“Have we got the right boat? That’s not her at the wheel. In fact, I haven’t seen her topside once,” Ginette said as she peered through the binoculars.
Victoria cruised to a gentle halt close to a rocky outcrop and roughly propped fishing rods over the side as a rudimentary camouflage for their clandestine activities. It was incredibly difficult to casually stalk someone on the high seas, and she wasn’t sure how good a job they’d made of it.
“Let me see,” she said as she swapped places. She had been pondering for the past few hours over the irregularity of Mickey’s navigation. There was no possible way for the woman to know she had closed in on her here in the Caymans, never mind that Victoria was actually sitting on a small boat spying on her through binoculars. She’d been slowly closing the net on Mickey Rapowski for months, waiting for this very moment. The last thing she needed was to be following the wrong boat.
“No, that’s her sloop all right. We even saw her climb aboard as we entered the cove. But I didn’t know she had company.” Victoria was unhappy with this news. She’d been told Mickey was a loner, a solitary figure never mixing with locals or visitors.
On some perverse level, Victoria liked that.
“Maybe it’s her girlfriend?” Ginette asked, forever the agent provocateur.
“My source said she didn’t have one.”
“Maybe she’s having a secret affair…”
“No. She’s definitely not seeing anyone.”
“…and this is where they go for some afternoon delight,” Ginette persisted.
“No, it’s not her girlfriend. She doesn’t have one.”
“Maybe they’re down below right now, all hot and naked and sweat—”
“It’s not her girlfriend,” Victoria bellowed, startling nearby seabirds into the air. Ginette innocently reached under her seat and produced the flare gun.
“Why don’t you make it a little more obvious that we’re sitting behind this rock?”
Victoria glowered as she wobbled back to her passenger seat.
Ginette looked at her speculatively, enjoying her baiting game.
“So what now, Captain Softheart? Maybe we should swim over there with knives clenched between our teeth and steal aboard, m’hearty.” Ginette rolled her r’s and saluted jokily.
Victoria whipped around to stare at her.
“What?” Perplexed, Ginette returned her stare, until the penny dropped. “Oh, no. No way. Not me. There’s sharks in there.”
❖
Much, much later, Victoria really did appreciate the distortion of distance at sea. She felt as if she’d been swimming for a million years. Granted, she was a strong swimmer. A sailing holiday in the warm waters of the Caribbean or off the Pacific Coast was a popular vacation choice for her, but she still felt trepidation as she drew alongside the silent hull. Treading water, one hand on the boarding ladder, she listened for any clues about what was going on onboard.
Her first instinct this morning had been to go back to the harbor, await the return of Mickey Rapowski, then confront her on dry land. However, the unusual activity on the boat and the strange course it had followed alarmed her. She was worried her quarry was fleeing, and her immediate reaction was to follow and hunt her down. Now, after seeing a stranger onboard and no further sign of Mickey, her gut reaction was that something was wrong. But what? And aside from getting her money back, why should she care?
“If it ain’t the little mermaid.”
She looked up and found herself staring along the barrel of the butchest gun she had ever been on the wrong end of.
“Let’s get those little webbed feet up on deck, eh?” the woman holding the gun instructed. Reluctantly, Victoria hoisted herself out of the water.
Slowly, she mounted the boarding ladder and emerged on deck under the watchful and appreciative eyes of the lone gun woman. She was suddenly self-conscious of the scarlet bikini she wore. It now seemed like an extremely stupid idea to swim stealthily out to the yacht to find out what was going on. What was going on was the last thing she needed to know. It seemed she wasn’t the only one who had a beef with Mickey.
The woman’s dark gaze roamed over her body, raising a slight blush to her cheeks.
“So tell me why you been following me around all morning. And just now tried to sneak up on me?” The gun still remained steadily leveled at her while the deep, melodious voice lilted questions.
“Actually, I’m not following you. I’m following the owner of this boat. I have business with her, not you. But finder’s keepers, so I’ll just jump back in and—”
The dark woman laughed.
