Sharla didn’t hear a word. All she could see was the pristine beauty of the area around her and the man still holding her hand.
“No wonder even the surfers care,” she whispered to Luke.
He squeezed her hand. “It’s nice to know this won’t be covered with buildings and people by honest developers either.”
While George and Gloria stood talking and gesturing with Herbie and her grandmother, Luke and Sharla veered off down the beach, walking along the water’s edge.
“I love the ocean.” She couldn’t bring herself to look at him. Nearly alone on this beach, she didn’t trust herself not to do or say something stupid.
“That’s why you live in Miami.”
“It’s why I moved there, but I never make the time to go to the water. I guess it’s a lot like native New Yorkers. No one actually goes to the Empire State Building or Times Square unless family comes for a visit.”
“Makes sense.”
They walked a few more feet, their pace slow, for here and now, everything felt good and comfortable. And right. She stole a glance in his direction. His gaze lingered on a distant point in the horizon. Where had he gone? What was he thinking? Did sleeping with the man give her the right to know? And she wanted to know so many things about him. “Do you like living in Virginia?”
“It’s just a house. Home is New York.”
“Do you miss it?”
He flashed a half smile at her that did all sorts of tingly things to her insides.
“Not so much the city, but my family. My mom and dad still live in the same house I grew up in. Our rooms haven’t changed. My sisters’ rooms are as pink and girly as they were when they were giddy teens. Same thing with my brother’s and my room. Nothing’s changed. My baseball and track trophies are where they’ve always been on the bookcase. Pennants from the Yankees cover one wall, and even my senior prom picture is proudly displayed.”
His words brought a smile to her face. In only a few sentences she had a complete picture of who he’d been long ago. “Bet you looked good in a tux even then.”
He tugged at his ear with his free hand and scrunched one side of his face. “I wouldn’t take any bets on that if I were you. I don’t think any seventeen-year-old boy looks good in a cummerbund.”
“You may have a point. So all your siblings are still in New York?”
“My sisters are. Mary, the oldest, is married with three kids. My middle sister, Abigail, much to my mother’s chagrin, is still single. My brother, Steven, is in Florida.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” He flashed that big smile. “Really. In Fort Lauderdale.”
“Anyone in your family ever think about moving closer to your brother?” Good grief. Could she sound any pushier? She might as well have come right out and asked if he’d move to Florida for her. Oh, God. Why was she even letting her mind go there? “I mean—”
“Yeah. A lot actually.” He drew to a stop and pinned her with a gaze so hot she was surprised not to have melted on the spot, “Especially lately.”
“Yoo-hoo.” Sophia jogged toward them, her grin as broad as the promenade aboard ship. “We’re done visiting. George just happened to get a call from accounting as we stood there, and—surprise, surprise—there’s room for two more investors. And here’s the shocker. We have to move fast, or it will go to someone else.”
Gathering her wits Sharla shifted gears, leaving worries about what to make of her new situation with Luke and concentrating on this mess her grandmother was getting into. “So now what?”
“We have lunch, go back to the ship and form a new plan.”
* * *
“I’m telling you, we just have to run a con of our own. We can get this creep to cough up your brother-in-law’s money.” Sophia dropped onto the side of her bed. “There are at least a half-dozen cons we can pull off with only four people and a little ingenuity.”
“No.” Herbie sat down beside her. “You’re not Robin Hood.”
“Something simple. A shell game. Now you see it. Now you don’t.”
“No,” Herbie repeated.
Luke was staying out of the debate for now. He may not know how to run a confidence game, but he knew enough about working undercover and under the radar to know anything Sophia might have in mind would, at best, not be easy and, at worst, be downright deadly. Knowing it had been decades since Sophia had been involved in a real con meant preparing for the worst. But it was thoughts of Sharla caught up in the scheme that had his gut churning and his mind scrambling.
“We don’t even know how many other people are involved,” Herbie protested.
That seemed to give Sophia pause.
“For all we know”—Herbie grabbed Sophia’s hand in his—“he could be a front man for the mob. And we don’t need to run a con on the mob. Trust me on that.”
Damn, Luke wished his instincts weren’t screaming FUBAR in the making.
“I’ll admit”—Sophia covered their joined hands with her free hand—“he’s not sharp enough to be running this on his own.”
“These building plans don’t look like anything drawn up on a do-it-yourself software program.” Sharla sifted through the presentation packet George had left with Herbie and her grandmother. “Someone spent some money to have these designs made and then this portfolio put together. I’m with Herbie. He doesn’t strike me as having this much skill.”
“Agreed.” Sophia pushed to her feet. “He’s the charmer. The face. Someone else is the brains. Right now he’s sitting back, thrilled that his game worked. Because it is a game to him. He played hard-to-get until he had us begging to give him our money. The adrenaline rush every grifter craves. No need to ask for money, the mark literally throws it at you. Whatever we do, we’ll catch him by surprise. He thinks we’re another couple of easy-to-snow senior citizens.”
Sharla set the portfolio down on the table. “Can’t we just show this to the police and let them take it from here? I’m sure if I called Tyler, he could get the right people involved.”
