by Diane Rapp
Kayla frowned. “I lost my favorite cap, so I’ll rely on my backup.”
“Too bad, that. I admired how you looked in the white one,” Genny said as she tugged on the bill of her own white baseball cap. “I’ll not be giving this one back.”
“Good grief, there are two of you!” Steven slouched in his seat. “I’m overwhelmed.”
Kayla smirked. “And Genny’s not an American.”
“I’ll get you right to your hotel,” Genny said as she revved the engine. The steep, winding drive to the hotel looked treacherous through the pouring rain. Genny honked as she headed into curves and dodged potholes with alacrity.
“Sorry about the rough road,” she apologized. “Road crews are working to shore up the road to Melville Hall Airport. A cave-in cost us an important pass so it takes two hours more to drive the long way.”
“Bad luck,” Kayla replied. “Been lots of rain this week?”
“Buckets full and I get so tired of rain. I think I’ll move to Arizona where it’s nice and dry. Is that the right place?”
“Dry, hot, and flat but you’d hate it. Try Colorado. We’ve got dry weather and mountains to rival yours.”
Genny scowled. “I hear there’s also lots of snow! I spent a week in New York once and nearly shivered to death.”
Kayla groaned. “Everyone I meet in the islands spent one week in New York City and judges the whole country by it!”
“Yanks are the same all over the country.” Steven flinched before Kayla punched his arm.
Genny pulled into the entrance of an elegant hotel, jumped out, and swung the sliding door open. “Our best for the best,” she said with a bow.
“Steven! Can your expense account justify this place?” Kayla gasped.
“There are ways.” He climbed out and offered his hand to help her down. “Your palace awaits, my queen.”
Genny led them into the foyer, while uniformed porters took their bags out of the van.
“See you in the morning, hopefully bright but definitely early,” Genny said. “Pray for sun, or it may be a right difficult hike.”
“Thanks ever, Genny. Give your father my best,” Steven said.
“You know Genny’s dad? And you let me introduce you like a stranger.”
The porter headed down the hall and Steven gestured for Kayla to lead the way. “I know her father but never met Genny. She’s a beautiful girl. Her father worries that she’ll be swept off her feet by some rich tourist and end up on the beach at Cannes.”
Kayla shook her head. “Cannes wouldn’t be sunny enough for Genny.”
Steven laughed. “He plans to turn over the business to her when she graduates college, so he doesn’t want to lose her.”
“Genny won’t get blinded by romance,” Kayla said.
Steven winced at her brusque tone of voice. As they followed the porter to their room, Kayla wondered what caused her gruff reaction to Steven’s comment. Was she afraid of romantic happiness?
The elegant suite combined a sitting room, complete with sofa, desk and table, and a separate bedroom. The silk brocade coverlet on the bed matched the hues in the thick plush carpeting and antique mahogany furniture.
“This is too expensive, Steven!”
His eyes sparkled as he tipped the porter and shut the door. “Nothing’s too much for my girl. I’ll make my calls while you take a hot shower. We’ve got dinner reservations in an hour.”
He kissed her lightly and rubbed the small of her back. She leaned into the caress until he pulled away.
“Take your shower, luv. You’re shivering.” He stepped into the sitting room and closed the door. The sensation of Steven’s touch lingered on her skin as Kayla languished in the soothing heat of the shower, amazed that she felt so cold in the tropics. Rubbing dry with a fluffy towel, she enjoyed the luxury of a bathroom large enough to hold several people.
During the research trip for the first edition of her book, Kayla endured various types of accommodations; once staying for free in a wing under renovation with sagging beds and cold showers. This suite was pure decadence.
She slipped into a silk robe hanging on the back of the door. “Steven,” she murmured, “how thoughtful.” The fabric caressed her skin as she directed hot air from the dryer through damp hair, using her fingers like a comb to separate the silken strands as they dried. “I could get used to this.”
Flickering light and soft music filtered from the sitting room into the dark bedroom. She walked into a romantic scene—the table covered with white linen, tall candles, sparkling china and a bottle of wine in a bucket of ice.
