Emerald Fire

by Monica McCabe

  He collapsed on top of her, and she reveled in the hot, sweaty aftermath. He remained inside her and she squeezed, making him moan and quiver with aftershocks.

  “I, Chloe Larson, vow that nothing is ever going to be the same again,” she whispered against his ear.

  Chapter 19

  Port Lucaya Marketplace was full of early morning shoppers as Chloe and Finn made their way along a seemingly endless stream of vendor stalls in search of something decent to wear on the flight home. She’d been in the same abused outfit for the last three days and desperately wanted something, anything, else to wear.

  Just for a moment, she forgot about the horror of the last few days and enjoyed being in the Caribbean. She was staying at a gorgeous beach resort, had enjoyed dinner at a five-star restaurant, and spent the night having wild monkey sex with an incredibly hot bounty hunter. This morning it was espresso and an omelet bar, then shopping at an open-air market drenched in tropical sunshine.

  She could breathe, relax, and even felt the beginnings of recuperation. Their injuries, the loss of the Emerald Fire, and the future prosecution of Lisa Banks, all got shoved to a back burner as she allowed herself to just feel normal. They still had planning to do, but for now she focused on the island experience of haggling with shopkeepers and picked out a couple brightly colored sundresses, a pair of sandals, and made a total impulse buy of a finely detailed starfish carved out of banyan wood.

  A booth of colorful scarves caught her eye next, and she spent several enjoyable minutes running her fingertips over a variety of fabrics, lingering over the cool silks and admiring the stitching of hand-embroidered linens. But it was a delicate sheer scarf of pale peach that she pulled out of the bunch and draped across her arm, trying to judge the color against her skin.

  “Pretty,” Finn said as he came up beside her.

  She gave him a sideways smile as he deposited several bags at her feet. “You’ve been busy.”

  “I came across a good source for vintage marine hardware.” He was all business and wouldn’t look at her, just rubbed the fabric of a frilly scarf at the edge of the table. “It can be hard to find.”

  “Did you wipe out their supply?” she asked, eyeing the bags.

  His brows drew together. “Just a few pieces. They’ll ship for free if the order is large enough.”

  He looked uncomfortable, and she didn’t understand why. He was completely fine less than half an hour ago. What happened? Why was he acting so weird?

  She got her answer when he reached into one of his bags and pulled out a narrow, elongated box. Without a word, he handed it to her.

  “What is this?”

  One shoulder lifted in a shrug. “I saw it and thought of you.”

  “You bought me a present?” Happiness bubbled up inside her, and she smiled softly. Other than Uncle Jon and Aunt Sarah, no one had bought her a gift since she was fifteen. She blinked her eyes against their sudden blurring and stared down at the little white box.

  Finn sighed and reached over to remove the lid.

  She gave a small gasp. A stunning necklace stretched the length of the box, a single teardrop pearl centered on a silver chain while tiny seashells danced along either side. It was beautiful, delicate, and perfect. Using the tip of one finger, she lightly brushed over the pearl, making it wobble in place.

  She tried to speak, but words wouldn’t come. He’d saved her life, made love to her until the sun came up, and now this. Thank you didn’t seem right, or near enough.

  She felt the weight of his stare and glanced up, straight into deep blue eyes. “It’s beautiful, Finn, and you are amazing. But I don’t deserve so precious a gift.”

  He shook his head. “It’s not about deserving,” he said gruffly. “It’s not about anything other than it reminded me of you.”

  Tears clouded her vision, and she looked away in embarrassment. He didn’t say anything, just removed the necklace from the box and stepped closer. When his hands reached behind her neck to fasten the clasp, the intimate contact of his fingers against her skin made her shiver in the Caribbean heat.

  He lingered briefly, as though reluctant to step away, but he moved back and angled his head slightly to one side as he regarded her. “Perfect.”

  She grinned. “It appears you have a flair for accessorizing.”

  His eyes crinkled in the corners as he smiled. She quite liked this side of him. She hadn’t seen it much, but as crazy as it seemed, humor suited him.

