Rum Runner

by Tricia Leedom

  “No.” She shook her head and opened her eyes. There were two Jimmy Panamas kneeling before her and both looked a little fuzzy around the edges. “Yes. The handkerchief.” She might have pointed at it, but she couldn’t be certain her hand had moved.

  The Jimmys waved the bit of fabric under their noses and said in one voice, “Chloroform, but not enough to knock you out. Amateurs. That trick only works in the movies.”

  Sophie’s stomach gurgled. “I feel sick.”

  “You’ll be all right. Nausea is normal. So is a little disorientation, but it won’t last long.”

  A movement behind Jimmy’s right shoulder drew her gaze. It took a moment for her muddled brain to register what was happening. The other man had sat up and was pointing a gun at Jimmy’s head.

  Before she could open her mouth to warn him, Jimmy turned and knocked the gun aside. Muted by a silencer, the weapon discharged with a soft poof and the bullet pierced the far wall with only a slightly more audible thump.

  Jimmy grabbed the other man’s arm and slammed it against the elevator door until he released his grip on the weapon. The gun flew across the floor, stopping inches from Sophie’s French-manicured toenails.

  The man head-butted Jimmy in the chin and then pounced, landing on Jimmy’s chest with an angry growl. Jimmy pulled at the fingers wrapped around his throat squeezing off his oxygen supply.

  The panic rising in Sophie’s chest cleared the fog from her brain. She looked around for anything she could use to stop the man and zeroed in on the gun. She knew nothing of firearms, but he didn’t know that. She only had to frighten him. She snatched the weapon off the floor, noting the strange sensation of the heavy, cold metal in her hands. She steeled herself against the tight pang of dread in the pit of her stomach, braced her arms, and took aim.

  “Stop it!” she demanded. “Let him go or I’ll—”

  The weapon discharged with a poof and flew out of her hands. Twirling in midair, it landed with a dull thud on the carpet beside her thigh. The bullet pierced her would-be kidnapper’s shoulder splattering a shocking amount of blood on the elevator doors. The man clutched at the wound as he curled onto his side. Jimmy sat up, grabbed the man by his shirt front, and slugged him twice in the jaw. The second punch knocked him out cold.

  In the sudden stillness that followed, Sophie looked between Jimmy, the unconscious man, and the blood-spattered elevator doors, and said, “Shit.”

  Her gaze dropped to the gun and she stared at it as if it were an alien object. She would have been less surprised if it had suddenly sprouted legs and done a tap dance. She shoved it away and scooted back. “Shit, shit, shit! I didn’t mean to shoot him!”

  Jimmy retrieved the gun. “Here’s a tip, Duchess. When you hold a man at gunpoint, give him a chance to take the ultimatum before you pull the trigger.”

  “Oh God! Oh God, is he dead? Have I killed him?”

  Jimmy shook his head. “The wound’s through and through. It didn’t hit any major arteries as far as I can tell. He’ll live, but he’s going to be pretty pissed off when he wakes up.”

  “We have to tell the police what’s happened. They will understand it was an accident, won’t they?” Her stomach churned and she tasted the toast and jam she’d had for breakfast on the back of her tongue. “I think I’m going to be ill.”

  “Well, suck it down. We gotta get out of here.”

  “But the police—”

  “We can’t wait around for the police.”

  “Why not?”

  Jimmy handled the gun like an expert, removing the bullet cartridge, checking it and then reinserting it with a click. “Because your father asked me to get you out of town pronto, and I can’t do that if you’re being detained for questioning.”

  “Running away from this will only make things worse. I’m in a foreign country and I’ve just shot a man. Oh, my God!”

  “It was self-defense. Besides, the people he works for will probably have this all cleaned up before the cops arrive.”

  “How do you know that? Wait, you spoke to my father?” Sophie’s heart was in her throat as she suddenly realized what he’d said. She reached out and squeezed Jimmy’s forearm, or tried to—it was thick with rock-solid muscle. She swallowed hard, hating herself for noticing something like that at such an inappropriate time. She didn’t release his arm. “When did you speak to him? What did he say?”

