Madison Westin 02-Deception in Paradise (5 page)

“What about want?” I tried to sound sexy, not whiny about how little time we had together.

“I’m a terrible boyfriend. Every waking moment, I concentrate on business. I don’t have a lot of time left to be romancing my girl.”

“Is the bandage on your leg work-related?”

“One of my clients had a break-in the other night, and Slice and I chased the thief onto the roof. We had him cornered, and I fell over a pipe and took a tumble across the gravel.”

“Did he get away?”

“Nobody gets past Slice.” He laughed.

Slice was a two-hundred-fifty-pound solid wall of muscle. The scar that ran from his forehead to his collarbone made him look even more menacing. I had watched him pick up Zach’s brother Dario with one hand and practically shake his teeth out of his head.

“Isn’t the owner of a security company supposed to take the easy jobs?” I asked. “Not be jumping rooftops in the dark.”

“I like the action. Otherwise, my days would consist of ass-kissing the clients.”

“At least the guy didn’t shoot you.”

“That hasn’t happened in a while.”

“You need to be careful. I have a handful of your IOUs,” I reminded him. “It’s impossible to collect if you’re dead.”

“The felons and newly paroled stop asking you out?” he laughed.

“Everyone in town thinks you’re my boyfriend, which benefits me.”

“Make sure your
ex
-husband knows that. You’re good for me. When we’re together, I forget what an S.O.B I am.”

“We don’t have to define our relationship tonight. I’m fine with I save your life, you save mine, and we have sex.” I liked what we had, although I wanted more time. “We’ll see where it takes us.”

“How modern of you.” He wrapped his fingers in my red curls and played with my hair.

“Not so much. When I’m done with you, I may shoot you. I’ve never been good at sharing. What’s mine is mine, even if I don’t want it anymore.” I rubbed against him.

“It’s just that little bit of crazy that turns me on.” He pulled me on top of him and kissed me hard.

* * *

I opened my eyes, and Zach lay stretched out, his dark blue eyes staring into mine.

“Did you get any sleep?” I asked.

“I didn’t come here to sleep.” He kissed me. “Dickhead has been up for a while, roaming around. You need to lock up anything valuable. Let’s shower, and then I’ll go out the back, you out the front, and we’ll meet for breakfast.”

“Sounds good.” That was the way I liked to start a day.

He picked me up and carried me into the shower. “I ran into Cruz yesterday. He told me some bullshit story about you, Fab, and that weirdo Vanderbilt from the funeral home.”

“What about client confidentiality?” I glared at him.

“I tried to get the details, and he laughed in my face. You need to stop hanging with Fab, or I’m going to call your mother and convince her Fab isn’t a good influence.”

I gathered up my hair and put in a clip. “What are you, my father?”

“She’s going to get you in trouble with one of her so-called jobs.” He pulled me to him, soaping my back. “You’re too nice to tell her, ‘No’.”

“The same way I’ve been too nice to tell you, ‘No’?” Now it was my turn to wash his back.

“Just be careful. You know I like Fab, but she’s wild card crazy.”

I stepped out of the shower and tossed him a towel. “So noted. I do have a backup plan. If I get in over my head, I’ll call you.”

He groaned. “I wish I believed that.” He tossed his towel on the floor. “I think you’d call Spoon first. Is he still eyeing your mother like a cat does cream?”

“Stop. She says it’s all about the cigars. He has a connection to those pencil-thin Cubans she likes.”

“I saw Spoon the other day, and he had a stupid smile on his face,” he called from the bedroom. “My money says they’re banging boots.”

I went into the bedroom to rummage through my closet. “That’s my mother you’re talking about. She doesn’t bang boots. Why aren’t you warning her about Spoon?”

“Are you kidding?” He arched his eyebrows. “She scares me. Sic your brother on that situation.”

“Brad still hasn’t gotten over the fact that when he got back from salmon fishing, you and our mother were best buds.” Brad would like Zach better if Zach weren’t sleeping with his sister, but he was coming around.

“You distract dumb dick, and he won’t hear me going down the back stairs. Meet you in ten at the café.” Zach kissed me.

CHAPTER 7

I pulled into the only parking space in front of the Bakery Café, a restaurant that had quickly become a favorite of mine. You could choose to sit inside or at one of the tables along the sidewalk. In addition to the soups, salads, and sandwiches, it had a dessert bar that I never passed by without a purchase. I always sat outside; it was my favorite place to people watch.

