Deborah Brown - Madison Westin 07 - Kidnapped in Paradise (40 page)

I stirred uncomfortably in my seat as Creole slid into a seat across from me. I couldn’t help myself and stole another glance; he caught my stare, his lips quirking up.

“Did you blow up Bonnet?” Fab asked Spoon.

Didier said something in her ear and she jerked away.

“Well, did you?” Fab demanded.

Spoon grinned at her.

“No, and you know why? I thought you and Madison might be on board.” He hugged Mother. “Hence the reason we thought you might be dead.”

“We thought you were in negotiations. Why no big rescue off the island? Did you figure we could fend for ourselves?” Fab continued to grill him.

“It wasn’t the first time you two broke your word and took off,” Creole reminded us, an angry edge to his voice.

“When was the last time we took off and left a man behind with an almost bullet hole in his chest, especially after he made us a yummy dinner?” I grouched.

“When Billy didn’t answer my call,” Spoon said, “I went to my boat and found him lying on the floor. You two were gone without a trace of a disturbance. Next day, I motored out to Bonnet Island.”

Mother smiled up at him, patting his arm.

Spoon continued, “Billy told us you were in trouble as they wheeled him away on a stretcher. Me and my posse took a trip out there and confronted Bonnet, threatening him with war. He looked me in the eye and swore he had nothing to do with your disappearance, told me to have a look around. We searched the house and property and found no sign you
’
d ever been there.”

“That
’
s why the redheaded Amazon escorted us to the dungeon room,” Fab said.

“So you met Lethal Lexie. Rumor has it she
’
s a contract killer. Made her services exclusive to Bonnet a year ago. She
’
s tougher than any of her ilk in male form that I ever met. Not an ounce of empathy, narcissistic to the extreme, her allegiance is to money. She is high-dollar talent.”

“They kept us in a horrid cement room on the downstairs level,” I said. “Didn’t seem like anyone was looking for us, and we were on our own.”

Mother leaned over and kissed my cheek. “I know my girls. I knew you two would be back.”

“What
’
s your side of the story?” Creole asked, eerily calm except for the look on his face.

I briefly glanced up at him. Although his tone sounded neutral, he didn’t expect the truth. Fab and I exchanged glances.

Fab gave an evil smile.

“We were chloroformed. Did you notice the scratch on Lexie
’
s face? That was a present from me.” She apparently paid attention when I relayed stories; she recounted the details like bullet points, headline style. She embellished some, but stuck mostly to the truth.

My favorite was about how, kicking and screaming, putting up the fight of our lives, our abductor had to smoosh that rag over our noses to get us off the boat. Not a word that we were caught off guard sleeping. She turned us into super girls, sneaking past our captors, out of the mansion, overpowering the boat steward so we could jet ski to Key West. Mistaken for hookers, we lucked out running into a wannabe john that turned out to be an old acquaintance, and he gave us a ride back to the Cove.

Mother hung on to her every word. When she looked at me, I flashed her a small smile and winked. Everyone accepted the story. Creole held back; due to his experience, he didn’t know what to believe.

Brad laughed.
“I wish this was a story I could brag on about my sister.”

“Fab deserves the credit,” I said. “She never gave up, always had a plan. I did my best not to whine and show fear, believing she
’
d get us home in one piece, and she did.”
I smiled at her.

“Don’t sell your contribution short.” Fab smiled back. “The fun part happened when we finally got back on the mainland. For a while, we switched personalities and I was the calm one.”

“Where
’
s Jax?” I asked.

“When we found Billy, I checked on him,” Spoon said. “Your mother insisted he relocate immediately. Thinking more about my boat repairs than his health, I wasn’t happy. But it worked out better than I could have hoped. Jax got me an introduction to a friend of his. He
’
s towing my boat to his shop and finishing the repairs.”

“Got Jax a fishing gig out of Clearwater. When he
’
s done, he has the option of signing on again or using the airline ticket I got him to go anywhere he wants,” Spoon said.

“When he finds out about Bonnet, he
’
ll probably head back home,” Mother said. “We had a long talk before he left. He misses his family.”

Brad
’
s phone rang. He looked at the screen and laughed. After a minute, he responded, “Congratulations old man.”

“
Yeah, good luck,
”
he hung up.

“Congratulations,” he looked at me. “You
’
re a step-mother to six.”

Confusion written on my face, it took me a minute. “Harlot? Six kittens?”

“All different colors. You know what that means?” Brad raised his eyebrows.

“Yeah, she was banging every tom in the neighborhood,” I said in disgust.

“
Madison,
” Mother hissed. “Banging,” she mouthed.

Fab and I laughed. Didier shook his finger.

“I know other, more colorful words,” I said sweetly.

Mother held up her nearly empty margarita glass. “To family,” she toasted.

Mother, Fab, and I sat at the island polishing off our drinks while the guys did dish duty.

Everyone drifted into the living room for more comfortable seating. I wanted to sneak off to my bedroom and avoid Creole. I just survived near death, I reminded myself. How bad could the brooding detective be?

I just didn’t want to hear the words “we
’re over.
”

Creole lounged against one of the French doors, watching my every move like a hawk. I could feel his stare, finally getting up the courage to meet his eyes. I wanted to run to him, less chance of changing my mind.  Scooting around my Mother and Brad talking, I inched my way to his side.

“Who invited you?” I asked, staring up at him.

“
I
don’t need an invitation.” He filled the small space between us, standing in front of me.

“You
’
re welcome here anytime.” I wanted to lay my head on his chest and ask if we could turn back time to pre-dead bodies and skip everything in between.

“Are you still mad?” I asked softly.

“Yes!”

“I could apologize, and then I
’
d gracefully accept yours for hiding us in that dreadful place.” I hoped for a quick laugh, which I didn’t
get.

“Hypotheticals aren’t helpful in this situation. Would you mean it?”

“Most of it.”

“Hmm….”

“I have a second idea. We could drop our hard feelings and go straight to make-up sex. We haven’t done it very often, but when we have, it
’
s been spectacular.”

His fingers wrapped around my arm, and he dragged me out to the patio. Suddenly he bent down and scooped me up and over his shoulder.

“The best thing I can do is to keep you where I can find you, a good way to make certain you never get away from me again.”

* * *

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Deborah Brown is the author of the Paradise series. She lives in South Florida, with her ungrateful animals, where Mother Nature takes out her bad attitude in the form of hurricanes.

Visit her website at
http://deborahbrownbooks.blogspot.com

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