  “Just before I came upstairs. You’ve got some grip there, Duchess.”

  “How did he sound when you told him I was here? Was he pleased?”

  “He wants your ass on the next plane home.”

  “Oh.” Her grip relaxed and she let go as she sat back against the elevator wall. She pressed her lips together to still their trembling and curled her arms around her raised knees. She wished for numbness. Wished she’d never come in the first place. Wished—No, she only had herself to blame.

  The elevator came to a stop and the doors parted to the employee parking garage. Her attempted kidnappers had somehow tampered with the elevator, enabling them to bypass the hectic kitchen and lobby floors. Jimmy stepped out of the lift cautiously, the gun ready between his hands. After a moment, he stuck his head back inside.

  “Let’s go. His muchachos are likely to be along any minute.”

  Sophie willed her legs to move but they wouldn’t cooperate.

  “Do you want me to carry you?” He tucked the gun into the waistband of his shorts behind his back and covered it with his T-shirt.

  “Don’t you dare—” she began, but Jimmy ignored her and bent to pick her up.

  “Let go. What are you doing? Put me down,” she said, but her protests were ignored.

  He carried her as if she weighed nothing, his solid arms braced behind her back and under her knees, cradling her body against his chest. He strolled out of the parking garage and down a narrow sidewalk shrouded by tropical foliage, toward the private marina that belonged to the hotel. No one had ever held her like this before, certainly not in her adult life. Andrew was fit, but she wasn’t certain he would have been able to carry her anywhere let alone this far. Where were they going?

  If her head had been clearer, she would have taken greater offense, insisting he set her down. Jimmy’s face was so close to hers she could almost count the dark blond lashes fringing his eyes. They were a pure, primary blue slanted at the outer corners in a downward slope that mirrored his brows. His cheekbones were high. His jaw broad and square. He was a prime specimen of manhood: broad shouldered, lean waisted, with well-muscled arms and legs. Her hands tightened fractionally around his neck completely of their own accord.

  Why was she so knackered? She blinked to clear the mist from her gaze and focused on those slanted blue eyes. “How did you find me?”

  “I guessed you went back up to your room. And then I followed your shoes.”

  “Am I going to die?”

  “Probably not today. How’s your head?”

  Her gaze slid to his mouth. His lips were lush and pouty. Perfectly shaped decadence in the midst of an itchy, scratchy briar patch.

  “Better.”

  “Still feel like you’re gonna puke?”

  “You have such a way with words. Your mum must be very proud.”

  The expression on his face changed. His eyes grew hard and he stopped walking.

  “The free ride’s over.” He deposited her on boardwalk and kept walking.

  She stumbled a little but caught herself and stood looking after his departing form. The sun-warmed boards kissed her bare feet, yet she shivered from the sudden absence of his body heat.

  He was making his way down the dock toward the row of boats bobbing in the water.

  “Where are you going?” she called after him.

  “To my boat,” he replied without looking back.

  “You’re leaving?”

  “We’re leaving.”

  “I can’t just run off. I shot a man!”

  He spun around and stalked back to her
. His words coming out in a sharp hiss, “Will you shut your trap? Someone’s gonna hear that big mouth of yours.”

  “I need to go to the police or the British Consulate,” she said, whispering back. “I need to tell them how I was nearly kidnapped. Those people might target another woman.”

  Standing with his hands braced on his lean hips, he exhaled harshly through his nose. He pressed his lips together and nodded once as if coming to a decision about something. When he spoke, his voice was low and deadly serious. “They were after you, Duchess. Only you.”

  “Me?” The thought chilled her. “Why would they be after me?”

  “A man called Bautista is looking for your father. Those men work for him.”

  “But what could they possibly want with me? I’ve never even met my father.”

  Jimmy shook his head slightly. “You’re his Achilles’ heel. They get their hands on you and Mitch will fall in line faster than a fourth grader in a fire drill.” When she looked at him blankly, he added with exasperation, “He’ll surrender himself!”

  It sounded strange. Surreal. Like something out of a Hollywood film. She snorted. “They are in for a huge disappointment then, aren’t they? My father wants nothing to do with me.”