A caramel latte waited for me on the table, a great way to start the day. I slid into a chair next to Zach. I leaned over to give him a kiss. “My favorite,” I told him, running my finger through the whipped cream and licking it off.

“Did Dickhead have anything to say?”

“We really didn’t talk. I fed Jazz and left.” I didn’t tell him Jax had wanted to spend the day with me.

“What are you going to do about him?” He wiped the corner of my mouth with his finger.

“I need a lawyer referral. I’ll call Whit and see if he has time to see me.” Ernest Whitman III was my CPA and one of my Aunt Elizabeth’s best friends. “Knowing him, he’ll want to meet and get details.”

“I know you like him, but give me a day or two. I can get you a name of someone. Besides, he talks too much,” Zach said.

“The last thing I want to do is hire a lawyer, but I need to know my legal rights.”

The server put omelettes and fresh fruit in front of us. The food looked good, but I would’ve ordered a cinnamon roll.

“What’s on your agenda?” Zach asked.

“I need to swing by The Cottages and chat with Joseph.”

Zach shook his head. “What’s he done now?”

“He’s the master of chaos, and I’m exhausted from it all,” I sighed.

“I’ll send a couple of boys over, and they’ll move him out.”

“I want to work it out with him, if I can.” Elizabeth had inherited him as a tenant when she bought the place. “What about you?”

“I have a proposal sitting on my desk, waiting for finishing comments before my meeting this afternoon. A potential new client; it would be large account. Business is good right now and, getting better.”

I smiled at him. “Congrats. Lots of new clients lately.”

“FYI, Anoui’s going to run a check on one Jackson Devereaux. I’m sure you’d like to know what he’s really been up to. I know I would.”

“Would you ask her to run a check on a Luc Baptiste? I’m trying to track him down. I have an envelope Elizabeth left for him. It’s odd that no one knows him.”

We stood up. “I’ll call you later.” He pulled me to him, kissing me hard on the lips. “I like sneaking around,” he whispered. He walked me to my SUV and kissed me again before he turned and went to his black Escalade.

“See you later.” I waved.

* * *

I took the shortcut down Old Beach Road, and then cut through the alley to Gulf Boulevard, which ran along the Gulf of Mexico. I drove with the windows down, so I could smell the beach air and listen to the waves crash against the sugar-white sand. I loved going that way, even though it was busy with more lights, cars, and pedestrian traffic. I called Whit’s office and left a message with his assistant Helena.

I turned the corner to The Cottages. The “No Vacancy” sign glowed bright. The locals had been skeptical it would be nothing more than an over-decorated flophouse, but the renovations had paid off. The outside had also been given a lift with a fresh coat of paint, each unit painted a different color. In addition to the landscaping, I had updated the pool area, turning it into a tropical oasis overlooking the beach once I removed the ugly cedar fence. In the barbeque area, I put in a grill that actually worked and a large concrete table with chairs and benches. With creative advertising, we had a waiting list.

Mac sat outside, talking on her cell. She never missed a chance to catch some sun, and she had on the biggest red and pink bedazzled sunglasses I’d ever seen. Instead of her green slippers, she had on orange flip-flops with matching flowers that almost covered the tops of her feet.

“Hi, Mac.”

She finished her call and closed her phone. “Hey, girl. What brings you here? It doesn’t start shaking until the afternoon.”

“New hair style? You’ve got yourself a big bouffant.” She looked like Dolly Parton. The girls looked in pain, stuffed inside a top a couple of sizes too small.

“You know your hair needs to be as big, if not bigger, than your can,” she said straight-faced. “That’s just a general rule of thumb. Big up here, big down there.” She pointed to her butt.

“I didn’t know that.” I had learned a lot of interesting things since hiring her. She had the requisite amount of crazy to fit in, plus a generous heart, and she made me laugh.

“I’m here to see Joseph. Is he around?”

“You’ve got that look in your eye, girl. He’s in trouble, isn’t he?”

“Joseph and I need to get a few things straight between us.” I made it a rule not to gossip about my tenants.

“He’s been acting weirder than usual.” Mac glanced at his door. “I think he’s hiding out. I heard at Custer’s he’s in for an ass kickin’!”

