“What’s wrong?” Cullen asked, his gaze enigmatic.
“I want to do that again,” Grace said, her voice a little breathless as she grinned at him.
His return smile was a beautiful thing—a ray of brilliant sunshine wrapped in approval. “That can be arranged, but we’ll have to buy condoms tomorrow.”
Grace’s stomach took that moment to release a deafening rumble of complaint. She and Cullen stared at each other and burst out laughing.
Cullen winked. “Perhaps we’ll have something to eat first.”
Grace nodded, her lips quirking. “Sounds like the perfect plan.”
14
CHASING GRACE
Jeff packed his gear and left the motel in the middle of the night before they realized he’d used a stolen credit card. That they hadn’t run the card because their terminal was down had been a piece of luck. It was no hardship leaving the card with them. Damn flea-pit wasn’t worth one-hundred dollars a night. He’d be glad to leave the stench of damp coming from the walls and the tobacco that had permeated the bedding, the peeling wallpaper, and the carpet.
From the motel, he grabbed a cab to the main street of the local town. After paying the driver cash, Jeff took a roundabout route and made frequent stops to study window displays. Finally, his meandering path took him toward the local travel interchange.
Rain tumbled from overhead, and the driving sleet cut through his flimsy jacket. The raindrops dripped off his concealing cap and ran down his neck. He cursed under his breath and hitched his pack higher on his shoulder.
This was Grace’s fault, and he intended to take it out on her hide once he recovered the missing gnome. If he was wrong, and she didn’t have it, he didn’t know what to do next. Interrogate her, probably, because she was his only lead.
His damp clothes clung to his chest and shoulders. He ignored the discomfort, and after scanning the vicinity, pushed through the double doors and out of the elements. Hopefully, the men after him wouldn’t think to search here because he’d been vocal about his hatred of public transport.
Needs must when the devil drives, as his English grandmother used to say. He had no other options.
With another muttered curse, this time about Grace’s parentage, he approached the lone worker to discuss his travel options to Wellington. Finally, he purchased a bus ticket to the capital city since a coach was much cheaper than the train and settled into a hidden corner to while away the hours until his ride.
He must’ve fallen asleep because a grinding noise woke him: the shriek of brakes, the bang of the entrance doors, and the laughter of children. He jerked, his gaze darting to his wristwatch. Crap! He jumped to his feet and picked up his bag, charging outside to join the line of passengers waiting to board the bus.
His pulse raced at his near-miss. Hiding in Papakura for one day was doable, but two days was pushing his luck. His bosses wanted his head because he hadn’t delivered on his promises. Oh, he intended to, but first, he had to grab Grace. In a fit of brilliance, he’d wondered if Grace had gone to Stewart Island on their honeymoon alone. A phone call to the lodge had confirmed this guess, although his phone call had gone unanswered when the manager had transferred it to the room. The manager hadn’t given him the room number, but he’d figure that out once he arrived.
Chasing Grace was a long shot but his only option at this stage. His hidden camera had shown Grace picking up each of the statues. He’d seen her place three of them inside a box with his clothes and other gear, but the camera angle hadn’t shown him the fate of the fourth gnome.
The ecstasy tabs in that statue were worth a fortune, a bloody massive profit to his bosses and a decent one for him. He must get his hands on the gnome. He could sell the pills anywhere—perhaps in Wellington. With the money in hand, the danger to him would reduce. It was hard to tell with Matthew, his immediate boss. The guy’s unpredictability made him lethal, and Jeff held a healthy respect for him.
It was his turn to show his ticket, and he handed it over.
“Want to stow your bag?” the driver asked.
“No, I’ll keep it with me,” Jeff said.
“Get on.” The driver jerked his head at the bus.
Jeff picked an aisle set toward the rear. Hopefully, he wouldn’t need to share. His phone rang as he was stowing his bag in the overhead rack, and he gulped at the caller id displayed on his screen.
Matthew.
