Enduring Charity: A Charity Styles Novel (Caribbean Thriller Series Book 4)

by Wayne Stinnett

  The image on the screen wasn’t sharp. The cruise ship was anchored almost half a mile away and the Revenge was moving slightly. The camera’s automatic image stabilization kept the subject centered but did so by sacrificing definition.

  The woman had Mediterranean features, probably Italian, with long wavy brown hair and a light olive complexion. Attractive, but she’d never have been able to entice Victor without the help of the libido-altering drug.

  Tony flipped through images on his phone again. “Fiona Russo,” he said. “Age twenty-two, five-seven, one-twenty-five, born San Diego. Orphaned when she was four, raised in foster care. Had some trouble with the law as an adolescent. Ran away at fourteen, arrested for prostitution at sixteen, and put in juvenile detention. A year later, she escaped custody and disappeared.”

  “Why orphans?” Charity asked.

  “We don’t have families,” Leilani said. “It’s a rule with the Pences. No ties and no families.”

  “How long have you been with them?” Charity asked, sensing the reason even if the girl didn’t see it.

  “From the start,” she replied. “I worked for Mister Pence before Missus Pence came along. Rayna, too, but not as long. When Missus Pence came along, she brought in Fiona. Then the Pences started adding the guys.”

  “So you and Rayna,” Charity said. “What kind of work did you do for Mister Pence?”

  The diminutive woman glanced over at Charity, then up to Jesse, who nodded.

  “Escorts,” Leilani said. “Usually rich old guys.”

  “Prostitutes.”

  Leilani glared at her. “No. Escorts. The men paid for our time, that’s all. Sometimes it was just dinner, or maybe a show or something. If there was sex involved, it was only because we liked the guy we were with. Call it whatever you want, but at least I wasn’t locked up, beaten, and gangbanged by my captors and their friends.”

  The last part was said with such venomous hate that Charity found herself believing it to be true. “What happened to the people who kidnapped you?”

  “They died, okay? Dead and buried nine years ago.”

  “And that’s when you went to work for Pence?”

  “About a year later,” Leilani said watching the screen again. “I was sixteen when Mister Pence found me and gave me a home.”

  Sixteen? Charity thought. A year younger than me when Dad died.

  Looking up at Jesse, Charity saw sadness and revulsion equally present in his eyes.

  “How old were you when you were kidnapped?” Tony asked.

  “Ten,” she replied. “Do we have to talk about this?”

  Jesse put a hand on her shoulder. “No, not unless you want to. You’re being a big help to us.”

  Leilani looked around at the three of them. “You guys aren’t what you led me to think, are you?” She jerked a thumb at Tony. “This guy knows things about the Gang of Six that I don’t even know.”

  “No, we’re not,” Charity said, taking the lead. “We used to work together. For the federal government.”

  “You work for—wait, so why did you kill Brent?”

  “He started to draw a gun,” Tony said. “He gave us no choice.”

  “And you don’t work for the government now?”

  “Not since last summer,” Jesse said. “The man Brent killed in Nassau two nights ago was a former CIA operative.” He nodded toward Charity. “He was her boyfriend. They were in love. And I’d like to think that he and I parted as friends, the one time I met him.”

  “CIA?” Leilani breathed out slowly. She glanced at Tony beside her, then at Jesse, and finally Charity. “That’s why he had more than one passport? He’s a spy? That’s who you guys used to work for?”

  “A different branch,” Charity said. “We were part of the fight against terrorism. Malcolm there is an explosives expert, and Stretch was a sniper.” Jesse’s eyes cut sharply to hers. She smiled and added, “But now we’re just boat bums.”

  “What was your job?” Leilani asked.

  Charity’s smile disappeared. “Among other things,” she said, her laser-like blue eyes becoming cold and calculating as they fixed on the island woman’s, “I was an assassin.”

