Lauren,
I’ve just heard from Sinclair that Gibson will be at a nightclub called the Bright Blue Calypso tonight. Sinclair’s cousin is a travel agent who handles reservations for Gibson’s agent, Devon Walters. The information should be good.
I hope that you are well. We are doing fine here, and I must say that being back in the store is exciting. I’ve seen a couple of illusions that I think are going to astonish audiences when they’re revealed. I can’t wait to show them to you on your return. And I must say that you should come home soon. Viv and I worry about you.
Your mother is fine. I’ve been to check on her myself. She is concerned about you down there, but I’m sure you’ve already heard from her regarding that.
Be safe and come home soon.
The Amazing Morganstern J
Lauren smiled at the email and quickly dashed off a reply, thanking him for the information and reassuring him that she was quite all right, just still not ready to come home.
As she was finishing that off, an email from her mother arrived. The email was short and to the point, talking briefly about her recent visit to the doctor and how everything still looked hopeful, and that she missed her and wished she would come back home, though she understood the need to do something.
If I weren’t laid up with chemo, I would be there with you. I think I’ve read far more detective novels than you have. LOL
The attempt at humor brought a tear to Lauren’s eye. She wiped it away as the cool, salt breeze ran across her and made her realize how late it was getting. She emailed her mom to let her know she was fine, then closed down the email app on her phone and glanced back at the villa. Lights glowed in some of the windows.
The problem was getting to Gibson. The bodyguards kept the man too closely supervised. They were like stage assistants, visible and invisible as needed, but the focus remained on Gibson.
Realizing that gave Lauren another idea. Maybe she couldn’t separate Gibson from his bodyguards, but she might be able to separate one of the bodyguards from their employer. And she thought she knew how to do it.
She was going to need help, though.
Getting to her feet, she folded the chaise and carried it and her water bottle to her rental, stashing everything in the trunk. Then she walked back toward Heath Sawyer’s car.
* * *
Heath noted Lauren’s approach at once and appreciated the smooth roll of toned flesh as she made her way to him. His heart felt firmly lodged in the back of his throat as he noted the swell of her breasts and the cleavage captured by the yellow-and-orange swirled string bikini she wore today.
He’d watched her earlier, and he’d ended up paying far too much attention to her. That was part of the reason he’d decided to tail Gibson’s bodyguards into Kingston earlier that day. The other part was because he knew she would watch Gibson. Eventually whatever she learned, he would know. Whether they liked it or not, they were working together.
She wore her dark hair swept in an updo that left her neck long and beautiful...and too vulnerable. Heath couldn’t get the memory of the bruises around her sister’s neck from his mind. She’d pushed her yellow sunglasses up into her hair, and the look totally worked for her, even though he was certain she hadn’t consciously chosen to make a look. She only wore mascara and eyeliner. Her skin glowed from being in the sun all day.
He didn’t let his guard down, though.
She came to a stop a yard away and crossed her arms. “Gibson’s supposed to go out tonight.”
That irritated Heath. She wasn’t supposed to be better informed than he was. “You’re sure?”
“Yes. He has a reservation at Bright Blue Calypso tonight.”
“What’s that?”
“A nightclub.” She gave him the address as he reached for a pad lying in the passenger seat next to the binocs.
He finished writing the address and looked up at her. “Why are you telling me?”
“I thought maybe we could work together.”
Heath was shaking his head before she finished. “No. Not a chance. There is no we.”
She shrugged. “All right.” She turned around and walked away.
“You need to stay away from there.”
Lauren tossed him a wave over her shoulder but never missed a step.
He watched her go, mesmerized by the way her hips twitched, thinking that he wished that she wasn’t so hardheaded.
* * *
The Bright Blue Calypso Club featured soul-driven calypso music, which was no shock, but the elegance of the club surprised Lauren. It was located on the bottom floor of one of the downtown office buildings and existed within its own bubble.