“Oh, I can imagine you got business with that one. But there’s a waiting list.” She turned her head and nodded at the shadowed hatchway to the cabin below. “You have to bide your time to see the elusive Ms. Gresham.”
The momentary glance away was all the recovery time Victoria needed to hide her shock. Ms. Gresham? This woman thought she had Ms. Gresham down below? What the hell was going on? Why was everything concerning Mickey always so goddamn difficult?
“After you, friend.” With a sly smile, the woman with the gun motioned her forward. It seemed she was going to find out.
Doing exactly as indicated by the Glock’s muzzle, Victoria climbed down into the cool recesses of the cabin to meet Mickey’s startled stare head-on. Victoria’s heart lurched. She had forgotten the intensity of that blue gaze. She had seen it in a million shades of sky, and thought of Mickey Rapowski each and every time. And now Mickey was finally before her. Gagged, bound, impotent, and nearly within throttling distance. And this happens.
From the corner of her eye, she could see the Glock glinting in the dim light from the portholes . It’s so unfair. This woman took everything important from me, and I’m still scrabbling around in her viper’s nest of a life. How hard could it be to get unqualified revenge?
Victoria kept her face passive, giving away nothing of the emotional undertow dragging her under. But she could feel her body betraying her with subtle little tricks she tried to rationalize away.The tips of her ears heated, but that could have been the beginnings of sunburn. Her vision blurred momentarily, but that could have been the darkened cabin interior. Her stomach lurched nervously, and she felt light-headed, but that could have been the semiautomatic pointing at her. But her heart had no rationale to hide behind. It got straight to the point of the matter. Her heart simply fell in love all over again with the woman perched on the berth before her. With her poker face firmly in place, Victoria ignored Mickey and turned to her armed companion.
“Yes. That’s Victoria Gresham, all right. What do you want with her?”
Behind the gag, Mickey was suffocating with an errant heartbeat and hitched breathing. The cabin felt claustrophobic, so crammed with Victoria there was no room for air. Her gaze flicked over Victoria in total confusion, picking up every little hint from her body. Unerringly Mickey read the subtleties. She saw dismay in Victoria’s eyes and noticed her flushed face and breathlessness. Mickey drank everything in, every move, nuance, and scent. Every one of her senses jolted and hummed at Victoria’s proximity. Why is she here? Has she arranged this kidnapping?
❖
Ginette peered through the binoculars until she felt her eyes would bug out permanently. Much to her consternation, she had witnessed Victoria being ordered on board by the sexy black woman with the decidedly unsexy gun. Shit!
She knew it had been a wacko idea, but would Victoria listen?
No, never. And now it was all dumped on her to be a rescuer, or hero, or something totally alien to her. Damn it! So what were the options? Run for help? But in what direction? Ginette looked around the expanse of liquid blue; one wrong turn and she could easily end up in Cuba. Well, a girl could do worse than Cuba, but that wasn’t exactly getting her money back. No, she needed Victoria for that, and that bitch Mickey.
Okay, so she had a chart and a compass, but she could never do that “distance times speed, times wha
tever,” formula that Victoria did to tell if there was enough fuel to go anywhere. And she certainly didn’t want to run out of fuel out here. Especially not out here.
She could radio for help.
Mayday. Mayday. My ex-girlfriend, the tax evader, has been abducted by an armed hijacker, onboard the boat of an embezzling FinCEN agent gone bad. Please send an honest accountant.
Mmm, maybe not.
The powerboat engine was far too noisy for a sneaky approach.
At least not until she knew there’d be a friendly welcome. Perhaps she too should swim out there and do something wonderful to save the day—and her money.
Looking into the topaz blue waters, Ginette shuddered at the hundreds of sharks and giant squid just waiting for her to so much as dip a toe in.
No, better wait and see what happens next. It was late afternoon, and Victoria had only just climbed aboard. At this very minute the skilled and twisted businesswoman was doubtless talking herself out of any tight spot and negotiating a takeover bid. Stretching, Ginette decided the best course of action she could possibly take was to wait and top up her tan. Who said she couldn’t multitask?
