Danger in Paradise (3 page)

* * * * *

Luke stood on the dock, waiting for Hope. His boat was docked right by the parking lot and she still hadn’t shown up. It was only five after seven. Five minutes wasn’t that late and it wasn’t as if he knew her habits. For all he knew, she could be one of those women who showed up thirty minutes late for everything.

She was a complete and utter mystery. Now he was even more convinced she wasn’t who she claimed to be. After dinner last night he’d called one of his contacts with the FBI to see what kind of information he could find on Hope. His friend had said he’d get back to him if he found any more information, but at first glance, it looked as if she’d appeared out of thin air around the age of fifteen.

As he waited, a dusty red jeep steered into the parking lot. Dust and gravel flew everywhere as the vehicle skidded to a halt in one of the empty spots. The windows were tinted, but the sporty jeep looked like something she’d drive. Seconds later Hope jumped out and waved to him. He walked down the dock and across the gravel lot to meet her.

“Everything okay?” He pulled two matching black bags from the back and she grabbed her purse, a skinny tripod bag, and two huge bags with camera equipment. He didn’t see a laptop bag, though. He’d assumed she’d have one, especially if she used a digital camera, but maybe she was old school and used film.

“Yeah, why?”

He shrugged and took one of the big camera bags from her. What was he going to say?
Because you were five minutes late and I was worried.

She caught on anyway. “You’re on Key West time now, buddy. Trust me, I’m early.”

One of the crew members helped her onto the back deck. He was just happy this crew was new and hadn’t met Maria.

“Hi, I’m Hope.” With a genuine smile, she extended a delicate hand to the man.

“Manuel.” He held out a hand for her photography gear. “I’ll put your things in your room.”

She let go of her things reluctantly.

“They’ll take good care of it, I promise.” Luke placed her other bags onto the back deck because he knew one of the crew members would grab it in seconds. “Do you want to head up to the fly bridge or would you rather stay in the salon when we take off?”

She grinned and pointed up.

He climbed the ladder to the spacious deck ahead of her. Under normal circumstances he would have let her go first, but she wore a loose summer dress that tied around her neck and he didn’t think she’d appreciate him having a perfect shot of her—he swallowed hard and tried to scrub his wayward imagination. Not that it did any good. He still wondered what type of undergarments she wore, if any.  

“So, do you think we’ll have time to take a couple dive trips while we’re there?” She took a seat on the cushioned bench and crossed her legs. Incredibly toned, sleek legs he had no problem imagining wrapped around his waist.

He leaned against one of the rails but shifted so that he wasn’t directly facing her. He needed to get himself under control. His physical reaction to her disturbed him, made him feel less in control. “I don’t see why not. There’s certainly enough gear on this boat.”

“Great.” She smiled and leaned back in her seat.

He turned and faced the open water. The boat rumbled beneath them and he tried to focus on the crystal clear water in front of him.

“It’s beautiful isn’t it?” Hope asked as she leaned against the rail next to him.

Luke was slipping.  He hadn’t even felt her move up behind him. When her arm pressed against his, he told himself to move away but couldn’t force himself to do it.

“Yes.” He shifted his position and inadvertently inhaled her sweet scent. She smelled like the beach. Tropical, fresh, and something else indefinable.

Something that was all Hope.

* * * * *

Patrick Taylor opened his eyes to a loud banging. Struggling to shove the tangled sheets off his body, he managed to roll over. He thought he’d brought someone home last night but his bed was empty. After a three day bender, his whole body ached. The banging continued, and when his father’s angry voice carried through the front door of the condo to his back bedroom, he stumbled out of bed. His stomach roiled, but he ignored it. His father, the ‘great’ Richard Taylor, did not like to wait.

“Prick,” he muttered under his breath.

Not bothering to put on clothes, he rushed down the long hallway to the tiled entrance and opened the door wearing only boxers. “What the hell is it this time?” For once, he was glad he didn’t have a woman over. No one to see his father humiliate him.

His father ignored his question and brushed past him. Having no choice, Patrick followed him to the kitchen.

“Do I have to do everything myself?” his father demanded.

Patrick leaned against one of the granite counters and rubbed a hand over his face. There was a coat of fur across his teeth. A toothbrush would help. Then coffee and a fucking bottle of aspirin to get rid of this headache. “What are you talking about this time?”

His father pulled out a picture and threw it on the counter next to him. “I’m talking about this.”

