Rum Runner

by Tricia Leedom

  And if the medallion was so precious, why on earth would he risk sending it to her?

  Hugh said it looked as if someone had been searching for something. Possibly jewelry, and yet, they hadn’t taken her diamond-studded earrings or emerald necklace. Could they have been searching for something much more valuable? Like the medallion? She pulled it out from beneath her navy blue blouse and studied it closely. Random letters were etched into an outer circle, while the inner circle displayed four images separated by a plus symbol: a sun, a moon, three little stars, and a crown. It might have been made of real silver as it was a bit heavy, but she couldn’t see anything special about it other than the fact that it was very old.

  If the people who wrecked her home were looking for the medallion, would they come back?

  Her cat emerged from beneath the overturned couch and rubbed against her leg.

  “How dare he put me in danger, Romeo?” she said to him. The cat froze, unsure if he needed to hide again. Sophie bent to pick him up and cuddled him on her lap though he was still uncertain if he wanted to be there. “Fool that I am, I was thrilled to have something that belonged to my father, even if it was only for a little while. I hadn’t stopped to think he might be using me. Hugs and kisses my arse! He was just trying to emotionally manipulate me into helping him with whatever dangerous—and undoubtedly illegal—scheme he’s involved in.”

  Her life was in turmoil because of her father. The discontent she’d felt in recent months. The longing for something unknown. It was all rooted in her past. She had so many unanswered questions. Questions she was afraid to ask her mother. Questions her mother would probably never answer even if Sophie was brave enough to ask them.

  She grabbed the letter off the floor, where it had landed when she scooped up the cat. Romeo emitted an unhappy mewling sound and made his escape. Sophie stood up and started pacing the disaster zone that was her living room and reread the bottom of the letter.

  “He’s using my name as an alias, the bastard. He wants me to mail the medallion to a hotel in Miami, so he can retrieve it and be off on his merry way. Like hell, he is.”

  Sophie had twenty-six years of questions that needed answers. For the first time in her life, she had an address. She could write to him. She could reply to two decades’ worth of letters, but why write when she could finally confront her father face-to-face?

  CHAPTER TWO

  Miami Beach, Florida

  Jimmy Panama was tempted to abort his mission and find an oiled-up blonde to do the slip and slide with behind the towel shack. He lounged in the shade of a cabana, ankles crossed, a frosty longneck chilling his palm as he watched the sun-kissed bikini bodies promenading around the hotel pool. He raised the bottle of Corona and drank deeply, savoring the way the crisp, lime-tinged lager quenched his parched gullet. Sometimes paying back a favor to an old friend didn’t suck.

  A pair of beach bunnies entered the pool area latched onto the arms of a Northern yokel with the fashion sense of a seventies porn star. Tight curly black hair, polyester shorts, a red and navy horizontal striped golf shirt. Don Juan Jeremy had to be in his early thirties, probably a salesman or some middle management schmo in town for a conference. On his left, a whip-slender brunette modeled a black one-piece that flattered her spectacular ass. She smiled slyly at Don, but he couldn’t keep his eyes off the blonde bombshell on his right.

  A patchy crowd of tourists sat around the tiki bar sipping fruity umbrella drinks beneath its palm-thatched roof. Don led the women to a couple of stools, but the blonde chose to stand. He slid into her seat and motioned to the bartender. The blonde turned away, her face impassive as she looked off toward the pool. Jimmy admired the way her double D’s overflowed her pink string bikini. He couldn’t help but appreciate her noticeable lack of tan lines.

  Checking his phone, he cursed at the time. The favor was supposed to be as easy as a horny spring breaker. Retrieve a package from room 2114 and bring it back to Key West. The room key would be left for him at the front desk, and it had been, but nothing was ever simple. He should have been in and out. Wham, bam, thank you, ma’am. Instead, he was being held up by a mystery woman who had checked into the room Mitch said would be empty. A woman with control issues, if the way she’d unpacked the entire contents of her Gucci luggage and folded everything neat as a pin—including her bloomers—was anything to go by. Ms. Tidypants had left a note on the table saying she had to step out for a bit, but if he should arrive while she was gone, to wait for her so she could deliver the package in person. He jotted a reply telling her he’d be waiting all right, beside the pool, in a rented cabana, on her dime.

