Lancelot's Lady (30 page)

"
He works for my father.
"

Mrs. Atkinson wiped her hands on her apron.
"
Oh, dear. What does your dad want with Rhianna?
"

"
It
'
s a long story and I
'
ll explain it all when I have time, but right now I have to pack. Misty and I are going to Miami. To see my father.
"

"
And Rhianna?
"
Mrs. Atkinson asked.

"
Yeah, her too.
"

"
What do you need, son,
"
Marvin asked.

"
I just need you to look after the place while we
'
re gone. I
'
m not sure how long I
'
ll be in Miami.
"

"
Done.
"

Jonathan took a deep breath.
"
JT is dying.
"

It was odd calling his father by name, but that
'
s how Jonathan had grown to know him. As JT Lance. Business mogul and multi-millionaire asshole.

Mrs. Atkinson took his hand.
"
Don
'
t worry, dear. We
'
ll take care of everything here. You run along and see your dad. It sounds like he needs you.
"

"
How is Ms. McLeod connected to your father?
"
Marvin asked.

"
She
'
s JT
'
s nurse.
"

Marvin let out a whistle.
"
I never saw that one coming.
"

"
Me neither,
"
Jonathan said dryly.

"
She
'
s a beautiful girl with a great heart,
"
Mrs. Atkinson said.
"
And she must have her hands full with your dad. I remember you saying he could be very difficult.
"

"
That
'
s an understatement.
"
Jonathan headed for the door.
"
I
'
m leaving as soon as Roland gets back with the boat.
"

Marvin stepped outside with him.

"
Thanks, Marvin.
"

"
No problem. Just make sure you bring that girl back with you.
"

Jonathan shook his head.
"
It
'
s not that easy.
"

"
Son, if you love someone, you make it that easy. Anything worth having is worth fighting for. Remember that.
"

Marvin
'
s words rang in the back of his mind the entire time Jonathan packed. The older man was right. It was time to fight.

With a sigh, he took his suitcase downstairs and propped it against the wall by the door. He
'
d pack Misty
'
s bag later.

There was an eerie silence in the house. Misty was napping, Mrs. Atkinson was with her husband and he was…alone. Had the house always been this quiet before Rhianna had arrived?

He wandered into the den and stared at the bookcase where he
'
d hidden the photo of his father
'
s mistress. There wasn
'
t any other possible explanation for the old man
'
s obsession with the mysterious Susanna.

Or was there?

Jonathan slumped into the chair and leaned back, folding his arms across his chest.
"
She
'
s gone,
"
he said to the empty room.
"
And all you have to do is get on a plane and head home to see her again.
"

But there was so much bad blood between him and his father. Could their relationship be mended? Rhianna certainly thought so.

Maybe he
'
s changed,
Jonathan thought.
Maybe he
'
s not the same hardened man I knew.

He glanced at a photo of Misty. She
'
d never met her grandfather.
I
'
m being unfair to her.

He let out a hiss of air.
"
Shit. I have to go home. And I have to bring Misty with me.
"

When Roland arrived, Jonathan would have everything packed and ready to go. Misty would think it was a vacation. The Atkinsons could look after things at Lancelot
'
s Landing while he was gone. It was all set, everything taken care of. So then why did he feel so antsy, so impatient to get going?

Two words.

Charles Duke.

The man hadn
'
t said anything to warrant suspicion, but the way he
'
d looked at Rhianna had made Jonathan uneasy. Duke seemed too smooth, like an underhanded car salesman. The man had flown here from Miami at the request of his client. Then he somehow got Roland to rent him the boat and give directions, even though Roland knew very well that Jonathan valued his privacy.

"
Now why would Roland do that?
"

Chapter 30

Rhianna had only been gone ten minutes and Jonathan was restless. He couldn
'
t ignore the apprehension in the pit of his stomach. It knocked the wind from him, making it hard to breathe.

What was he so afraid of?

Unable to relax, he decided that action was the solution. He
'
d lug his suitcase out to the
dock. Once Roland returned, he
'
d come back for Misty and her bag.