  “Get that peach scarf,” he said matter-of-factly. “It’s your color.”

  A full-on laugh burst from her. Finnegan Kane had been a surprise from the moment she met him. Aggravating, commanding, and much too serious for his own good, but nothing about him was normal. She found herself looking forward to going to Mystic, meeting his father, and seeing NorthStar.

  “I’ll be a few stalls down that way,” Finn pointed. “There’s a vendor with nautical antiques I’d like to have a look at.”

  She nodded and watched intently as the man from NorthStar walked away. Her fingers traced the silver chain around her neck, her mind still reeling in shock at his gesture.

  “Dat is a man in love.” Chloe turned to face the shopkeeper, a grandmotherly woman who wore a knowing smile and big gold hoop earrings.

  “No, no,” Chloe said, shaking her head. “We haven’t known each other long enough. He’s just being…” Being what? She didn’t know the answer.

  The woman chuckled and handed Chloe a mirror. “Look at dat necklace. It’s a gift from a man’s heart. Trust me in dis ting. He is a man lost.”

  The center pearl gleamed in warm ivory against her skin, and she stared at the reflection, at the beautiful simplicity of the gift. It clearly meant friendship, a generosity of spirit, but it didn’t mean he was a man in love. It was much too soon for something like that.

  She handed back the mirror. “I think it’s the island. Palm trees, blue skies, and warm sunshine spark romantic gestures.”

  The lady gave her a tolerant smile, as though she was indulging a naïve daughter or niece who couldn’t see past her own narrow world. Chloe didn’t argue, just paid for the peach scarf and moved on.

  She’d passed several brightly colored booths without seeing a thing, her thoughts stuck on the lady’s words. It was impossible, highly unlikely, and ridiculous to even contemplate. There was no chance that Finnegan Kane was in love. In lust, maybe. Last night was absolutely one of the more spectacular nights of her life. Was it one-sided? Or did he feel it, too?

  Chloe was moving slowly as she stepped around the corner and started down the next aisle. A solid brass diver helmet caught her eye. She stopped long enough to take a closer look, to admire the polished metal and copper plating.

  Until a sudden tingle at the base of her neck made her frown. She turned around, surveying her surroundings. She didn’t see anything out of the ordinary at first, but then her gaze landed on a man who stood several stalls down, staring right at her.

  He looked familiar, but that was impossible. She knew no one here. Tall, lanky, and dressed in ill-fitting khaki shorts and a faded red shirt, he looked like one of the Boca Chica pirates. No. That was impossible. There was no way they could know the Seagrove rescued them and dropped them here.

  He started slowly walking her way, his eyes never leaving her face. Her heart rate jumped, and for a couple of stunned seconds, Chloe didn’t move. Then self-preservation kicked in and she turned to run.

  But all she did was smack into the chest of a bigger pirate, and his beefy arms circled her, squeezing the breath from her lungs. He started to drag her away, toward an alleyway between vendor stalls. She went into fight mode, kicked his shins and tried to scream, but he pressed her face against the rough cotton of his shirt. The stale scent of unwashed body filled her lungs, making her want to gag. She struggled harder, trying to trip him up, fighting to scratch any bare skin available. Her assailant only laughed as he dragged her through
the alley and into a courtyard of sorts.

  He twisted her around, tossing her effortlessly to bring her back up against him. Before she could pull a deep breath of air, a calloused hand clamped over her mouth.

  “Stop squirmin’, missy,” he said in a guttural voice. “Don’t wanna hurt you before Hosea can ask you a question.”

  They were surrounded by claptrap structures, the backside of temporary stores that had been in place so long they had become quasi-permanent and shored up with rough two-by-four lumber and pieces of tin. A tarp stretched overhead to block the sun, and a tiny table and two chairs completed the uninviting scene. Hosea settled a bag on that table, shoving an ashtray full of butts to the ground before turning to face her.

  “We have a problem,” Hosea said.