Hell, he should’ve turned off his phone. At least he’d had the sense to turn off the GPS. No one could track him that way. No, the trouble he was in now was deep enough. Ignoring his boss wouldn’t make things much worse. He rejected the call, and this time, powered down the phone.
Jeff dropped onto his chosen seat and pulled his hat low while pretending to sleep. In truth, he came nowhere near rest with tension pushing his heartbeat to racy speeds. This was the most dangerous part of his plan. Once he’d left Auckland, he wouldn’t need to remain as vigilant.
Anyone who knew him would suspect he’d head to the airport and book a flight. Now that he’d ignored his boss, Matthew would assume the worst, so Jeff could not fail in his quest to regain the drugs.
Once again, his mind slipped to Grace. He’d had a sweet thing going there, and she’d been worth the price of marriage. Men had never paid her attention, and she’d fallen into his trap like a ripe piece of fruit. A litany of his favorite curses flowed through his mind, his hands forming fists in his lap. This entire bullshit situation was Grace’s fault. If she’d kept to her normal behavior, she wouldn’t have walked into the bedroom and caught him with Julia.
Her rejection had pissed him off, and she’d pay for the slight. She’d pay for taking the statue or dumping it into the street. Either way, he’d exact his pound of flesh.
Grace had screwed up his grand scheme, and that would not do.
He ran through his flexible plan. He had enough cash for a flight from Wellington to Invercargill, or if this didn’t work out, he’d make the rest of the journey by a combo of train and bus. Unfortunately, it wasn’t safe for him to use his air miles since Matthew would have his contacts checking for that. Jeff could, however, use one of his false passports and pay cash. Fuck that bitch.
Jeff hated traveling with stinky passengers who weren’t fit to wipe his designer shoes. That the situation forced him to lie low and travel this way…
Grace’s fault.
Grace’s fuckin’ fault.
He eagerly anticipated getting his hands on her and making her sorry for mucking up the fantastic life he’d mapped out for himself when he was a teenager. She would fuckin’ rue the day they’d met.
15
A GUESS PLAYS OUT
“Look,” Grace whispered. “A black robin.” She lifted her camera to snap a picture. They’d taken a tiny ferry to Ulva Island, and now she and Cullen wandered the quiet forest paths, searching for rare native birds that inhabited the pest-free island. “Bother.” She lowered her camera as the bird flitted away to land on a high branch of a totara tree. “Did you get the shot?”
“Nope,” Cullen said. “They’re too quick.”
“I’d say shy,” Grace replied as they ambled onward, often stopping to study the rimu trees and other natives such as karaka and puriri with their broad branches and leaf cover blocking the sunshine. Ferns brushed their legs while the fallen leaves on the path crunched beneath their boots. Birds sang, and each time they spotted one, they halted for photos and sometimes consulted their bird book to identify the species.
“Cullen, thank you so much for suggesting you come to Stewart Island with me. I’m enjoying this trip so much more than I would’ve with—”
He slapped a hand over her mouth, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Don’t say the J-word.”
“I have no intention of uttering that name,” she said the instant Cullen removed his fingers. “What I meant is that you enjoy nature and walking as much as I do. You like taking photos.”
“We have things in common,
” Cullen said, stepping close and brushing a lock of hair away from her eyes. “But I already knew this, which was why I pushed to come with you on this holiday.”
She stood on tiptoe and pressed her lips to his, happiness flooding her because she could touch him whenever she wanted. He encouraged her and took the same enjoyment from the physical contact she did.
She smiled up at him. “We should keep walking or risk missing the return ferry.” The smile that curled her lips next sure felt sly. “I’m a little tired, and it might be best if I had a nap to ensure I’m fighting fit and ready for kiwi spotting tonight.”
“That smile of yours is ingenious,” Cullen said, confirming her thoughts about her expression. “What did you have in mind?”
“A nap,” she said, aiming for innocence.
A glance at his knowing grin suggested she’d failed at that too. “Am I invited to have a sleep with you?”
