by Isabel Jolie
“He texted me tonight. Photos of you and Jasmine.”
Understanding dawned. She slid closer and held on. I wrapped my arm around her shoulder and pulled her into my side.
When we arrived at my cottage, all seemed as I had left it. I unlocked the front door, and we tiptoed in. I pointed to the stairs and followed her up. On the landing, she turned, awaiting my direction. I pointed to my room. Then I remembered the balcony and grabbed her wrist, forcing her to change direction to the guest room on the other end of the hall.
Fuck. I didn’t know what to do. The guest room didn’t have a bed. Only a desk. I’d been using it as my office. Jasmine’s room had twin built-in beds. That high up, they’d be safe from anyone breaking windows to get in.
Once again, I changed course and redirected Luna.
“You’ll stay with Jasmine tonight,” I whispered.
“What about you?” She circled my wrist, tugging to slow me down.
“You and Jasmine sleep. I’m going to make some calls first. Then I’ll come up.” I lied to her. I’d be up all night, on guard.
I stood in the doorway as Luna pulled back the bedspread and climbed into Jasmine’s second bed.
I blew her a kiss from the tips of my fingers, then blew one to Jasmine for good measure. It was something my mom used to do from my doorway every night. A silly action that delivered a rogue wave of emotion, choking me.
I pulled the door closed and wished for a lock. A deadbolt. Or some heavy furniture to push against it. I had so little furniture. Had kept everything so sparse.
On the second landing, I opened my bedroom door wide. I positioned the bedroom chair so I could see both the balcony and the landing. I didn’t have a gun or any way to fight anyone. With that thought, I ran downstairs and picked up the kitchen knife block and carried it back up with me to my chair.
With the chef’s knife in easy reach, I dialed my one friend with connections.
Gabe didn’t pick up. Not on the first call. Nor the second. By the fifth time I called, hanging up each time voice mail picked up, I was about to lose hope, assume he had it set to not ring at select hours.
“Tate?” Gabe answered, his voice heavy and throttled.
“I need your help.”
“Shoot.”
“Do you remember the repo guy I told you about?”
“Yeah. Let me guess. He got wind you have money.”
“He sent photos of Jasmine and Luna.”
“What’d he say?”
“Nothing. Just photos. Photos that show he’s on the island. Or his goons are.”
“No threat?”
“Nope. Just photos.”
“That’s…no threat? No demands?”
“No. But I know him. It’s a first step. He’s going to ask for something. He wants money. Can you help me access it quickly?”
“Don’t fall for scare tactics.” Shuffling sounds came through the line. “Man, I told you transferring shit out of offshore accounts might not be a smart idea.”
“I’m not running from anyone. I just…”
“Yeah. It’s what time in the morning and you’re calling me?”
“I shouldn’t have.”
“I’m up now.”
“So, what do I do?”
“I think you have to wait. Until he sends a request. Lets you know what he wants. It’s an intimidation tactic. But whatever it is, don’t worry about. We’ll get it covered. Pay him off. It’s gonna be fine.”
“But with a guy like this, what’s to say he’s not gonna come back and ask for more money later? Or what if he doesn’t even want money?” Fuck. I could go to the police. Once he did more than send me photos. Or, no… “Wait. What if I threatened to share all I know about his business? There’s sick shit going on in Asia. I can share all I know about his illegal fishing practices.”
“Does anyone really give a flying fuck about that?”
No, the answer was not really. Sure, some people tried to buy farm-raised fish and tried to make a difference, but irresponsible fishing practices rang like old news. “What about his slave ring? Indentured slaves? Slave trafficking? That would get attention, right?”
“Maybe. If you had photos. Where’s this guy based?”
“He’s American. Who the fuck knows where his businesses are legally located.”
“Send me the names of his businesses. The proper names. I’ll find country of origin. But you might be on to something. You put some heat on him, and he might decide you’re not worth messing with.”
The dark hallway beckoned.