  Throughout the morning, two ferries moved leisurely back and forth, taking passengers to the island, and returning others to the ship. Each time one of them loaded, the group on the bridge of Gaspar’s Revenge watched the monitor. The Pences and Rayna never left the ship. Or at least none that looked like the pictures Chyrel had sent them.

  Watching Leilani watch the monitor, Charity thought it possible that she’d changed her mind and was possibly reluctant to ID them. There were two men who looked somewhat like the picture of Clive Pence, if that was his real name.

  The only thing Chyrel had found out about him and his wife were a string of passport stamps and cruise tickets. Usually on smaller, less expensive ships. Chyrel had relayed that the passports were definitely fake, but pretty good ones in her opinion.

  The two men who resembled the pictures of Clive Pence were with wives and kids, and none of the women leaving the ship looked anything like Yvette Pence’s passport photo. Leilani had made no mention of kids, nor did the Pence couple buy tickets for anyone but themselves.

  No, Charity decided. They’re still on the ship.

  Just before noon, Tony went down to the cockpit with a small fishing rod and managed to catch a couple of snappers. He broiled them on the outdoor grill in the cockpit and made sandwiches. The sun reached its azimuth and began its descent into the western sky. The group ate on the bridge, and the two men talked about a variety of subjects to pass the tedious hours away. Charity mostly listened, lost in her own thoughts.

  When the ferry wasn’t actively loading or unloading, they used the camera to scan the beach, keeping an eye on the woman and two men from Leilani’s group.

  In the afternoon, Tony and Jesse went down to the engine room to do some maintenance work Jesse had admitted neglecting, leaving Charity alone on the bridge with Leilani.

  While watching the beach, Charity noticed that the two men from Leilani’s group had been staying relatively close together, just meandering around on the sand, stopping in little Tiki huts for a drink, and talking to young women. The Russo woman spent most of her time lounging in the sun, alternately moving a sunbrella around to cool off.

  “Do they not like each other?” Charity asked Leilani.

  “Who?”

  “Jeff and Doug seem to be ignoring Fiona on the beach. They’re hitting on every woman they meet, just like you said they would, but neither has said a word to Fiona.”

  Leilani’s eyes lost focus, staring off into space. “What are you going to do with us?”

  Charity sat forward on the bench. “That would depend on your level of involvement and cooperation,” she said, trying to keep the woman placated. “I’m not a psychologist, but I know people. I don’t think anyone is beyond redemption. I’m living proof.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Charity considered not answering the question. Finally, she said, “I’m also an orphan. My birth mother abandoned me and Dad when I was little, and he died when I was seventeen. Stretch is an orphan, too.”

  “Him?” Leilani asked. “He seems too level-headed.”

  “His dad was killed in Vietnam and his mother took her own life. He was eight and went to live with his grandparents.”

  Leilani looked at the monitor again. Charity could see that she was trying to process this information. “The Pences don’t let us fraternize. The girls and guys, I mean. We had adjoining rooms, but the boys’ rooms were on another deck. They’re real strict about that.”

  “Why?” Charity asked.

  Leilani glanced over at Charity, then back at the screen. “It’s just some rule. We’re not allowed to screw each other. But screwing them is okay.” She shrugge
d her tiny shoulders. “I don’t know why.”

  “Screwing them?”

  Leilani went on to tell her how the Pences liked to have more than just each other for sex. Both she and Brent were often allowed into their bed, as well as occasional strangers on the ships.

  “Not in groups or anything,” Leilani said. “I guess they just like variety. You know, like swingers.”

  “I’ve been watching them,” Charity said, nodding toward the monitor. “Jeff and Doug have probably talked to every woman on shore, but Fiona is ignoring everyone.”

  Leilani looked at the monitor for a moment. “The Gang of Six is missing two,” she said. “It’s happened before. Brent and I will be replaced. They’ve probably already found a guy and are now looking for a suitable girl.”

  “Suitable? You mean someone with no family ties?”

