Deborah Brown - Madison Westin 06 - Revenge in Paradise (13 page)

I changed tactic and said sweetly, a hard glint in my eye, “Go, have a good time. When Mother or anyone asks where you are I’ll tell them you don’t really like any of them and that you’re out banging your boyfriend on the beach.”

Didier’s eyebrows shot to his hairline, clearly not amused. “Banging is a vulgar term,” he said, and glared at me.

“The author of a book I just finished used ‘swive,’ but then I’d have to explain the meaning to most people. Banging needs no explanation.”

Didier turned to Fab, rattling something off in French.

I beat my fist on the counter. “Stop with the French. Now that’s rude.”

Fab stuck her nose up at me and answered him back.

Didier smiled at me. “Of course we’ll be here.”

He winced and I knew Fab had kicked him.

“Don’t worry about bringing anything,” I said to Fab. “I went to the Farmer’s Market and got all these amazing vegetables for a salad. You can help me cut them up, since I know how adept you are in the kitchen.”

Didier moved away from Fab and laughed. “I’ll help,” he said. She had on her new black bikini and sexy low-slung black and white skirt cover-up. Didier had on black trunks and a T-shirt that made you want to stare at his chest. I wanted to comment about their matching outfits, but it would suck to have both of them mad at me.

“You two act like I don’t know how to put lettuce in a bowl,” Fab fumed.

She looked hot, even in the middle of a temper tantrum.

Creole stuck his face against the garden window, waving. The door being locked didn’t deter him; it opened less than a minute later. He tossed his bag onto the floor and closed the space between us, sweeping me in for a kiss. He took care to make sure his college football jersey didn’t ride up my butt cheeks.

“Just the man I need a favor from,” I said as I ran my fingers across his lips.

“Favor? What’s in it for me?” He put his arm around me and walked me back to the kitchen island where he pulled me onto his lap.

I leaned in and whispered in his ear.

He laughed. “Done.”

“I’ll do
you
a favor,” Didier said, and leered at Fab.

“Are you here to thank me for saving her life again?” Fab asked Creole.

I picked up a handful of vegetables and threw them at her.

“What was his name? Oh yeah, Ford. Brother to the pervy Dead Ed. Tried to choke her to death. See the bruise on the side of her face?”

“Fabiana,” Didier chastised, and shook his finger at her.

“What the hell?” Creole turned me around to face him, gently running his fingers down my neck. “Why didn’t you call?”

It made me happy to see Didier frown at Fab.

“I’m fine. Ford, Edsel’s brother, let go when Fab kicked him in the nuts.” I laid my cheek on his, and continued. “That’s my favor. Seems Ford’s a drug addict. I’d like to question him about his newly-deceased brother. Ford doesn’t seem to think Jami killed him and I’d like to know who any other suspects might be. I can’t go for a jail visit because I’m part of the pending case.”

“I checked on your gardener and things don’t look good for her,” Creole told me. “I’m more than happy to have a chat with this Ford character.”

“I don’t want you to end up in jail,” I said.

“Do you own a suit and appropriate accessories––you know shoes, tie…?” Fab asked Creole.

Didier’s hand slid around to her backside and she twitched.

Creole narrowed his eyes. “Why?”

“Hold on a second,” I cut in. “You’re a troublemaker today. I said we’d do a couple’s dinner. I explicitly said no to suits, stilettos, and those snotty restaurants the two of you favor. I agreed to a restaurant in the Keys, dress-up tropical style, no dive bar.”

“Double date?” Creole half-laughed. “We get the back seat.”

“You might want to rethink that if Fab is driving.” I crossed myself and smiled at her.

“You need to talk to your girlfriend about speed limit signs and what they mean,” Creole said to Didier. “Red lights, too, while you’re at it.”

“I do all the driving and Didier’s never complained once.” Fab gave Creole a withering look.

Didier drew her to his side, kissing her cheek.

“Come on.” I grabbed Creole’s hand. “I’ll wash your back.” Out of earshot of the kitchen, I whispered, “And that finely-sculpted butt of yours.”

“What will I be doing?”

“Your hands will be over your head, against the shower wall, not interfering while I make sure every inch of you gets clean.”

