But it was all falling into place, wasn’t it? The man who’d ripped off her accounts had been nowhere near a villa in Aruba. No self-respecting woman—certainly not a fox like Fedora—would be seen with him, in this condition.
And where does that leave YOU, honey?
She didn’t want to think about that. She didn’t want to rehash all the moments of agony and humiliation this man had caused her with his casino habit this week. Not to mention those other irritating habits she’d been way too willing to overlook over the past few years, thinking she loved this guy. This loser. Thinking married was better than single; selling herself short by settling on Fletch. Just because he was a flashy dresser who lived on the edge.
“So?” she demanded. “What do you have to say for yourself, Mr. Rip Off? Where’s that soul mate now, when you need her most?”
Dennis glared at her, and then at the gorilla in the doorway. “I see no reason to explain anything to you, Lola. Not with the captain’s goon listening in on—”
“Who you callin’ a goon, smart ass?” George demanded. But instead of stepping toward Fletch to collar him, he reached back with an arm the size of a small tree and grabbed Lola!
“Just for that, why, you’re gonna be bunkin’ with this chickie here! I’ll let her give you the what-for, while I see to the rest of this ship!” he crowed. “I gotta job to do, and I don’t need your sass, man!”
With an agility that amazed her, Big George whipped her into the small room, stepped out, and slammed the door. Then he stood outside for a few moments, chuckling like he found this hugely funny.
“Ta-ta, ya’ll! Don’t bother cryin’ to me to get outta here, coz we be dockin’ way early in the mornin,’” he teased them. “Got no time for little children who fight and cry like spoiled-ass brats!”
His footsteps faded as he made himself scarce in a matter of seconds—as though he knew what kind of a job they were going to do on each other and wanted no part of it.
Lola stood with her ear to the door until she could no longer follow his progress. How could a man that big disappear so fast? And where had she heard his voice before?
And how ‘bout that captain? Sending her down here to this hellhole, knowing damn well Dennis Fletcher was—
And he’s known it all along. It’s his ship and he rules, remember?
Lola licked her lips, trying to slow her wild thoughts, still spinning on a nicotine high.
And if Fedora was that boobsy blonde Fletch supposedly left the ship with—and Fedora runs the cocktail lounge—and Fedora’s the captain’s sister—
Well, the pieces were falling into place now, weren’t they? And the picture they painted was not pretty.
Lola’s breath escaped in a rush. She turned then, not wanting to have her back to Fletch. Gazing through the darkness at him gave her a chill, even though the air in here was growing warm and fetid.
As her eyes adjusted, she could see the room was only big enough for that bunk against the wall—which Dennis sat on—with about two feet on the end and on this side to stand up in. Wayyy too close for comfort.
Lola fumbled beside the door, greatly relieved to find a light switch.
“Dammit! Why’d you—turn that off!” Fletch protested, shielding his eyes with his arms.
She wanted to, when she saw him. While some men looked fashionably seductive—or downright hot—with a few days’ growth of bristle on their faces, Dennis wasn’t one of them. His eyes were bloodshot. He smelled like B.O. and unwashed laundry. Curled in on himself like a cornered animal, Fletch bore no resemblance to the Fortune 500 mover-and-shaker she’d known back home.
She looked away, determined not to talk just to fill in the silence.
Some villa, huh? Doesn’t even have a pot to piss in.
So of course, she had to go now.
And God, how she wanted a smoke—except she’d left her purse in Fedora’s when DeSilva escorted her out. Not that she’d lower herself to sucking on Camels while Fletcher jeered at her for falling off the wagon again. He looked like he’d fallen into a puddle of something, so it was no wonder the classy blonde with the big knockers abandoned him.
Lola wanted out, too. So she started talking to keep from thinking how creepy it was in here. To get this over with.
“Like I said before,” she began in a coiled voice, “you started this whole fiasco when you scribbled that note and had it delivered—from here in this cell, right? So I wouldn’t come looking for you! But our relationship was a lie wayyyyy before that, wasn’t it?”