❖
“Start by telling me who you are.” The dark woman leaned back on the galley counter, tapping her fingers absently on the gun that once more hung from the lanyard. Her eyes narrowed to glittering slits.
Victoria answered with the most plausible thing that sprang to mind.
“I’m Michaela Rapowski. I report to FinCEN, and I’ve been on the trail of this piece of thieving scum for several weeks now.”
Mickey’s eyes flashed angrily, and a series of anguished squeaks and muffles filtered through the gag. The dark woman processed this information thoughtfully.
“Got ID?”
Victoria indicated her apparel. “Well, usually I roll it up cylindrically and store it up my ass because I’m waterproofed on the inside. But today I just plain forgot.” The woman chuckled. “I can easily check, you know.”
“My ID or my ass?” Victoria chanced a cheekily flirtatious route with this charmer. Her gut instinct told her it would deliver better results. Mickey managed to flash a disgusted look from Victoria to her abductor and back.
Another chuckle. “I already checked one. When I reconnect the radio, I’ll do the other. Here.” Despite the cavalier attitude, she tossed a T-shirt to Victoria. Gratefully, she shrugged it over her meager swimwear.
“Be my guest. I’m with the Boston office,” she said, holding out a hand in greeting. “I’m afraid I don’t know your name.”
“Bar Jack, but they call me BJ.” A brilliant smile accompanied her introduction. They shook warmly, hands clasped right in front of Mickey’s extremely disgruntled face.
“So tell me, BJ, how come you can check out my ID?”
“I work for FinCEN, too, through an independent agency. We get a lot of your kind of clientele out here in the Caymans. We monitor unusual financial activity and report it to…interested parties. When people like our friend here move onto the Islands, we watch very closely. Especially when they make a large cash investment. It draws many eyes.” BJ shrugged at the simplicity of it. Mickey blinked worriedly at BJ’s answer.
Victoria stiffened slightly. This was the information she needed to hear.
“I audited her trail halfway across Europe, but it faded after sterling changed back into U.S. dollars. The trail was almost stone cold, but luckily, I had people watching the neighborhood down here, too. Always worth a little investigation, a big cash buy like that.”
Mickey’s eyes widened further, and Victoria gave her a smug look.
“And a police check shows she escaped a cabin fire recently. No doubt a deal gone sour made her run. Why else would she move so fast as to draw unwelcome attention?” A wolfish smile accompanied BJ’s words. Mickey’s alarmed blue gaze flashed back to Victoria, who now spoke with great care.
“Gresham hasn’t been seen publicly since the fire. Officially, she’s stood down as director of her corporate interests. Retired early? Gone underground?” She shrugged nonchalantly. “It was only a question of when and where she’d pop up. Scum always floats to the surface.” She gave Mickey a long, hard stare, and Mickey glared back with equal animosity.
“It’s nice to meet you, BJ. Perhaps between us we can bring this two-faced, double-crossing, underhanded cow to justice.” BJ frowned at the vehemence of the words, and Mickey squeaked indignantly. Victoria gave a charming smile.
“Sorry. I’m very passionate about my work. Big on taxes.” Quickly changing the subject, Victoria asked, “So what are the plans for extraditing her? When do we head back to port?” BJ hesitated. “Mmm, I wasted time today waiting to see what you were up to. I don’t know if the boat is rigged for safe night running. The anchor light works, and we’re over sand, so I’m gonna sit here tonight and pull anchor early in the morning. You’re welcome to stay.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
“Can I fetch you a drink? That was one long, hard swim,” BJ said. It seemed she wanted to keep her unexpected guest close at hand.
Chapter Eleven
Mickey sat stunned as BJ and Victoria went topside. What an opportunistic, lying little bitch Victoria Gresham was! And what manipulative scheme was she up to now? And what was she doing here if she wasn’t behind all this?
In fact, the more Mickey thought about it, the angrier she became. Little ship’s weevil, flouncing round my boat wearing that miniscule, indecent…rag. And in front of that ogling, gunslinging butch. And they’re lighting up my barbeque. They better not scorch anything…or get grease spots on the brightwork.
