Chasing Glory (15 page)

Chapter Twenty

Tal checked out the walkways
and gardens at
Deux
and strolled down to the beach and back to the hotel bar before finding his quarry. The young photographer smiled and raised his glass in salute at his approach.

“Are you and the beautiful missus ready for your next picture?”

Tal shook his head, pointing to the drink in front of Samson. “Rum and cola?”

“Cola straight up. Can’t drink on duty. Besides, that Caribbean rum is so smooth, it’ll sneak up on you,” Samson said, grinning.

Tal acknowledged the answer and got to the point. “Care to earn some extra money giving me a geography lesson?”

Samson slid off the barstool and took his drink, pointing toward a table. “For you, a good deal.”

As they started for the more private area, Tal asked, “Were you born in Antigua?”

“Best place in the world,” Samson replied. “And I’ve been to your country.”

Tal laughed outright as he sat. “Fair enough.”

“What kind of geography lesson are you looking for? Casinos are legal, booze is legal, and after seeing your new wife, pardon me for saying so, but you don’t need an island woman.”

He liked the young photographer’s directness, and privately agreed with his assessment of Glory. “First, let me ask if you would be willing to discuss a fellow employee, Ian O’Mara? If not, I understand.”

Samson’s expression flattened. “He’s not someone I’d trust.”

Tal suspected as much. “Do you know if he owns any real estate on the island?”

The younger man glanced around the nearby tables. “He lives at the Majestic, but bought an old sugar plantation last year. Bragged he was going to build his own hillside resort. As far as I know, he’s never started construction. Otherwise there’d be gossip.”

“Here’s where the geography lesson comes in,” Tal said, spreading a map on the table. “Do you know where this plantation is located?”

“Off Fig Tree Drive.” Samson pointed to a hilly area in the south central part of the island. “I don’t know which side of the road.”

Tal slid a fifty-dollar bill across the map. “You’ve been a big help.”

Samson tipped his head. “Are you some kind of cop?”

Tal knew instinctively he could trust the islander. “No. I’m investigating a private matter. I hope to get enough information to turn over to the police.”

The younger man nodded. “I can help there, too.”

“You can?”

Samson tapped the fifty. “You didn’t have to be this generous. If you find what you’re looking for, go to the main police court and ask for Lieutenant Costa. Tell him hello from his cousin Samson.” He winked. “It would help to offer to supplement his salary.”

Tal’s initial joy at this bit of good luck was quickly tempered. He realized the photographer didn’t seem to doubt that O’Mara was capable of something that required police involvement.

An icy thought wormed its way in. His plan of following the purchasing agent to try and get incriminating evidence left Glory completely on her own.

He had two choices. Go roaring around in search of Glory and when he found her, not let her out of his sight until they left. For which she definitely would not thank him. Or trust the man across from him to keep an eye on her. He chose Samson.

“There’s another fifty in it for you,” Tal said. “I need someone to keep tabs on my wife.”

At Samson’s widened eyes and startled expression, Tal held up his hand. “Not for that reason. I’d just think clearer about today’s plan if I knew she was looked after.”

Samson nodded. “Done. Where is she now?”

“At the Majestic, interviewing one of the management group for her blog. Then she’s getting an in-room massage.”

The photographer winked. “I have a very large
cousin
who would happily take your money for a couple hours work.”

Tal released a sigh and extended his hand. “You are the man.”

• •

He left
Deux
and drove to the Majestic, cruising the parking lot. There was a shiny black Land Rover in a reserved slot labeled
O’Mara
. Tal backed into a nearby shady spot, went into the hotel, bought a bottle of water and a magazine, then returned to the Jeep. After a while, even the shade was oppressively hot and he was beginning to believe his objective was impossible, when Ian O’Mara emerged. He’d changed into cooler, but still expensive, clothes.

According to the map, there were two ways to get to Fig Tree Drive, which was where Tal hoped O’Mara was headed. Both routes went through the capital city, St. John’s. Tal enjoyed the sights of the old town as he stayed a couple of cars back on the narrow streets.

