He paused again, as if the gutsy person on the other end of the line had interrupted him. “Well, I’m glad to hear you have a plan. You have one week to take care of this or the deal is off.”
When he disconnected the call, April counted to twenty before knocking on the door.
“Come in.”
Absorbed in something on his computer screen, he didn’t look up when April entered the room and slid into the leather straight back chair opposite his desk.
At five-foot-four, Philip Linus was barely a hundred and forty pounds in his shoes. He was an intimidating man despite his size and his cold, hazel-eyed stare had a lot to do with it. His neatly trimmed hair mostly gray now, he was fit and still handsome for fifty. April had his nose and his petite bone structure, but she took after her mother in every other way.
She waited, knowing better than to interrupt him while he was working, and enjoyed the comforting scent of leather and her father’s spicy cologne. The Swiss grandfather clock in the hall began to chime, marking the ten o’clock hour. Philip clicked the computer mouse one last time and then looked up, offering his version of a smile. His face relaxed and the edges of his lips quirked but did not quite turn north.
She’d take it.
A wave of warmth spread through her tummy. “We didn’t expect you back so soon, Daddy.”
His smile—what there was of it—vanished. “My meeting in Dubai was cut short. My business associate had a death in the family.” He stood up and crossed to the minibar that was against the wall.
“I’m sorry to hear that, but I’m happy you’re home.”
His hand landed on a bottle of Scotch and he lifted it to read the label. “I heard you had some trouble with the police tonight.”
“Not me. It was just a misunderstanding. Greenlee and I went to Miami for the day and Jimmy Panama gave us a ride home. Greenlee’s sister flipped out and called the police. She accused Jimmy of kidnapping us, and they ended up arresting him for having a case of illegal rum on his boat.” April bit her bottom lip. “I told the police I saw some other guy put it there to set him up.”
“Did you now?” Philip removed the stopper and splashed some of the amber liquid into a short glass.
“If Greenlee hadn’t called her sister, Jimmy wouldn’t have gotten in trouble with the police. I feel terrible about it.”
Philip dropped two ice cubes into his drink. He raised the glass to take a sip before he turned around.
“Hey,” April said, shifting sideways on the chair to look at him. “Did you know Hamburger Man has a daughter?”
“Who?”
“Mitch Thompson. Hamburger Man.”
He paused over his drink and stared at her for a long moment before he said, “No, I didn’t. Why do you ask?”
April kicked off her sandals and tucked her legs beneath her on the chair to get more comfortable. “Because I met her today. Her name is Sophie. The police arrested her too, even though she had nothing to do with any of it. Do you think you could help her, Daddy? And Jimmy Panama too?”
“Sounds like Jimmy Panama was breaking the law and got what he deserved.”
“Maybe, but Sophie didn’t do anything wrong. Please, Daddy, she’s British and really nice.”
Philip tossed back the rest of his whisky. He returned the glass to the cart, setting it down with a neat clink, before he spoke again. “I don’t usually say much about what you do or who you see, but when your evening ends with a police escort, I have to be concerned. Do you understand, Kitten?”
The warm ball of light in her stomach brightened. Her father hadn’t used his pet name for her in, like, forever. “I do and I’m sorry. I promise it won’t happen again.”
“I’ll see what I can do for your friend.”
“Thank you, Daddy! How long will you be home?”
“A few days.” He returned to his seat and kicked back in the plush leather chair. “Have you given any thought to colleges since we last spoke?”
“Greenlee wants to take a year off from school to tour Europe. I was thinking about tagging along.”
He linked his fingers over his lean stomach and sighed heavily. “I worry about you, April. You have no idea what life is like in the real world. You’re a bright girl, but you have no life skills. You’ve never had chores or responsibilities. And you don’t have any special talents I’m aware of except for the exceptional ability to spend my money.” His smile made a brief appearance, but April couldn’t share it this time. “I suppose it’s my fault for coddling you too much after your mother died.”
