Deborah Brown - Madison Westin 06 - Revenge in Paradise (2 page)

Mother dabbed her eyes.

“Stop, you don’t fool me. What the hell happened?” I shook my head. “The truth, not the cleaned up legal version.”

“When Fab and I were on a recovery job, we discussed opening the back room for a friendly card game, to a select group of friends. Things didn’t go as planned.” She sighed.

I snapped around and glared at Fab. “You took Mother to boost a car? Were guns drawn?”

“It was an easy job for a change. Found the BMW at the girlfriend’s house, I got in and drove away.”

“There is no such thing as an easy recovery job. I’ll bet cash there’s more to your story.”

“I didn’t have anyone else,” she hissed. “You know I need a driver. All she had to do was follow me to Brick’s for the drop-off, what could go wrong?”

Brick Famosa owned a high-end car sales/rental lot, Famosa Motors. I thought he stopped renting to people without a credit and background check, especially when they paid with all cash. But apparently not; he kept Fab and I busy driving all over South Florida recovering cars that failed to be returned.

“You’re asking me that with a straight face when ninety percent of our jobs end up with threats of violence?”

“You exaggerate at ninety percent,” she huffed. “Have you ever tried to tell your mother her idea is a sucky one? She has voices in her head and only listens to them.”

“Since when do all these different agencies show up for an illegal card game?”

“Some jackass called in a bomb scare. They burst through the doors. I wanted to run but got down on my knees, like they told me.”

“Officer Ivy informed me that no evidence was found. I’m assuming she meant evidence about the card game. How did you make that disappear? Nice job, by the way.”

“I texted Madeline, she took care of it; swept everything off the table into garbage bags and sent the men out the secret back door.”

Fab must be mad––she called Mother by her first name.

Mother put her head on my shoulder and said, “I thought I had everything covered since I ran a couple of practice drills before we opened.”

Creole walked up behind us, scooping Mother off of her feet and into a bear hug. “Since when are you in the habit of ticking off drug-dealing pond scum?” he asked.

Kevin joined Ivy, and together they glared in our direction.

I cut in. “Mother, did you give a statement to anyone?” She shook her head in the negative.

“Don’t say one word until I get Cruz on the phone.” Cruz Campion was a hotshot lawyer I kept on speed-dial for just such occasions.

Creole and I exchanged looks.

“Bistro needed a get-out-of-trouble card for a violation of his parole conditions,” he said. “In retaliation, he concocted an elaborate story about guns, gambling, and bomb making.”

Fab groaned. “I picked up Bistro’s car. The BMW belonged to him.”

The jail bus rumbled into the driveway. I recognized it as the one they used for special occasions like drunk-driving checkpoints. I watched as my employees filed on board.

“Break up the love feast, ladies, time to get yourselves a seat,” Ivy yelled, advancing on us. She looked at me. “We’re going over the bar one more time and, unless anything new turns up, you can reopen tomorrow.”

“No more questions,” Creole advised Ivy. “Every one of them is lawyered up.”

“All of them?” she asked in astonishment.

I smiled at her. “If you ever need a criminal attorney, Cruz is the best in South Florida. He boasts the whole state.”

Kevin, who had stood quietly at Ivy’s side, spoke up. “It will be a while before they’re released and you’re not welcome to hang around.”

He grabbed Mother’s arm. “You might be my nephew’s grandmother one day. Why can’t you be a good example and bake cookies or something?”

“I don’t need to bake as long as there are bakeries.”

Fab rudely interrupted Jazz’s nap and threw herself onto the couch, the cat on her chest. “What took them so long to release us?”

My hundred-year-old cat was king of the house. When he meowed, you’d better jump or it got louder until a person’s ears couldn’t take it any longer.

Creole picked Mother and Fab up near dawn as they filed out of the sheriff’s station; they were the last to be released. “You’re lucky Brick posted all the bonds at no charge,” he said, his sinister smile unnerving me.

He continued. “The officers deliberately stood around doing nothing until shift change, foisting all of you on the next crew to process. That raised the irritation level.”

My patience having evaporated, I yelled at Mother and Fab. “What in the hell were you two thinking?”