“Or he’ll end me.”
“Shit, Tate. What have you gotten yourself messed up in?”
“He’ll probably want more than I have. That’s his MO. How he traps people.”
“Nah. I’ve had some gangbuster years. I’m not worried about paying the douche, I just don’t like recurring payments. I want one and done for you.” Keys tapped through the line. “Send me over those business names. We’ll start there. We’ll know more once he makes his demands.”
“Right.”
“Do you have a gun?”
“No.” True to my liberal roots, I hated guns. At the same time, I felt like a foolish schmuck sitting next to a wooden block of dull kitchen knives.
“I’ll try to get some to you.”
“What? I wouldn’t even know how to use them.”
“I’ll bring them down and give you a lesson.”
“Guns aren’t needed.”
“Don’t be a fucking idiot. I’ll come down this weekend. I’ll figure it out. In the meantime, stay calm. If he wants something from you, he needs you alive. Those photos were just meant to get you to take him seriously since you blew him off before. It’ll all work out.”
I sat in the chair, clutching the black handle of the chef’s knife until the hint of dawn. Luna found me asleep in the chair. She removed the knife from my grip and urged me to bed.
“No one’s coming in at five in the morning,” she told me. “My parents used to always say that anyone coming into the diner early morning were hard workers, good people. All the partiers and druggies were passed out somewhere. These early morning hours, when the sun is rising, you can relax.” She closed the wooden plantation shutters, shutting out the rays from the rising sun.
“Jasmine’s still asleep?”
She nodded. I wanted to pull her into my arms, to fall asleep holding her. But I felt better knowing she was with Jasmine. Soon, I’d have to explain to Jasmine what was going on. Unfortunately, I didn’t expect it would be too hard for her to comprehend that there were bad men in the world, and some of them might be coming for us.
Chapter 31
Luna
* * *
I woke, aware a person watched. The pinprick sensation followed along my spine, and I lay still, attempting to get my bearings. The window frame near my legs looked familiar; the wall next to my head did not. The lavender sheets hinted of fragrant fabric softener…Jasmine’s room. I stretched and rolled away from the wall. Jasmine sat straight, her back as rigid as a flagpole, and the whites of her eyes gleamed in the morning light.
“Morning,” I mumbled, my mouth dry and icky.
She waved one hand then blinked, and with perfect pronunciation, “Good morning to you.”
“You must wonder what I’m doing here?”
Once more she blinked. I reminded myself to slow my speech.
“Tate asked me to sleep here in your room.” Then I sat up quickly. “Has Tate been up here?”
“Tate?”
“Stay. Here.” I commanded.
I took the stairs two at a time. In the middle of Tate’s bedroom, the empty chair remained, his bed where I placed him in the early morning hours empty, the bedspread smooth, freshly made.
I ran down the hall and down the next flight of stairs, slowing once I saw him, coffee cup in hand, leaning against the kitchen counter.
“Coffee?” he asked.
My shoulders rounded in relief. “Did yo
u sleep?”
“Some.”
“Jasmine’s up. I think she was confused finding me in her room.”
A stair creaked. Jasmine’s legs came into view as she slowly descended the stairs, one by one, scissors gripped in one hand and held out like a weapon. She visibly softened when she found only Tate and me in the kitchen. She held out the scissors with a sheepish expression.
“Scare,” she offered.
Tate glossed over her comment. “You want coffee?”
“Thank you.” She might only be thirteen, but she already liked coffee and hot tea.
“Sit. Both of you.” Tate gestured to the breakfast bar.
I excused myself to go brush my teeth and to find a hair band to pull my hair back. When I returned, a steaming cup of coffee awaited me, and Tate stood in front of the stove, coddling a mixture of scrambled eggs. His t-shirt strained around his biceps, and his longish hair was pulled back. He didn’t normally wear it back, but I suspected he was too wound up to handle the distraction of hair blowing around his face.