* * *

I rolled quietly out of bed, not wanting to wake Creole. I picked his clothes up off the floor in case Mother came into my bedroom. They needed to be washed, but I’d ask first. In his line of work, as an undercover drug agent for the Miami Police Department, clean clothes were probably frowned upon. A little quiet time by the pool before everyone arrived would be good. My favorite royal blue tankini hung on the doorknob and a flowered wrap skirt lay on the chair. I slid into them and, on the way out, grabbed my latest read.

Before I got all the way down the stairs, Mother came through the front door, her arms full of bags. Spoon was right behind her with his arms full as well.

“Nice purse.” I winked at him. “Matches your outfit.”

His laughter boomed throughout the kitchen. “Come give Daddy a hug.” He held out his arms.

“Run that line by Brad,” I joked. My brother liked Spoon, but their relationship would improve if he dated someone else’s mother.

We both laughed. The smile softened the hard lines in his face.

I liked Spoon. I’d met him first and was the one to introduce him to Mother––but I drew the line at “Daddy,” and Brad would flip. I’d love to be a fly in a far-off corner if Spoon tried it with him.

Liam raced into the kitchen, two trademark boxes in hand from The Bakery Café. A person had to love sweets to get into this family.

He hugged me. “You okay?” he whispered.

I nodded. “Want to help me get out pool toys?” We slipped out the French doors to the patio. “Why are you whispering?”

“Mom’s not very happy about that creepy guy showing up. Kevin wants us to move. Says it’s a cesspool. Said you should evict everyone and run it as vacation rentals.”

I hugged him. “I don’t want you to move. Don’t worry, I won’t embarrass you and cry. You’re welcome here in my house anytime––you need anything, call. You know where I hide the key.”

“I want to remind you next weekend is my first cross-country meet.”

“Fab and I will both be there and we’ll make a big scene when you run by. When people ask who the crazy women are, pretend you don’t know us.”

Liam laughed.

Mother met us at the door. “Where’s Creole?”

“He’s right behind you,” he spoke up, wrapping his arms around her.

Creole had a special relationship with Mother and visited her at least once a week at her house in Coral Gables. I knew they never discussed his relationship with her daughter, because she was so worried that we’d breakup and he’d pull away from the family. Fab convinced me that if we didn’t work out we could both take the high road and act like adults.

The doorbell rang and Brad went to answer. Hardly anyone rings the doorbell; if the door is locked, they go around the back.

I heard Brad’s irritated voice but not his words.

“Now what?” I asked. Good thing I wasn’t expecting an answer, no one was listening to me, all eyes focused on the front entry.

Kevin Cory barged in and looked straight at me. “Madison Westin, you’re under arrest.”

“What’s the charge?” I felt Fab’s hand on my back.

“Aiding and abetting an escaped felon. Hands in the air.” He twirled his cuffs on his index finger.

“You can’t do that.” Liam rushed forward. “She’s not a criminal.”

“Tell Cruz to call back pronto,” Fab growled from behind my back. It made me half-smile. Fab called the lawyer for me, and I knew how much she hated those calls.

This had to be some kind of joke, but I could see Kevin was totally serious. “Do you have a particular felon in mind?”

“Benjamin Hall. You deny picking him up at Homestead jail and helping him to escape?”

“I picked up Joseph and his friend, both having just been released and needing a ride.”

“That’s not what Homestead cops think. I’m here to take you into custody in response to their request. You’ll be held until they send someone down to pick you up.”

Creole ran in from the pool. “That’s enough. Do not answer any more questions without a lawyer.”

Fab’s phone rang. “Sheriff’s here to arrest her on a warrant.” She held out her phone to Kevin and said, “Cruz would like to talk to you.”

“If he wants to talk to his client, he can do it at the station.” Kevin glared. “As for you,” he said to me, “tell it to a judge.”

“Can I change my clothes?” I looked down at my bathing suit.

“You’ll get clothes to wear at the station.”

“I’ll make some phone calls.” Creole hugged me and whispered, “You won’t be in custody long, I promise.”

“Stand back or you’ll be the next one arrested.” Kevin’s face filled with pure disgust, and then he looked at Julie and said, “He’s a drug dealer,”—he pointed at Creole—“and you bring your son here. It’s bad enough that you live at The Cottages.”

It surprised me that Kevin didn’t know Creole worked undercover.