I tugged on Creole’s shirt and motioned for him to sit on the large footstool in front of my chair. I stopped myself from wrapping my legs around his waist.

“You were going to open it anyway!” Mother paced around, finally smacking Fab’s leg and sitting down next to her. “What’s the harm in a practice run?”

“And you,” I said, glaring at Fab, “can manhandle bad guys all day long and you can’t control one old woman?”

“I’m not old!” Mother shrieked.

I knew that would get her attention.

“Next time,” Fab said, shaking her finger at Mother, “I’m calling Spoon.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

Clearly, Mother never thought that would be used as a threat.

“Try me. I hate jail and I’m not going back.” Fab twisted her waist-length brown hair off her neck and pulled it into a ponytail.

What Mother would soon find out was that her boyfriend, Jimmy Spoon, had a pipeline to news as it happened. So he already knew she’d been carted off to jail and he wouldn’t be happy. Mother thought she had him wrapped around her finger, but she’d see his surly side now that she’d gotten herself arrested.

“I planned to open the room legally and have an appointment to talk to the county licensing board. You two need to stay out of trouble until this fiasco can be salvaged.” I gave them a tight-lipped stare.

“How did your stake-out go?” Mother asked Creole, changing the subject to switch the focus off of her.

“Did you get your man?” I smiled, knowing she was referring to the time we were out of town together.

“They’re all in jail. On to my next target.” He looked over his shoulder at me, licking his lips.

“How was the wedding? Mary, wasn’t it?” Fab’s eyes flicked between me and Creole.

I turned and stuck out my tongue. “Marcy! And I had a great time.”

“Maybe next time I’ll go.” Fab smirked.

“That’s one way to make sure you stay out of jail.”

The front door flew open as hurricane Brad blew in, slamming it closed behind him. “What the hell, Madeline Westin?” he roared. His brown eyes were a carbon copy of Mother’s. Tall and brawny, his easygoing personality buried under his fury.

I barely noticed Julie, his girlfriend, who took cover behind his back. She peeked out and waved. Both looked as if they’d spent the day on the water, her sunburned cheeks a giveaway. He spent long hours on the ocean as a commercial fisherman, so it surprised me that he still enjoyed pleasure boating.

“Don’t look at me, I just got back home. I thought you weren’t due to dock your boat for a few days? Come in early to sneak around with your girlfriend? And not calling Mother. You know how she worries.” I made a sad face, trying not to laugh.

“My love life is off limits,” Brad said, and glared.

Julie reached for his hand, squeezing. He sat in the last remaining chair and pulled Julie onto his lap.

My living room was a large open space connecting to the kitchen, and to the patio and pool area through the French doors. I inherited the house along with a rental property from my aunt Elizabeth. I updated the house with fresh paint and throw rugs on the hardwood floors, and replaced most of the furniture with over-stuffed, slipcovered, comfortable pieces I brought with me when I moved to Florida. I kept her favorite chair that seated two and had it recovered in a tropical print.

“Oh good. Rules,” I said. “Then you can extend me the same courtesy.”

“Not likely.” He scowled at Mother. “Would you like to explain how you got arrested?”

“It’s just a misunderstanding and will soon be cleared up,” Mother said. “Who the heck is making breakfast?”

“The only reason you’re not sitting in jail and may skate on these charges is because Kevin forgot about the back door. He warned us that he won’t overlook it again.” Brad’s voice brimmed with frustration.

“What?” Fab fumed. “Kevin got hot on the phone like a tattle-tell?”

Julie cleared her throat, blue eyes full of fury, and glared at Fab. “My brother is an upstanding person, a respected sheriff who doesn’t break the law. You should try it sometime.”

Time to break this up
. I didn’t think Julie had it in her, but the young blonde looked ready to take on Fab.

I jumped up and said, “I promise Jake’s will not be used as a hotbed for illegal activities.”

The front door opened again and every woman’s fantasy, Didier, walked through, dropping his travel bags onto the floor. Fab’s model boyfriend had returned from a photo shoot in New York. His blue eyes scanned the room and, surprised to see everyone at such an early hour, a dark expression filled his face.

Fab flew across the room and flung herself in his arms. She whispered something French in his ear and he growled something back. He leaned down and kissed Mother’s cheek, also whispering in her ear, which made her smile.