“I want to take both of you over to Alice’s this morning,” he began, his back to us. “Can you both hang there today?”
“Why Alice?”
“There are some things I need to do today.” He spun around, brandishing the spatula like a presentation pointer. “And I feel like you are both sitting ducks here in this house.” Jasmine’s gaze batted back and forth between the two of us.
“Tate, this island isn’t big. If someone is here, they can just as easily find us at Alice’s as here. Or at my house.”
He shook his head. “No. Here we’re on the beach, exposed. Alice lives on the inner island. No one from a ship can see through the tree canopy. Plus, Alice knows this island better than anyone. If someone came looking for you, she’d know where to hide.”
I slowly shook my head, not buying it. Anyone could be found here.
“Remember that cat?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
“There are places to hide.”
Truth. The only reason we found that cat was because he came out by choice. If he’d remained hidden, well, he probably would’ve been gator food.
“Are you sure you want to bring Alice into this?”
He returned to the business of stirring the eggs on the heat. “It’s either that or send you guys to the mainland. Maybe to Florida? But…I don’t like you being so far away from me.”
His gorgeous blue eyes met mine at his admittance, and a warmth surfaced. I didn’t want to be away from him either. Thoughts of last night at my place surfaced. Heat emanated off my face.
If Jasmine wasn’t with us, I’d wrap my arms around him. Hold him. His smoldering gaze made me suspect his thoughts were along the same lines as mine.
Jasmine remained poised, watching us both. The scissors lay on the table, resting near her right hand.
I cleared our plates, rinsed them, and set them in the dishwasher. Jasmine excused herself to pack for going out for the day. I joined Tate by the back door where he stood staring out at the ocean. The skyline cast a scarlet hue over the horizon.
“Is it supposed to storm today?” I asked.
“There’s a storm over the ocean. Last time I checked, it shouldn’t come inland, at least not until it hits the Northeast.”
“I don’t like this.”
His thumb grazed my lips, and he caressed my cheek, then bent me back and kissed me with a searing intensity that left me leaning against him for support.
“It’ll be okay. Trust me?”
I answered without hesitation. “I trust you. But I’m scared. You are scaring me. Let me come with you and help.”
“Luna, by helping with Jasmine, you are helping me. This is my problem. My mistake to fix. If I seem scared, it’s only because they found my weakness.”
“Which is?”
“You.” He placed a soft kiss on my forehead. “I can’t let anything happen to you. I’ll take care of this. Pay them what they want. Put this behind us.”
A creak on the stairs announced Jasmine’s return. He kissed me softly, and I let go.
When we arrived at Alice’s deep green cottage, she stood by the front porch railing, watching out for us.
“Come inside.” She welcomed us with a boisterous smile. Her loose dress cascaded down to the ground and skimmed above her purple leather sandals. Her stacked toe rings glistened in the morning sun that filtered through the tree limbs.
Tate followed us inside and scanned behind him before pulling the heavy wooden front door closed. I didn’t know exactly what he feared, or what he was imagining would happen. I didn’t know how bad these men from his past were. But his unease unsettled me. I paced the room and fidgeted.
On Alice’s stove, a mixture brewed. I hovered over it, inhaling. It smelled like cinnamon. Granules of her seasoning floated on top. Using a ladle, she spooned the hot liquid into mugs for each of us. Then, almost ceremoniously, she tied woven bracelets on our right wrists, then methodically clipped the extra string, chanting a nonsensical series of letters.
Tate and I locked eyes as she bent over my wrist, administering her odd gift, and he smirked. I refused to mock her. Yes, we all thought of her as the island eccentric, but when push came to shove, we found ourselves on her doorstep.
Jasmine fingered her bracelet and beamed. She’d been given so many new things since she arrived in the States, but gifts were still new enough that every single one touched her. I pressed my forearm against hers, so we could compare the bracelets. They reminded me of the friendship bracelets I once wore in middle school, only Alice had woven in small pieces of smooth sea glass, and the beads glistened like jewels.
