island Race Week was one of the biggest yachting regattas in the country, a once a year festival of day-long racing and night-long parties. Yachts of all shapes and sizes could compete in various race categories, and the Seawolf had been a narrow loser to arch rivals from another company the year before.
"We only ever compete when we don't have a boatload of loopies, Paul," Jo pointed out. "It's an insurance nightmare if we rub up against someone."
Paul rolled his eyes. "You're kidding aren't you, Skip?" he protested. "When was the last time we hit anybody? You know it's only us and Bombardier {torn ABC Charters who are any good in our class. The rest stay out of our way."
It's certainly a tempting idea, Jo thought. It would keep the passengers interested and was low maintenance for the crew, other than the actual racing, which would be full on. Don't kid yourself, Jo-Jo. It'll keep you distracted as well. And too busy to be wondering every second where Cadie is and what the senator is up to. A happier thought occurred to her as she remembered the last time the Americans had been anywhere near a nightclub. And if Naomi is half the party animal I think she is, she might even leave Cadie alone for a few hours.
"Is Bombardier definitely competing?" she asked, looking at Paul, whose answering grin threatened to split his face in half.
"Too right. They've been talking themselves up, too. They reckon we're too chicken to take them on."
"Oh really?" Jo drawled, her competitive spirit stirring at the thought of a week of match racing. She crossed her legs at the ankle and drained the last of her beer. "Okay," she said finally. "Let's do it." She held a finger up as Paul started to celebrate. "On one condition, Paulie. We still have to run it by the paying passengers. If they say no, then it's no. And even then we have to get the entry forms in somehow."
Paul looked sheepish and Jenny laughed. "He's already lodged them, Jo-Jo," she said, giggling. "Weeks ago."
Jo arched an elegant brow at Paul. "Pretty sure of yourself aren't you, mate?"
He shook his head vigorously. "No, Skip. Pretty sure of you though." He grinned and slid out of her way when she tried to swat his shoulder. "Come off it, Jo-Jo, you know you can't resist a little healthy competition."
Blue eyes twinkled back at him. "I can't resist any competition, Paulie, healthy or un."
"Wooohooo," he yelped, springing to his feet and doing a little jig. "I've been wanting to nail those bastards since last year. You beauty!"
The two women laughed at his antics until the big man finally slowed down, pulling another three beers out of the icebox. Jo accepted her second gratefully, twisting the cap off and tossing it back into the ice.
"So," she asked, "when's the first race?"
Paul flopped back down on the deck. "Friday at noon," he replied. "Then each day at noon till Tuesday, providing the wind holds."
Jo started planning the next few days in her head. "Okay, so assuming the Americans say yes, that gives us tomorrow to get ourselves around to Hamilton and tomorrow night and Friday morning to get race trimmed," she mused.
Paul shook his head. "That won't take us that long, Skipper," he said. "We've been running her pretty tight anyway."
Jo nodded. "Well, I can vouch for the keel and the hull," Jo muttered, taking another swig of beer. "Okay, let's put it to the troops at dinner and see what they think."
"We're gonna kick some serious arse, Skipper, just you wait and see," enthused Paul.
"Suits me, mate," Jo said quietly, settling back against the cowling. It's not the arse I want to kick, but it'll do for now.
Even silent, we're still talking to each other, Cadie thought as she leaned forward and poked at the fire with a long slick. She took in the circle of people gathered around the friendly blaze and smiled quietly. Jo had managed to position herself directly opposite her as she leaned back between Naomi's legs. The senator sat on a low chair, her right arm resting proprietarily on Cadie's shoulder. But Naomi can't see my eyes. And thanks to that cap, she can't see Jo's either.
The fire's glow turned the tall skipper's pale blue eyes m
olten gold and Cadie willingly fell into them. Under the peak of her cap, Jo's gaze was open and warm, though she kept her expression impassive.
God, I love her, Cadie thought with amazement, smiling back at the dark-haired woman. A fleeting grin flickered across Jo's mouth in reply, followed by a raised eyebrow and a questioning tilt of her head. She wants to know what's going on, Cadie reasoned. I wish I could tell her. Hell, I wish we could just sail away together.
Jo watched Cadie flinch slightly as the senator's hand shifted from her shoulder and started playing idly with the blonde's hair.
God damn her. Jo suppressed the growl that welled up in her throat, and ducked her head momentarily to better hide her scowl. What's going on, my love? I expected us to have to be careful when we got back, but having Naomi all over you all the time isn't usual.
I can't tell you, angel, Cadie tried to say with her eyes. Please understand. I'm trying to protect you until I can get her away from here. I'm sorry it hurts.
Jo couldn't tear her eyes from the blonde's. Other conversations swirled around her and she tried to keep half an ear tuned to them, but for the most part all she saw were the darker than normal, gold-flecked eyes across the fire. Part of me wants the next 10 days over and done with. At least then things will happen. They may not be good things, but any thing's got to be better than watching them together.
"Tell us about the racing, Jo," Toby said, from over to her left. She disengaged from Cadie's eyes reluctantly and smiled at the man's enthusiasm. The passengers had willingly agreed to them entering the regatta, the men particularly excited by the prospect.
"Well, it's a different triangular course every day," Jo replied, feeling Cadie's gaze continue to track her. "If the wind blows like it normally does around here, then each race should take about three hours, from noon each day."
"Fs there any prize money?" Therese asked. She was sitting to Cadie's left.
"Mhmm. A thousand dollars for the winner of each race, and $10,000 for the overall class winner at the end of the week," Jo answered. "So the racing can get a little serious." She grinned.
Heart's Passage Page 26