  Jimmy could have thought of worse ways of killing a couple hours, but he was eager to get back on the water so he could reach Key West before nightfall. He would have gotten to the hotel sooner, but he’d had a stop to make in Key Largo along the way. His supplier had held him up trying to negotiate a higher price for his product, but Jimmy was a take it or leave it kinda guy, even when it came to first class rum moonshine.

  Raucous male laughter drew Jimmy’s attention back to the bar. Don Juan Jeremy was telling an animated story that had the beanpole with the nice ass enthralled. The blonde was staring at the ground. She winced when the word “titties” came out of the bozo’s mouth a shade too loud.

  Not jaded then. Uncomfortable.

  Jimmy leaned forward and lowered his sunglasses, squinting to get a better look at the blonde’s face. She was beautiful but young. Had to be still in her teens.

  She was also familiar, he realized. Philip Linus’ daughter, April. He’d seen her around the island, and he was pretty certain she was still in high school. She was just a kid.

  “God damn it.” He flung his shades onto the next lounger and stood up so fast he knocked his chair back with a scrape.

  “Thought you looked like you were ready for a refill.” The cute waitress who’d been flirting with him since he’d sat down held out a fresh bottle as she stepped into his path. “I already squeezed the lime for you.”

  “Thanks, darlin’,” he said and winked out of habit. He took a hearty swig of the frosty cold beer before handing the bottle back. “You can bring me the tab.”

  “You’re leaving?”

  He avoided her puppy dog pout and started to step around her.

  “Wait!” She moved to block his path. “I get off in thirty minutes.” She traced the S on the front of his New Orleans Saints T-shirt. “I was sorta hoping we could have a drink or something.”

  Or something was right. She was hoping he’d throw her a bone, or a boner, as it were. On a normal day, he would’ve been charmed by the waitress’s persistence. He would’ve taken her behind the towel shack and nailed her to the stucco until they were mutually satisfied, and then he would have sailed off on his boat and never looked back.

  The day was turning out to be anything but normal.

  “I’m flattered, truly I am, but…” His voice trailed off when he glanced away and caught sight of the woman standing beneath the pink bougainvillea-covered archway leading from the hotel. Her head turned slowly as if she was searching for someone. The classy-looking brunette was overdressed for the party in her white buttoned-up blouse and yellow tweed skirt. Her gaze touched on him before rising to the number on his cabana.

  “It looks like my appointment just arrived.” He handed the waitress a fifty. “This should cover my tab. Keep the change, darlin’.”

  She shrugged and said over her shoulder as she walked away, “If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

  Jimmy vaguely heard the reply. He was too busy watching the woman who was staring at him like he was a fly in her frozen margarita.

  When he smiled at her in greeting, her frown deepened. Then she tossed her long, sleek, chocolate brown hair over her shoulder with a snap and started around the Olympic-sized pool. If the sharp clicking of her black peep-toed stilettos on the cement was anything to go by, the lady meant business.

&nbs
p; Jimmy’s appointment stopped about ten feet away from him to let some people cross between them. When a couple of kids playing a sloppy game of catch nearly hit her with their ball, she didn’t so much as flinch. Their gazes met across the distance. Her chin rose a notch.

  “Come on, April.” The conversation at the bar caught his ear. “It’ll be fun.”

  “No!”

  “Yeah, babe, don’t be a cock tease.”

  Spikes of heat exploded inside Jimmy’s brain like a firework display. He’d almost forgotten about April. He inhaled deeply through his nose and started for the bar.

  “Mr. Panama, don’t go! I need to speak with you,” his appointment said. When he kept going, she added, “I’m Mitch Thompson’s daughter!”

  That brought him up short and drew his head around. He knew a woman had written the note because of the flowery handwriting, but he never expected her to be Mad Dog’s daughter.