Bare feet padded back down into the cabin. Victoria appeared before her and leaned down to look into her eyes.
“My, it’s like looking into a mirror. Hello there, Michaela, or should I say, tricky Vicky?” She smiled brightly, ruffling Mickey’s hair. “It’s taken a little longer than expected to sniff you out, and unfortunately, it seems the ‘friends of FinCEN’ have pounced first. Poor Booboo. Of course, the fact they think you’re me adds an interesting twist, don’t you agree?” Mickey glowered at her, and Victoria’s grin broadened.
“Now, I’m not the esoteric one here, so I wouldn’t really know. But maybe this little mix-up is the universe telling you you’re a bastard for stealing my money and bringing the heat down on me.”
Victoria saw no need to inform Mickey that she was brokering a deal with the tax authorities and was practically a legit citizen again. Nor that there was no way the gun-toting butch up top was who she represented herself to be. Let Mickey stew in her own juices for a while. At least until Victoria had figured out an exit from this mess. Mickey glared back at her, the only possible recourse for a bound and gagged woman, as Victoria knew only too well.
“So the way I see it,” Victoria continued happily, “is you play along and be me, and I, God help me, will be you. We’ll ditch Top Gun”—she indicated above to where BJ hummed tunefully over the barbeque—“at the first opportunity, and you’ll transfer all your ill-gotten gains back to me. I have the paperwork already prepared and waiting at my hotel room. Then you are free to crawl back to whatever rock you were born under.” Mickey still glared at her.
“Just nod yes, sweetie. Otherwise, you can sit here until BJ’s employers figure out who you really are. Then both our asses will be on the line. Except mine will be long gone. I’m not here for you, Mickey. I want the money that you’ve been throwing around like confetti. It’s up to you. But be warned, if you won’t play then I’m jumping ship first chance I get, and you’re on your own. And I’ll bet you my last million dollars BJ’s boss doesn’t play nice.” Mickey glared at her one last, long time and then nodded curtly. She was busted and she knew it. Best to go with the devil you know at a time like this. And truth was, now that she’d seen Victoria Gresham again, she would quite happily dance after her all the way to the gates of hell. But Victoria didn’t need to know that. “Atta girl, Vicky.” Victoria gave her a co
ndescending pat on top of the head, then collected a tray of steaks from the galley fridge before heading back up top without a backward glance.
Mickey sat and fumed. She was playing with a couple of scorpions here. Her instincts told her BJ was way off target as a supposed FinCEN informer, but it might be to Mickey’s best advantage to see how things worked out. She had no idea what Victoria’s game was, but it would be interesting to see how she planned to play Michaela Rapowski and get them both out of here.
❖
The smell of barbeque jerked Ginette awake. Sitting up with an abrupt squeak, she examined her slightly pink legs and sighed with relief. She had dreamed she was cooking.
She slapped on another thick layer of lotion and glanced across to the Green Eyed Monster. There seemed to be more activity on deck now. She leveled the binoculars at the boat and found the source of the mouthwatering aroma that had hijacked her dream. They were having a barbeque—without her!
We’ll soon see about that, she huffed to herself before firing up the engine. Margaritas, here I come.
Victoria and BJ looked up at the approaching vessel.
“Ah, I was wondering when your friend would show. See? It took the smell of barbeque to winkle her out,” BJ murmured beside her. She seemed pleased at the appearance of Victoria’s hidden accomplice.
“Oh. Please. I cracked the cap of the tequila. It’s like calling sukie to a pig.”
The black powerboat slowed down as it closed in.
“Throw me a line,” BJ called out. “Cut your engine and we’ll raft up alongside.”
BJ’s strong arms flexed as she easily hauled the smaller craft in and secured it as Victoria dropped fenders between the two hulls. BJ’s movements were efficient and fluid. Victoria could tell she knew her way around a sailing boat.
Green-Eyed Monster Page 10