April’s throat tightened and she swallowed hard to clear it. “You make me sound like a spoiled brat.”
“Those are your words, not mine, but what other label would you give a teenage girl who runs off to Miami for a day of fun without a thought to the consequences?”
His gaze shifted beyond April. She turned to see her stepmother standing in the doorway.
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Courtney said. “Adam and Marsha Reinhold are leaving and they wanted to say good night.”
“I’ll be right down.” He spared no smile for his wife, April noted, hiding her delight.
When Courtney retreated, Philip Linus’ infamous stare returned to April and her grin faded. “I want you to seriously start thinking about what you want to do after graduation.”
She looked down at her bare knees, which stuck out from beneath her sarong, and nodded.
“I have guests.” He rose from his chair. “We’re done here. Go to bed. You have school tomorrow.”
“Yes, sir.” When he exited through the open doorway, she sagged with relief, knowing she’d gotten off easy. She’d been afraid for a moment he was going to threaten to send her to boarding school again.
A shrill bell rent the air and startled her. She looked toward the desk where her father’s cell phone lay forgotten. The iPhone vibrated angrily, the ringtone like one of those old rotary phones used by gangsters in the black-and-white films he liked to watch. April expected the call to go to voicemail after two rings, but it didn’t. She waited for her father to come racing back into the room to grab the phone. The only time it left the clip on his belt was when it was glued to his ear.
On the fifth ring, she couldn’t take it anymore. She grabbed it off the desk and swiped the screen to answer it. “Hello?”
A man shouted over the noise in the background. It sounded as if he was calling from a busy mall food court or a crowded airport or something like that. “The place is crawling with CBP agents now, but we managed to divert the shipment. How do you want to handle this, boss?”
What the heck was he talking about? April frowned. What was a CBP agent? She was just about to ask that question when the man, impatient for a response, said very clearly, “Can you hear me, Albatross? This phone is a piece of shit.”
“Who is this?”
The man didn’t answer, but she could still hear the clamor in the background.
A cold, crawling sensation slinked up her spine. “Hello?” she said again.
The line went dead.
“So weird,” she murmured, staring at the phone in her hand. It had to be a wrong number, but she couldn’t shake the odd, foreboding feeling that lingered in the air.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“Right this way, ma’am.”
Sophie followed the female police officer through the spring-hinged door of the women’s locker room. They traveled down a stark hallway to the headquarters of the Key West PD.
The police had sorted out the misunderstanding and cleared Sophie of all charges, but not before forcing her to spend the most humiliating night of her life in jail.
Her suitcase and the rest of her belongings from her Miami hotel room had arrived by messenger just past dawn courtesy of Phillip Linus. Thanks to April, Mr. Linus had used his considerable influence to orchestrate Sophie’s quick release from jail as well as the delivery of her belongings. Officer Gonzalez was kind enough to let Sophie shower and change i
n the women’s locker room before she left the police station. There was a non-stop flight from Key West International to London’s Heathrow airport leaving at noon and she planned to be on it.
The station was quiet except for the muffled sound of a phone ringing behind a closed door and the occasional static-laden chatter over an abandoned portable radio. Only one other officer sat at a desk on the far side of the open office working silently on a computer.
Officer Gonzalez stopped at her desk and gestured to the empty chair beside it. “Have a seat. I have to fill out one more form before you’re free to go. I’ll be right back.” Sophie would have found it difficult to believe the petite woman was actually an officer of the law if it hadn’t been for her no-nonsense attitude and the gold badge over her left breast pocket. With her smooth brown hair twisted into a tight knot at the back of her head and the shapeless uniform shrouding her waifish figure, she could have been mistaken for a young teenage boy playing dress up.
Sophie sat on the hard plastic chair and admired the officer’s tidy workspace. The only personal items on the desk were a framed picture of a cute Pomeranian dog and a tattered palm-sized book of poetry. There were no pictures of friends or family.