  She stared at him, unable to answer even if she’d been interested enough to know what that problem was. Instead, her gaze swept the enclosed space, searching for any escape route, any sign of help. There was none.

  Hosea stepped in front of her, capturing her attention. “You sank my boat.”

  She glared her defiance and managed to shrug a shoulder.

  “I liked that boat. It was going to make me very rich.”

  Did he expect her to show remorse or sympathy? He stole it first. In fact, he was paid to steal it and sink it. She just helped him do his job.

  “My client is not happy.”

  His client? He’s a stinking pirate, not an entrepreneur.

  “She isn’t paying me the promised money. This is a very big problem.”

  Good for her, Chloe thought. Then she was hit with a dawning realization of who that client was, and a sinking feeling opened up inside her. Lisa Banks knew they’d retrieved the Fire. And she knew they had sunk it.

  “You will pay me this money,” Hosea said.

  She’d laugh if there wasn’t a foul-smelling hand covering half her face.

  Hosea stepped over to the table, opened his bag, and pulled out a knife. One of those serrated commando-style knives that made anyone who looked at it quake in fear, including her. He stepped back in front of her, brandishing the weapon like it was a toy. He brushed a fingertip over the pointed end.

  She didn’t feel like laughing anymore.

  “Jud is going to take his hand from your mouth now.” Hosea placed the knife tip against her heart. “Behave or you’re dead. Comprende?”

  She nodded slowly.

  Jud’s hand left her face and pulled her arms behind her back. She sucked in a long breath of air, one that smelled of stale cigarettes but a distinct improvement over Jud. He kept her close against him, one arm firmly locking hers behind her, the other draped across her collarbone. One swift movement upward by him and he’d effectively choke the life from her lungs. Or she could get stabbed in the heart by Hosea.

  Either way, the end result wasn’t in her favor.

  “Time for a civilized conversation,” Hosea said, taking a step back and relaxing slightly. “You and your friends have caused me much trouble. I require that you make it right.”

  “Lisa already paid you,” Chloe said, and a hint of surprise flashed in his cold eyes. She knew a brief second of satisfaction for confirming her suspicion of the client’s identity.

  “That puta is a fool,” he spat. “Making deals without proper controls…tsk, tsk. A smart businessman would not do such a thing.” He shook his head for emphasis. “This makes her easy prey. Like a rabbit is to a hungry fox.”

  His analogy revealed a lot about his personality. Hosea liked the chase, and the fact that he was here now, in the Bahamas, meant he’d tracked them like prey. She had to suppress a shudder.

  “You see, I am a man who enjoys his pleasures.” He stepped closer, running the tip of his blade down the front of her blouse. “I could be a wealthy man right now but for you and your amigos.”

  “You’re in a risky profession,” Chloe said, trying to reason with him. “Surely not every job pays out.”

  “This is true,” he agreed, waving his knife around nonchalantly. “And I confess, someone stealing a yacht from me was not a move I anticipated. While I applaud your bravery, senorita, it cost me a lot of money.”

  A door opened, and a dark-skinned teenager started to step out, but he froze in his tracks when he spotted the trio in the shabby courtyard. His eyes grew huge in a narrow face, and the tiniest flare of hope stirred, only to die when the kid gave a fast shake of his head.

  “Go back inside bambino,” Hosea said, flashing the blade. “Allow us privacy, and we will not bother your establishment.”

  The kid quickly nodded and stepped back inside, firmly shutting the door.

  There’d be no help from that quarter. Where was Finn? He had to know by now that she was missing. She prayed he was already searching. All she had to do was keep this guy talking, buy time for Finn to find her.

  She said the first thing that came to mind. “Your place wasn’t equipped to handle something as large as the Emerald Fire. Why take on a liability like that?”

  Anger flared in his eyes. “Liability? One million US dollars to eliminate the crew and sink her. Another three million when we wiped her clean and sold her. That kind of cash is no liability.”

