Rum Runner

by Tricia Leedom

  “Are you hurt?” he asked.

  Her tongue was too thick for words. Tears burned the back of her eyes. She squeezed them shut.

  “Can you hear me, Sophie? Did they hurt you? That bastard’s gun was pointed at the back of your head.” He gestured to the dead man at her feet.

  Why did he have to sound like the man she loved? Why did his voice have to soften when he said her name? Why did he have to maintain this painful pretense?

  “Please, sweetheart, say something. You’re scaring the shit out me.”

  Because he was the devil. That was why.

  The gunfire ceased just as the ropes around her arms and legs slackened. She wriggled free and pushed them away.

  Jimmy’s hands roamed her body, checking for injuries. When he cupped her face tenderly, still pretending to care, she came to life.

  “Get off me!” She shoved him away so hard he landed on his back in the pebbled dirt. She lunged at him like a woman possessed, punching and scratching him in her blind fury. “You bloody bastard! You evil son of a bitch! You killed my father. You killed him! How could you do that to him? How could you do that to me?”

  Jimmy grabbed her arms and fought to pin them to her sides. “Sophie, listen! Damn it! Stop fighting me. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  She laughed harshly. “It’s a little late for that! He was right about you. He said I shouldn’t trust you. I hate myself for doubting him for even a second. I hate you!”

  “Listen to me,” he shouted over her hysteria. Twisting her arms behind her back, he brought them nose-to-nose. “Keep your voice down, damn it. Wade is out cold but he could come to at any moment.” Their breaths mingled as he whispered against her mouth, “He’s alive, Sophie. Your father is alive. We only staged his death to fool Albatross, so he’d get off your father’s ass. That’s why we’ve kept Wade alive, so he can report back to him.”

  Jimmy loosened his grip slightly so she could turn her head and look across the clearing. Jonas, or the man she presumed to be Jonas because he was wearing a black ski mask, stood over the Jamaican with a machine gun pointed at the man’s head. Wade was sprawled on the ground with his wrists zip-tied together in front of him. He had a bloody nose, but no other apparent wounds as far as she could tell. He must have been alive because why would Jonas have bothered to hold a gun on a dead man?

  Jimmy’s dark blue eyes pleaded with her to believe him. She wanted to, more than anything, but how could she? Despite her doubts, she hissed as softly as she could, “I know what I saw. You led my father here like a lamb to the slaughter and let them shoot him. He fell…” Her throat constricted, and she had to swallow a lump before she could continue. “I saw the blood. There’s no possible way anyone could have survived that fall.”

  “He didn’t fall, darlin’,” Jimmy said quietly. “He dove.” He released her wrists and they both sat up. He continued, “Jonas shot him with a baton round before the others could put a real bullet in him. Mad Dog was wearing a vest. The blood wasn’t real.”

  A tiny spark of hope flickered in her chest, but she dashed it out ruthlessly. “How can I believe anything you say?” Her voice rose on the last few words. She caught herself and shot a sideways glance at Wade. He was still out cold.

  “I can show you. Let me take you to Mitch.”

  She stared at Jimmy’s outstretched hand.

  “Please, Sophie. I promise your father is okay.”

  “You’re making promises all of a sudden?”

  He pressed his lips together and stared at her for a long moment. Then he nodded once, and said, “I am.”

  She blinked away the tears that were putting pressure on the back of her eyes before she tentatively placed her hand in his to allow him to pull her up. She withdrew it as soon as she gained her feet.

  “Are you sure you aren’t injured?” he asked when she was walking beside him.

  “I’m fine. Let’s just get on with this.”

  Sophie avoided looking directly at the bodies that littered the clearing.

  “Wade’s waking up,” Jonas said as they approached him.

  Jimmy squatted down in front of him and patted his face to help him clear his head faster. When Wade’s eyes were open and recognition dawned in them, Jimmy said, “Your boss is gonna give you a gold star when you tell him you’ve murdered Mitch Thompson.”

  Sophie couldn’t help it. Hearing Jimmy speak of her father’s death so cavalierly broke the floodgates. Perhaps it was also the shock wearing off, but suddenly she felt incapable of holding it together. As she stood behind Jimmy, watching him exchange words with Wade, tears began to pour down her face in a silent river.