He glanced at it and fought the urge to punch something. It was
her.
The bitch who had scarred his face. “I told you I’d take care of it.” He’d already put in a few late night calls to rattle her. He wanted that bitch to
know
he was coming, and that there was nothing she could do about it. Last night he’d intended to taunt her longer but he’d been too drunk to carry on a conversation.

“You’ve had three days and my sources tell me you’ve been partying instead.” His father slammed his fist down on the counter. “I’ve got enough crap to deal with lately and don’t want to involve my men, but if you can’t handle this on your own, then—”

“I can handle it!”

“Good. There’s a car waiting for you downstairs. You have twenty minutes.”

The last thing he wanted to do was bother with this mess now, but what choice did he have? He’d planned to make her sweat for a couple weeks before he headed down to The Keys. Twelve years had passed, a couple more days wouldn’t hurt.

His father started to leave, but paused in the doorway of the kitchen. “Don’t fuck this up. If you do…”

He didn’t finish, but Patrick knew what he meant. His father was tired of his ‘fuck-ups’ and had told him too many times to count. Patrick doubted he’d think twice about getting rid of him, too. In his bedroom, he haphazardly shoved clothes in a duffel bag. He didn’t plan to be gone long. He’d clean up his mess, then come back home and pick up right where he’d left off.

When he went to retrieve his toiletry bag from the bathroom he glanced in the mirror and unwanted anger bubbled up inside him. Thanks to the best surgeons on the East Coast, a faded white line on his cheek bone was the only visible marking from his…injury. It still pissed him off, but most days he could forget about it entirely.

He still couldn’t believe he’d found her. On a random website for photography of all things. Maybe the fates were finally smiling down on him.

For once.

Now that bitch was going to pay. Though he hated to admit it, his father was probably right. He needed to take care of her now. And after he found her, he could have some fun with her before killing her once and for all.

* * * * *

“Okay, I’ve got to ask. How is it that your employers still have a house in Cuba?” Five hours later, Hope eyed the palatial home on the private beach where they’d docked. The house was impressive, but the view more so. They had prime beach front property with no visible neighbors for miles. She’d thought it odd when Luke told her they had property in Cuba, but now that she viewed it, she was even more suspicious.

“Money.” Luke’s answer was short and to the point as he headed down the dock, but nowhere near the answer she was looking for.

At first she hadn’t minded coming to Cuba considering she’d done it before, but this house screamed money. And not the kind of money you made selling coffee. “I thought you said they were involved in coffee.” Instead of following, she stayed put.

With his bag and one of her bags slung over his shoulder he turned, frustration written in every line of his face. “They have plantations in Jamaica, Brazil, and Costa Rica. Now can we please get settled in? I’d like to show you around before tomorrow.”

Purse in hand, she fell in step with him. Now it actually made sense that the family needed security. They weren’t just wealthy, they were probably listed in Forbes as some of the richest people on the planet. Which left more than a couple of questions.

Why on earth would they have hired her when they could literally have anyone? And why hadn’t her agent told her any of this?

She ignored the sudden flutter in her stomach and followed Luke along the sturdy dock toward the large, Spanish-style house. An Olympic-size swimming pool sat in the middle of a well-maintained garden. As they neared the stone veranda attached to the back of the house, she noticed a tray of refreshments and assorted fruit laid out on a glass and metal table.

“Is someone expecting us?”

He nodded. “Yes, I called ahead while you were taking pictures.”

Luke opened one of the French doors into what she guessed to be a formal sitting room and followed her inside.  “Wait here for a minute?” he asked.

As he disappeared down a marble hallway, Hope absently nodded and took in her surroundings. This room would be perfect to start photographing.

She took a careful seat on a high-backed armchair. Wall-to-wall windows filled the room with light. A wood plank ceiling and ornate, brass light fixtures gave the room a vintage feel even though the furniture was modern and probably new. A sofa and two armchairs were positioned around a cherry wood coffee table perfectly centered in the room. Against one of the walls, a hutch displayed different pieces of china.  As she glanced around the room, she couldn’t shake the feeling of familiarity. The thought itself was crazy, but a strange awareness settled in her gut. Bone deep and almost chilling with its intensity.

“Hope?” Luke’s deep voice nearly made her jump.

“Yes?” She immediately stood, thankful for the interruption.

“Your room is ready, but if you’d rather tour the grounds we can start now.”

