Rum Runner

by Tricia Leedom

  “Do they fit?”

  A dreamy expression came over the woman’s face. “Like Cinderella’s glass slippers.”

  “Keep them, then. I’m sure it won’t cost much to have them repaired.”

  “Oh, I couldn’t! Especially after what my daughter did to your dress.”

  “I insist. I don’t need them anymore, and I owe you for letting me stay here.”

  Molly’s face contorted with emotion an instant before she lunged forward, wrapping Sophie in a bone-crunching hug. She held very still, waiting for it to end.

  “Thank you,” Molly said, stepping back with a teary laugh. She clutched the shoes to her chest. “This has to be the kindest, most generous gift anyone has ever given me and my godmother left me an entire bookstore in her will, for heaven’s sake!” She blotted her eyes with a napkin she snatched from the table. “I have an extra pair of white Keds sneakers in my closet you can keep along with the clothes you’re wearing.”

  Keds? Sophie mentally cringed. “Er, thank you.”

  “Would you like some eggs? I was hoping to serve pancakes, but I killed them.”

  That explained the slightly scorched smell that hovered in the air.

  “Do you have tea?”

  “I think I do.”

  “Tea and toast would be perfect.”

  While Molly searched the cupboards, Sophie moved to the bar-height counter and looked down at the wireless phone. “Would it be all right if I tried phoning my mum again? I’ll pay for charges, of course.”

  “Are you kidding? Call as much as you’d like and don’t worry about the cost. We’re more than square.”

  The call went to voicemail after five unanswered rings. “Hello, Mum?” she said into the machine. “This is the second message I’ve left. I don’t want to worry you, but I’ve run into a bit of a snag. I’ve lost my purse, and along with it my passport and credit cards. I didn’t go to the French spa as I said. I’m in Key West, Florida, actually. I’ll explain why later. If you could ring me back at this number as soon as—”

  The voicemail service cut her off with a beep.

  She met Molly’s concerned expression across the countertop as she set the phone receiver in its place. “She didn’t pick up,” Sophie said, stating the obvious.

  “Do you think she’ll realize you came to Florida to look for your father?”

  “She may suspect it, but I’ve never expressed an interest in looking for him before.”

  “You’ve never met your father?”

  “Never. He left before I was born.”

  “Of all the rotten, no good things. And you’re not mad at him for that? I can’t imagine growing up without my daddy. He’s the best man I know.”

  “It feels strange to be angry with a stranger. I think I’m more curious about him than anything else.”

  “Cheyenne doesn’t remember her father either. I married my ex-husband right out of high school. I supported him while he was in college. Paid the rent, put food on the table, bought his books. When he started law school, he decided he didn’t want the distraction of a wife and infant underfoot. He divorced me and never showed an interest in Cheyenne. He doesn’t send child support, even though he can more than afford to pay it now. He’s this big shot Los Angeles attorney. He ended up marrying another attorney, but, last I heard, they don’t have any children.”

  “What do you tell Cheyenne?”

  Molly glanced toward the bedroom and smiled tightly. “I tell her the truth. Her daddy and I supplied the DNA, but she’s her own person. Her real family is the people around her who love her. Me, her grandma and granddad, her aunts and uncles and cousins.”

  “And she’s never been curious about meeting him?”

  “Not that she’s expressed to me.”

  “Cheyenne is very lucky to have such a loving attentive family,” Sophie said.

  Molly carried a steaming cup of tea to the table along with two slices of hot buttered toast on a plate. “Have a seat. Would you like some jam?”

  “Yes, please. And milk and sugar for the tea.” While Molly went to retrieve the milk from the fridge, Sophie said, “I’ve always been curious about my father.”

  “Did you ever tell your momma?”

  “Absolutely not!” Sophie flicked open her napkin and laid it across her lap. “But we don’t have the same type of relationship you have with your daughter.”

  Molly retrieved her coffee mug from the counter and sat at the table across from Sophie. “Your daddy might have broken your momma’s heart, but I don’t believe he’s truly a bad guy.”

  “Why would you say that?”