“Custer’s? You drink at that rat hole?” The one time I had gone there, they had prominently displayed their C-rating sign from the health department that someone had changed to an F.

“Hell, the beer’s cheap, and if I have to pee, I go outside.”

“That surprises me about Joseph.” He loved to start fights between people, then sit back and watch the fireworks. His own participation was not part of his game. “Anything else going on?”

“I made up a survey for our guests. I tell them if they fill it out, I put their name in a bowl, and they could win a prize. They always ask what the prize is, and I make up something different every time.”

“The survey’s a great idea. How often do you have your non-existent drawing?”

“Once a month,” she said with pride.

“We should think of a real prize to be awarded. Restaurant certificate, something extra for return guests. We’ll discuss it at our next business meeting.”

Her eyebrows went up. “When are we going to start having those?”

I could see she liked my idea. “When we stop our impromptu meetings in the driveway. Then, we’d have more to talk about.”

Her smile went away. “I’m not giving up the driveway chats for a meeting where we’re stuffed in the office.”

“What if I said the meeting would be out by the pool, feet in the water mandatory?”

She nodded. “Now that I like.”

I stood up. “I just saw Joseph open his blinds and then close them again. I need to hurry before he sneaks off.” I ran over to his door and beat on it with my best cop knock.

“Cut that crap out,” he yelled when he opened the door. “You know I hate it when you knock like that. I knew it was you, and it scared me anyway.”

“Expecting the cops?” I walked past him and inspected the chair before I sat down. The last time I was there, I sat in something wet, and it made me want to throw my skirt in the garbage. He’d made attempts at cleaning, but he didn’t correlate that if you cleaned more, the cockroaches wouldn’t fight to get in. He made the exterminator happy.

“No,” he grumbled. “Want a beer?”

“It’s not even noon.”

“I guess that’s a ‘no’.” He walked to the refrigerator, his stoop more pronounced, and pulled out a can of beer. “What’s up?” He sat down, kicking up his feet. He had several days of facial hair growth and looked as if he’d been rolling on the ground. It made me wonder if he’d just gotten out of jail again.

“I like you, Joseph.”

“But what?” He gripped his beer.

“I’m over the driving drunk thing. I was in the intersection when you crashed. I watched you get out and stumble off.”

He refused to make eye contact. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t lie to my face. You’re not going to live here, drive drunk, use this place as a stolen car lot, and bring the police and other problems. The place looks great now. We’re getting advance reservations, and you’re not going to interfere in any way.”

“You’re overreacting.”

“And I look the other way on your use of herbal relief.”

“That is prescribed to me for pain.”

I didn’t have to be a Mensa member to see he was sick. “I don’t care if you drink. But don’t freakin’ drive. It’s not your right.” I took a breath and calmed down. “I didn’t call the police on you last week because no one was hurt. If anyone found out, they’d haul me in, and I’d be charged with a crime. That was my one and only freebie. Get your act together now, or I’ll have your stuff moved out.”

“That’s illegal.”

“I dare you to call the cops.” I stared him down.

“I like living here. Elizabeth told me I’d always have a place to live.”

“Stop whining. I’m immune to the Elizabeth card. It’s not like I’m asking you to give up drinking and smoking cigarettes and pot. Stop committing felonies. You need to remember, just because I don’t actually see it happen only means that five minutes later my phone will ring with the news.”

“Okay, okay, no more driving.”

“Why is one ankle more swollen than the other? I thought you were getting better with the new medication.” He looked as if he was beating down Death’s door. I was used to his skin always being different colors and none of them attractive. His face was an ash-gray at the moment, and that couldn’t be good.

“The medications helped a lot.” He lifted his pant leg. “Do you like my new jewelry?”

“When were you fitted with an ankle monitor?”

“A couple of days ago. My probation officer showed up, just like you did, tired of my bullshit.”

“More like tired of you jerking him around, reminding him of your veteran connection.”

“That damn accident. The only reason I’m not in jail is because he couldn’t prove I was behind the wheel. Thank heaven, the camera at the intersection has never worked.” He sucked down half his beer; his hand shook. “They ran the plates. The car was registered to Billy Kyle. He told the cops I stole it. He knew I ran out of my meds and used his car to score an ounce. He got scared, didn’t want to them to think he crashed the car. He’s a felon, too, and it’s my word against his. I think the cops believed Billy, but they can’t prove a case against me.”