“I’m ready, but I’d really like to speak to Sonja Santiago about what exactly she wants.” In truth, she wanted to get out of the room and away from the iciness that was slowly snaking its way down her spine.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I know what you’ve told me, but doesn’t she want to talk to me, first? It just seems odd that she’s trusting me to do this big job without going over any details.” Everything had happened so fast, Hope hadn’t thought much about it until they were half way to Cuba.

He shrugged. “That’s why she sent me. She’s seen your portfolio and she’s impressed.”

“If you don’t think it’s necessary, then I guess it’s okay.” It wasn’t as if she had any reason to complain. They’d already deposited half her fee into her checking account, and her agent had told her they were on the up and up. Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

“Here.” He held out one of her photography bags. “You can leave your purse here.”

He held the French door open for her again, and the old-fashioned gesture warmed her heart. She didn’t trust easily, and even though Luke had an intimidating look about him, her intuition told her he’d never hurt her. On the trip over she’d had a brief moment of panic at being stuck with a strange male in a strange house in a strange country, but it quickly vanished. She didn’t know why, but when he looked at her, she experienced a vague sense of security.

“Have you spent a lot of time here?” she asked as they walked through the garden, circling the house. Iron gates surrounded the majority of the property, but it was obviously for decoration, as it didn’t completely enclose the back.

“I spent a lot of my childhood here. Until I was thirteen. My parents and I would often vacation here a couple weeks out of the year.” His words were clipped and that surprised her. It was a simple question. Since the afternoon sun beat down on them, he’d put on sunglasses. She didn’t like it that she couldn’t see his eyes.

“Why’d you stop coming here?” She paused mid-stride and snapped a few pictures of the back of the house, capturing the sweeping lawn.

“Life got in the way. There’s one more place I want to show you, then I’ll let you do your job.”

They walked past oversized hedges and into a hidden rose garden. A gasp escaped before Hope could contain herself. She almost dropped her camera as she reached for Luke’s arm.

He stiffened beside her and said something but she couldn’t make out the jumble of his words.

The lush garden with its vibrant colors and sweeping pathways was a photographer’s dream, but that wasn’t what had shocked her. A vision had flashed in her mind so vivid she clutched his arm to keep her knees from buckling.
Two little girls in matching dresses threw a beach ball back and forth. People were laughing and drinking and other children were running around, but the two little girls weren’t paying any attention to anyone else. They were too caught up in their game.

She didn’t have memories of her childhood. Even her time in the foster system was scratchy until she turned about eight or nine. That first year was a blur of caseworkers and foster parents. Vague snatches occasionally popped into her mind. She often dreamed about a woman singing her to sleep, but the memories were fuzzy. Possibly not even real. Still, she could almost swear one of the little girls she’d just seen had been herself. Which was impossible, if not insane.

“Are you okay?” He took his sunglasses off and turned so that he held her by the shoulders. Tingles shot down her arm. She never allowed virtual strangers to touch her, but at the moment, she needed it.

For a moment she struggled to breathe, but his firm grip steadied her. “I’m fine.” Heat rushed to her cheeks, but there wasn’t anything she could do about it. This was the most money she’d made on one job and she didn’t want to screw it up.

“Are you sure you’re okay? Do you want me to get you some water?” His deep voice somehow grounded her.

“No, I think I just got a little overheated, that’s all.” She let out a self-deprecating laugh, hoping he believed her. On her dive trips, she spent days out in the sun. It was something she was used to. Maybe he wouldn’t realize that.    

His charcoal eyes studied her, as if he could read her thoughts until finally he released her. Her body mourned the loss of those strong, steadying hands on her bare skin. It was almost like he’d branded her with that simple touch. Feeling her face heat, she dipped her gaze to avoid his, and made the mistake of noticing his lips. An unexpected jolt of awareness shot through her, straight to all her nerve endings. She’d been aware that he was good looking—especially since she was a photographer—but knowing something and having her body realize it were two different things. She was just as appreciative of a fine male specimen as the next woman, but actually being aware of one man was rare. Very rare. Right now it was so easy to imagine what it would feel like to have those full lips pressed to hers. Her fingers balled into fists and she had to stop herself from reaching out and touching him. She cleared her throat and started to say something but Luke smiled tightly then stepped back.

“I’ll be in the house if you need me.”

Before she could think to ask where her room was, he’d disappeared through the hedges.