  “My daddy was an admiral in the Navy. He used to tell us stories about SEALs. He admired them. He said they aren’t cut from the same cloth as ordinary men. They have something in their DNA that makes them stronger, smarter, braver… They’re extremely disciplined, extremely protective, and loyal to the bone.”

  Sophie thought about her father. Was he all of those things? Was Jimmy? It was difficult to reconcile the perfidious man her mum described with Molly’s paragon of virtue. And Sophie could not imagine using the word “disciplined” to describe Jimmy Panama. He was certainly proving to be smarter than she’d first assumed, but smarter than average? She still had her doubts.

  “Your father was really an admiral?” When Molly nodded, Sophie said, “That’s impressive. Is he still in the Navy?”

  “No, he retired when I was twelve. He and my mama live in Oklahoma. That’s where I’m from.”

  Sophie lifted her cup and took a sip of the hot liquid, savoring the taste of the brisk, orange-accented tea.

  “It’s Earl Grey.”

  “It’s delicious, thank you.”

  A knock at the door brought both their heads around.

  Molly looked through the peephole and chuckled as she opened the door. “My, my, what happened to you? Had to put the cat to sleep?”

  “Something like that.”

  At the sound of Jimmy Panama’s lazy Southern drawl, something fluttered low in Sophie’s belly. She was about to take another sip of tea when Molly stepped back to let him enter.

  The clean-shaven, blond-haired heartbreaker who entered the apartment could not be the same man Sophie had met two days ago. His hair had been trimmed short but left a bit longer on top. The absence of a beard exposed his broad square jaw and a firm chin indented with a slight cleft. She would have refused to believe this glorious creature was indeed Jimmy Panama if it hadn’t been for the irreverent twinkle in his slanted blue eyes.

  “Good morning, Duchess,” he said with a wink. He was flirting with her, she realized and tried her best not to blush.

  She carefully set her steaming cup of tea down without spilling a drop. An achievement she was proud of, considering her heart was pounding against her rib cage.

  “Sit down, Jimmy,” Molly said. “I saved you a plate of bacon and eggs. Let me just zap it in the microwave for a few seconds.”

  He took the seat to Sophie’s left and offered her a slow, sexy grin. “Did you miss me?”

  “Like a European misses the plague.” She bit into a piece of toast, just to give herself something to do besides look at him.

  Molly was setting a cup of coffee in front of Jimmy when Cheyenne came back into the room. “I thought I heard your voice, Mr. Panama.” The teenager stopped short when she saw him. “Oh, wow, you look like Anders Ostergaard! Doesn’t he, Ma?”

  Jimmy, who’d just taken a sip of coffee, gagged on the hot liquid.

  “Ma’s a huge fan,” the teenager went on, not waiting for her mother’s reply. “She has a poster of him hanging inside her bedroom closet door.”

  “Hush, Cheyenne, I do not,” Molly said, but her face flushed a guilty shade of red. “I suppose Jimmy does resemble him a little. Back in the earlier days of his career when his hair was blonder and shorter and his face was a bit fuller. Anybody ever tell you that?”

  Jimmy rubbed the edge of his smooth-shaven jaw. “May
be once or twice.”

  Molly brought his breakfast to the table and then retook her seat.

  “I was wondering,” Sophie said to Molly, “would you possibly have another top I could borrow? This one is…uh…a bit conspicuous.”

  “‘Save the ta-ta’s,’” Jimmy said, digging into his eggs. “What’s wrong with that? It’s a great cause. Sign me up.”

  “I’m not opposed to the cause. The slogan is just a bit too, er, prominent. I don’t want to draw unnecessary attention to myself.”

  Jimmy gave her a lascivious grin. “It ain’t the slogan that’s prominent, darlin’, afraid it’s the canvas.”

  Sophie resisted the impulse to cross her arms and lifted her chin a notch instead. “I can’t exactly show up on the British Consulate’s doorstep like this, can I?”

  Jimmy didn’t look at her. His focus was on his plate and the scrambled eggs he was pushing onto his fork with a piece of toast. “Don’t be a snob,” he said, before shoveling the whole thing into his mouth.

  Sophie darted a look at Molly. She didn’t mean to insult the woman’s generosity, but Molly just laughed and waved it off.