The crowd was wild and fun, and the dance floor stayed packed. Bright blue lasers shifted and danced through the darkness filling the upper reaches of the high ceiling. The sound system rocked the house and the music was live from a colorfully dressed band on a well-lit stage.
Sitting at a small table against one wall in the club, Lauren sipped her beer and watched the front door. It was 8:17, probably still early for Gibson. The table that had been reserved for him still sat empty in front of the band.
Lauren didn’t think Gibson would be there just for the music, so she puzzled over what would bring him to the club. She wore a strappy mini black cocktail dress that hit her at midthigh and black heels, and wore black bangles on her right wrist. The bangles looked like polished ebony and caught the light when she moved. They were a distraction she planned to use. She kept her hair moussed back. thinking that she looked a lot different than she had when she’d confronted Gibson in the restaurant.
Her stomach fluttered nervously as she considered what she was about to do. She’d never done anything like this, and what she was prepared to do could easily land her in jail.
You’ll do fine. Easy-peasy. You’ve worked an audience before, and this isn’t much different.
Except that what she planned on doing was illegal. Failure or success, she was going to be in a lot of trouble if she got caught.
The fact that Heath Sawyer hadn’t yet shown up further unnerved her. He had seemed liked the reliable type, and she got frustrated with herself for thinking that—for counting on that—when it was evidently not true.
She sipped her beer and watched the door.
At 8:32, Gibson strolled through the front door with his primary bodyguard. The big man came ahead of Gibson and scanned the premises, one hand resting lightly under the fold of his coat.
As usual, Gibson was dressed all in black, wearing a black leather jacket over his turtleneck. His hair was neatly combed, and he looked like a lord who had stepped into a night out with the provincials. A small smile played on his full lips for a moment, then he was distracted as a small feminine figure wriggled up under his arm.
Lauren’s heart sped up and fear turned cold inside her as she studied the young woman.
She was in her early twenties, if that, and looked as if Gibson had cut her out from one of the college groups vacationing in the city. She had chestnut-colored hair that had been teased into wild abandon, a shocking pink mini-dress with a broad black belt and a figure meant to be sheathed in it. She gazed around the club with wide-eyed innocence, but she carried a smartphone in her right hand, and she was already photographing the sights.
Lauren looked at the young woman. She wanted to go over to her and tell her to get away from Gibson, but she didn’t know if that would do any good. More than likely, it wouldn’t. She pushed aside the fear for the girl. If everything she had planned worked out, Gibson wouldn’t be taking anyone home anyway.
One of the cocktail servers met Gibson and his party and led them over to the reserved table. The girl squealed in delight and hugged Gibson fiercely. Her pink nails flashed across her smartphone and Lauren felt certain that Tweets were going up by the dozen. Maybe that alone would be enough to prevent her from ending up another victim.
Gibson sat at the table with his primary bodyguard. Two others
took up positions nearby. Both of them were middle-aged, hard-bodied and alert, but one of them had an eye for the women. His hair was moussed back, and he had an arrogant body language. He was good-looking and he knew it, and that attitude was already drawing women to him.
Lauren chose him as her mark. She finished her beer, took the empty bottle and placed it onto the tray of a passing server, and walked toward the bodyguard. As she swept the dance crowd, she spotted Heath Sawyer on the other side of the room. He was dressed in a casual sports jacket, slacks and a pullover that allowed him to effortlessly fit into the younger crowd. She was surprised at how much he had changed.
Evidently her appearance caught him off guard as well, because he had to look twice to recognize her. She knew he had her when he frowned and shook his head, waving slightly to tell her to break off contact with the bodyguard she was plainly walking toward.
The club catered to everyone, from the college-aged vacationers to the senior set. Picking a likely victim from them was harder, but Lauren finally decided on a man and woman in their fifties. The woman obviously didn’t care for the way some of the girls were dressed and kept making comments to her husband, who was already three sheets to the wind. She would be the type to squawk the loudest when something went wrong.