As he pushed through the bushes, he thought about the situation. His father was dying―Misty
'
s grandfather.

Rhianna
'
s employer.

Where would she go after JT died?

The thought of Rhianna simply
disappearing from his life bothered him. He gritted his teeth as he walked.
"
Get over her! It never would
'
ve lasted anyway.
"

Not with his father in the picture.

Jonathan wondered for the hundredth time why JT had brought Rhianna to Lance Manor to care for him and then sent her to Angelina
'
s Isle. The only reason that made any sense was that JT wanted Rhianna to bring Jonathan back.

"
And that
'
s exactly what he
'
s getting,
"
he muttered.

The old man had won. This time.

And if JT
'
s plotting wasn
'
t enough to deal with, now there was another person in the picture to worry about. Charles Duke. Somehow the man had gotten Roland to lend him the boat.

Unless he stole it.

Maybe JT had offered the lawyer too great of a cash incentive for a little thing like transportation to stand in Duke
'
s way. There was only one saving grace. If the man
had
stolen the boat, Roland wouldn
'
t be far behind. Everyone at the marina knew who captained Misty
'
s Dream.

Jonathan stepped from the trees and jogged down the beach, suitcase in hand. When he reached the dock, it was empty. No Duke or Rhianna, and no boat.

He shaded his eyes with a hand and squinted out into the water. Misty
'
s Dream was just disappearing around the western spit.

Disappointment surged through him.

He glanced at his watch. He had about two hours to wait until Roland returned. If Duke didn
'
t give him the message, Jonathan was sure Rhianna would.

Walking to the end of the dock, he stared out over the crystalline water. It was calm, glassy. He breathed in the light, fragrant air and tasted salt in the breeze.

God, he loved this place. Angelina
'
s Isle inspired him like nowhere else on earth. It had helped heal his broken heart after Sirena had left. He supposed it would do the same for the pain he felt now over losing Rhianna.

Distracted, he set down the suitcase. It toppled over and teetered on the edge of the dock. He lunged for it before it ended up in the water.

Stabilizing the suitcase, he paused as a dark substance on a wooden plank caught his eye. He pushed the suitcase aside. A smear of deep red went with it. Crouching down, he examined the substance. Whatever it was, it had seeped into the wood. Had he spilled paint here? No, not possible. He hadn
'
t been to the dock in weeks. Besides, any spilled paint would have dried by now.

Hesitantly, he touched the wet stain. It was sticky, probably from the hot sun.
"
What the hell
―?
"
He stared at the crimson on his finger, unable to deny what it was.

Blood.

Surveying the plank, he determined there was enough blood to warrant trepidation, but his thoughts were interrupted by a rustling sound behind him.

Jonathan whipped around.

A fe
w yards down the beach, the foliage was moving. Not from a breeze either. Something was alive in the bushes.

He heard a groan. He knew damned well it wasn
'
t the Atkinsons or Misty. So much for a private island.

Who the hell else is on my island?

"
Whoever you are,
"
he yelled,
"
come on out!
"

Another groan sounded.

He glanced around the beach. He had no weapon, nothing to use to defend himself. Jumping from the dock to the sand, he moved toward the quivering bushes.

"
Don
'
t make me come in there after you.
"

He took careful steps, constantly eyeing the ground for a weapon. There! A broken branch, compliments of the storm. The end was sharp and thick.

He waved it in front.
"
I said get out here,
"
he demanded.
"
Now!
"

As Jonathan approached the tree line, he jabbed the makeshift sword into the foliage and moved closer to where there had been movement only seconds earlier.

"
This is your last warn―
"

A man stumbled from the bushes. Roland!

The young man hit the sand face-first, spurring Jonathan into action. He quickly turned the young man onto his back. Roland
'
s eyes were closed, his breathing shallow and there was a bloody ga
sh on the side of his head.

