Rum Runner

by Tricia Leedom

  “Stop looking back.”

  She turned off the sidewalk, pulling him through a brick archway that led to two glass front shops. In the larger space, a brightly lit art gallery displayed the quirky, colorful paintings of local artists, while the window of the smaller shop next door was covered with black felt. The silvery scroll letters of the word “psychic” appeared to be floating behind the glass. Adjacent to the building, a sign shaped like a white-gloved hand pointed its finger up the open stairwell, directing the way to the huge deck bar on the second floor called “The Raw Bar.”

  The short skirt of the Duchess’ green polka dot tank-dress swayed as she shuffled up the steps.

  “Wait!” Jimmy said, but she kept going. He wanted to warn her that the bar’s name was a pun for the unorthodox establishment, but he supposed she’d find out soon enough.

  Sophie took two steps into the bar and froze. The patrons, both men and women, were in various stages of undress, some completely naked, most flabby and out of shape. If that wasn’t bad enough, the humid room smelled like hot wings and body odor.

  A very thin man stopped in front of her wearing nothing but a pair of smart looking sandals. Seemingly unfazed by the fact his naughty bits were flailing about, he grinned and said, “Hi there.”

  “Dear God!” Finding no safe place to rest her eyes, she looked up at the ceiling, discovered it was mirrored, and looked down again—No! Her face burned. She turned around and found Jimmy Panama leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, grinning at her.

  His blue eyes sparkled with mischief. “I was about to say, ‘blend in.’ I suppose I’m game if you are.”

  “Now isn’t the time for humor.” She shoved past him and started to descend the stairs. She was halfway to the bottom when one of their pursuers paused just outside the archway. His back was to her, his head turning as if he was scanning the crowd.

  She ran back up the steps and elbowed past Jimmy. “Don’t say a word.” She felt his laughing eyes on her back as she pushed forward into the crowd.

  Doing her best to keep her gaze level, she tried not to look at any one person too long. A row of tables lined the front and right balconies overlooking the street and the small courtyard on the side of the building. To the left, a three-sided bar attached to the kitchen, and in the back, a row of dimly lit alcoves provided more intimate seating. There was another exit directly ahead. She went toward it.

  Jimmy moved past her and leaned over the railing. He muttered a curse then ducked back. “Bozo number two is coming up the stairs.”

  She looked around for a place to hide and her gaze zeroed in again on the darkened alcoves along the back wall. “I have an idea.” She grabbed his hand and led him to an empty table.

  “What are you doing?” he said.

  “Following their lead.” She gestured to the other bar patrons with her chin before she backed into the space and pulled him with her.

  “Darlin’, if this idea of yours is about ordering a couple of piña coladas and hoping for the best, I don’t think it’s gonna work.”

  She might have laughed if she hadn’t been so scared of being cornered by the two men who were after her. She looked up at Jimmy, all the way up. He loomed before her filling the small space with his big body. Something light and warm flittered through her lower belly and she forgot all about her pursuers for a moment.

  “You suggested we blend in, so we’re blending in,” she said.

  “There’s one problem—”

  She already knew where his filthy mind was going and was about to chastise him when one of the men entered the bar through the front entrance. She interrupted Jimmy by reaching for the hem of his T-shirt and shoving it up over his head.

  “What the hell are you doing, woman?”

  Sophie asked herself the same question when acres of rippling chest muscle came into view. “Bend down here and put your head near mine.”

  “Hold on.” Jimmy stepped away just long enough to pilfer a black baseball cap off a peg on the wall. He tucked his shaggy, blond hair up inside of the hat before he crowded Sophie against the wall and lowered his face to hers.

  She shifted restlessly as his lime-tinged breath filled her nose. He was so close his wiry beard skimmed her cheek. She generally did not care to have her personal space invaded. Even intimacy with Andrew had usually been stilted and awkward unless a good amount of wine was involved. She’d been grateful to discover Andrew was a quick and undemanding lover. Something told her a man like Jimmy Panama, with his grungy sex appeal and hedonistic ways, would be anything but. A man like Jimmy would be insatiable, and the sex—the sex would be messy.