“Do you have to cuff her?” Brad asked. “It’s not like she’s going to run anywhere.”

Kevin glared back at Brad. “I’m doing this by the book. I know she’ll have expensive legal representation that will work the loopholes.”

I caught sight of Liam out of the corner of my eye, angrier than I’d ever seen him, arms across his chest. He watched his uncle’s every move.

“Cruz won’t need tricks because you’re wrong about me,” I said quietly, and put my hands in the air and stepped forward.

“Turn around,” he barked. “Or I’ll add resisting arrest.”

He fastened the cuffs with speed, tightening them beyond comfort. I’d never been thoroughly humiliated before; this was a new experience and very humbling, especially in front of my family.

Spoon wrapped his arms around Mother, who had paled.

“You’re a real dick.” Brad sneered.

Julie watched in wide-eyed amazement.

“Look around,” Kevin said to Julie. “This will be your life. Even you might end up in cuffs one day. If you can’t break off the relationship because it’s the right thing to do—do it for your son.”

“Don’t say one word until your lawyer gets there,” Fab yelled.

Didier’s sad face almost had me in tears as Kevin led me out the front door. The neighbors were getting a show. I knew that by the time the story made it around the block, I’d have been seen in chains.

Jail! The second time in a month. This was a pattern I needed to break.

I heeded Fab and Creole’s advice and kept my mouth shut. When I got out of whatever the heck was going on, I’d be paying a visit to Joseph. If he had gotten me arrested because one of his lower-than-life friends, he’d need to move. He could leave behind Svetlana––she’d be an ideal tenant.

Unfortunately, the ride to the sheriff’s office was a short one. I thought about suggesting the scenic route to slow the inevitable. Kevin and I didn’t exchange a word. He helped me out and led me inside.

“Sit.” He pointed to a bench.

A few minutes later, Kevin returned. “Make yourself comfortable,” he said. “Homestead is coming to pick you up, you’ll be transported soon. Too bad it’s the weekend. No court appearance until Monday, but I doubt you’d get bail anyway.” He seemed happy to relay the last part.

I maintained my silence. It should be interesting to see how Brad’s relationship with Kevin’s sister, Julie, would weather this storm. This might force him to choose between the woman he loved and family. He did that once before, but we got him back when the girlfriend had to be straight-jacketed and shipped to a mental hospital. I closed my eyes and focused on my breathing, believing Creole would make good on his word and get me out of here. Then I wanted a few days with him at his beach shack.

No one spoke to me as I sat handcuffed, my fingers numb, a banging ache in my lower back. My teeth chattered. The air conditioner had to be set on fifty degrees. I wished for two beach towels, one to wrap around my bathing suit and the other for my bare legs.

I looked up when my name was called. Mary-something, a matronly woman whose name was on the door, a couple of the letters missing, snapped her fingers, motioning me to stand up and follow her into a small room to start the booking process. It went quickly, since it was understood that I would shut up and do as ordered. I mentally made a gardening to-do list, never acknowledging the flash of the camera. I relaxed my hands for fingerprints, thinking about which potted plants needed more seashell mulch. My ink-stained fingers brought me back to reality and I scrubbed them furiously with the paper towel I’d been handed. A blue uniform got tossed my way––who knew they had colors other than ugly orange?

Won’t be long now before I find out if I get matching shoes
.

“Hope you had breakfast. You won’t see a cell until tonight. Being really hungry makes the food taste and look gourmet,” Mary said, and laughed at her own joke.

I’d heard from several sources that what they passed off as food tasted like paste and was tossed on a plate in a runny, thick mess.

Mary ushered me into a holding cell that was already occupied by several women. The banging of the steel door behind me brought home the gravity of the situation in a stark way. I wasn’t sitting by the pool and that sucked. Thankfully, no one made eye contact; all were silent in their own thoughts. The bunk beds taken, I slid down into a vacant corner, wrapped my arms around my legs, and buried my face in my knees. After the first time, like the rest of the women, I didn’t look up when the door opened and a name that wasn’t mine was announced.

The Homestead cop must have stopped for lunch because it seemed like it took hours for my ride to show up. My butt had two sore spots, courtesy of the cement floor. Finally, a female voice called my name and I noticed that Mary had been replaced by another unfriendly face. I stood up, walked to the cell door, and turned to be cuffed once again.