"
Jesus, Roland! What the hell happened?
"

There was a moan and fluttering of dark eyes.
"
Tyler?
"

"
Yeah, buddy. I
'
m right here. What happened?
"

"
Duke…
"

Jonathan
'
s heart pounded.
"
Did he do this to you?
"

Roland nodded weakly. Then he said something Jonathan couldn
'
t hear.

"
What was that? Say that again, Roland.
"

"
I said…he
'
s got…a gun.
"

"
What would a lawyer need with a gun?
"

"
Don
'
t think he
'
s a…lawyer,
"
Roland said.

"
Me neither. Can you walk?
"

"
I think so.
"

Jonathan helped Roland to his feet.
"
I
'
ll take you back to the house. Marvin will look after your wound.
"

"
Thank you.
"

"
Don
'
t mention it.
"

They made their way through the woods.

"
How
'
s the head?
"
Jonathan asked.

"
Nothing that a few shots of whiskey wouldn
'
t cure,
"
Roland replied.
"
Did you get the supplies?
"

"
What supplies?
"

"
They
'
re on the beach.
"

Jonathan muttered a curse. He
'
d never even noticed the boxes.

"
The radio
―
"
Roland staggered but Jonathan caught him.

"
Did you bring the parts, Roland? Is that what
'
s in the boxes?
"

Roland
'
s mouth stretched into a smile.
"
No parts.
"

"
Then what in God
'
s name are you grinning about? How the hell am I going to get off this blasted
island?
"

Roland
'
s smile deepened.
"
With the
new
radio I brought you.
"

Jonathan grinned.
"
You
'
re a freaking genius!
"

The house came into view, and within minutes, Jonathan had Roland resting on the couch.

"
It
'
s just a flesh wound,
"
Marvin assured him.
"
Might need a couple of stitches, but that
'
s about it.
"

"
There
'
s always a lot of blood with a head wound,
"
Mrs. Atkinson added.

"
Roland brought a new radio,
"
Jonathan told them.
"
It
'
s on the beach.
"

"
Then what are you waiting for?
"
Marvin asked.
"
Get going after our girl.
"

Our girl.

Jonathan had to smile. Yes, Rhianna had become their girl.

He should
'
ve realized that sooner.

Jonathan headed back to the beach at breakneck speed. When he emerged from the trees and stepped onto the sand, he scoured the tree line until he found the cardboard boxes. He ripped open the first box and rummaged through it. Painting supplies. No radio. It wasn
'
t until he opened the third box that he found it.

"
Roland, my friend, you deserve a raise.
"

In the bottom of the box were two batteries.

"
Mainland Coast Guard, this is Angelina
'
s Isle. I have a 911 emergency.
"

"
Angelina
'
s Isle, what
'
s your emergency?
"
a male voice asked.

"
This is Jonathan Tyler…Lance. My boat
'
s been stolen and the person who took it assaulted Roland Saunders, my captain.
"

"
Does he need medical assistance?
"

"
He has a head wound, but he seems okay.
"

"
Any sign of concussion?
"

"
No.
"

"
Do you know who took your boat, Mr. Lance?
"

Jonathan took a deep breath to steady his nerves.
"
The man
'
s name is Charles Duke. He said he was a lawyer from Miami.
"
He gave a brief description and waited for the Coast Guard operator to verify the location of Misty
'
s Dream.

Minutes later, the man said,
"
Misty
'
s Dream has been sighted about halfway to the mainland, Mr. Lance.
"

"
So you
'
ll get to it before this Duke guy reaches land.
"

"
Unfortunately, we have a bit of a problem.
"

Jonathan
'
s heart sank.
"
What kind of problem?
"

"
All our watercrafts were sent out to a fire on a container ship. The nearest Coast Guard craft is at least an hour away from your boat
'
s position. They
'
ll never get there in time. The helicopter
'
s out there too, along with the police boats.
"

"
Shit.
"

"
Do you have another boat?
"

"
No. But you could try Denny Dorchester down at the Bayshore Marina. If he
'
s there, he
'
ll come get us.
"