  “Not just that,” Leilani said, her voice dropping to a mournful whisper. “They look for people like me, someone who’s had a rough life and has been broken before.”

  Charity could see that the woman was changing, becoming less of a hot head. In just the few hours since morning, it seemed as if the realization of the things she’d done to survive were becoming heavy for her. It was obvious that she was easily influenced and had a need to feel wanted. At first, she’d been flippant about what Jesse and Tony would do to her. Now Charity sensed that she was really trying to do what was right.

  “Why does there have to be six?” Charity asked, already surmising the answer.

  Leilani looked out over the side of the boat at the sun sparkling on the water and didn’t answer. Then she bowed her head, looking down at her hands.

  “Two to hold the victim?” Charity asked, softly. “One to kill him?”

  Leilani nodded somberly, her head still bowed.

  “Would you like to get away from that life, Leilani?”

  The woman scoffed. “I thought I had when we took off—” She seemed to realize she was about to say something wrong and choked back her words.

  “When you robbed Rene’s boat and tried to escape?”

  “He was already dead,” she said, swallowing hard. “The group was going to have it, anyway. And the Pences are big spenders. That money would have lasted me and Brent for years. But in their hands, maybe a few weeks.”

  “What if I said I could help you get out, legit?” Charity asked, staring into the younger woman’s almond-shaped eyes until Leilani blinked and looked away.

  “Why would you do that?” Leilani said. “Why do you even care? We killed your boyfriend.”

  Charity studied the side of the girl’s face. “You’re not a killer,” she said. “You might be a lot of things, but that’s off the table.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Leilani shouted back, suddenly vehement. “How do you think the pervs in Boston died, lady?”

  Charity could see the tears the woman was fighting back. She was doing a good job of it, but the hurt was visible. She tried one of Jesse’s tricks and just calmly looked into the woman’s eyes, waiting.

  “I killed them,” Leilani said. “Me! By myself. And I’d do it again.”

  “Defending yourself when there’s nobody around to help isn’t the mark of a killer, Leilani. Trust me, I know this. You weren’t late when Fiona and Rayna lured Rene out of that bar. Were you?”

  Leilani turned back to the screen. “There ain’t nothing you or anyone else can do. Fate is what it is.”

  “Don’t confuse fate and karma,” Charity said. “If you exude negative energy, karma will come up and slap the back of your head, knocking you down. Some people think that’s their fate, because it happens over and over. But fate walks hand-in-hand with free will.”

  “You can’t change fate.”

  “No, you can’t. But what if this isn’t your fate? What if karma is trying to get your attention to change something? And when you do, some new life will be revealed as your true fate?”

  Glancing over at Charity, Leilani held her gaze, thinking. “Why would you even want to?” She finally asked. She pointed at the screen. “Jeff and Doug held your boyfriend while Brent beat him. I’m part of that group.”

  Charity was also having a hard time choking back the tears. “But you tried to change it. You’d been a part of it for a long time and saw your chance at a new, better life. Maybe your methods were suspect, but you wanted out. That’s free will stepping in and guiding you toward your true fate. I can see it in you. You’re not a lost cause, Leilani.”

  Suddenly, Charity’s mission became clear. The woman sitting in front of her was barely ten or twelve years old mentally. She’d been dealt a terrible hand by a pair of degenerates and bent to their will. She’d escaped that hell for a slightly better version. She needed help, and not the kind of help a prison or asylum would provide.

  A better plan began to formulate in Charity’s mind. First, they needed to separate and isolate the two men. Then Charity had to get Leilani someplace safe. Someplace close.

  “Stay here,” Charity said, rising, and moving toward the ladder.

  When Charity dropped down into the engine room, Jesse and Tony were sitting on a pair of upturned washdown buckets. Both men were grinning. Tony reached over and punched the intercom button with the thick stump of his index finger.

  “You were listening?” Charity asked.

  Jesse reached behind the port engine and handed her a third bucket.