St. John’s surrounded two coves on the water. In a short while, they were bumping along the main road inland. Tal marked the mileage on his odometer, not wanting to trust his memory. The road climbed and the uneven surface jarred his back teeth. It couldn’t have been more than six miles, although it felt like twenty. An occasional side road disappeared into dense foliage.

He was beginning to think O’Mara had recognized him, even in sunglasses, baseball hat, and a different shirt. Then he rounded a curve and nearly rear-ended the Land Rover. It sat, blinking a left while a small group of tourists on mountain bikes, followed by a brightly-colored Jeep, passed in front of its turnoff. Tal noted the name of the tour company on the helmet and t-shirt of the man on the lead bicycle. It would come in handy for the plan he was formulating for tomorrow. He tilted his head down, pretending to scan his map and wrote the odometer reading in the margin. If he was lucky, this turnoff led to the one place he’d come to find.

The road cleared, Tal put his Jeep into gear, and overcame the urge to glance down the side road O’Mara had just taken. He smiled all the way back to
Deux
.

• •

Tal walked down the path to the suite. A cool shower would be great. He pulled off the baseball hat and tried to smooth his hair before reaching the door.

A very large shadow, attached to a very large man, separated from a terraced wall across from Tal’s suite and came to stand in front of him. Ray Ban aviators hid his eyes.

Sweat that had begun to cool on Tal’s skin, re-emerged. He smiled, hoping this guy was on his side. “You’re Samson’s cousin?”

A grin split the face of the giant. “Your wife’s okay. She’s in there with my sister. The massage is almost over. I’m going back to watch the football match on the telly.” He waved and walked away.

A Mozart concerto played softly when Tal entered the room. Then his gaze was drawn to Glory and he dropped his hat. She was face down on a massage table set in the deep shade of their veranda, her arms stretched in front of her and her face turned toward the water. The only thing covering her was a small towel that went from her waist to the tops of her thighs. The masseuse had her back to him and worked some oil into Glory’s calves. Some of that same oil produced a sheen on her ribcage, which, along with her breasts was pressed into a towel.

Tal wanted her in that moment with an intensity he’d never known. And he recognized, without surprise, that a physical relationship was only part of what he wanted. He picked up his cap, rolled it into a tight cylinder, and wondered again how he’d gone from a rational, straightforward plan less than a month ago to this hopeless need for an entirely different woman.

Chapter Twenty-One

Glory heard Tal moving around
the bathroom. He’d come in toward the end of her massage, making good on his promise to be back in less than two hours.

After her appointment at the Majestic, she’d spent time filling in her notes, then her mind slid to pondering their relationship. What had started as a strange business arrangement had evolved into, what? They were certainly friends and a physical attraction existed on both sides, she was sure of that. But there was more, and it scared her. She was falling in love and it was all wrong.

Among the obvious wrongs; too soon after Ethan, another office romance, and most of all, it was not real. Fake date at the Sorrento, fake boyfriend shopping, fake honeymoon. All combined to give the impression the feelings were real, but they weren’t. Real love in three weeks? Not hardly. Oh, and he still hadn’t said anything about abandoning his pursuit of Alyssia. The whipped cream on top of the fake sundae.

What if he brought up Alyssia? Claimed he changed his mind about her? Well, that could just mean he’d come to his senses. All in all, Catherine was probably right. She just needed an up close and personal physical encounter.

Right, Einstein. Go to bed with the man you’re crazy about, fake or not. A surefire, direct route to second thoughts and self-recrimination. On top of which, with this particular man, you’d probably end up leaving another perfectly good job. Just stick to the original deal for $2,000. It’ll all be over in a week.

Having made up her mind to take the money and run, Glory opened her door to a short, chunky islander, who identified herself as the masseuse. She was followed by a very large man pushing the portable bed. He wore dark sunglasses, glanced around the suite, and left without speaking.