Fletch rolled his eyes, shoving his hair back from his eyes. It was a gesture she knew well—and come to think of it, it usually preceded some bullshit story he was concocting so she wouldn’t ask any more questions.
“So how many other women have you ripped off, Fletcher?”
Lola crossed her arms—again wishing she’d worn more than this lace-trimmed cami that showed more cleavage than Dennis needed to see.
But she couldn’t let him know how his presence bothered her—sickened her—now. Not until she finished grilling him and he was one overdone hot dog. Then she’d cook the captain, and his chesty sister with the cutesy name, and Cabana Boy, who’d led her merrily down this primrose path—not to mention Rio DeSilva. Head of Security.
Keep him out of this! Keep your head on straight while there’s a chance to get answers.
Fletch was playing the strong silent type. Didn’t look inclined to say a word unless she pried it out of him, as he sat farther back against the wall.
“All right, I’ll ask you again,” Lola said. “How many women have you ripped off, Fletcher? And don’t give me any bullshit, because I saw the security cam tapes from the casino!”
Fletch flashed her an exasperated look, his shrug exaggerated.
“So if you’ve seen everything, why ask me? If you can’t handle the truth—why ask at all?” he jeered. “Never could take a hint, could you? Never had a clue what was going on!”
“And why do you sound so proud of that?”
Lola stood before him with her fists against her hips, out of his reach but close enough to glare directly at him.
“What I saw appalled me, Fletch! The way you played that blonde like a violin and then slipped her ATM card into your pocket, like you’d done it a dozen times before!” she said, her voice rising with her temperature. “The way you kissed her in the bar, like—like you had another pretty fishy on your line! Until you took a swing at her!”
Another piece clicked into place: Lola felt like she was finally seeing the big picture, no thanks to any of those men who’d supposedly been helping her!
“But that was Fedora, the captain’s sister,” she reasoned aloud, “and she takes shit from nobody. So you landed here.”
She paused to collect herself. Fletch was right about the way she asked questions and then fell apart when the truth wounded her. And she did not want him to see how badly he’d hurt her. Did not want him to concoct another cock-and-bull story she’d swallow just because it was easier. Cleaner.
“So why the big fairy tale about finding your—your soul mate, and then running off to her villa in Aruba?” Lola asked.
But her voice wavered, dammit. And her hands were so jittery she had to keep them fisted so Dennis wouldn’t know how strung-out she felt, now that the morning’s nicotine binge was wearing off.
He snickered. Shook his head as though he’d always figured her for such an easy mark, it wasn’t even sport to take pot-shots at her.
“I wanted you to get disgusted enough to realize it would never work for us!” he cried. “I walked away a dozen times, but no—you wouldn’t hear of that! You’re Lola Louise Wright, and by God you have to be right!”
His voice echoed angrily in the little room and he stood up, ready to get his licks in.
“You see a challenge and you have to rise above it!” he scoffed, raising his arms dramatically. “You perceive a problem, and you have to fix it!”
“And yo
ur point would be?”
Dennis Fletcher, red-eyed, whiskered, and panting, suddenly resembled a deranged drug addict. Had she created this monster, by believing she could fix him, too, once they were married? What he said was making sense—finally—but couldn’t he have found a better way? A better time?
Like, weeks ago, when she was booking this cruise?
“My point is, I did you a favor! I let you make your cruise plans, on this adults-only ship, knowing that if I ducked out, you might find a guy you’d be good with!” he explained.
His grimace of derision—his belittling tone of voice—were real eye openers. Lola could hardly believe this raving maniac managed huge investment portfolios for corporations far wealthier than she. Mr. Charisma had disappeared, and his stand-in was scaring the bejesus out of her.
“Any man with eyes would make a play for you, Lola! And from what I hear, my plan has worked!” he continued, laughing sarcastically. “I knew you wouldn’t go even a day without latching on to some other poor fool—because you can’t! Lord love you, Lola, you’re a woman who has to have a man, even if you create him out of sheer fantasy. You’ll see what you want to see, to avoid being alone!”
