Barefoot Bay: Double Trouble (Kindle Worlds Novella)
Page 1
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Text copyright ©2016 by the Author.
This work was made possible by a special license through the Kindle Worlds publishing program and has not necessarily been reviewed by Roxanne St. Claire. All characters, scenes, events, plots and related elements appearing in the original Barefoot Bay remain the exclusive copyrighted and/or trademarked property of Roxanne St. Claire, or their affiliates or licensors.
For more information on Kindle Worlds: http://www.amazon.com/kindleworlds
DOUBLE TROUBLE
By
Silver James
Table of Contents
A Message from Roxanne St. Claire
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Books by Silver James:
A Message from Roxanne St. Claire
Dear Reader,
Welcome to Barefoot Bay Kindle World, a place for authors to write their own stories set in the tropical paradise that I created! For these books, I have only provided the setting of Mimosa Key and a cast of characters from my popular Barefoot Bay series. That’s it! I haven’t contributed to the plotting, writing, or editing of Double Trouble. This book is entirely the work of author Silver James, a talented writer I handpicked to write in the world of Barefoot Bay.
Silver and I go way back, as she’s been a fan of my books long before she started publishing her own. She loves romantic suspense and has the impressive background to carry it off with style. This one has pulse-pounding action, heart-wrenching emotion, and a military hero who insists on being in charge…in and out of the bedroom! Enjoy!
Roxanne St. Claire
PS. If you’d like to read all of the Barefoot Bay Kindle World novels, or would like to explore the possibility of writing your own book set in my world, stop by www.roxannestclaire.com for details!
Dedication
Here’s to all the Book Boyfriends and the readers who fall in love with them!
Prologue
THINKING ABOUT the gravy he would make when he got home to Barefoot Bay, Nino Rossi strolled out of the grocery store in Naples and walked straight into chaos. Diapers and baby formula spilled from a plastic sack near his feet and a frantic woman, a baby on her hip, was screaming and chasing after a man running away with a second baby. He darted forward without thinking.
“Stop!” the woman cried. “Someone stop him. He has my baby daughter. My daughter!”
The thug, wearing aviator glasses and a leather jacket, despite the warm weather, stopped. Half turning to face the woman, his gaze bounced from the infant he held to the one in the woman’s arms. Then he appeared to realize people were gathering. Someone yelled, “I called 9-1-1.” Sirens sounded in the distance. The guy panicked, tossed the baby, and took off running.
Nino dropped the bags dangling from his hands and stretched out his arms. He thanked all the angels when he caught the flying infant in his large, capable hands. People surged around him but he had eyes for only one face—the young mother with tear-stained cheeks reaching for her child. He relinquished the little girl and almost immediately lost sight of the mother as people milled about congratulating him.
When the police arrived and began sorting out eye-witness accounts, they discovered the mother and babies had disappeared. Nino noticed the trampled groceries—the pitifully small pack of diapers and the demolished box of powdered milk. And he worried.
Chapter 1
GABE ROSSI looked up from the open file on his desk, shifting gears from the intel he’d just printed out from his computer to focus on what his grandfather was saying. Nino Rossi hadn’t knocked, instead barging in to interrupt, talking a mile a minute and waving his hands. It took Gabe a few sentences to catch up.
“She has two babies and something bad follows her, Gabriel.”
His brain circled the drain in a futile attempt to follow his grandfather’s stream of conversation. “Who, Uncle Nino?”
“The girl. The one at the store with the babies. I told you about what happened.” The old man was noticeably agitated.
Thinking hard, Gabe sorted through recent conversations then remembered. He’d asked Luke McBain, the resort’s chief of security, to check with the police only because Nino had been involved—and persistent. The police wrote it off as a simple domestic—not that any domestic was simple—and since all parties had disappeared, they dropped the investigation. The incident happened in Naples, so it didn’t affect Mimosa Key, Casa Blanca Resort, or Gabe. He hoped.
“Why are you bringing this back up, Uncle Nino?”
“Because I found her. She needs our help. That man…he’s not the only one after her.”
“And you know this how?”
The old man patted his chest with a huge hand. “I know it here. You did not see her, Gabriel. She needs our special help.”
Rubbing his eyes, he reined in his temper. The last thing he needed was some woman preying on Uncle Nino’s soft side—or to take on charity cases. He ran a costly and serious “relocation” business not Witness Protection R Us.
“You will talk to her. Get her story.” His grandfather was adamant as he waved toward the outer office.
Gabe leaned around the older man to glance out the door. A woman of about 25 stood in the reception area juggling two babies. One was fussy and she murmured in what was most likely an Eastern European language. He wished his favorite translator was around to help out since he did not want this shit on his plate right now. Gazing at his desk hoping to find a measure of patience hiding amidst the scattered papers, a photo in the file snared his attention. He stared at it then eyed the woman again.
“She is a mother,” Uncle Nino continued, insistent. “She does what a mother does to protect her babies. She needs us.”