“What’s this?” she asked.
“It’s more comfortable and private than dinner in the dining room. Does the table meet with your approval, milady?” Steven asked with the sweeping gesture of a knight.
“It’s wonderful, but you’ve gone overboard. How will you ever explain this on your expense account?”
“It won’t be on my expense account.” Steven smiled. “I’ll pay for this myself, since I won’t share credit with the government for a romantic evening. Let me show you the feast.”
Bowing, he pulled out the chair and seated her like a maitre d’ hotel. He removed a silver cover from the serving platter and announced, “Fillet of sole delicately seasoned with capers, fresh baby peas, a baked potato, and the dessert is passion fruit ice cream.”
Kayla clapped her hands. “It’s great! But potatoes and baby peas don’t grow on Dominica. There’s too much rain.”
Steven twisted a corkscrew into the tapered green wine bottle. “Fine cuisine is only as far away as the airport, my dear. May I pour? This vintage is from your French picnic basket. I took the liberty.”
She held out her glass. “Good. I’m glad I can contribute in some way.”
He took the glass and kissed her fingertips. “You contribute by your presence, my dear.” He poured the wine and served the food.
Kayla watched him with pleasure. Dressed in a silk navy smoking jacket and pants that clung to the sleek lines of a muscular body, he looked debonair. The candlelight flickered in his eyes, turning them soft and dreamy.
“Thank you,” Kayla said, raising her glass to clink against his. “This is very romantic.” She ate slowly savoring the flavors while Steven ate quietly, watching through his thick eyelashes. Kayla enjoyed the moment. Tipping her glass to drain the last drop of the wine, she felt warm and protected.
Steven coaxed her from the chair to the couch, carrying their glasses in one hand while caressing her fingers with the other.
“Kayla. I have something important to ask you…” he poured wine into her empty glass. The cell phone rang with an insistent high-pitched tweet. He frowned. “Bloody hell.” Wine slopped from his glass as he jumped up from the couch and fumbled in his jacket pocket. He cursed again as the contents of the pocket spilled and the phone bounced across the carpet, twittering. Pouncing on the offending gadget, Steven flipped open the cover.
“Yeah, speaking.” He scowled. “Just a minute.” Turning to Kayla, he said, “Sorry, luv. I must take this call but I’ll get rid of them and come back straight away.” He darted into the bedroom and shut the door.
Kayla sipped her wine and looked at the mess on the floor. Even James Bond can be clumsy,” she thought, getting up. The least I can do is clean up. She gathered up the wallet and cards scattered across the floor. Recognizing Duncan’s card, Kayla wondered if Steven called Duncan about any passengers flying to Dominica last Wednesday. It wouldn’t hurt to follow up with Duncan, she thought and dialed the number from the hotel phone.
Static hissed over the line until she heard Duncan’s voice. “What do you need?” he growled.
“This is Kayla Sanders, Steven’s friend.”
He laughed. “I didn’t think you’d get bored with him this quick, girl. Where do you want me to pick you up?”
Kayla sighed. “I just need some information.”
“Shoot.”
“Did anyone fl
y into Dominica with you last Wednesday?” she asked.
“Let me check my sheets…on Wednesday Steven was the only passenger that flew to Dominica. Dropped him off at 10:00 a.m. and picked him up at 5:00 p.m.”
A knot formed in Kayla’s stomach. “You sure he flew on Wednesday?”
“Yep. I keep my days clearly marked for official records. It was Wednesday,” Duncan said. “Need to go, landing soon.”
The line went dead. Kayla glanced at the bedroom door as hot fingers of alarm clawed her chest. Steven lied! He claimed he was in Grenada on the day Patrick died! She remembered the van that followed them on the day of the murder. Steven knew about the mutiny. Did he tail his suspect, kill Patrick, and then slip off the island on Duncan’s plane? It explained their dwindling list of suspects and his interest in keeping her so close.
She tossed Duncan’s card and the rest of Steven’s things back onto the floor and paced the floor twining a strand of hair around her finger as her thoughts raced. Why did Steven lie to me? He knew about Poison Dart Frog toxin from the Barbados break-in. Did he get his own toxin to get rid of a tricky criminal?