• •

Tal walked into the bedroom and every female mating instinct Glory had shifted into high gear. He had managed, in less than a full day, to acquire a faint bronze kiss of color that she knew would be warm to the touch. His damp hair was finger combed and already falling forward in a messy little boy curl.

She reached for the memory of Ethan politely telling her maybe they should re-think their engagement, i.e., dumping her. It worked. She smiled what she hoped was a “we’re just friends,” smile. “How’d your hunch go?”

Tal was slow to answer and she searched his face to see if she could discern anything wrong. His gaze seemed to wrap around her intimately, but his response was ordinary. “I think I made some headway. Want to go on a mountain bike ride tomorrow?”

The mild buzzing in her ears receded and Glory broke direct eye contact. “Sounds good. Is the ride related to the headway?”

“Yes. I’ll fill you in at dinner. Did you enjoy the massage?”

Glory closed her eyes and sighed. “I’m putting the masseuse in my will.” Then she realized how much of her Tal had seen when he returned and felt heat creep up her neck. She opened her eyes and saw the intense gaze again. “Uh, you shouldn’t miss out. Maybe schedule one for after the bike ride.”

He nodded, crossed to the little desk and started looking through the island directory. “I’ll do that. Thought we’d go into St. John’s for dinner. Anything special you want?”

The million dollar question. What did she want? “Nothing special,” she managed. “I ordered dinner last night, so you choose.”

On that note, she stood and tightened the belt on the short cotton wrap the masseuse had given her, aware of the amount of bare skin it revealed. “Be ready in a half hour,” she said, grabbing her carry-on and making a dash for the bathroom.

• •

She and Tal walked the path to the lobby in companionable silence, like they’d shared the same mood often. Tal had dressed in a blue-green pigment-dyed shirt and light chinos. Glory was glad she’d brought a flowered broomstick skirt and eyelet camisole at the last minute.

They’d almost cleared the steps to the parking lot when Samson appeared around a clump of bougainvillea, camera in hand. He smiled upon spotting them. “You look very nice. Would you mind posing in front of the flowers? It’ll take only a moment.”

Glory turned to Tal, her finger and thumb a quarter of an inch apart. “We were
that
close.”

Tal laughed. “Let’s get it over with.”

Her stomach dropped. Another kiss. How could she be expected to keep her hands to herself?

Tal didn’t take her in his arms. He leaned close and tilted her head up with the knuckle of his forefinger. “Ms. Danvers,” he murmured, before brushing her lips lightly with his.

Well, damn. It was over before she could work up a decent mental defense. And why had they both assumed Samson wanted them to kiss? He’d only asked them to pose.

When she opened her eyes, not only was she disappointed at the chasteness of the kiss, but also from the look on Tal’s face. She could swear he’d intended to leave her wanting. Or keep his distance for his own reasons. Hopefully, it was to keep his distance.

“Got it,” said Samson. “Thank you.”

Tal nodded and steered her toward the Jeep. “We have some time before our reservation. Thought you might like to do some shopping in St. John’s.”

“Window shopping for me,” she said.

Five minutes later, they parked on a side street and walked to the Redcliffe Quay. The shops and restaurants ranged from sidewalk vendors to expensive storefronts. All geared toward tourists.

Glory stopped at a jewelry store window. The pieces were exquisite. She was drawn to a polished black coral collar with tiny gold beads cascading down the front in different lengths.

“Pretty,” Tal said behind her.

“Gorgeous, but totally impractical.” She pointed at a selection of delicately wrought gold earrings. “Any of those would certainly turn Alyssia’s head.”

“Kind of personal,” he said quietly.

Glory kept her face to the window and her tone light. “Not if you intend to marry her.”

Tal turned away without responding.

She didn’t want to push him, so she walked to a vendor’s cart full of gaudy pins and earrings.

“How about this?” Tal said, holding up a green plastic palm tree pin with a cluster of three yellow stones intended as coconuts.

The idea of Alyssia wearing that on anything made Glory laugh. “Not even if you paid for the disguise she would have to wear to be seen in it.”