  If she discovered Jimmy was lying to her, if he was still trying to manipulate her, so help her God, she would shoot him herself.

  “She’s coming with us,” she heard Jimmy say when the roaring in her ears quieted. “Tell Albatross he’d be smart to leave Thompson’s daughter alone from here on out. You feel me?”

  Wade growled a curse and spat at Jimmy, missing him by several inches.

  Jonas raised the butt of his machine gun and brought it down on the back of the Jamaican’s head. He slumped to the ground like a wet towel.

  “Bozo,” Jimmy said.

  “I’ll clear the house, then rendezvous with you on the beach,” Jonas said.

  “Thanks for your help.”

  Jimmy’s stoic brother simply nodded before he retreated into the jungle without rustling a single leaf.

  When Jimmy finally noticed her face, his intense expression softened. “Aw, don’t cry, darlin’. This’ll be over soon, I promise. You’ve held up like a rock star.”

  There he went, making promises again. She closed the distance between them and hugged his waist despite herself. The comforting weight of his arms settled around her as she rested her cheek against his chest and inhaled his familiar spicy scent. He pressed his lips to the top of her head. It felt good to be in his arms again, even if it was all an illusion. She needed to absorb some of his strength so she could prepare herself for the next grenade life tossed at her.

  “Does this mean you forgive me?”

  She pulled back and looked up at him. Her tears had stopped, but her voice sounded like she’d swallowed gravel. “You lied to me, Jimmy. I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to forgive you for that.”

  “I didn’t lie about everything. Not about us.”

  “There is no ‘us!’” She bit her bottom lip and willed her body to stop trembling. She fisted her hands and took a deep breath before continuing more calmly. “There never was an ‘us.’ We both had an agenda. The sex was just a bonus. It meant nothing to either of us.”

  Jimmy’s jaw tightened and his dark blond brows drew together in two fierce slashes. He stepped into her personal space as he’d done the first time they’d met. She stood her ground and craned her neck to maintain eye contact, but the aggressive energy pouring off of him didn’t make it easy.

  His accent thickened with his anger. “Listen to me, darlin’. What happened between us was real. You can try to deny it. You can pretend it didn’t matter to you, but don’t put words in my mouth or think you can tell me how I feel. I might have fucked up, but I never intended to hurt you. Okay, maybe I did in the beginning, but I couldn’t go through with it once I got to know you. You need to understand that. Somehow, you’ve managed to turn me inside out. You changed things for me, Duchess. That’s not a lie. It’s not a con. It’s the God’s honest truth. I wouldn’t be standing here risking the life of an innocent little boy and the last shred of my honor if it weren’t. Believe me. Don’t believe me. I really don’t give a fuck at this point. It just needed to be said.”

  He didn’t wait for a response. He spun away and stomped into the jungle.

  Sophie didn’t know what to make of his proclamation or how she felt about it. The only thing she was certain of was she didn’t want to be alone in a clearing with a dozen dead bodies.

  Jimmy waited for her just inside th
e tree line on another travertine path that ran parallel to the cliff. He didn’t acknowledge her when she appeared, but offered his broad back and led the way.

  “You could have told me about the boy,” she muttered.

  Jimmy’s shoulders tensed, but that was the only indication he’d heard her.

  “I would have understood,” she pressed. “You didn’t have to use me.”

  He stopped short, and she almost walked into him. His muscular shoulders rose and fell as he took a deep breath and exhaled before he started moving forward again.

  What right did he have to be angry with her? She was the victim here. She was the one who’d been betrayed, not him.

  “If what you’ve said is true, why didn’t you tell me the truth? Things changed between us back in Saba. We connected on a deeper level. I thought—” Her voice caught. She swallowed hard before continuing. “I thought we might’ve actually had a chance at a real relationship when this was over.”

  He kept walking, but now she had to stop. The plug she’d put in the dam wasn’t holding. Just the thought of what they might have had brought on a slew of fresh pain. She knew from the beginning he was exactly the wrong man for her, but she had wanted him anyway. Desperately.