Returning to the couch, she thought about the facts of the investigation. She only had Steven’s word that Garrison was in Grenada. Steven wore a white jacket that day. Did he try to scare me off the case? When the attack failed, did he distract me with romance? She felt angry and betrayed by another clever man. He used me since that first day on St. Martin, pumping me for information and pretending to fall in love?
She might return to the scene of the crime with the killer. It could be a death trap! Gulping from her glass of wine, Kayla poured another glass. Calm down! It was my own idea to return to Ti Tou Gorge. Steven’s a wonderful, loving man—yeah, a wonderful liar! Anger roared through her brain as she thought about the enormity of the deception. He knew how much Patrick hurt me! So he’s using the same tricks to suck me into another doomed romance. I’ll show him…
The bedroom door opened with a click. Steven strolled across the room and retrieved his wallet and cards strewn across the floor. “Sorry. My superiors demand reports at the most awkward moments.”
Raising his glass, he said, “To us! I have an important question to ask you, my darling,” he murmured, sliding onto the couch.
Kayla stiffened. “No! Don’t say it!” She pressed her fingers over his lips.
Steven frowned. “Must I drop to my knees after all? I thought this setting would be romantic enough.”
Kayla averted her gaze. “It’s romantic, I just…”
He cupped his hand under her chin and turned her face back. “Kayla, I love you. Please marry me.”
“No…I can’t.” Anxiety threatened to overwhelm her as breath caught in her aching chest.
His eyebrows knit together, forming a deep crease between pain-ridden eyes. “Don’t tell me you don’t love me…you said you were falling in love with me…I know you feel what I feel. What’s wrong?” Steven pleaded.
“I’m frightened.” She’d better to stick close to the truth. She felt afraid he was a killer! Kayla stood, twisting a lock of hair. “We’ve only known each other for one week…the last time I trusted a man…well, everything’s going too fast. I need more time.”
“The ghost of Patrick MacIntyre strikes again.” Steven stared into his wineglass, swirling the liquid. “I’m a patient man. If you need more time, I’m willing to give it to you.”
The pained expression in his eyes made her resolve weaken. Kayla said, “Patrick destroyed me and took pleasure in it. This has nothing to do with you.” A half-truth but how could she trust him now?
Steven studied her. “This has everything to do with me, with our relationship and our future. By God, you must bury that man! It simply won’t do! Stop being haunted by the ghost of such a vile man!”
“I don’t mean to hurt you.” Kayla wanted to trust him, to love him.
Steven blinked. “But it does hurt. We’ll both take time to consider what we want.” His eyes looked stormy. “Promise you’ll think about it.”
“Believe me, I’ll think about it constantly.”
“Capital!” He stood, causing Kayla to retreat one step. He tilted his head and raised an eyebrow. “You realize, I will ask again.”
She fumbled with the sash of her robe. “Ask me after we’ve cleared up this mess.”
Steven nodded and walked into the bedroom.
Kayla shivered. How could she sleep in the same bed with a possible killer? She twisted the sash, wondering if she’d wake to find it wrapped around her neck, and jumped when Steven plopped his suitcase onto the floor of the sitting room.
“I’ll sleep on the convertible sofa and you take the bed. I have a feeling Genny means early when she says early. Get some sleep.”
“But…”
“I don’t believe in casual sex, luv. I’m willing to wait until you make a commitment but I won’t make love without one. Good night, darling.” He ran the back of his fingers across her cheek, his eyes drooping like a forlorn beagle.
The caress sent an electric charge through her body, awakening memories of pleasure. She regretted the phone call to Duncan, longed to trust Steven. She thought, What’s wrong with me? Am I so starved for love I’d trust a liar—let alone a possible killer—because my body responds to his touch? She retreated to the safety of the bedroom.
Confused and frustrated, Kayla huddled sleepless and alone in the king-sized bed. She heard pillows plopping on the floor, the creak of a metal hinge, and the door click shut. She missed the heat of his body, missed snuggling into the hard muscle of his shoulder. Could a killer act loving and caring? Did Bonnie love Clyde while they gunned down G-men? What kind of idiot asked herself questions like that?