“Alice, these are amazing,” I gushed.
“For safety. Needed, no?” she asked Tate.
“Maybe.” His Adam’s apple shifted as he swallowed. “Thank you for letting Jasmine and Luna stay with you today while I take care of some business.”
“Of course. My home is yours. This, you know, dear child.”
Tate hesitated then stepped up to me and brushed his lips against mine. I immediately glanced at Jasmine. She watched us, but I couldn’t discern her opinion.
“Walk out with me?” Tate asked, so I did.
As soon as the heavy wooden door closed behind us, Tate pulled me against his body, his muscles tense and tight. The wrinkles around the corners of his eyes highlighted his worry.
“Stay here until I come back for you?”
“Do you really think we’re safe here? If you’re right, Tate, and those men aim to kidnap us or hurt us, we could put Alice in danger.” I’d weighed the risks this morning, but Jasmine’s proximity prevented me from fully venting my concerns.
“You’re safer here than anywhere. There’s nothing to indicate whoever took those photos is on the island. The angle of all the shots makes it look like they were taken from a telescopic lens, possibly from a boat. Chances are, I’m responding exactly how they want me to respond. Freaking out enough to do whatever they ask. It’s an old negotiating trick we used to use. Chances are, whoever sent those photos, they don’t intend to actually harm you or Jasmine. And you’ll spend an entertaining day at a crazy old lady’s home.”
“Where are you going?”
“The business center.”
“Why there?” He had an entire office set up at his home now. Even Jasmine had a student desk and laptop.
“Faster internet. Anonymity.” He kissed the top of my forehead. “Luna.” He pressed his forehead to mine. “I love you. Stay safe.”
He opened the door and pushed me back inside, as if locking me in a vault. His first time saying I love you. And my stomach dropped to the ground because it rang like a last rites statement.
Chapter 32
Tate
* * *
On ships, we relied on radar. Radar told us not only what was below us, but what was near. We tracked the currents and both cold- and warm-blooded objects. Ships also tracked weather systems through
sophisticated satellites. Without adequate data, one could find themselves in a deadly situation fast.
I built a plan without a radar system in place. After tucking Luna and Jasmine away, I stopped back by the cottage to get my cell. Forgetting that thing had become a force of habit, but I needed it for the contact list.
The front door banged into the wall after I flung it open. The loud noise shattered the quiet, and the door reverberated. “Fuck.” A black mark and slight indentation into the wall marred my freshly minted paint job.
Movement out the window flitted through my peripheral vision. A man wearing a long, dark wool dress coat traversed the dunes. Islanders crossed the wooden boardwalk all the time, but this man didn’t fit in with the beach scene.
Leaving the front door open, I crossed the downstairs floor and peered out the back for a better view. He was an older man, with thin, dark hair and a noticeable pouch. As he came closer, I grew more certain. I stepped out onto the porch. Breeze blew through the cottage and slammed the back door behind me.
An eerie smile spread across Zane’s pock-scarred face. His heavy black work boots pounded on the wood planks, the volume of the beat increasing with each step. I stood in the doorway, blocking his entrance to the porch.
“Tate, my man. Long time, no see.” He held out his hand, and I looked down on it, two wooden steps higher and a world more ethical than the conman below me.
“What do you want, Zane?”
He turned his hand to display his palm and stuck his lower lip out.
“Is that anyway to greet an old friend?”
“No games. What the fuck do you want?”
“Since you’re asking…” He shoved his hands into the front pockets of his dark jeans and ground the heel of a boot into the plank. “Why don’t you invite me up, and we can have a chat about it?”
“You’re not coming inside.”
He turned his head, looking up and down the beach. Cottages surrounded us. We were alone outside, but someone could conceivably be looking out any number of windows.
“You know, I don’t think that’s the way you should treat a friend. Especially a friend who you owe.”