She went slack against the wall, like a balloon who’d lost all her air. What Fletcher said confirmed some of her deepest, darkest self-doubts and she wanted to just crawl into a hole—with a carton of Camels—and not come out until they docked in San Juan tomorrow.
Wait a minute! That’s bullshit and you’re stepping in it!
Lola sucked in a deep breath, gathering her scattered thoughts. Fletch was up to his old tricks, making it look like this was all her fault, so he never had to admit his own wrongdoing! Creative management, he’d be calling it, when it was out-and-out lying! Not to mention theft!
She’d been blinded so long by his golden-boy charisma—by her own mental movies of the happily-ever-after she wanted—that she hadn’t realized how far gone she really was.
Or how despicable Dennis Fletcher could be.
“You were doing me a favor,” she echoed, shaking her head at such stupidity. “So that’s why you wrote me that lovely note—after you maxed out all my personal and business accounts. After you wiped out my credit, and my credibility as a businesswoman. After you sneaked up to the room while I was in the shower, to swipe my purse and cell phone, so I couldn’t contact you!”
Lola was starting to shake, so she braced herself against the wall to keep herself together. By God, Dennis would answer to her!
“Well, then,” she went on, her voice deceptively calm, “if you haven’t been impressing the thong off that bimbo soul mate—at her villa—what’d you do with all my money?”
His mouth snapped shut. He shoved his hands in his pockets.
“The concierge showed me an itemized list of your charges, Fletch,” she continued. “You didn’t lose it all at the Caribbean Stud tables, because you bought things at the boutiques. Surely not gifts for me, because you were doing me such a favor!”
“It’s none of your business, what I—”
“Excuse me?”
He backed away from her advance, his eyes widening when he hit the wall. “I had no idea that blonde was—who knew she was an undercover—?”
“Oh, this is rich, Fletch.” Lola gripped his stubbled chin, bumping his head back against the wall. “Are you telling me you used your old honey’s money to buy your new honey some trinkets? Little gifts to tell her how special she was—before you stole her plastic?”
It was sad, how gratified she felt, watching his eyes widen as she put pressure on his chin and jaw. Sad, too, that Dennis could’ve shoved her away with one hand if he wasn’t so wrapped up in all his stories—if he didn’t actually believe he’d done the noblest thing by walking out on her.
“Okay, so I fucked up!” he rasped. “I—I just wanted to look in your purse for the plane tickets, so I could be out of your life for good! So you could keep enjoying yourself—your trip—and never have to mess with me again. Honest to God, it all started when I was looking for my tickets—”
“Where you’re going, Mr. Fletcher, you won’t be needing plane tickets.”
The voice from behind them was cool and smooth and female. When the door opened, Fedora stepped into the cell, smiling tightly.
“I’ll take it from here, Lola,” she said in a low, competent voice. “I don’t know what sort of story this guy fed you in that note, after I arrested him, but I bet your cruise was a lot more fun without this loser leading you on.”
Lola’s jaw dropped when she caught the reflection from a gold seal on a badge this gorgeous blonde was flashing.
“Fedora Skandalis, International Investigations,” she said with a big smile. “I’ve come to deliver you from Dennis, and to explain a few things.”
33
“You dirty double-crossing bitch!”
Fletch suddenly recovered, shoving Lola out of his way so he could get in Fedora’s face.
Ms. Skandalis, decked out in her white uniform—crisp slacks that hugged her butt, with her shirt unbuttoned down to the crack between those double D’s—gave him a smile that would’ve smoked any other guy’s shorts.
“And it’s a pleasure to see you again, too, Mr. Fletcher,” she crooned. “I’m sure you won’t mind if I remove your roommate, to allow you the total privacy you so richly deserve.”
Fletch really lost it then. His face looked like a raw beefsteak he could’ve grilled with his temper. “You have no fucking right to hold me here! I’m an American citizen and I demand legal counsel!”