  She told herself she would absolutely loathe it, yet her hands curled into fists against the sides of his bare torso. When their bellies bumped briefly, flames tore up her body as if she were a lit match. She pressed her thighs together to ease the burgeoning ache between them and licked her suddenly dry lips.

  Jimmy’s head tilted to the side as he studied her. “What are you thinking about?”

  To her dismay, she realized her breathing had quickened. She turned her face away, fastening her eyes beyond his right shoulder. Their pursuers were at the bar talking to an apathetic-faced bartender. “Do you think they work for Bautista too?”

  Jimmy’s broad shoulders shrugged. “Hard to say. Tell me what happened. I thought you were playing it smart and leaving town.”

  His warm breath tickled her neck and she shivered. “I attempted to,” she said, hoping he couldn’t hear the odd tone to her voice. “I went to the airport and checked my bags, but those men intercepted me before I made it through security. I panicked and ran. I asked the cab driver to take me to the police station, but we met traffic in Old Town. I felt like a sitting duck, so when I spotted the sign for Green Street I set out on foot. I was hoping to find you at your bar and—my purse!” she said, realizing the clutch wasn’t under her arm. Her luggage was on its way back to Miami, and now some sketchy-looking Caucasian man with dreadlocks was driving around Key West with her credit cards, mobile, and passport. “I left my purse in the cab!”

  “You can give the cab company a buzz later. When those two bozos stopped you at the airport, what did they say?”

  “Not much. They told me to come with them quietly and showed me their guns.” Sophie shook her head. “Why aren’t you certain they work for Bautista?”

  “Mitch has a lot of enemies. Those two look experienced. Could be a couple of cleaners. In which case, you need to either go to the police or leave the island through the back door.”

  “So you think someone else besides Bautista is after me?”

  “Possibly. Bautista wants to kidnap you not kill you. You are no good to him dead.”

  “Were those men hit men?” Sophie couldn’t help the rising note of panic in her voice. “Are there hit men after me? That’s just lovely.”

  “Calm down, we don’t know nothing yet. That’s just assuming the worst.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t want to go to the police. The last time I sought their help they tossed me in jail. I just want to get off this bloody island!”

  After a few beats of silence where nothing passed between them but their mingled breaths, Jimmy said, “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “I told you, I don’t know who would have hired those men except for Bautista.”

  “That’s not what I meant. I asked you what you were thinking about a few moments ago and you didn’t answer me.”

  She kept her gaze trained past his shoulder. She refused to meet his eyes for fear she’d give her thoughts away.

  Jimmy shifted, moving closer until his naked torso brushed the front of her dress.

  Dear God, he smelled good, an earthy mix of musk and spices that made her want to curl up on top of him and bury her face in his neck.

  The men chasing them moved back toward the front entrance.

  “I think they’re leaving.” She touched Jimmy’s stomach meaning to urge hi
m back a step, but he didn’t budge. She looked up at him and found his gaze inscrutable in the low light. “They’ve gone,” she said feebly. “We should go too before they realize we’ve tricked them and come back.” When she realized her fingers were lingering over the hard ridges of his abdomen, she pulled her hand away.

  “You’re breathing heavy,” he said.

  “Forgive me if I get a little breathless when I’m running for my life. Move out of my way.”

  He didn’t budge. The grim line of his mouth quirked into a devastating half-smile. “I think you like me.”

  Now that was an alarming thought. “I fancy you about as much as a gazelle fancies a cuddle with a lion.”

  He let out a bark of laughter.

  She tried to move past him, but his arm slid around her waist and hauled her forward. Her breasts crushed against his chest. Heated skin. Hard muscle. Smooth flesh. Her brain had no chance to form a coherent thought before his free hand cupped the back of her head and he pressed a long, firm kiss to her lips.