  “It’s all right. I’ve packed a few supplies I thought you might need to hold you over for a few days including an extra T-shirt. Go ahead and change if you want to. You won’t hurt my feelings.”

  “You didn’t have to do that,” Sophie said, “but I appreciate it and the shirt’s fine, I’ll wear it. I’m very grateful for everything you’ve done for me.”

  “I have a stop to make before we head out of town,” Jimmy said. “Can you be ready to go after breakfast?”

  “Sure.” She focused on her teacup because looking at his handsome face was like trying to look directly at the sun. It made her eyes ache and face burn. “What happened to your beard?”

  “I had a run in with a plucky old broad who wouldn’t take no for an answer.” The corners of his mouth quirked. “She kinda reminded me of you.”

  Sophie flushed. She’d been called many things, but plucky? Before she could take offense, he changed the subject abruptly. “In your daddy’s letters, did he ever mention a map?”

  She shook her head slowly. “No, just the medallion. He asked me to keep it safe until he sent for it. Why?”

  “Can I see it?”

  She hesitated for a moment, thinking it was a trick, but the serious expression on his face gave her reassurance. Besides, if he really wanted to steal it from her, they both knew he could have overpowered her a long time ago. She slipped the chain over her head and handed the silver disc to him.

  “Cool,” Cheyenne said. “Do you think it’s made of real silver?”

  Jimmy flipped the piece over, studying it closely. “Probably.”

  “What are you looking for?” Molly asked when he flipped the medallion over again and ran his finger along its edge.

  “A trigger or clasp of some kind, but it looks seamless.”

  Cheyenne hopped up from her seat and came around to stand over Jimmy’s shoulder. “Do you think there’s a map inside of it?”

  “It was just a hunch. Looks like I was wrong though.”

  When Jimmy set the medallion on the table, Cheyenne scooped it up. “Let me see.”

  “Leave that alone, young lady!” Molly reached for her daughter but the girl evaded her grasp.

  “It’s all right.” Jimmy and Sophie both said at the same time. They looked at each other and then away.

  Jimmy cleared his throat as he leaned back in his chair. “Mad Dog’s a treasure hunter. As long as I’ve known him, he’s been searching for the golden goose, the one big find that’ll set him up for life. He’s kind of obsessive about it.”

  “Florez said my father stole something from Bautista. Are you suggesting it was a treasure map?”

  “I suspect so, but—”

  “Holy macaroni!” Cheyenne exclaimed.

  They all looked at the girl and then down at the medallion lying open on the table in front of her. It was split into two perfect halves. “I did it. I found the map!” A folded square of paper stuck out from one side of the hollow disks.

  “Well, I’ll be damned,” Jimmy said. “How’d you do that?”

  “I just pressed the hidden buttons on the front, then turned it counterclockwise.” She demonstrated how she’d done it.

  “Nice work, Velma Dinkley. Way to solve a mystery.” Jimmy winked at her.

  Cheyenne grinned at him.

  Jimmy unfolded the piece of paper and found what appeared to be a hand-drawn map, about eight inches square, with the initials “E. H.” scrolled in the bottom right corner.

  Molly and Cheyenne moved behind Jimmy to peer over his shoulder. Molly said, “It looks like a regular old map to me. What’s that written along the sides? It doesn’t make any sense.”

  “That’s because it’s a riddle, Ma. Can I take a picture of this with my phone?”

  “No. Cheyenne! I’m sorry, Sophie, my daughter thinks she’s an amateur sleuth.”

  “It’s quite all right. Take the picture if you’d like. If she finds the treasure, she’s more than welcome to its spoils.”

  “Really? I can keep the treasure if I find it?”

  “If this is a real map,” Jimmy said, “the treasure is likely long gone by now.”

  “Then why does Bautista want it back?” Sophie asked.

  “Maybe he doesn’t. You heard Florez, Bautista wasn’t a happy camper when he found out Mad Dog had gotten past his state of the art security system. Maybe his pride is injured.”

  “Men.” Molly shook her head.

  “Maybe he took something else too,” Sophie said. When Jimmy looked surprised by the suggestion, she shrugged. “A drug lord’s bound to have all sorts of intriguing things in his safe. Maybe the temptation to take something else was too much for my father. I wonder if he realizes how much danger he’s in.”