Movement outside the window snagged his attention and Gabe glimpsed a reminder of the lengths a mother would go to in order to protect her child. Nino prepared to launch another entreaty but Gabe held up his hand. “Hang on, Uncle Nino.” Returning his attention to the information he’d downloaded and printed, he scanned the page. He was pretty sure the woman in the bulletin was the same one standing in his outer office.
REWARD: ONE MILLION DOLLARS
That alone was enough to make a guy sit up and notice, but it was the name of the man offering the reward for the capture of a runaway nanny and safe return of her charge—singular, not double. Theodor Vasile. The Romanian “businessman” had been on a lot of watch lists over the years and was currently living the high life in Boston. The downloaded flyer claimed the nanny had abducted Vasile’s son. Only Vasile had no wife. Had never been married. Where did he get a son? Gabe’s radar was pinging like bats in a shit storm.
The woman’s head came
up, her deer-in-headlights gaze colliding with Gabe’s. Haunted eyes. And fear. Unadultered and paralyzing. She backed up, recognizing a predator when she saw one, but apparently, she’d never learned running only triggered a hunting response. Against his better instincts, but knowing he could do nothing else, he agreed. Sort of.
“Fine. We’ll put her in the villa until I can figure out what her deal is, Uncle Nino. If she really is in trouble, I’ll make arrangements to get her somewhere safe.”
“You are a good boy, Gabriel.”
Uncle Nino all but danced on his way out of the office while Gabe reached for the phone. It was time to call in a favor. Or ten.
****
WHEN HIS cell phone rang, Nicholas Karras didn’t recognize the number—which put him on alert. He swiveled away from the bar and answered.
“Yeah?”
“Karras?”
Talk about a blast from the past. This was a voice he’d never forget. “Rossi?”
“Yeah. Can you talk?”
Nick glanced over his shoulder at the men hanging out in the bar. Everyone sitting around him and the hulking guy standing behind it watched him. “Sort of.”
“Then listen. You still on Key West?”
“Yup.” And how the hell did his caller know that?
“I’m—” Voices interrupted Gabe Rossi, black ops operator extraordinaire, and a man Nick had crossed paths with several times.
He concentrated, listening to the muffled conversation. Two voices—one with hints of the Mediterranean and the other with the lilt of the Caribbean.
“Give me a damn minute, Uncle Nino.” Gabe’s voice ghosted through Nick’s cell phone. “Yeah, yeah, Poppy. Money in the effing jar. I think you and Uncle Nino irritate me just so you can get more cash outta me. I’m gonna end up sending all the damn church boys to college. Now get the hell out of my office so I can set this up.” A deep breath and then Gabe’s voice in his ear again. “Karras? I’m calling in one of those favors you owe me.”
Oh, yeah. He owed Gabe Rossi a lifetime of favors. When he’d crashed a plane in the Afghani desert, Gabe appeared out of the dark, rescued him, and got him back to an American unit in one piece. It wasn’t the only time the black ops specialist had pulled Nick’s butt out of the fire.
“Do you know where Bareass…er…Barefoot Bay is?”
Nick pulled up a mental map of Florida. “Mimosa Key? Off-shore from Naples, right?”
“You have a reservation starting tonight at the Casa Blanca Resort and Spa. Tag me at this number when you check in.”
Before he could agree, the owner of the bar appeared in front of him, hands on her ample hips, her expression dubious. She wore her “I’m serious” face. The woman wrangled the ragtag band of misfits who inhabited her place and they all called her Mother. “Who are you talking to?”
“Gabe from Bareass Bay,” Nick replied with a straight face.
Mother snorted and snatched the phone from his hand, clicking the speaker button as she did. “Who is this?”
“Gabe from Bareass Bay.” Rossi replied, his voice deadpan.
“Well, what are you wearing, Gabe from Bareass Bay?”
“Um…khakis?”
“You can’t fool me, Gabe Rossi. Why are you calling one of my customers?”
“Oh, hi, Mother. I’m fine, thanks. How the fu-hell are you?” Gabe’s snarky greeting should not have surprised Nick, but it did.
“Answer my question, boy.”
Nick chewed the inside of his cheeks to keep from laughing. This lady had to be the only person in the world who could get away with calling Gabe Rossi “boy.”
“I need to borrow Karras.”
“Fine. But if you get him killed, no more bar tabs for you.”
“I only need him for a couple of days, but if something hot flares up, he’s a big boy and can take care of himself.”
“Honey, the only things flaring up around here are my hot flashes.” She handed the phone back to Nick with a smirk and sauntered off.
“I’m not even gonna ask how you two know each other,” Nick said into the phone as soon as he took it off speaker. “The less I know about Mother, the better off I am. Now, what’s going on?”
“I have a client. She needs to be relocated to a safe house in the islands.”
“So should I bring transportation?”
“Negative. You need to come in low key. I’ll make arrangements for aircraft from this end. Bring your board shorts and a tux. You’ll be undercover here at the Casa Blanca Resort on Barefoot Bay until I get the final confirmation on her new ID.”