  Sparks ignited where they touched, zinging through her body like a live wire. Her hands belonged to someone else as they drifted upward to slip around his neck. She pressed against him with a desperation she’d never felt before, eager to absorb his strength, his heat, his hardness. He tilted his head to change the angle of the kiss and suckled her lower lip. He was too much. Too close. Too sexy. Too potent.

  She groaned low in her throat and stiffened when the sound registered in her brain.

  Had she lost her mind? Jimmy Panama was not the sort of man she would ever have any interest in romantically. He might have fine abs, but he was inappropriate on every other level.

  So why was she still kissing him?

  She tore her mouth away from his and seethed, “Get off me! You…You…”

  “What’s the matter? Lose your tongue down my throat?”

  She gasped and recoiled. “I did not tongue kiss you! Back up. Quit pawing me like a starved bear.”

  “I ain’t the one who’s so obviously starved.” He tugged her back, holding her hips tight against his despite her struggles. “How long has it been since you got your rocks off, darlin’?”

  She slapped him. It was a short, pathetic tap, but his face flushed a deep crimson all the same.

  He released her so fast she teetered on her high heels before regaining her balance. If the expression on his face was anything to go by he was furious, but he said nothing, only staring at her darkly as he reached for his shirt and tugged it off the stool. He spun away and headed toward the rear exit without glancing back to see if she was following.

  Jimmy kept his gaze peeled on the street, looking for Winnfield and Vega—the nicknames he’d given them—as he wove his way through the mob. It was midafternoon and Duval was flooded with tourists out looking for food, drinks, and souvenirs before they converged on Mallory Square for the daily sunset celebration. The Duchess was behind him, struggling to keep up. He could have slowed down, but he was still too pissed about what had happened in the bar to care.

  He shouldn’t have kissed her.

  She was everything the women he usually screwed around with were not: classy and high-maintenance, which in his book equaled trouble. He could have stopped the slap, but he hadn’t wanted to hurt her wrist. Mostly, he’d let it happen because he knew he deserved it. He was being a total ass-wipe, but it was a self-defense mechanism. Something about the way she got all sanctimonious about stuff just jingled his jollies. Sometimes, he just wanted to grab her, split her lily-white thighs, and wipe the smugness off her face the best way he knew how. The mental image of her shattering in his arms made his partially aroused cock stiffen painfully. He adjusted himself, not giving a shit who noticed, and kept walking. He had to cool his jets. The last thing he needed was to go down that rocky road.

  Hell, it was hot today. Humid, too. The kind of humid usually reserved for summertime when the days got so clammy your balls stuck to the inside of your thighs and your skin felt like it was melting off.

  “Where are we going?” the Duchess asked when she finally caught up with him. He’d stopped to let a family of German tourists pose for a picture with a dachshund dressed in an Elvis costume.

  “I haven’t figured that out yet. I need to make a couple of calls.”

  The picture snapped and dankes all around, the tourists moved on and the crowd moved forward again at a snail’s pace.

  “Don’t you have a car? If you drove me to the British Consulate in Miami, I would be safe there. They would help me get home.”

  Jimmy shook his head. “No car, but I’ve got a couple of boats.”

  “No more boats! I’d rather drive. I can’t believe you don’t have a car. I thought everyone in America owned a car?”

  Jimmy kept his eyes on the sunburned faces. “You think whoever is after you doesn’t have the highway covered?”

  “You mean Bautista. Bautista is the only person who’s after me.”

  Jimmy kept his mouth shut. There was no need to freak her out any more than she was, but he suspected it was either someone seeking revenge or a competitor, someone who didn’t want Bautista to find Mitch Thompson. What other reasons would they have to kill her? Whatever Mad Dog had gotten himself into this time, it was bad. She stopped walking. “Who else is after me, Jimmy?”

  He stopped too and shook his head. “Your daddy has pissed off a lot of people over the years. It could be anyone who heard you were in the area.”

  “Wonderful. What do we do now?”

