by Lily Bishop
“My brother Lee and I went to Calliope to find you. Your sister, not known for her patience, sneaked off the ship to try to find you before we made it back. She disappeared.”
“Now that sounds like Laura. I guess that’s when Ric’s people fired their Taser. But why would you suspect Laura? She’s the most honest person I know.”
“I had my reasons. She lied to cover your disappearance. I saw Vaughn leaving her apartment, when I warned her to stay away from him.”
“Vaughn had come over to ask me to play a blackjack tournament for him. We told Laura I was helping him with a new company, so none of that was her fault. He said if I didn't help him, he would tell her that I had lost money playing on-line. I knew Laura wouldn't like it if she found out. So I went with him.”
“Ah. Laura told us you were being held against your will. That didn't make sense when you asked to stay another night.”
Back to that again. Everyone wanted to know the same thing.
“Initially, yes, Ric was holding me prisoner in the tower suite. But then Vaughn escaped, and he locked me in the tower for my protection. I didn’t think Vaughn would do anything, but Ric did. Then we became close.”
“So the extra night. Was it worth it?”
Lindsey felt a big grin take over and couldn’t stop it. “I think so. But don’t tell Laura any of that. After the ugly Taser incident, she hates Ric. I don’t need to give her any other ammunition.”
Fox smiled at her then, and Lindsey started to see why Laura had been spending time with him. When he smiled, he was almost a different person.
“You know that she feels responsible for you, don’t you?”
Lindsey sighed. “Yes, I’m aware of that. But as much as I love her, she has to realize that I’m an adult. I may make mistakes. Who doesn’t? But they are my mistakes to make.”
“I think she sees it as preventing heartache, but I see what you’re saying. Lee would say the same thing about me.”
Lindsey glanced at her phone again. “I hate to leave Laura here by herself, but I have dinner plans in about thirty minutes,” she explained. Lindsey winced at how lame that sounded. “I tried to postpone it, but it’s complicated.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll stay with her. I’d worry if I weren’t here. I’ll stay down here and watch television with the sound low. I’ll be able to hear her if she starts moving around upstairs or if she calls out.”
Lindsey felt bad about leaving Laura, but for whatever reason, Kayla wanted her to come to dinner. What was Kayla holding over Ben’s head? She knew from experience that older siblings liked being in charge. She went along with it, at least for a little while.
CHAPTER TWO
A Family Affair
Vaughn Bruce stared at the bars of his Bahamian jail cell. The metal was so clean it glistened. Everything he had seen in the Bahamas was clean. He didn’t care anymore. All he wanted was to go back home, but it didn’t appear that would happen any time soon.
His head still hurt from where the resort security had slammed him into the wall. He paced the small cell, rubbing his shoulder. His torn shirt hung open from where the guards threw him on the ground and cuffed him.
This was all Lindsey’s fault. The whole point of her wig and skimpy clothing was for her to distract the dealers. Instead, she had fallen for the casino owner. If she had been at the tables flirting with the dealers, they never would have noticed the fake casino chips.
It disturbed him that he hadn’t heard from El Señor yet. He had asked for help from the man who gave him the chips, but so far, he had heard nothing. Vaughn wanted another chance.
He heard footsteps and moved to the door. He held onto the bars, as if he could slip through them. A guard marched down the hall and stopped in front of his cell. He stood at attention for a moment, his black skin a dark contrast against the pure white of his uniform. He motioned for Vaughn to step back.
“Someone is here to see you. Move back, please.” All the guards sounded more British than American. This one was no exception.
Vaughn shuffled back, not making any sudden movements. The lock clanged when the key turned, the sound like something out of a movie. "Hands in front, please."
Vaughn waited again as the guard locked cuffs around his wrists in front of him. He didn’t know why they bothered. He had seen the fencing and locked doors when they brought him in. He wasn’t going anywhere.
"What, you think I’m running out of here?”
“Just following procedure. Come with me, please, sir.”