The man paid in cash when the drinks came, reaching inside his jacket to pull out his wallet.
Lauren timed her passage by the man as a server came along at the same time. They had to navigate the narrow space between tables.
“Oh. I’m sorry. I wasn’t watching where I was going.” Lauren stepped back and accidentally tripped herself, bumping into the man and falling against him.
Even though he was inebriated, he made a valiant attempt to rescue her. She ended up having to save herself but also managed to end up sitting halfway in his lap.
“My word!” The wife’s voice was loud and shrill, the perfect kind of voice to draw attention. “Perhaps you’ve been drinking too much.”
“Actually, it’s the heels. I’m not used to wearing them.” Lauren gave a wan smile and lifted one heel to show off the tall spike. The heels were taller than she normally wore because she was fairly tall already, but she was comfortable in them. She used them in her occasional magic act. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” The man held on to Lauren. “I’ve got you. No worries.”
The woman smiled and patted Lauren on the hand. “You poor thing. The shoes are beautiful, but perhaps in the future you should stick with ones you can manage.”
“I will.” Lauren acted as though she had difficulty getting to her feet, and the man gently nudged her up. She waved her right arm, and the bangles slid and gleamed in the light. While the man was helping her, she slipped her hand inside his jacket and glided the wallet free. She twisted it and hid it beneath her clutch. “Thank you. My name is Clarissa.”
“Wonderful name.” The woman nodded in approval. “My name is Ruth Beebe. This is my husband, Ralph. We’re on holiday from Melbourne.”
“I thought I recognized that accent.” Lauren focused on Ralph. “Thank you for rescuing me, Ralph.”
“No worries, miss. No worries. Quite enjoyable, actually.” The man gazed after her and smiled hugely, drawing ire from his wife.
Glancing across the room, Lauren saw that Heath was sitting at his table, but he was now accompanied by two college women who were talking with animation. Irritation flared through Lauren, and she pushed it away because she had a man to frame.
In less than five minutes, she’d picked the pockets of three other men. She walked over to the bodyguard, who was hitting on an elegant woman with coffee-colored skin and a French accent. Lauren stepped in behind the man at the bar and ordered a glass of wine. While she waited, she tucked some of the captured wallets into the bodyguard’s jacket without him noticing.
After paying the bartender, she started to walk away with the glass of wine in her right hand. With her left hand, she opened the first wallet she’d gotten and dropped it on the floor as she bumped into the bodyguard. Ralph Beebe’s identification and credit cards were loose in the fold where she’d left them. When the wallet it the floor, the contents scattered.
Lauren instantly knelt down. “So sorry. Let me get that for you.”
The bodyguard ignored her at first, then noticed the woman he’d been chatting up wasn’t enchanted by his reluctance to help out. He knelt down, too, and began gathering the credit cards. “It’s okay. Not my wallet.”
Lauren picked up the driver’s license that plainly showed Ralph Beebe. She glanced over at Ralph with a look of shock. “Ralph, how did your driver’s license get all the way over here?”
Ralph shook his head. “Can’t be my wallet.”
Lauren held up the driver’s license. “This is you.” Beside her, the bodyguard had frozen, not sure what he’d gotten involved with.
Ruth slapped her husband on the arm. “Don’t be an idiot. Check your wallet.”
Ralph shook his head. “It’s not mine, I tell you.” He reached into his jacket, then looked surprised. “Hey! My wallet is missing!”
Right on cue, Ruth leveled her arm at the bodyguard, pointing at him in accusation. “That man has my husband’s wallet! He stole poor Ralph’s wallet! Security! Security!”
“Hey, wait a minute.” The bodyguard stood and raised his hands. “I didn’t do anything. I don’t know where that wallet came from.”
Ruth and Ralph got up from their seats and came over to examine the wallet. Their voices rose, drawing the attention of everyone nearby. Guys in black T-shirts with Security stamped on them rushed toward the group.