  “Find a safe place for you to lie low until I can figure out what’s going on.” He studied the store they were standing in front of, The Ever After Book Shoppe. The tiny, freestanding building was set back from the street, tucked away beyond a courtyard and a cozy overgrowth of tropical foliage. Jimmy started toward the door. “Come on. I have an idea. Let’s get off the street before Winnfield and Vega circle back this way.”

  “Who? I thought you didn’t know those men.”

  “I don’t. They’re just the nicknames I gave them in my head. Ever seen Pulp Fiction?”

  “The film?” She shook her head. “Sorry, I haven’t.”

  “Who hasn’t seen Pulp Fiction? It’s a classic. Let’s move.”

  “How is a bookstore going to help us?”

  “I know the owner.” Jimmy stopped a few feet in front of the door.

  A purveyor of popular fiction books, the sign in one of the matching bay windows advertised: Romance, Mystery, Sci-fi, and Fantasy from the comfort of your beach chair.

  “Go on inside.” Jimmy nodded toward the door. “Introduce yourself as a friend of mine. I’ll be along in a couple of minutes. I have to make a call.”

  She hesitated.

  “What?”

  “Aren’t you going to reassure me and ask me to trust you?”

  Jimmy’s heart clenched at the thought of asking anyone to trust him. He cleared his throat. “Darlin’, if you’re looking for someone you can trust, you’re knocking on the wrong doublewide.”

  “Then why should I listen to anything you say?”

  “Because it’s always better to stick with the devil you know. And I ain’t trying to kill you.”

  Her stoic expression crumpled for an instant. Had he blinked he would have missed it. His heart clenched tighter, but he knew balls-out honesty was the best approach right now. If and when he found the need to bullshit her, she would be that much more inclined to believe him.

  She looked like she wanted something else.

  “What now?”

  “I’m sorry for slapping you. I’ve never struck anyone before in my life.” Her tropical green gaze searched his face. When he didn’t respond, she said, “Well?”

  “Well what?”

  “Aren’t you going to apologize for kissing me?”

  “Nope,” he replied without missing a beat.

  “Why not? It’s the proper thing to do.”

  He shook his head. “Can’t do it.”


  “Can’t or won’t?”

  “Both. Because truth is, darlin’,” He leaned closer as if confiding a secret. “I ain’t the least bit sorry.”

  Two delicious red spots colored the apples of her cheeks. He winked, and she turned away and fled inside the shop away from his laughter.

  CHAPTER TEN

  “So, is it true, April? Did you really do it with Jimmy Panama?”

  The question made her slightly nauseous, but Katy Mirsky’s skeptical tone kept April from denying it outright. She shot Greenlee a sideways glare. Her so-called best friend sat beside her in the booth at The Pelican Cove Diner absorbed in a text message.

  As if she sensed April’s eyes on her, she glanced up. “What? I didn’t tell her anything.”

  “Then how does she know we were with Jimmy Panama yesterday?”

  “I have my sources.” Katy smiled smugly. She meant her father, Officer Mirsky. She was sitting across the table from April beside her best friend Nina. The pair of varsity cheerleaders looked at April expectantly. Katy said, “Well? Spill.”

  “Yes.” Nina nodded eagerly. “We want details. Don’t leave anything out!”

  April’s face heated. Looking down, she fidgeted with her spoon. “Jimmy gave us a ride home from Miami. That’s all.”

  “He was really into April,” Greenlee said while tapping out another text. “I was totally jealous.”

  Nina leaned closer and lowered her voice a fraction. “What was it like to do it with an old guy?”

  April turned in her seat to look for the waitress. She was suddenly very thirsty. She didn’t know how to answer that question, and she couldn’t even make something up, because her pesky V-card was still unpunched. A secret she wasn’t about to share with the two biggest gossips in the school.

  Sometimes she felt like a fraud in her attempt to be one of the cool kids. On the surface, she had it all—a rich dad, a cool stepmom, a popular best friend. She even got good grades. But inside, she was terrified of becoming what she was before. The lame chubby, rich girl no one wanted to sit with at lunch.

  “Isn’t Mr. Panama, like, old enough to be your dad or something?” Nina said.