  “My name is Sophie Davies-Stone,” she said, raising her chin another notch.

  He searched her face for some resemblance to the longhaired hippy lunatic who was his former CO, but he didn’t see one.

  Torn between two problems, Jimmy checked on April. Don had launched into another story, and she had made her way to a small table beside the pool. “Jimmy,” he corrected, turning fully to face Mad Dog’s daughter.

  She was pretty, in a high-class, uppity bitch sort of way. Tall and willowy with supermodel cheekbones and slinky doe eyes. Her delicate bone structure somehow managed to hold up the healthy rack she was hiding beneath the prudish white blouse. They weren’t as impressive as April’s store-bought delights, but Jimmy would bet one of his boats they were real. She looked too refined to resort to plastic surgery. There were rich girls and then there were rich girls with class. This one emanated quality. She was out of his league. Hell, she was in another stratosphere, and she could stay there as far as he was concerned.

  Though her expression remained stoic, he thought he noted a slight quiver in her voice when she said, “I must admit, I’m a bit disappointed. I was expecting my father.”

  She was British too. Talk about putting the kibosh on the caboodle.

  Jimmy stuck his hands into the pockets of his cargo shorts. “He couldn’t make it. Where’s the package?”

  Her gaze flickered up to his. She opened her mouth to speak and then closed it again. He didn’t want to notice the shape of her slender lips or their pale pink velvety texture, but he did. Something in his stomach did a funny little matador stomp. Olé!

  Well, shit.

  “My father wrote and asked me to mail the package to a suite at this hotel. I assumed he would fetch it himself.”

  “Sorry to disappoint you, darlin’.”

  “You came in his stead. That must mean you know where he is.”

  Jimmy shrugged. “He could be out of the country, up the street, or on the moon for all I know. I’m just doing him a favor, same as you, but looks like one of us don’t know how to follow directions.”

  She stiffened. “His letter was vague.” She looked away and murmured to herself, “I hadn’t counted on this.”

  A cloud of some expensive haute-couture fragrance drifted toward him. The scent hovered around her like a big, fat hands-off sign to men who didn’t run in her social circle. Well, the country club set could have her, as far as he was concerned. The frisky waitress was more his style, though he rarely caught the young ones anymore. Back on the island, he was man-candy for divorcees, neglected housewives, and bridesmaids gone wild—women looking for a good time with no strings attached. A man who got involved with a high-maintenance female like Sophie Davies-Stone might as well wrap his arms and legs in fishing wire and call himself Howdy Doody.

  Jimmy glanced over at April. She sat with her chin in her hand, swinging her crossed ankles like the little girl she was. His gut tightened. “Well, I hadn’t counted on you being here either,” he said to Mitch’s daughter. “You were supposed to FedEx the package to the hotel, not hand-deliver it yourself.”

  She shook her head with exasperation before narrowing her eyes at him again. “I can’t be bothered with this skullduggery. What are you to do with the package once you have it?”

  “Afraid that ain’t none of your business, darlin’.”

  “I’m not your darling, and I disagree. My father asked me to look after the medallion—”

  “Medallion? That’s what’s in the package?”

  “It’s a family heirloom and—”

  “An heirloom?” He chuckled. “Damn thing’s probably hot.” When she looked at him as if she didn’t grasp his meaning, he said, “As in stolen, pinched, misappropriated. Probably involved in some black market bullshit.”

  Her hand went to the silver chain around her neck that disappeared beneath her top. No doubt the medallion was nestled between her high-class tits. She was too damn easy to read.

  “Be that as it may, I’m not giving it to you,” she said. “Tell me where my father is and I will return it to him myself.”

  Jimmy’s jaw tightened and his temples started to pound. He drove his fingers through his already windblown blond hair. “Did you tell him you were coming to Miami?”

  “No.”

  “Don’t you think it would’ve been a wise idea to call first?”

  She stiffened again, and this time he thought her back was gonna snap from the tension. “I don’t have his number. Not one that works anyway. I’ve actually never spoken to my father. I was…” She stopped as her voice quivered again. She looked as if she was desperately trying to hold herself together. After a moment, she took a deep breath and started again, “I was hoping to meet him.”