  Jimmy’s brow furrowed. Slowly, he reached out and captured an errant strand of her hair that had been caught by the ocean breeze. As he tucked it back into place, his warm fingers skimmed the outer shell of her ear making her shiver. His head bent, seeking her gaze. “I don’t know where you got that idea, darlin’. If Bautista or anyone else for that matter took you, your daddy would move heaven and earth to get you back. Who do you think sent me after you today?”

  Her stomach fluttered with something that felt like hope, and then she released an unsteady breath and frowned in confusion. “But you said he wants me to go home.”

  Jimmy nodded. “It’s the only way he can be certain you’re safe, darlin’. He ain’t gonna relax until you’re on that plane.”

  A handsome older couple dressed for a day of sailing passed by them on the narrow path. Sophie stepped back guiltily, putting some distance between herself and Jimmy Panama. She hadn’t realized how close they’d been standing until that moment. She smiled at the couple and exchanged greetings. By the time they were out of earshot, she’d had time to process Jimmy’s words. She turned back to him and said, “That’s complete rubbish. I didn’t come here to be drawn into my father’s latest escapade, but I’m not leaving until I speak with him face-to-face.”

  Jimmy straightened to his full height, which was more than a little imposing. “Well, you can’t stay here,” he said. “If Bautista’s goons don’t get that mess cleaned up, the hotel is going to be swarming with cops. And you left your fancy shoes up there, Cinderella.”

  She did not run from her mistakes, but she couldn’t let Jimmy Panama out of her sight. Not when he was her only link to Mitch Thompson. “If I agree to go with you, that doesn’t mean I’m going home.”

  “I thought you said you didn’t want to be drawn into your father’s problems? If you stay in Florida, you’ll be making yourself a target.”

  “That’s my choice.”

  “Let’s make a deal,” he said, glancing at the yacht that was slowly making its way past them. “You come with me now, and once we get to Key West, you can do whatever you want. I won’t stand in your way. If you want to run right back here to Miami and turn yourself in, that’s your business.”

  “I’m not going home without speaking to my father and I think you can lead me to him.”

  “I honestly don’t know where he is or how to contact him. I’ll tell you what though, if Mitch calls again, I’ll hand the phone over so you can speak to him.”

  That shouldn’t have been enough. She should have still been furious, but she couldn’t ignore the flicker of hope or repress the smile that stretched the corners of her mouth to its limits.

  “Damn, Duchess, you should smile more. You’re a knockout when you don’t have a stick up your ass.”

  Flames licked her cheeks, chasing the smile away. “I’ll go with you, but I decide if and when I give you the medallion.”

  “You don’t think I could just take it from you right now?”

  Sophie arched an eyebrow, daring him to try it.

  A slow smile spread across his bearded face. It would have been a nice smile if it weren’t for the briar patch.

  “And just so we’re perfectly clear,” she said, “that blazing wit of yours might charm some less discriminating ladies, but I can assure you, you’re not my type.”

  He nodded and leaned a bit closer. “Well, now that’s reassuring, because I can’t say I find you particularly fuckworthy either.” He spun on his heels, leaving her to stare after him once again.

  Sophie pursed her lips together and snorted softly. If Jimmy Panama was the last man on earth, she wouldn’t sleep with him to save the human race!

  So why, then, as she watched his broad, straight back retreating from her, did it bother her that he didn’t find her attractive?

  She followed Jimmy down the boardwalk, trying her best to ignore the fact there was deep water three feet away in either direction. When he turned onto an even narrower rail-less dock, she concentrated on the boards at her feet and keeping one foot in front of the other.

  He stopped in front of a medium-sized boat. It was an older model with a pair of bench seats in the bow and a canopy over the cockpit and stern. An open companionway in the middle of the steering column led to the raised cabin. It looked seaworthy, but she didn’t trust any boat.

  Jimmy put his hand up motioning her to stop.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “Señor Panama,” a man on the boat said, “join me, and bring your pretty friend.”