  When he got so far ahead he disappeared from sight, she jogged to catch up to him. He was waiting for her at the top of a rickety metal staircase. He didn’t look at her but began to descend the stairs toward a small secluded beach not far from where Mitch had fallen off the cliff and presumably into the water. When they reached the bottom, she was surprised to discover a large cave cut into the cliff.

  There was no sign of her father.

  She stopped short when Jimmy turned around and said, “I couldn’t risk you not believing me. Not with Tulio’s life at stake.”

  “Do you think I’m so heartless I would’ve walked out on you and risked a little boy’s life?”

  “Isn’t that exactly what you did the second we set foot in Tortola?”

  “I left because you lied to me and I didn’t know what you had planned. If you had only told me the truth from the beginning—”

  “Would you have really come with me knowing I was going to hand your father over to Bautista?”

  “There wasn’t any other way to get the boy back?”

  “Sure there was, but not one that didn’t involve a lot of risk. If anything happens to Tulio, I—”

  “Sophie?” Mitch Thompson emerged from the mouth of the cave. He had changed out of the bloodied shirt and swim trunks into a vintage Doors tee and cutoff jean shorts. His long, sodden hair was tied back into a ponytail. He grinned beneath his thick handlebar mustache. “How you holding up, Ladybug?”

  Sophie stepped away from Jimmy and felt a rush of shyness as her father came closer. “I’m well, thank you.”

  “My God, you remind me of your mother. You’ve got my coloring, though, and my height.”

  He smiled again and a soundless image flashed through her mind. A blip on a film roll. A recollection of a reoccurring dream she hadn’t had in a very long time. Or was it a memory? Her father was standing just inside the open doorway of her nursery. There were three large red ladybugs on the wall beyond his left shoulder. She was sitting up in bed holding out her hands to him when he smiled at her just as he was smiling at her now, his eyes soft with adoration.

  “My bedroom when I was a child, what did the wallpaper look like?”

  His nose scrunched as he tried to recall. “You didn’t have wallpaper in your room. The landlord wouldn’t even let us change the paint.”

  “Oh.” Her heart sank.

  “We hung some wooden cutouts though. Three ladybugs. You were nuts about insects.”

  As their meeting suddenly became a reunion, she looked at her father with new eyes. She took two steps toward him and then hesitated until Mitch nodded with encouragement and opened his arms. She flew into them and hugged him fiercely, savoring his scent and the sound of his laughter. Overwhelmed with joy, all of the years of separation, all of the pain and regret melted away.

  “I’ve missed you,” she whispered.

  “I missed you, too, baby girl.”

  “I love you.”

  “I love you, too, Ladybug,” he said thickly and kissed the top of her head. “I love you, too.”

  “Sorry, folks, but the party’s over,” Jimmy said, and for one terrible second, Sophie thought he was pointing his gun at them. She squashed that ridiculous notion and turned to see who was behind them.

  Florez and his gang of roughnecks were pouring out of the cave with an arsenal of weapons. From the beach, there was nowhere to go except for up the open metal staircase or into the water. Neither option offered much of a chance for escape.

  Jimmy stepped in front of Sophie, and Mitch moved to his side. It dawned on her they were making themselves into a human shield, intent on protecting her with their lives.

  No! They couldn’t die. She couldn’t lose either one of them. Not today. Not ever.

  She wrapped her hands around Jimmy’s bicep trying to pull him back, but he ignored her. To Florez, he said, “I thought we had a deal. I bring you Mitch and you free the boy. Where is he?”

  “You are hardly in a position to question me, amigo. I suggest you put down your weapon. Rodríguez over there has twitchy fingers. He drinks the Red Bull like agua.”

  “Do what the man says,” Mitch told Jimmy. “We don’t want any trouble, Florez.”

  “Nor do I, amigo. Nor do I.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Jimmy tugged at the duct tape binding his wrists behind his back and shifted uncomfortably in the cramped quarters of the cargo van. His stomach churned at the thought of Sophie alone with Florez. He hated being separated from her and unable to protect her. Mitch crouched beside him, equally as useless. They were surrounded by a half-dozen well-armed soldados crammed into the tight space like sardines. Their van followed the black sedan containing Sophie, Florez, and two more mercenaries.