“Yes, I’d enjoy your company. I’ve decided it’s more fun sharing a bed than sleeping alone. If the person I’m with is you, of course. I don’t share with just any man.”
“Excellent answer,” Cullen said. “Over to your right in the tree. A saddleback.”
He snapped his photo as Grace whirled, her camera lifted, ready to take the shot. Too late. The bird had already taken to the wing.
“Most of my photos are blurs. I hope I do better with the kiwi.”
“We can share our photos. This isn’t a competition.” He checked his watch. “We should hustle. The wind has come up. It’s going to rain.”
“Do you think the kiwi trip will go ahead? They take us out on a boat to another part of the island.”
“I’m not sure I’d enjoy the crossing between Bluff and Oban, but it shouldn’t be too bad here. If the operators decide to cancel the trip, we’ll walk up to the rugby field tonight.”
“Brilliant Plan B,” Grace said.
When they reached the ferry, the vessel bobbed energetically at its mooring. The thin stretch of water between Ulva and Stewart Island tossed and churned with noticeably larger whitecaps.
Grace felt the weight of a stare when Cullen took her hand and spotted two twenty-something women observing them. Heat sped to her cheeks, but one woman grinned and made fanning motions in front of her face. Her friend gave Grace a thumbs-up signal. The tension seeped from Grace’s shoulders, and a feel-good grin formed on her lips. They weren’t staring at her and Cullen because of their age difference or accusing Grace of cradle-snatching. That was her imagination.
Instead, they approved of Cullen, and Grace got the sense they envied her.
Cullen bent to whisper in her ear. “See. There is nothing wrong with us as a couple. The age difference between us is negligible.”
“All aboard,” the ferry pilot called.
The distance between Ulva and Stewart Island wasn’t great, and ten minutes later, she and Cullen clambered off the silver ferry and set off for the short walk back to the lodge.
“Do you want to have lunch at the pub?” Cullen asked. “I’m starving this morning, even after breakfast.”
“That would be because we never got around to eating a proper dinner,” Grace said with a blush as she recalled exactly how they’d spent their evening.
“I wouldn’t change it for anything.” Cullen slipped his arm around her waist. “But I am hungry. I require nourishment to keep up my stamina, and we need to pick up some condoms.”
“I admire your stamina,” Grace said, keeping a straight face.
“More where that comes from,” Cullen replied, his voice gruff. He opened his mouth in an exaggerated yawn. “I might require a snooze too, but only if you’re there to help me sleep comfortably.”
A peal of laughter escaped Grace even as she rolled her eyes.
At the back of her mind, a thought occurred. A truth. She’d never had this much fun with a male friend. The flirting. The touching. The kisses. Happiness pressed against her chest, and her smile grew so wide her mouth hurt.
Cullen merely patted her backside, letting his hand linger on her curves. “Please walk faster before I expire of hunger.”
Obligingly, Grace lengthened her steps and didn’t even complain about the slight elevation rise and her resulting breathlessness. Instead, she savored Cullen’s closeness and wondered how she’d let him go when his vacation ended.
* * * * *
Jeff’s legs trembled as the ferry pulled up to the jetty. Never a great sailor, the enormous waves had sent his stomach into revolt. He’d thrown up three times into a paper bag. People had stared at him, their disgust plain as they’d backed away. Jeff hadn’t cared because his misery had consumed him. Even now that the rocking of the boat had ceased, he wavered unsteadily. He caught a whiff of vomit and grimaced at his hoodie. He’d missed the bag during one violent rock of the boat. His temper, which had been uncertain since he’d discovered his possessions sitting on the footpath, spiraled rapidly upward.
If only Grace had continued with her usual meek behavior, everything would’ve been all right. Instead, she suddenly got a mad hair and kicked him out when he’d needed his plan to run like a Swiss timepiece.
He trailed the passengers off the boat and wove through the massed crowd who waited for the crew to offload their luggage. With his day pack over his shoulder, he pulled his cap lower and wandered toward the backpacker’s hostel. It was the cheapest accommodation available, given his budget, and he couldn’t wait to ditch these clothes and shower.