  “It’s a safe bet he does,” Jimmy said. “Or else he would have shown up in Miami to retrieve the medallion himself.”

  Sophie left the room to retrieve the small bathroom kit Molly had packed for her. A toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant, hairbrush, and an extra top. A brand-new pair of Keds trainers sat beside the bag. When she returned to the living room, Cheyenne was washing the breakfast dishes, and Molly and Jimmy were standing by the front door. Sophie refolded the map and put it back inside the medallion before slipping the chain over her head.

  “Suppose this is it,” Molly said. “What do you want me to tell your momma if she calls?”

  “Tell her not to worry. I’ll be in touch shortly.” She thanked Molly and Cheyenne for their hospitality and followed Jimmy out into the bright Florida sunshine.

  Squinting against the glare, she looked up at the fluffy white clouds floating low in a sky that somehow seemed larger and bluer than the sky at home.

  At the bottom of the metal staircase, a red scooter was parked under a palm tree.

  Sophie stopped when she realized Jimmy’s intentions. “You have to be joking.”

  “For once in your life, don’t be so damn predictable, Duchess.”

  Predictable? “You know nothing about me.”

  “I know enough.” Jimmy sat on the motorbike and flipped the kickstand up. The machine appeared too small for his big frame.

  “You look ridiculous.”

  “And you look like a chicken. Come on, Duchess. Where’s that pluck I saw in you the other day when that bandido was trying to strangle the life out of me in that elevator?”

  She looked at his clean-shaven face and her traitorous stomach did a queer flip. She met his intense blue gaze for a moment and made a decision. Pulling the scrunchy from her hair, she gave it a rough finger-comb before strutting forward. She threw her leg over the back of the motorbike, wrapped her arms around Jimmy’s waist, and pressed her breasts into his back.

  Her bravado faltered when her hands settled on his stomach and found rock-solid abs beneath the soft cotton tee. When he shifted and his back muscles
moved against her, she swallowed hard and thought about putting some space between them. He smelled fresh and clean, and deliciously male.

  A thrill tingled up her spine. Driven by pure impulse, she crooned, “I’ll let you in on a little secret. Sometimes I like to go hard and fast.”

  Jimmy’s head turned to the side. His jaw clenched and a muscle danced in his cheek.

  She smiled with satisfaction.

  “You shouldn’t poke the wolf if you aren’t willing to get bit, Little Red Riding Hood. It’ll be a whole lotta fun while it lasts, but trust me, darlin’, you’d hate yourself in the morning.”

  Her smile faded.

  He turned his back on her and revved the bike. The scooter jerked forward and Sophie grabbed his waist, clinging to him this time for safety rather than seduction.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Jimmy gunned the engine and then eased the scooter out onto Truman Avenue. With the Duchess’ hands digging into his waist, her jean-clad thighs clenched to his hips and her firm breasts poking into his back, it took all he had to focus on the road. He passed a double-parked delivery truck and ran a red light, just because he didn’t feel like stopping. The sooner they got off the bike, the better it would be for both of them.

  The scooter’s wheels bounced over every rut in the road, eliciting throaty little grunts from his passenger. Fissures of lust shot straight to his groin, encouraging the partial arousal he’d been sporting since she’d made that bald-faced confession: Sometimes I like to go hard and fast. Where the hell had that come from?

  The bike hit another pothole, a big one this time, and the Duchess nearly lost her seat. She grasped for something to hold on to. When her hand landed on his zipper, he sucked in a harsh breath as his cock lurched with interest. At ease, Sarge, he ordered his libido. It wasn’t gonna happen with this one. No matter how nice she might feel clinging to his body like a wet suit.

  He guided her hand back to his waist and then turned the scooter onto Simonton, taking advantage of the clear street to push the bike up to fifty. If the Duchess wanted to take a walk on the wild side, he’d take her there in a way that didn’t require getting naked. Fifty in a car was no big deal, but on a scooter, with the wind in your hair and a throbbing motor between your knees, it’d either give her a rush or scare the shit out of her.