  The goon behind her held her arms tight enough to cut off her circulation. Her fingers were beginning to tingle and her arms to ache. This wasn’t good at all.

  “Can’t you be happy with one million? Surely that’s more than you make in a year anyhow. How profitable can being a pirate be?”

  He laughed. “I like you. This is why I plan to let you make things right. Otherwise I’d just kill you, be done with this unpleasant situation.”

  Thank heaven for small favors. “How did you find us here?”

  He waved off the question. “We monitor radio traffic. Our business requires this.”

  “You call being a pirate a business?”

  Jud didn’t like her question. He pulled his arm upward enough to put uncomfortable pressure on her windpipe, forcing her to lift onto her toes. She also felt the sting of tiny seashells from Finn’s necklace being crushed against her skin.

  “A pirate does many things. We freelance,” Hosea said the word proudly. “And when a spoiled Americano wife pays us to do a job, we do it. But the puta only paid half the money, the rest due after insurance. Now this will not happen, and I have you to thank.” He fingered the knife again. “It was loco to waste so pretty a boat.”

  Jud’s pressure increased. “I…can’t…breathe,” Chloe rasped.

  Hosea smiled, but he nodded at Jud, and the goon lowered his arm back to her collar. Chloe landed flatfooted again, coughing and gulping in air.

  “I have done the math,” Hosea exclaimed. “It is bad. Not only for the boat, but the damage to our buildings with your fire.” He shook his head at the sadness of it all. “But I will give you a deal because I like you. There is much to admire about a woman who takes such risks. My losses are high, but I will take two million. This is what you owe me.”

  Chloe struggled to get her breathing under control. Hard to do with a pulse stuck in overdrive and fear racing through your veins. But she had to focus, be ready to act when opportunity knocked. God, where was Finn?

  She closed her eyes, tried to listen to the sounds of the market just a few feet away. It was a busy day, and commerce was in full swing. Yet the voices and laughter might as well have been on the moon for all the help she’d find there. She could scream, but doubted anyone would come running to save her and would only end in Jud choking off her air again. Best she could do was keep Hosea talking.

  “I…I don’t have that kind of money,” she stammered.

  “Maybe not,” Hosea countered, “but you have something else.”

  She shook her head. What did he mean by that?

  “You tossed my friend Miguel to the fishes. Fortunately, we were able to save him before the sharks feasted on his bones. Good thing, too. He had an interesting story
about his yacht mates.”

  Dread started to spike. She knew where this was going.

  “He saw your little book and thinks you have a treasure map. I’m thinking if you find a pot of gold, you can pay me my money.”

  She couldn’t believe it. “It’s not a map. It’s a record of history. There’s no treasure.”

  His eyes narrowed as he contemplated her. “If this is true, maybe you just give me that little book. The one you wanted bad enough to risk stealing my boat.”

  First of all, it wasn’t his boat. Second, no matter how much she wanted to keep it secret, somehow people were finding out that something valuable hid in the journal’s pages. She might as well take out an ad in the New York Times.

  “I wanted the book for its historical value,” she snapped at him. “Your little buddy was telling you a lie, probably hoping to save his own ass for failing at his miserable job.”

  Jud’s response was to tighten his arm around her throat again. She struggled, but her arms had long sense gone numb and there was little she could do. Her foolish act of defiance was going to cost her. This guy ordered Mike and Brett killed, would’ve killed Uncle Jon without a single qualm, too.

  They still could, she thought with sudden terror. Why couldn’t she ever keep her mouth shut? Regret smothered her. What had she done?

  * * * *

  Finn glanced around the market and frowned. Where was Chloe? He left the vendor stall and rounded the corner, but there was still no sign. He went back and glanced into every nearby stall, searching for her with no luck.

  He didn’t like it. He didn’t believe she would’ve just walked off, but the alternative meant she was in trouble. Alarm began to mount. They were in the middle of a crowded marketplace. She could have gone in search of a cold drink, a bathroom, anything. But given their circumstances, he could only assume the worst.