The thought of family made Sophie feel a pang for her mum and stepdad. She wondered if they were worried about her and decided she should check in with them. Opening her Burberry clutch, she dug for her mobile. The metallic jade green leather bag matched her snakeskin pointy toe stilettos and the green polka dots on her white chambray tank-dress. She crossed her legs and smoothed the short flared skirt. It felt good to be in fresh clean clothes and looking her best again.
She had dialed the first few digits of her mum’s mobile when Jimmy Panama’s low, sardonic drawl drifted through the open door. “So tell me, who does a Duchess call when she gets hauled off to the pokey?”
Sophie’s heart leaped and she spun around in her seat with a gasp. Jimmy was sitting in the interrogation room across from her. He looked quite comfortable despite the fact his right wrist was cuffed to a notch welded to the metal tabletop. He was lounging on a straight back chair with his long legs stretched out in front of him and his ankles crossed.
“None of your business,” she quipped, hanging up the phone and tucking it back into her bag.
“Who were you calling? Andrew?”
She didn’t respond. She simply stared at him.
“Is he picking you up at the airport?”
“They told me they were dropping the charges against you as well, so why are you still chained to the table?”
“Just lucky, I guess. You didn’t answer my question.”
“Why do you care who fetches me from the airport?”
“I don’t. I’m just glad you’re finally seeing things my way.”
“How’s that?”
“You’re going home. You realized finding your father was a stupid idea.”
Sophie clutched her purse to her chest to help ease the sudden ache in her heart. She had to be defective because, even now, after all that had transpired over the past twenty-four hours, when she was finally doing the sensible thing, a part of her still regretted ending her journey before she had the chance to meet her father.
“I’m going home because it’s the right thing to do, not because you want me to.”
“You always do the right thing, don’t you, darlin’?”
If he only knew, she thought, as the ache in her heart became a tiny ball of acid. She raised her chin a notch and looked away from his penetrating blue gaze for fear he’d see right through to her imperfect soul. She glanced in the opposite direction to confirm they were still alone before she said to Jimmy, “I shot a man. Then I left the scene of the crime. So, no, much to my dismay, I don’t always do the right thing.” She’d left that tiny detail out of the police interrogation because she didn’t want to be detained in Miami or anywhere else in this country a moment longer than she had to be.
“I wouldn’t count that. I’d consider it special circumstances. I’m talking about in your everyday life. Do you ever let your hair down, or are you always so rigid?”
Heat flushed her face as she realized her back was so straight it didn’t touch the backrest of the sloped chair. She sank back against it and crossed her legs in the opposite direction, angling away from him.
His mouth quirked into a half-smile beneath his scruffy beard. “You look like you want to say something. Come on, Duchess. Let it out. Tell me how you really feel. It ain’t like you to bite your tongue.”
She pressed her lips together tightly. She didn’t owe him an excuse for her poor manners. He barely rated an apology, but she would give him one to salve her own conscience. “I apologize for my rudeness. I was frustrated and disappointed about how events unfolded—”
“I ain’t looking for an apology, Duchess. I got thick skin. I can take anything you hurl at me. Go ahead, let loose.”
“I’ve said all I need to say.”
“That’s the way it’s gonna be then?”
He sat forward casually, resting his free arm on a powerful thigh, and scanned her from head to toe. Feeling his gaze as if it were a tangible thing, goose bumps rose on her skin. She squeezed her clutch bag until her knuckles turned white.
“You know something, darlin’, the high road might have a prettier view, but the route ain’t nearly as interesting. Look at me, for example. I say what I want. Do what I want. I don’t censor myself and I’m as happy as a bluejacket in a brothel on a weekend furlough.”
She met his gaze. “And that’s why you’re still in shackles and I’m free to go.”
His sudden bark of laughter made her stiffen again. She pressed her lips together until pain made her stop.