Once he was clean again and had a drink, he’d feel more human.
Only then would he set about finding his traitorous fiancée and retrieving his property.
Jeff strolled along the footpath that curved around the bay. Waves—small ones, thankfully—rolled onto the white sand, and several groups of children were taking advantage of the low tide. Some searched for crabs or some other sea creature, while the second group of children built a castle fortress. Their joyous laughter floated in the air, but Jeff sniffed in disdain.
A flock of seagulls fought for pieces of bread, their noisy squawks cutting arrows of pain through Jeff’s head. He hoped he’d find someone willing to donate a painkiller or two, otherwise he’d never shift this headache.
He noted a supermarket, a clothing shop, and a tourist booking place on the other side of the tarmac road.
Another street dissected the main one. A glance showed a café, a museum, and a wildlife conservation center. He crossed the road and slowed in front of the pub, a craving for alcohol filling him.
No. Looking and smelling the way he did would arouse curiosity. People would remember him. It was better to go with his original plan and clean up first.
He glanced through the window of the pub restaurant and came to a standstill.
His bloody fiancée sat there eating a meal with a man. He glared at the man. Wait, was this the neighbor? He wasn’t certain since this guy had shorter hair and while he had a beard, it was much lighter and groomed. More like scruff than the beard the neighbor had sported. As he watched, Grace plucked something off her plate and offered it to the man. The stranger kissed Grace’s knuckles after he’d swallowed the food.
The bitch.
She had the bloody cheek to castigate him for sleeping with Julia, and she was down here cavorting with a man while enjoying their honeymoon without him.
The bitch.
The pounding in his ears exacerbated his headache, and when he glared at them, it was like staring down a tunnel. His muscles tensed, and he shook anew as he forced himself to move away from the window instead of confronting the cheating, lying bitch.
At least he knew she was here. If he hustled over his shower, he could return and follow her back to where she was staying. Once he discovered this, he’d plan to retrieve his statue.
While he wasn’t confident she had it, his gut told him she’d taken it from the house. The silly woman probably didn’t even realize the statue’s value, and if he were lucky, he’d recover it and leave without her
being any the wiser. Although he itched to strike and take revenge on the bitch, this was the more sensible course of action.
In and out.
Yeah, in and out, no matter how much he wanted to punch her in the face for causing this trouble and wrecking his smooth, ordered life.
Damn. His hands curled to fists. He’d been well on his way to taking over and running his territory instead of reporting to Matthew. Instead of taking cents when he could earn dollars.
Jeff spotted the signpost for the backpacker’s place and checked in while trying to contain his disdain for the rundown accommodation. He was used to the best—the top hotels with twenty-four-hour service, minibars, and luxury. Sharing a room. Bah!
At least the shower was hot. After letting the water pour over his head for five minutes, his temper improved along with his confidence. He’d wanted to enjoy the shower for longer, but he needed to learn Grace’s location. Not that this dump was large, but it’d make this process easier if he didn’t have to search the entire Oban township.
Jeff pulled a clean hoodie out of his daypack and paired it with jeans and a T-shirt. He slapped his cap on his head and draped his daypack over his shoulder before he left his dorm.
Two women in their early twenties smiled at him in reception. He dipped his head in acknowledgment but kept walking. Time enough for women after this, once he had his statue back.
The breeze nipped at his cheeks, and a car rumbled past as he returned to the pub. He slowed as he approached and glanced through the window. They were gone.
Hell.
Did he go inside and risk meeting them face to face?
Jeff hesitated, lingering until he noticed a couple sitting inside the restaurant staring at him. Crap. He forced his legs to carry him past the pub and around the corner.
There they were.
The dude had his arm around Grace’s podgy waist, and he was smiling at her as if she’d hung the stars in the sky. What the fuck? Grace wasn’t much to look at with her red hair and stocky build. He preferred blondes who looked after themselves and visited the gym.
Protecting the Bride Page 13