“Low key, huh? Roger that. See you in a few hours.”
****
PEONY COMANESCU rode silently in the electric golf cart, a baby bouncing on each thigh. Her life had gone from terrifying to merely frightening, though the dark man with eyes the color of the ocean had set her already frayed nerves on edge. The older Italian man, who insisted she call him Uncle Nino because that’s what everyone called him, had told her of his grandson Gabriel, an angel he promised would help. She’d recognized the grandfatherly man when he had pulled up next to the bus stop in Naples. He convinced her to get into the little car and he’d driven to this beautiful place on the beach. Maybe she could find work here—cleaning, washing, whatever it took to put food in her babies’ mouths.
The cart stopped in front of a splendid house. Uncle Nino turned to her, a broad smile crinkling his face. “We are here. Your home for awhile. Welcome to Villa Caralluma.”
Peni stared, dumbstruck. The villa was the color of the surrounding sand. The barrel tiles covering the roof gleamed like gold beneath the afternoon sun. Flowering hedges and palm trees softened the stucco edges and she felt like she was in the Mediterranean—maybe even Casablanca itself. Uncle Nino helped her out, already aware that she would not surrender either of her babies to him—or to anyone else. The front door opened and the black woman with the lovely accent she’d met earlier beamed at her.
“Remember me? I’m Poppy. I’m your housekeeper while you and the babies are staying with us.”
Housekeeper? Oh, no. This was all wrong. She couldn’t afford this beautiful villa.
She walked backwards, shaking her head. Not paying attention, she stepped off the path made of paver stones, twisting her ankle and falling. She squawked, gathering the twins close as she headed toward a bruising collision with the ground. Two things happened—the babies were whisked out of her arms and large, sturdy hands braced her from the back. The friendly black woman with the wide, toothy smile had her twins, cooing at them and jostling them with the ease of someone well-versed in baby care.
“Easy, Miss Peni,” Uncle Nino crooned. “You do not want to get hurt.”
She couldn’t hide the quiver ricocheting through her. Those words… She closed her eyes, swayed a little, fought for control. She’d escaped. Nine months pregnant and as big as a bus, she managed to gather what little money she had, board a train, and get away from the man who threatened her with those words. For three months, she’d eluded detection, had kept her children safe from the monsters.
“Bring her inside, Nino,” Poppy commanded. “I think maybe the heat is affecting her.”
“No,” Peni protested weakly. “I…this place…I have no money.”
The woman harrumphed and the old man tsked as he escorted her inside the luxurious villa. “You don’t have to pay for this,” Uncle Nino explained.
Poppy sniffed. “What kind of man acts like this? Leaves a sweet little girl and her babies to fend for themselves.”
She blanched. “No. There is no…I have no…”
“Ahhh, child,” the woman sighed, still jiggling the twins. Peni watched her expression harden as she exchanged a look with Uncle Nino.
“I can’t stay here. This is the sort of place he would come.” The words escaped before she could stop them, even though she clapped a palm over her mouth. Uncle Nino and Poppy exchanged looks again.
“You can and you wil
l stay here,” Uncle Nino informed her. “My Gabriel, he will fix everything. When he comes to see you again, you must tell him all the bad. And you must be truthful.”
****
NICK FIRST considered taking the Key West Express, the jet-powered catamaran ferry running between Key West and the Naples area. Low key, Rossi had requested. Then he’d done a quick check of the Casa Blanca Resort and Spa website on his phone. Low key? Nope. Not happening. A phone call and just over an hour later, he was airborne in a sleek Cessna Citation.
Flying came naturally so he had time to consider recent events. He had a lot to think about—like how the hell Gabe Rossi got his personal cell phone number and knew where he was currently hanging out between jobs.
Fast women, good booze, and flying. That’s all Nick needed to stay happy. Hell, he’d be happy with fast flying, bad booze, and any available woman truth be told. Especially if she was a submissive in search of his dominant and controlling tendencies. He was a simple man, but now he was headed into unknown territory. Rumor had it Gabe Rossi left contract work for the CIA behind and currently provided clandestine services for a select few with enough funds to afford him. Said services now apparently included some woman getting new ID papers and a safe house in the Caribbean. And Rossi had called in a favor. If Nick got lucky, she’d be beautiful, stacked, and wanting to play hard and fast while they waited for her new identity.
Landing at the Naples airport went smoothly. Nick off-loaded his luggage and found his ride. He double-checked the Glock secured in the shoulder holster under his summer-weight jacket and wondered just what Rossi’s deal was. Nothing about the man would surprise him. He’d learned two things early on—a smart operator did not piss off Gabe Rossi, and a smarter operator never questioned his motives.
The Jaguar convertible handled like a dream and before long, he was tooling across the causeway to Mimosa Key. He arrived at the resort and was met with valet parking. After checking in, he tagged Rossi and a few minutes later, he was shuttled by golf cart to the bungalow that housed Rossi’s operation. They shook hands but Nick didn’t get a chance to catch his breath as the former spook ushered him toward a second golf cart.