Vaughn followed the guard down several hallways before they reached a windowless room. Vaughn didn’t resist when the guard pushed him into a chair and attached the cuffs to a ring in the table. He clicked his heels together and stepped took up his post outside the door. Vaughn could see his shadow through the opaque glass.
He didn’t know who would be coming to see him. For a minute, he thought that Lindsey had come to bail him out. He knew she had money. The guards had all been talking about the young American woman who won the tournament. With all the money she won after he paid the entry fee, she should have found him and come to help. She had to know about his arrest.
The door opened and a Bahamian man in a black suit and a crisp white shirt came in.
"Mr. Bruce, I am Mr. Sinclair, your solicitor.” Sinclair half-extended his hand and paused with it in mid-air. After an awkward moment, he dropped his hand and sat down across from him. The man held his back straight, touching the smallest part of the chair possible.
"Earlier in the week the sergeant told me that the Bahamas did not appoint a lawyer.” Vaughn shifted in the chair, trying to get comfortable. The chain connecting the cuffs rattled.
"I am not a lawyer,” he said, and he pulled out a folder. “I am a solicitor, hired for you," he explained.
“I don’t have any money for a lawyer. Nothing I can get to right now.”
“Your partner has it arranged. If you plead guilty and pay the fine, the court will release you. If you plead not-guilty and there is a trial, I do not know how it will go for you.”
At first Vaughn felt a wave of relief that he wouldn't serve jail time, but then frustration hit. “I can’t pay a fine. My money is in the states.”
“Your partner has taken care of it," Sinclair said. He wouldn’t meet Vaughn’s eyes. When he looked up from the folder, he stared at a spot to the right of Vaughn’s head.
“I’m confused. Lindsey is paying the fine? Then what?”
“Lindsey? I am not sure who you mean.”
“Lindsey Todd. My partner.”
“Oh, no. I’m sorry. By your partner, I meant …” Mr. Sinclair cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. He looked back to the door, then leaned in and whispered, “El Señor. He wants to meet with you in his home where you can discuss the details of his future plans.”
Not Lindsey. El Señor had put this in motion then. What had happened to Lindsey? “What plans?”
“He did not share the details with me. Are you in agreement?”
Vaughn didn’t want to plead guilty, but at least he wouldn’t have a U.S. record. “Where do I sign?”
“There is nothing to sign. The hearing will be at the end of the day. I will be in the courtroom and will pay your fine. After your release, I will take you to him.”
Vaughn noticed that the lawyer hadn’t spoken Miguel Salzana’s name. No one ever spoke his name, referring to him always as “El Señor,” or “El Hombre.” He had met him the one time in Miami, but they didn't use names then either.
Sinclair coughed behind his hand. "Remember that you must dress for the court hearing. I brought a suit from your luggage at the resort.”
Vaughn frowned. “How did you get my luggage?”
The solicitor shrugged as if that was the last thing that should concern Vaughn. “Make sure you shower, shave, and wear the suit. It will be important for you to look your best.” He paused and looked Vaughn in the eye. “Mr. Bruce, please show resp
ect to the magistrate. If you are disrespectful in any way, he will not honor the agreement.”
Just as Sinclair had foretold, the hearing didn’t start until almost the end of the day. Vaughn waited several hours after lunch before the court administrator called his name. Several drug offenders received lengthy jail sentences. Vaughn feared his sentencing wouldn’t be as straightforward as the solicitor had predicted.
When they called his case number, Vaughn and his solicitor stepped forward. Despite his instinct to fight the charges, he entered a guilty plea as advised. The judge began with a long speech on the dangers of theft and larceny in a foreign country. Vaughn glazed out, but then realized it was over. The judge had sentenced him to restitution plus a fine of ten thousand Bahamian dollars. He was not to re-enter the Bahamas for five years. An officer of the court would take him to the airport to ensure he departed the country.
After the bailiff returned his property, he released Vaughn to Mr. Sinclair. “So now what? The magistrate said something about an escort?”
“Yes, I will take you to the airport so you can leave the Bahamas. You’ll find a plane waiting.”
“A plane to where?”