“Any law enforcement agency—and DA—is going to want more than our word that he’s a crook.” Herbie reached for Sophia’s hand and tugged her back to the space next to him.
Sharla pointed to the papers on the table. “We have these designs, and we know who actually owns the land.”
Herbie shook his head. “Not a single thing in those papers shows the legal description of the land they tried to sell us today. We have nothing to give the authorities.”
Luke already knew what needed to happen, and, no matter how Herbie chose to proceed, Luke would make sure Sharla stayed as far away from this caper as he could keep her. “So what do you propose?”
“We play along. Agree to his deal. Make him as comfortable as a pig in a sty. When we exchange the cash for whatever phony documentation he provides with legal property descriptions and the sham corporation info, we’ll have the evidence, and the authorities will have caught him red-handed.”
Sophia eyed Herbie skeptically. “What authorities?”
“Yeah, well…” Herbie ran his hand along the back of his neck. “That depends on where all of this comes down. If we can stall till we dock back home, I can probably get the ball rolling.”
“Not likely,” Sophia said. “There’s more to this con, and it plays out in St. Thomas. According to George that’s where their Caribbean offices are, and, if you and I want in, we have to have the cash before we leave St. Thomas.”
Taking George down in St. Thomas was the first thing Luke had heard this afternoon that didn’t make his gut roil. “Better for us. If there really is an office and any other people involved, St. Thomas will be the place to nab them. With the land deal and the money exchange both being in US territories, this falls to one agency, the FBI.”
Herbie’s spine stiffened. “That will be a little tougher. In my day, cops dealing with the Feds usually meant a pissing match.”
“And what about the cash?” Sophia asked. “I don�
�t have that kind of money.”
Luke shrugged. “No problem. I’ll handle everything.”
All heads snapped in his direction.
If this shit was going to happen, there was no way he was leaving the details to anyone else. Especially not if he wanted to keep Sharla and Sophia out of harm’s way. “I’ll make the calls. Get the authorities on board. We just need to nail down the place and make sure George has the right paperwork with him when the exchange happens so the arrest sticks.”
Even though US agencies like the CIA and FBI were famous for not playing nice or sharing information, most agents were always willing to return a favor. Especially when your intel brought down a terrorist-funding plot in Small Town, USA, long before all hell could break loose in the media. Luke still had the phone numbers.
“So that’s it?” Sophia sprang up, fisted hands landing on her hips. “We’re just going to turn these guys over and not recover any of the stolen money swindled from your brother-in-law?”
“The Feds will confiscate their belongings and recover whatever money they can. There will be some compensation.” Herbie’s voice came out tired and raspy and not very reassuring.
Sitting back down, Sophia muttered, “We all know how well that worked out for Bernie Madoff’s investors.”
The next thirty minutes were spent hammering out the details. It was in essence very simple. Herbie and Sophia would arrive at a designated location with fifty thousand US dollars and not relinquish the money until Good Old George turned over the incriminating phony investment paperwork. All Luke would have to do—in the next few days before they docked in St. Thomas—was convince the FBI to get involved, make sure the local authorities did their part, and, oh, yeah, get his hands on fifty thousand dollars to use as bait.
Chapter Eighteen
“Yes.” Sophia leaned forward and scribbled “Lady Madonna” on the piece of paper.
Gloria gave a quick thumbs-up, then slapped Sophia with a high-five. Over the last three days and three island ports, the two had become friendlier than a sniper and his rifle. And that made Luke just a wee bit nervous.
The next tune played, and the bridge of Sophia’s nose crinkled in thought. When the cruise staff played the beginning notes of the song a second time, Sophia spun around to Gloria only to find the same pensive glare staring back at her.
Suddenly Gloria’s eyes opened wide, and she hurriedly scrawled something on her scratch paper before passing it over to Sophia. The fired-up redhead slapped another high-five at Sophia, and Luke had to sip his drink to stifle a laugh.
“You know”—Sharla leaned in and set her hand on his—“Mom says Nana was the only grown woman she knew who cried the day it was announced the Beatles had broken up.”
“Can’t see it.” He folded his fingers around hers. Ever since the day in San Juan, they’d done a considerable bit of hand-holding and shared a few chaste kisses, but he’d done his best to bank the heady passion that had erupted the night of Herbie and Sophia’s little tryst. Since that night there’d been no more scarf incidents. Apparently everyone was on their best behavior, preparing for the big day.
Which helped him keep it in his pants. Especially since he only had the rest of the cruise to convince Sharla that he was more than his job. He already knew how to love her body; now he had to win her heart.
On Tortola, they laughed over Sharla’s great-aunts’ crazy antics while she helped Luke pick out gifts for his family. Touring the grounds of the old fort in St. Kitts, they discovered a mutual interest in history. And by yesterday, relaxing over food and drinks from a beachfront balcony in St. Maarten, Luke had felt as though Sharla had always been at his side. Imagining himself back to his lone-wolf way of life seemed impossible. Which was one more reason why leaving her at her cabin door the last few nights was absolutely killing him.