Creole smirked; he spoke three languages and understood every word between them. During our time away, we shared all the good memories of our childhood with one another. He told me that his mother spoke Italian, his father French/Cajun.

“Glad you’re back, model boy,” Brad said. “Do you know what your girlfriend has been up to?”

“Enough,” Creole barked. “Fabiana has had a bad day. I’m sure she’ll tell you about it—” He inclined his head toward the stairs. He turned back to Brad. “Why don’t you take your mother to breakfast?”

Didier scooped Fab off her feet and carried her up the steps. Stopping half way, he turned and looked at me. “Welcome back, Cherie.” Seconds later, Fab’s bedroom door banged shut.

Everyone was tired and running on adrenaline. I tried to lighten the mood. “Look at the bright side, Brad. You didn’t have to wait months to hear about the latest family adventure.”

Brad complained incessantly about being the last to know about Mother’s and my misdeeds. We used the excuse that we didn’t want to upset him. When he confided that it made him feel foolish, I felt thoroughly chastised and resolved to share future information before he found out on his own.

“We’ll see you later,” Creole said as he stood. Pulling me up next to him, he draped his arm across my shoulders.

Mother arched her brows. “I thought you two were taking it slow.”

“I don’t see why you’re so resistant to keeping it in the family,” I said.

Creole looked at me, silently communicating:
That’s the only thing you could think to say?
“I have an announcement. I’d like you to meet my new official girlfriend.” He kissed my cheek. “I would hope that you’ll all be happy––and if you’re not, keep it to yourself.”

No one said a word as they waited for Mother’s reaction. She was afraid we’d date, then break-up, and Creole would divorce the family.

He pulled me toward the door, and I stopped briefly to kiss Mother and whisper, “Love you.”

* * *

Traffic was non-existent in the early morning hours so Creole rocketed down the Overseas, the Atlantic on one side of the highway, the Gulf on the other. The sun slowly made its appearance shining down on the water, making it sparkle—an open invitation to come for a swim. His hideaway was located in Hibiscus Key, not far from Tarpon Cove. The exit sign gave no clue that anything existed other than a loop around to the opposite side of the highway. A wall of trees hid several homes that dotted the waterfront along the exclusive strip of roadway.

“Your brother’s a bit of a drama queen,” Creole said as he veered off the highway.

“If the sheriff hadn’t been called out, Brad would’ve laughed it off,” I said, defending him. “He’s very protective since our father died; he takes his man-of-the-family role seriously. He would like it if Mother were more low-key. He just wants her to be safe. He’d marry her off in a second to a stable gentleman her own age if he could get away with it. I know he’s come to tolerate Spoon but, let’s face it, he’d like it if they broke up.”

Spoon was ten years younger than mother and came with a colorful past, which he turned around through his own hard work.

The street we turned onto wound around in a semi-circle. Creole stayed to the right and pulled into the last driveway at the end where he had an unassuming beach cottage that perched over the water. Painted all white, he’d recently built a tall wooden fence that wrapped around the perimeter, the gate opening into the courtyard. He liked the added security and had installed security cameras.

The surprise came when you walked through the front door and stepped into one big room with a solid wall of sliding pocket doors that opened to a patio and pool that overlooked the beach below. He portioned off the bedroom from the living area with two large bamboo screens, which looked good but would offer zero privacy if he had overnight guests. A large kitchen and mammoth bathroom were my favorite rooms in the house. He had done all the inside remodeling himself, all first-class finishes: travertine tiles, bamboo floors, and top-of-the-line appliances.

“It seems like we just left here.”

“It got way too crowded at your house.” He turned me toward the massive king-sized bed and said, “Take your clothes off.”

“That’s so romantic,” I said to his back as he disappeared into the bathroom. Next thing I heard was the water running.

“Stay right there until I come and get you,” he yelled.

I had already slipped off my flip-flops and left them by the door, always going barefoot after I got inside. I pulled off my short-sleeve T-shirt dress and tossed it over the chair, followed by lace boy shorts and matching chemise. He had about three seconds because I wasn’t standing in the middle of the room au naturel, trying not to look embarrassed.