  The vehicles turned onto the narrow, winding road that lead through a mountainous, craggy corner of the island toward the old airport. Ravaged by one too many hurricanes, the lone airstrip and hangar had been sitting empty and unused for years. Anyone crazy enough to use the pot-holed surface for takeoff or landing was putting their life in God’s hands. That still didn’t stop the occasional smuggler from trying to use it though, usually with disastrous results.

  Fifteen minutes later, the van bounced across a rickety wooden bridge and drove toward the hangar. The sedan veered off to the right, driving toward the boat dock at the far end of the runway. Bordered by sharp rocks, the cove was too treacherous for anything larger than a small fishing boat to enter. An eighty-foot luxury yacht was anchored offshore at the mouth of the inlet.

  Rodríguez, the bozo with the energy-drink-infused twitch, opened the side door of the van and dragged Jimmy out. As his boat shoes crunched on the crumbling blacktop, he caught sight of Florez and the two soldados escorting Sophie toward the dock. It looked as if they were planning to take her out to the yacht. Knowing how she felt about boats, Jimmy’s impulse was to fight his way to her at all costs, despite the fact his hands were taped behind his back and the business end of Rodríguez’s Uzi was shoved against his throat. He’d be no good to Sophie with a bullet in his brain, he decided, so he shot the guy a silent “fuck you” and then got in line to file through the people-sized door on the side of the airplane hangar.

  “Holy shit,” Mitch said.

  Jimmy tore his gaze away from Sophie and looked in the direction they were heading. Dwindling light from the setting sun filtered in from the partially missing roof. The dust infused rays glinted off the state-of-the-art aircraft that had been all over the news the last few days. The one Captain Tom and Oscar Martin had been hot to see at the International Tech Show in Miami. The missing Mamba X-4.

  “Well, I’ll be damned,” Jimmy murmured, taking in the stolen aircraft.

  The gang of soldados spread out, put
ting themselves between Jimmy, Mitch, and the barn doors, blocking all possible escape routes. A man came through the open airplane door and rushed down the metal air-stairs. Jimmy had only seen the infamous Colombian in photographs, but he recognized Hector Bautista immediately. A bearded, distinguished-looking dude, he reminded Jimmy of that guy in the old Dos Equis commercials, except he was about as interesting as a pile of beetle dung.

  The drug lord stood with his feet braced apart, like a sailor who hadn’t quite gotten his land legs back. “Good afternoon, gentlemen. Allow me to introduce myself—”

  “We know who you are, Bautista,” Mitch said, drawing a narrowed-eyed glare from the man. He likely wasn’t used to being interrupted.

  “Looks like you’ve been busy, Dos Equis.” Jimmy gestured toward the aircraft with his chin. “How’d you pull that one off?”

  The Colombian chuckled and his heavily hair sprayed silver coif jiggled like Jell-O. “Let’s just say my contingent in Miami is quite resourceful.”

  “Where did you take my daughter?” Mitch demanded.

  “Miss Davies-Stone is being escorted to a comfortable stateroom aboard The Sea Princess. Young Master Garcia is there as well.”

  “Tulio,” Jimmy said.

  “If you hand over the flash drive, they will be unharmed. If you don’t…” He took a small remote out of his suit pocket and showed it to them. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to blow up my beautiful yacht. I’d really rather not do that, so don’t make me have to. Give me the flash drive.” He placed his thumb over the green detonator button.

  Jimmy lunged for Bautista, but Rodríguez blocked him, mashing an Uzi barrel against Jimmy’s cheek. The unsteady hands holding the weapon trembled like a crack addict in need of a fix.

  Jimmy backed up two steps. “Easy now, boss. I’m no médico, but you might want to clip the wings. Despedir a las bebidas energéticas.”

  “Silencio!” Rodríguez said, apparently not liking the suggestion he should quit the boost juice.

  Losing patience with the situation, Bautista came up behind the soldado and shouted, “Rodríguez, desistir ahora!”