  “What brings you to town, Florez?” Jimmy’s tone was friendly, yet Sophie sensed the tension in him.

  The man called Florez sat in the captain’s chair. He spun around to face them. “Have you spoken with your old friend Mitch Thompson lately?”

  “I have.”

  “Then you know what I want.”

  “Not happening.”

  “Don’t be so sure.” Florez raised a gun aiming it at Jimmy. “Toss your piece in the water. My men are tending to the mess you made inside the hotel elevator, but they’ll be along any moment. You won’t win in a standoff.”

  Jimmy reached for the gun he’d tucked into the back of his shorts.

  “Slowly. That’s it. Now let me hear the splash.”

  Jimmy dropped it in the water between the boat and the dock.

  “Perfect. Now board. Both of you.”

  Jimmy held out his hand to Sophie without taking his eyes off Florez. When she didn’t immediately take it, he said, “Come on, Duchess. Let’s do what the man wants.”

  Sophie eyed the distance between the boat and the dock, and the deep murky water in between, and shook her head. “No. I can’t.”

  “Sure you can.” He spared her a glance.

  “You don’t understand.”

  “Stop messing around, darlin’. The man’s got a gun.”

  “He’s right, chica,” Florez said in lightly accented English. “Though I’m not inclined to harm you, I have no qualms about shooting Señor Panama here. In fact, I would enjoy it very much. Please give me an excuse.”

  “Let’s go, Duchess. He ain’t kidding.”

  She didn’t move.

  “Bring her, Panama.”

  “I’m sorry, darlin’, but today ain’t my day to die.” He grabbed her wrist and pulled her toward the edge of the dock.

  She dropped to her knees and yanked back with all of her strength, which was negligible in comparison to his, but she kept yanking. “Stop it! No! Let go. I can’t. Please!”

  It took her a moment to realize the tension had slackened on her wrist. She found Jimmy kneeling in front of her, his forehead etched with concern. “Hush now,” he was crooning softly. “Hush. Are you okay?”

  Heart po
unding and visibly trembling, she took a deep breath to calm herself. “I just need a moment.”

  “No more games,” Florez said. “Get her into this boat, Panama, or I’ll do it myself.”

  “Give her a minute!” The hard edge in Jimmy’s voice shut the other man up. His tone gentled again, when he bent closer to Sophie. “Breathe. In through your nose and out through your mouth. That’s it. Better?”

  Her panic subsiding, she nodded and gave him a small smile. “Better.”

  “Enough of this,” Florez said. “My sister may have forced me to promise not to hurt you, but every day I feel less inclined to keep my word. There is nothing stopping me from taking you out right now and dumping your body in the water. Filth like you deserves no less.”

  Jimmy swore beneath his breath and made to rise. Sophie touched his arm to stop him and shockingly hard muscles bunched beneath her hand. “Don’t let him bait you,” she said. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

  His slanted blue gaze searched her face. “You sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “Hang on to me.”

  Tentatively, she slipped her arms around his neck, and he picked her up in one fluid motion, cradling her gently in his arms. She clung to his neck and closed her eyes as he stepped onto the boat with the ease of a man who had been doing it all his life. When he set her on her feet, she noticed he had positioned himself between her body and the barrel of the gun.

  “Duchess, meet Rio Florez. This is what a famous telenovela star a decade past his prime looks like.”

  “Be nice,” Florez said. “Remember, I have a bullet with your name on it, amigo.”

  Jimmy ignored him and gestured with his thumb. “He might have packed on twenty pounds since his Telemundo days, but he still has a pretty mug, don’t he?”

  “Don’t antagonize him,” Sophie said.

  Florez’s handsome, olive-skinned face turned red. He slid off the chair and his expensive satin shirt pulled around his thick midsection, threatening to pop the buttons. He was half a foot shorter than Jimmy, but he looked as if he could still handle himself in a brawl.

  “I’m going to piss on your dead body one of these days. I don’t care what Angela says.” His face crumpled with pain for an instant and then spit spewed from his mouth as he vowed passionately, “I owe it to my brother-in-law. Mi cuñado. Mi familia.”