  Jimmy could tell it took a lot for her to admit that, but it still wasn’t his problem. Don was back looming over April and her nitwit friend was egging him on.

  “Sorry to piss on your parade, but it looks like the family reunion ain’t gonna happen this time, sweetheart.”

  She glared at him and her doe eyes flashed in the bright Florida sunshine, as green as a palm tree against a tropical blue sky. “No one’s parade is being spoiled. I was in the area and merely thought I’d satisfy a silly childhood curiosity.”

  Jimmy snorted. “Don’t sound like you’re from around these parts.”

  “I’m on holiday.”

  He sensed she was full of shit, but what was it to him? “Well, I hope you enjoy the rest of your vacay. Take it from a local.” He nodded toward her pale forearms which were bared by her rolled-up sleeves. “Use some sunscreen on that pretty skin of yours. Sunburns are a bitch. Now, let’s get this over with, give me the medallion.”

  A little quotation mark indented the tender skin above her nose as she stared at his open palm.

  April’s voice drifted toward them. “No, I don’t think so.”

  Jimmy glanced over at the table.

  “Come on, it’ll be fun.” Don dragged the girl to her feet. Her double D’s jerked and jiggled as she dug her high heels into the pavement.

  What the hell was that daddy of hers thinking, fitting a teenage girl with a pair of tits a Vegas stripper would envy? Jimmy had detailed Philip Linus’ two-million-dollar yacht a couple of times. He tipped well, but what a douche. Linus was a Real Estate Tycoon who owned a good chunk of the South Florida coastline, including several office buildings, luxury high-rise condominiums, and a couple of resort hotels like the swanky South Beach retreat they were presently patronizing.

  “Seriously. I’ve changed my mind.” April pulled out of Don’s grasp.

  Her girlfriend tugged her back. “Don’t be so immature.”

  Jimmy’s gut clenched again. His eyes narrowed on the bozo.

  “I suppose we’ve reached an impasse,” Mad Dog’s daughter said. “I won’t release the medallion to anyone but my father. You may tell him that when you speak with him.”

  Jimmy’s blood pressure spiked. This was exactly why he hated owing people favors. He should just walk away, forget the favor, forget the te
enagers who’d gotten in way over their heads, and get out of Dodge before the real trouble started. Instead, he stepped into the woman’s personal space, looming over her. She gasped and craned her neck to look up at him, but she didn’t step back. Proud as a duchess, she stood with her shoulders back, her chin held high, the picture of cool indifference. Her arrogance only pissed him off more.

  “This is what’s gonna happen,” he growled softly. “You’re gonna hand over the medallion and enjoy the rest of your stay in Miami. If your daddy contacts me sooner rather than later, I’ll let him know you’re in town. If he wants to meet you, he’ll show up. If he doesn’t, I’d take the hint.”

  The Duchess drew a sharp breath through her nose, struggling to maintain her lousy poker face. A trembling hand curled against her stomach. He’d stirred up some emotional lava, but she was trying to keep a tight lid on it.

  “You are an immoral, insensitive—” she sputtered, searching for a word, “caveman! Not only are your manners abhorrent, as proven by the way you’ve been unabashedly ogling another woman while speaking to me, but you smell like a brewery and…and your beard is in dreadful need of a trim!”

  The insults pinged around inside his chest like pinballs in a game machine. He scratched his furry chin. So he was looking a little like Grizzly Adams these days. The ladies seemed to like it. Why should he care what some skinny, righteous prude thought of him? “Are you done?”

  “If you find you require a dictionary to understand the multisyllabic words I just used, I’m certain your mobile has an app for that.”

  “You stuck-up little—”

  “Hey!” April’s cry interrupted him. “You made me drop my phone.”

  His gaze darted over to her. She was rubbing her wrist where Don must have grabbed her too hard. She bent to pick up her cell.

  Jimmy looked at the Duchess.

  Her left eyebrow arched. “Please, don’t let me keep you. She looks like your type.”