Okay, your work here is done. Quietly and quickly, Lauren eased out of the crowd, barely avoiding the security people as they closed in. She headed for Heath’s table, trying unsuccessfully to ignore the young women sitting with him.
The two women glanced at her, too, then shut up and tried to make themselves smaller. One of them looked as if she wanted to say something, but the other woman yanked on her arm and whispered something in her ear. Together, they got up and left, taking their drinks with them.
Heath remained sitting, his attention riveted on the situation rapidly escalating at the front of the club. “What did you do?”
“I’m still trying to find out who killed my sister. Are you interested, or are you taking the evening off?” Lauren knew it was a cheap shot and wasn’t necessary, but adrenaline was flooding through her body and she couldn’t keep quiet.
Heath remained calm and spoke in a level tone. “What did you do?”
Lauren stood there but didn’t look back. “Unless I miss my guess, that bodyguard is about to be arrested for being a pickpocket.”
“You framed him with that wallet.”
“And with others that are going to be found on him when the police come.”
“Why?”
“To separate him from the others. I got him away from them. Do you think you can find out when they let him go?”
Heath was silent for a minute, thinking, watching her with those green-flaked gold eyes. “Yeah. I can do that.”
“Then maybe we can find out more about Gibson.” Lauren walked toward the exit then, not wanting to be recognized by Ruth and Ralph. She still felt bad about getting them involved in the situation. She just hoped it would be worth it and that Heath could seal the deal on his end.
Chapter 10
“She framed this guy with wallets she’d pickpocketed from other club guests?” Jackson Portman sounded incredulous at the other end of the phone connection. “And nobody tripped to that?”
“Yeah.” Heath sat behind the wheel of a van he’d “rented” from the same uncle of the kid who had sold him the gun. He’d also paid to have the vehicle detailed and “lost” after he’d finished using it for tonight’s soiree.
Jackson laughed uproariously. “Buddy, you have got to bring this woman back to ’Lanta. I want to meet her.”
Irritation flared through Heath. He didn’t
want to be around Lauren Cooper any longer than he had to, and he wished she wasn’t here now. Mostly. She had a lot of brass, and she was beautiful. “No, you don’t want to meet her. She’s trouble.”
“Trouble? Sounds like she set up a situation where you can have a little personal session with one of Gibson’s errand boys.”
“She framed him for stealing.”
“Says the guy who’s patiently waiting outside the city lockup to kidnap the same man. Even in Jamaica they frown on kidnapping a lot more than they do stealing. Or framing someone.”
Heath knew he couldn’t argue that. He’d gotten the van, duct tape and a black hood for that very purpose. “I can’t let the opportunity pass by. But that’s only if the guy gets out on his own. If he has one of the other men pick him up, things will get harder.”
“You gonna back off if that happens?”
“No.”
“Okay, now this ain’t so funny.” Jackson’s voice grew more serious. “One guy, with surprise on your side, I can see how you might think you can get this done. But these guys are military trained, Heath, not the chowderheads we deal with on the street. They ain’t nobody to jack around with.”
“Yeah, I get that.” Heath fingered the lead-filled blackjack lying on the seat beside his thigh.
“You and me have done some cowboy stuff before, buddy, but it was only as we needed to.”
“Need to do this now.”
“I know you feel that way.”
“Not just feel, know I have to.” Heath stared through the bug-smeared windshield at the exit from the police lockup. It was three in the morning, and the streets were dark in this section of the city. “I’m not getting any closer to Gibson doing this any other way.”
“I know, I know. Believe me, I feel you. Where’s your girl?”
“She’s not my girl.” The response came out hotter than Heath expected.
“Touch a nerve there, partner?”
Heath sighed. “She’s complicating everything. It is hard enough watching Gibson, trying to figure out what he’s doing, without trying to look out for her, too. She doesn’t know what she’s doing, and now I’m getting stretched thin trying to guess what she might do, too. This thing tonight caught me completely off guard.”
No Escape Page 10