“Venezuela, of course. You are traveling to Santa Katerina Island.”
Mr. Sinclair—Vaughn never did find out his first name—was true to his word. He drove Vaughn to the airport and escorted him out onto the tarmac where the private jets waited. He spoke to the pilot and turned to leave without a word.
“Wait,” Vaughn said, walking back over to Sinclair. “I never received my passport. I know the jail had it—”
“I just gave it to the pilot. He will keep it until you reach Venezuela.”
“I’d prefer to keep my own passport,” Vaughn growled, tired of the whole affair.
“You can take that up with the pilot. I’ve fulfilled my responsibilities.” He extended his hand. “Good luck to you, Mr. Bruce. I recommend that you stay out of the Bahamas until the five-year term passes. If the court learns that you are in the Bahamas, you would have to serve the five years in prison.” With a short bow, Mr. Sinclair left Vaughn on the tarmac.
Vaughn turned to the pilot. “I’d like my passport, if you don’t mind.”
“I’m sorry sir, I’m just following orders. It’s time to board the plane, if you don’t mind.”
Vaughn would have gone back inside the airport, but wasn't sure what that would gain him. He knew it wouldn't go well for him if he ended up before the same judge. This had all been set up. Vaughn was thankful to be out of jail, but he wondered if he wasn’t just trading one set of bars for another.
Vaughn climbed the steps of the jet and sank down in one of the wide leather captain chairs that filled the cabin. He had not felt such plush comfort in days. Perhaps throwing his lot in with Miguel wasn’t such a bad thing after all.
Vaughn remembered his trip to Calliope on the tiny commuter flight from Nassau to the island. After the police caught him the second time, he had traveled from Calliope to Nassau in a police boat. He had spent four miserable hours chained to a bench below deck in a room with four drunks. Lindsey could have prevented that. She could have told Ricardo Salzana to free him. Instead, she had abandoned him.
He would show her the consequences of leaving him in jail. When he had fulfilled his obligations to Miguel, he would show her. She would wish she had never met him.
#
Lindsey saw Ben waiting outside the restaurant. He swept her into an enthusiastic hug. Lindsey didn’t know if he held on too long, or held her too close, but she shied away. She still didn't anyone to touch her—at least not anyone but Ric.
“You’re letting your hair grow,” Lindsey told him, noting the sweep of bangs that hung down over one eye. His hair had lightened over the summer. Her mother would have called it dishwater blonde. What had been just a little bit of stubble was now a full beard. “And a beard. What’s this?”
He rubbed his hand along his chin. “Something different. What do you think?”
“It makes you look older. I didn’t say that I didn’t like it. I’ll have to get used to it.”
“Your hair’s longer, too,” he said.
Lindsey pushed it back behind her ears. “I’m debating cutting it. I might let it grow for a while.” But not as long as that blasted wig.
“I like it longer,” he said. Lindsey had a feeling that Ric did too. She cringed at the raw feelings that erupted when she thought about her island pirate. Not a good sign that she missed him this much already.
“Remind me again why we had to have dinner? I told you that I needed more time to get finish packing.”
“You know how Kayla is. Come on, she already has us a table.”
Kayla and another girl sat at a booth in the corner. Kayla stood up to say hello, and as usual, she towered over Lindsey.
“Kayla, it’s good to see you again.” Lindsey tried to sound festive.
“And it’s good to see you as well,” Kayla said. Unlike Ben, Kayla offered neither a hug nor a handshake. She just stood with her hands on the table. “I don’t believe you’ve met my roommate Brittany Clarke, of the Atlanta Clarkes.”
I suppose if I knew who that was, I would curtsy. “Nice to meet you,” Lindsey offered.
Brittany smiled and nodded. Her expression wavered between a smirk and a sneer.
Kayla grabbed the conversation back like a dog snarling around a bone.
“Lindsey,” she said, pronouncing a hard D, “you can sit there.” She gestured to the opposite corner of the booth, against the wall.