Tal feigned injured pride. “I think it says something.”

“Yes,” Glory said. “You forgot your glasses.”

“Would
you
like it?”

“Absolutely,” she declared, then became aware she was no longer certain they were still talking about the pin. She hurried on as he made the purchase. “I’ll wear it the next time they’re giving away kittens in front of the grocery store. No one would dream of entrusting a helpless animal to someone wearing a tree.”

Tal made a production of pinning the plastic tree on her camisole strap. It stopped being funny when his fingers brushed the top of her breast.

“There,” he said, stepping back and stuffing the offending hand in his pocket, “a memorable souvenir.”

Emotional confusion tightened her vocal chords. “Thanks,” came out in a half swallow.

No more personal topics were mentioned as they strolled the rest of the quay.

The Redcliffe Tavern was a nice surprise. It occupied the second floor of a colonial era brick and stone warehouse. Tal had reserved a table on the terrace that had privacy and a view of the water through the treetops.

Glory ordered a pineapple daiquiri and a Creole lobster dish. Tal asked for crab pasta and German beer.

He sighed after the first sip of the cold brew. “This is nice.”

Glory looked around. “So far I’ve flown first class, stayed in an expensive suite, gone snorkeling in the Caribbean, researched a blog piece, and had fabulous food and a massage. All paid for by you. I’m beginning to feel guilty.”

Tal’s mouth quirked. “You forgot the tree.”

She pulled in her chin, glancing down. “There is that.”

He leaned toward her. “Don’t feel guilty. The newlywed thing is a great cover. If O’Mara is involved and thinks I’m here to find out what’s going on, he has to take some action in a hurry and that means he might slip up.”

The tables surrounding them were still empty. Tal took another sip of beer and told her what he’d discovered by following the purchasing manager.

“It’s all speculation, but I think there’s a small operation or at least a storage building of some kind hidden away. The airport here is an international hub. Easy to fly goods or supplies in, or directly to, another large city. That makes me nervous.”

Glory swallowed, his nervousness rubbing off on her. Her concern, however, was of a far more personal nature. Tal’s safety. “How does this bike trip figure in?”

“We rent a couple of mountain bikes and throw them in the back of the Jeep. Then we drive to a spot near the turnoff O’Mara used. I’ll bike down the road and check out who or whatever’s there.”

Gooseflesh crawled up her arms. All her speculations as to whether Tal would be taking any real risks came home to roost. “That sounds like it could be dangerous. What if you find an operation and O’Mara’s there? If he thinks you’re a threat to his income, then what?”

Tal shook his head. “He thinks he’s got the advantage because somebody warned him and because I was stupid enough to give my real name. The way he dismissed me this morning showed he didn’t think much of me as a threat. I was careful when I followed him, too.”

Glory fingered the stem of her glass, the cold drink sitting hard in her stomach. Tal had a couple of good points, and he wouldn’t be stupid tomorrow, she knew that much. She released a sigh of acceptance, but wanted clarification on one more thing. “Don’t you mean
we
bike down the road?”

He hesitated before answering, the green in his hazel eyes dominant, reflecting the color of his shirt. “It would be smarter for me to go in and you keep watch. I can play tourist looking for a toilet if anyone’s there. If by chance O’Mara is there,” he held up two hands, “I’ll improvise. Do my best surprised act. ‘Oh, hi. Small world.’ Then leave.”

Tal leaned back. “The whole thing shouldn’t take more than five or ten minutes.”

Glory was not convinced it would be that easy. But hey, what did she expect? That they would drive by a building in St John’s with signage that said
Bootleggers within. Currently counterfeiting Kingston Limited
products
.

She took a deep breath, knowing he was probably right. So, why did she still want to convince him not to go alone? “Wouldn’t it look more innocent if we biked down the road together?”

“It might,” he said. “However, if by some slim chance, something goes wrong, it’s crucial you’re there to go for help.”

Oh, crap
.