He licked his index finger and mimicked tallying an invisible board. “That’s one for the Duchess, folks. Look out!” He laughed again and leaned back in his chair as Officer Gonzalez returned with a piece of paper in her hand.
“Glad you’re enjoying your stay with us, Mr. Panama.”
“How’s my paperwork coming along, Gabby? I’d like to get over to the bar sometime today. The place won’t run itself.”
“That’s Officer Gonzalez to you. And the way I hear it, Sue runs the bar, you just sit on your culo sampling the product.”
“Hey now, that’s only partly true.”
Sophie wrinkled her nose at him in confusion. “I thought you were a tour boat captain?”
“I am, but I’m also a bar owner, and I detail boats on the side. Among other things.”
“Watch what you say, Mr. Panama. You’re only going free because Miss Linus made a statement to the police claiming you were set up and Ms. Davies-Stone confirmed it.”
When Jimmy’s dark blond eyebrows rose in surprise, Sophie looked away.
“Did she now?” he murmured, and her face grew hot.
The police officer sat at her desk and dug through a drawer for a pen. “This shouldn’t take but a few minutes to fill out, Miss Stone.”
Sophie cleared her throat. Avoided Jimmy’s steady gaze, she said, “Is it true? Does he really own a bar?” He sounded terribly busy for a guy who was supposed to be a beach bum and full-time lothario.
“Co-own,” Jimmy replied even though her question was directed to the police officer. “Dixie’s Bar and Grille over on Green Street. It’s a few blocks from here.”
“One of the finer establishments in town,” Officer Gonzalez said sardonically, writing as she spoke. “If you like cheap booze, hanging out with old codgers who’ve been drunk since breakfast, and watching the paint peel.”
“Dixie’s might be a dive, but even you have to admit she’s got good food. Gabby ain’t mentioning the fact she stops by every Friday for lunch.”
“Only because you’ve got one of the best chefs on the Gulf Coast working for you. Oscar Martin,” she said to Sophie. “I have dreams about his shrimp remoulade po’boy. I still don’t know why he’s working at a dump like Dixie’s. It has to be blackmail, bu
t I can’t figure out what Panama has on him.”
Sophie finally looked at Jimmy, her head tilting to the side as their gazes met. “So what happened to all that freedom you were bragging about a few moments ago?”
“What I do for a living doesn’t feel like work. The way I see it, if what you’re doing ain’t fun, it ain’t worth doing.”
“You’re all set,” the officer said, sliding away from the desk. “I just have to file this with the clerk and you’ll be on your way. Do you want me to have someone call you a cab?”
“Actually, I thought I’d grab a bite to eat before I dash off to the airport. I’d love the number for a cab company, though.”
“Sure thing. There’s a string of restaurants a couple of blocks away over on Duval. I’ll get that number for you.”
When Gonzalez left, Sophie stood and faced Jimmy. “I suppose this is good-bye, then.”
His blue-eyed gaze narrowed, deepening the grooves around his eyes. “Did you really lie to the police to keep my ass out of prison?”
Sophie’s throat tightened, and she swallowed hard to clear it. “The way I see it, you saved me back in Miami, now I’ve saved you. We’re even.”
For some reason, she couldn’t compel herself to walk away. Jimmy Panama might be a dodgy character, the likes of which she had never encountered in her life, but he was intriguing. A full-on individualist who lived each day without apology. He was everything she strived not to be, and yet, she was compelled to know more about him.
“What did you do after you retired from the SEALs?”
Jimmy’s clear blue eyes met her gaze. “I never said I retired. I quit.”
“That’s difficult to believe. If the SEALs are anything like the Royal Navy’s Special Boat Service, you don’t simply quit after successfully completing two years of grueling mental and physical training.”
“How do you know anything about Special Forces training?”
“The BBC aired a program about the SBS selection process, and I was curious to know what my father might have gone through to become a SEAL.”
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