But tonight his mind was on other concerns, like Sharla’s growing anxiety. While Sophia seemed to be having the time of her life, and Herbie appeared completely nonplussed about tomorrow’s big takedown, Sharla looked like a soft wind would be enough to have her jumping out of her skin. And the one thing he knew to do for relief was the last thing she needed from him right now.
“And the title for song number three?” Becky asked into the mic.
“Lady Madonna,” Gloria and Sophia echoed.
The routine continued down the line. Song after song, they cheered, laughed, bumped fists and overall acted like a couple of college kids on spring break. Even the ladies in the red hats got in on the minifestivities. By the time Becky got to song number fifteen, the Red Hats had shifted their chairs closer. By number twenty, all the women were singing and toasting each correct answer.
Tapping her fingers on her lap, Sharla merely smiled stiffly and sipped her strawberry daiquiri.
This evening’s grand prizes for the winning team members were picture frame magnets. Probably the most useful of the awards for anyone who liked to stick papers to their fridge. Luke would give his to his mother. She’d like that.
Sophia stood up, a pomegranate martini in her hand and her spoils in the other. “Okay, where to now?”
“The dance party. You coming?” Wide-Brimmed Red Hat Lady was swinging her hips in place to the Beatles tunes still playing overhead.
“That’s right.” Sophia linked elbows with Red Hat Lady. “We’ll show these kids how it’s done.”
“Absolutely,” four women in red hats echoed.
Drinks in hand and Gloria in tow, the group of laughing ladies wandered off, leaving Herbie and George standing alone.
“Casino?” Herbie asked.
“Casino,” George agreed.
“You two joining us or the cackling hens?” Herbie asked almost as a second thought.
“I think we’ll take a walk.” Luke hadn’t asked Sharla what she’d prefer to do, but he’d already decided she needed to get away from the Baileys, and fresh air would be just the medicine the doctor ordered. Or the next best thing.
“Thank you.”
Sharla linked arms with him, and his heart swelled at the progress they’d made the last few days. For one thing, she wasn’t blushing anymore every time she looked at him.
“I really do like walking out here at night. It’s so peaceful, and the stars are magnificent.”
“Not much competition for sparkle in the middle of the ocean.” He let his hand slide down and thread with hers.
“No. No, there isn’t.” They walked an entire lap in silence. Another lap later, Sharla blew out a sigh. “Nana seems to think all this is one big game.”
“I’m not surprised. From the stories she’d told the last couple of days, some of those cons would make great movies. The one where she and her sisters had to sell Daddy’s farm before the bank foreclosed. To four different people. And they didn’t even own the place.”
“And they only had a few days while the family who did own the property was on vacation.”
“It sounded like they should all have won Academy Awards.”
“Nana always said you can’t con an honest man. She was so proud of the fact that they only took those who had already taken others.”
“You believe that?”
“Yeah. I think I do.” Sharla led him off the path and over to the railing. Standing beside him, she studied the moon hanging low in the distance. “I also think this is like a walk down memory lane for her. And it scares me.”
“I won’t let anything happen to her.” He tipped his head and placed a lightly there kiss on her temple. “I think she knows what she’s doing. She’s certainly put her all into getting friendly with Gloria.”
“She’s been working overtime to make sure they don’t think she or Herbie are suspicious.”
“And she’s doing a bang-up job.”
“Yeah.” Pivoting slightly, she tilted her head to watch him. “So are you.”
“Me?”
“Getting all the right people involved. Arranging for the money. That’s above and beyond the
call of duty, and awfully nice of you.”
“I’m glad I could help.” He honestly was afraid that, if he didn’t help Herbie nab this guy, Sophia would have called every relative under the sun to put together a sweet, complicated and dangerous con. “The money will be waiting for them at the St. Thomas National Bank. This way, if George or Gloria wants to tag along, the entire transaction will look legit. It will seem as though Sophia’s and Herbie’s banks in Florida had wired the money.”
“What if he insists we meet his partner at their office?”
Luke doubted George would want that. Luke doubted the crook even had an office. He wasn’t even all that sure there was an accomplice. He expected George to collect the money and make a beeline to the nearest branch of the Cayman Island Bank. Funds never to be traced again.
“I wouldn’t worry about it. We stick to the plan. You and I will go with them. Then before the transactions take place, we’ll bid our good-byes to go shopping. You’ll go on ahead, and I’ll keep an eye on them. When it’s all over, I’ll call you.”
“I said it before, and I’ll say it again. I don’t like that part.”
“It will be okay.” He kissed her forehead again.
Her eyes fluttered shut. “I can’t think when you do that.”
“Don’t think.” The temptation to dip his chin and press his lips to hers was fighting a losing battle with his carefully timed plan to win her trust and then her heart. Only then would he be able to make her see past what he did for a living. He hoped.
“Could you do that again?”
Her hand slid up his chest and cast the final blow in his inner battle. His mouth covering hers, all the sensations that had swarmed him the other night took over. Pressed against him, she fit so perfectly. Every curve seemed custom-made to mold to his angles. He could kiss her all night, every night, forever.
When her hands strolled higher and hooked around his neck, his mouth lingered moments longer before he found the strength to pull back. “You really are a great kisser.”
“You’re no slouch.”
Shell Game Page 13