Lindsey didn’t know why the four of them had to jam into a booth. She preferred her space, but she slid inside anyway and hoped she didn’t have to go to the bathroom. Why did she feel like this was a second-rate job interview?
The few times she had come here with Laura she had never noticed the pub lighting over the booths. Kayla was so tall, her face was completely in shadow. Lindsey felt like she sat under a heat lamp.
The waitress took their orders: an iced tea for Lindsey, craft beer for everyone else. Kayla and Brittany each ordered a grilled chicken salad with dressing on the side. Ben chose the cheeseburger plate. Lindsey picked the meatloaf with mashed potatoes, gravy, and green beans with cornbread.
“Extra bread for the table?” the waitress added.
“We don’t do carbs,” Kayla and Brittany said at the same time.
“I’ll eat theirs,” Ben said, grinning, not phased in the least.
Now she remembered why she hadn’t made more of an effort to socialize with Kayla. Lindsey smiled at Ben, feeling a little bit better about the evening. At least he was trying to put her at ease. She missed Ric. He had never been pretentious with her.
Lindsey felt her phone vibrate and glanced down to see Ric’s picture flashing. Irritated, she sent it to voice mail. She had told him she would call him back.
“Do you need to get that?” Kayla asked.
“No, I’ll call him back.”
“Since that’s out of the way, we can talk about the elephant in the room.”
“There’s not an elephant, Kayla,” Ben said, his teeth smiling in a half-snarl.
“Sure there is.” She stared at Lindsey. “Why would a girl like you want to move in with a guy like him? It makes no sense.”
Ben spoke up, either not noticing or ignoring the fact that she had directed the question to Lindsey. “Sure it does. We’re friends and we’re both moving to Clemson. It makes sense to share space. Everything totals at the bottom for you accounting types,” he added, for Brittany’s benefit.
Kayla laid her hands flat on the table, palms hovering just above the wood. “Lindsey, you may not realize this, but Ben and Brittany have an arrangement."
“What is this, the twelfth century?” Lindsey asked before she could stop herself.
Brittany spoke up then. “Ben and I have an understanding. Kayla thinks she's Ben's keeper, and she doesn't want you to get your hopes up."
“I have a boyfrien
d of my own, so I’m not interested in Ben in that way," Lindsey explained. She couldn’t resist digging a little bit. “But it seems to me that if you have an understanding, he would be moving to Coral Gables, not Clemson.”
“You have a point, but he doesn’t want to move to Coral Gables. Ben, since you asked, I did talk to Dad, and he has worked out an arrangement with Scott.”
“Scott is my uncle,” Ben told Lindsey. He turned back to Kayla, his voice wary. “What is this alleged arrangement?”
“Well, he found out about the bar. You knew he would,” she said when Ben rolled his eyes. “He found out and he wants in on it. So he’s going into a partnership with Scott, to offset some of the risk, and you’re going to help manage it.”
Ben rolled his eyes. “This was my thing. He has to stick his hands in everything, doesn’t he?”
Kayla shrugged. “You wanted me to talk to him; that’s what you get. If it doesn’t work out, you can always move back here to South Florida.”
Brittany was not happy with the announcement. “It’s silly for Ben to be tending bar when he turned down grad school offers from Duke and Georgetown.”
“I told you I’m not ready to settle down yet. I deferred my enrollment—we’ll see what happens next year. Right now, I just want a break.”
“And what do you want, Lindsey?” Kayla asked, her voice cold.
“I’m enrolling in the graduate program in Mathematics at Clemson, and then I don’t know. I’ll either teach somewhere or get a job in industry.”
Brittany leaned back, smirking. “I’ve always seen pure math as a waste. Without an applied field, such as accounting, it’s all theory.”
“Math forms the base of the computer systems that we work with every day,” Lindsey explained. She grew tired of explaining her career choice every time someone asked.
“Even if Lindsey doesn’t stay in academia, there are other jobs out there. Math doctoral students are always in demand at national laboratories and at tech firms. The list is endless,” Ben said. He was repeating Lindsey’s words from a few months ago, but it felt good for him to defend her.