Fedora looked ever so elegant with her streaky blonde hair in an updo and gold star earrings dangling from her ears. Way too classy to be dealing with the likes of Fletch.
“Indeed, Mr. Fletcher, when we dock on American soil tomorrow, you’ll meet men just itching to read you your rights and bring you to due process—for identity theft, and fraud, and those other games you play with people’s money.”
The agent smiled, but Lola noticed how she stood tensed and ready for anything Fletch might do next.
“You’re not just a stateside crook now!” Fedora went on boldly. “You’ve elevated your status to international extortionist! Which should look very impressive on your resume, don’t you think?”
Fletch made a gross sound in his throat. And spat on her!
That big black guy, George, rushed in from the hall then. He shoved the two women toward the bunk, so he could take his turn at Dennis.
“You and I’s gonna have us a talk about how to treat a lady, Mr. Fletcher!” the burly man muttered. “Right after botha these ladies you’ve done dirty have left the room. Now back off! Don’t try nothin’ funny, ‘less you wanna be singin’ soprano in the penitentiary choir. You get my meanin’?”
Fletch stumbled backwards into the wall with the force of George’s shove, and Lola lost no time stepping out of the cell. While she’d known Dennis had a nasty temper, because he’d scorched her with it plenty of times during their rocky romance, she was appalled at what she’d just seen.
“I am so sorry,” she murmured as Fedora wiped the gob of spit from her face. “I knew he could be a jackass, but that was inexcusable, what he did to you.”
They started down the hallway, and the woman in white smiled like it was all in a day’s work.
“At least you found that out before you married him, right?” she asked. “I’m sorry if this escapade has upset you, Lola. We wanted to get that jerk locked up—and out of your way, so you could enjoy your vacation.”
Once again they got into a staff elevator, but this time Lola was aware of a spicy, enticing perfume—and the presence of a beautiful woman who was still a mystery to her.
“You’ll have to excuse me if I sound clueless, after the way Rio showed me those security tapes, and—and jeez, I’m really sorry I tried to punch you out, too!” Lola sputtered. “It puts me down there on Fletch’s level, and that’s not where I want to be.”
When Fedora smiled
, Lola sensed she was being studied by an undercover officer who fooled a lot of people with that flowing blonde hair and those big bazooms. She pushed a button and the elevator doors closed.
“Apology accepted. I can understand your frustration, hon,” Fedora said. “You’ve had bits and pieces, while the rest of us have seen the big picture. We knew from Day One how this would pan out. Mostly.”
Fedora grinned ruefully at her. “It was Fletcher’s ATM activities and his behavior in the casino that caught our eye. DeSilva was watching him on the monitor. Told me I’d better get this guy out of the casino, before he pulled a really big fast one. Sorry I was too late to save you some humiliation, and the hassle with the credit card companies.”
Lola cogitated on this. “So you were undercover, letting Dennis—”
“Using my bogus credit card as bait, playing easy to take,” she replied. “And when I mentioned my villa on Aruba—a story as fake as my fingernails—Fletcher bit. Followed me off the ship, where George LeFevre was waiting to arrest him. Since we brought him back on board and put him in the brig—”
“His key card didn’t register on your security computers. So it appeared he really did run off with a new soul mate, to her villa on the island.”
“That’s what he said in that note?” Fedora snickered at that one.
“And of course he did it so I could spend the rest of my cruise finding a guy I might really make it with,” Lola added, almost smiling herself.
“Mr. Nobility, eh? You’ve gotta love a guy who thinks only of you.”
“Yeah, I can see that now.” She glanced at the lighted number above them when the elevator dinged. “Thanks a lot for—”
“No need to thank me, hon. My brother Skorpio set this all up.”
“Now there’s a man who plays fast and loose with a woman’s fantasies! But I’ve wanted to ring his neck a few times this week.” Lola thought about adding more as they stepped out into the atrium’s bright sunlight, but that was a score she had to settle with Captain Scandalous himself.
All Night Long Page 29