She is an idiot! She told Steven she wanted to find the second knife. What if Steven’s fingerprints were on that knife? A murderer might be sleeping in the next room, and tomorrow she’d hike into a dangerous jungle with him. Crying into her pillow, she fell into a sleep plagued by dreams.
Kayla walked alone through the forest in bare feet with a silk robe flapping around her legs. She saw Patrick standing under a tree. He took a bite of papaya and slipped his hand into the pocket of his safari jacket to withdraw the black knife with a golden snake on the cover. The snake writhed in his hand, expanded, and grew larger until it coiled over Patrick’s head. He didn’t notice the danger.
She screamed, waved her hands in the air, and pointed at the menacing creature. Patrick smirked as the snake swallowed his body. Kayla watched as a man-sized bulge move down the snake’s body. When the creature lunged at her, hissing, Kayla woke in a sweat.
Chapter 12 ~ Thursday — Ti Tou Gorge
At six o’clock the phone rang, and Kayla answered promptly. “Up and ready?” Genny asked, sounding too cheerful. “We’ve got a break in the storm but need to move fast. If it starts raining we could get hit by a flash flood.”
“We’ll be down right away,” Kayla said. She hung up and knocked at the sitting room door.
Steven opened the door, sipping a cup of tea. He wore a white golf shirt, navy shorts, and stout boots, the casual but tired look. Kayla knew his bloodshot eyes reflected her own.
“Genny just called and wants us to come down.”
“I’m ready,” he said.
Kayla wore tan shorts, a white tank top with a second shirt tied at her waist, and hiking boots. Slipping on sunglasses, she flipped her ponytail through the hole in a blue baseball cap sporting a stylized horse logo.
“Let’s go.” She breezed past him.
“Coming straight away,” Steven gulped his tea and followed her into the hall. “How many strikes do you get in a baseball match?” he asked.
“We call them games, and you get three.” She tilted her head and looked at him. “If you hit a foul ball it’s only a strike on the first two counts. After that you can hit ninety-nine fouls before it’s considered a third strike.”
His step became jaunty as he flashed a mischie
vous grin. “Ninety-nine…you don’t say! I might learn to like baseball after all. It gives a chap more tries than cricket.”
She hurried to catch up. “I’ve never seen a cricket game.”
“Match, I’ll take you to a match when we go home to England.”
Her ponytail bobbed as she shook her head. “Home is Colorado.”
“So it is. Well, maybe we can go to a baseball match…game in Colorado,” he countered.
She cast an assessing gaze at him. “You’re not giving up?”
He nodded. “With ninety-nine fouls available, it wouldn’t be cricket to quit. There’s Genny, bright and early as promised.” He strolled ahead and Kayla took time to admire his buoyant gait.
She muttered, “It could be a long game.”
The road felt slick as they climbed the mountain, turning muddy as they left the paved road and parked on a patch of dense grass.
Genny said, “We’d better take the trail from here. I don’t want to park near the river if a flash flood hits the ravine.”
Recognizing the parking site Kayla shivered. Icy fingers of fear clawed at raw nerves, and she jumped when Steven touched her shoulder.
“You okay?” Steven asked.
Biting her lower lip, Kayla nodded.
“Genny, let’s try to remember the sequence of events as we hike,” Kayla said. “Think about where you offered food to Patrick and where you saw him use the toothpick in his knife. Most important is where he sat when we reached the gorge and was he wearing his jacket?”
Genny peered at Kayla with wide amber-colored eyes. “What are we looking for?” She swung a heavy pack over her shoulder.
“Patrick’s black knife, you know the one with the golden snake symbol on the side.”
Genny tipped her baseball cap to shade her eyes. “I remember. Where should we look?”
Kayla squinted at the trail. Stray beams of sunlight flickered through the forest canopy like miniature spotlights. “We’ll look along the trail but I bet it’s at the place we stopped near the entrance to the gorge.”
“What if he dropped it in the water?” Steven asked.