  “I saw it right off,” Tony said. “When I told Jesse, he said he was thinking the same thing. Whatever that girl has done in the past has been because of what’s been done to her.”

  “She needs guidance,” Jesse said. “Someone to show her how to survive and thrive in a positive way. How can we help?”

  “Your friend on Andros?” Charity said, placing the bucket on the deck, and sitting on it. “Can he keep an eye on her for a while?”

  The former Marine sniper slowly nodded his head. “What about getting aboard and infiltrating the group like we talked about?”

  Charity smiled. “I was thinking more along the lines of what Chyrel did out at Stiltsville.”

  “Stilts—” Tony started to say. Then he, too, grinned. “Yeah, I see what you mean. I’m not Chyrel, but I think I can put together enough information. Get me one of their phones and I’ll put it on there. Leave a note pinned to one of their shirts.”

  “I can get you the phone,” Charity said. “And the breathing body of the person carrying it. You heard what she said about looking for a female recruit?”

  “You want to sneak ashore and get them to notice you?” Tony asked. “That could be danger—” He paused and grinned. “Never mind.”

  “I can lure them away from the others one by one, then bring them out to the boat.”

  “What about the woman?” Jesse asked.

  “I don’t know yet. I get the feeling the Pences use these kids as pawns. All of them come from terrible backgrounds — Leilani’s perhaps the worst. They’re broken emotionally. These people use them up and throw them away. It’s a wonder she’s survived as long as she has.”

  “We need to move the timetable up,” Jesse said. “If those two guys are actively looking for another victim, we need to get to them before they find one.”

  “And she said they may already have one,” Tony added.

  Charity looked from one man to the other. “I want to help her.”

  “Then we’re here to help you do that,” Tony said, extending a closed fist.

  Charity bumped his fist with her own, and Tony pulled his up and away, waggling his fingers and making an exploding sound.

  Jesse stood up as far as the cramped engine room would allow. At his height, he was hunched over with his back against a beam. He put his bucket back in its place. “I’ll call Henry.”

  As he started to move past her, Charity stopped him. “I know none of this will bri
ng Victor back.”

  “No, it won’t,” the old war-horse said. “Ya just gotta endure the pain, and live a life he’d have been proud to be a part of.”

  “Is it right to seek revenge, Jesse?”

  Looking up at him, his head and shoulders against the overhead, she again saw her father’s wisdom in his eyes, something she guessed just came with age.

  “Revenge?” he asked. “No, revenge just leaves an empty hole in your heart. Besides, the man who killed Victor is already dead. And he brought that on himself.”

  “And the others?”

  “There’s nothing wrong with seeking justice,” Jesse replied. “I think we should all be armed with loud whistles, and when we see someone stepping out of the lines of societal norm, blow it and point them out for everyone to see. Whether it’s instant justice, or a long, drawn-out court battle, is up to the wrongdoer. If someone backs you in a corner where you have no choice, what happens is on them not you. We’ll just put these people and their activities under the spotlight and let the authorities do the rest.”

  Charity understood Jesse’s hidden message. He wasn’t just talking about Leilani. The four men on Hoffman’s Cay had backed her and Savannah into a corner.

  “Let’s move to the far side of the island,” Jesse said, slipping past her, and mounting the steps up to the cockpit. Charity and Tony followed.

  “Nothing’s changed,” Leilani said, as Charity climbed to the bridge, Jesse right behind her.

  Sitting down at the helm, Jesse started the engines. He flipped a switch on the console and the windlass on the bow, where Tony was standing, began to drag the big boat forward.

  “We’re leaving?” Leilani asked, suddenly frightened.

  “Just moving the boat to a better spot,” Jesse said.

  While Jesse and Tony prepared to get under way, Charity pulled Leilani over to the port bench and explained to her what their new plan was.

  After securing the anchor, Tony joined them on the bridge and Jesse turned away from shore, slowly idling toward deeper water. Tony sat forward studying the sonar screen. “Ten feet under the keel. No obstructions.”