Deborah Brown - Madison Westin 07 - Kidnapped in Paradise (18 page)

“I have an appreciation for old cars. My father restored old Mustangs as a hobby,” I said.

Oh look, another car just went by. That made two in the last twenty minutes.

“How about I treat you to a meal?” Pinter offered. “They usually have a couple of hot dogs leftover that have been sitting in the warmer unit all day.”

“Share a bag of potato chips?” I hadn’t had a hot dog in a long time. I needed a sugary soda to keep from hand wringing over Fab.

We brought our gourmet meal back to the bench. I insisted on extra napkins, which had the clerk glaring at me. I covered the slats on the bench, throwing down the packets of condiments. I thought the clerk would be happy that someone bought the last two wrinkly dogs.

I poked the bun with my nail. Finding both ends hard, I tore them off, not wanting a chipped tooth.

Thank goodness Pinter was a man of few words; he kicked back and enjoyed his meal, forgoing small talk. We stared at the road in an easy silence.

“Thank you for the delicious meal,” I told him. It wasn’t, but at least it filled me up.

“That
’
s a pretty lie,” he laughed. “You
’re welcome.
”

An SUV came roaring up the highway, clearly over the speed limit, but a welcome sight as it got closer. I tried to gauge whether or not it would make the driveway. It blew by, missing the turn all together, followed by a screeching of the brakes and a squealing U-turn. Fab was back!

I held my breath and hoped she wouldn’t smash the bicycle. I let out a whoosh when she missed the bike, leaving it intact.

Fab threw open the door and jumped out. “That was so much fun.”

“Are they alive?” I asked, making her turn around, checking for blood. Creole always made me stand still for an inspection for blood and other assorted wounds after a narrow escape.

“You
’
re getting too much like your boyfriend,” she laughed. “Who are you?”

“Pinter, meet Fab.” I pointed between the two. “Don’t let her good looks fool you; she loves to kick ass.”

“What the hell is that?” Fab pointed to the pieces of rejected hot dog bun and made a retching noise.

I laughed at her.
“Give us the ten-word or less version of Fab
’
s adventure.”

She screwed up her nose. “They
’re alive.
” She gave an unladylike snort. “I broke the bastard
’
s nose, but he
’
ll survive. That old bag didn’t get a scratch on her, but it will take a while to get her untied.”

“Mother and son got into a fight. While they were distracted airing family dirt, I pulled my Walther. Sorry to tell you...,” she frowned, “but you need a new passenger window. It cracked a little…well, a lot. I bashed bony-boy in the nose. The crunching noise was so satisfying. Sorry for the blood. With my gun in the old lady
’
s face, I swerved over and gave them a three-count, and then kicked them out in the woods.”

“Let
’
s go home,” I said. To Pinter, I said, “It
’
s getting dark, we
’
re giving you a ride.”

“Not necessary.” He had a smile on his face, hanging on Fab
’
s every word, enjoying the retelling of her escapade.

I ignored him and pushed his bike to the back of the SUV. Fab had the door open, and we lifted it in. I held the passenger door open for him and hopped in the back. “Sit up front and give her directions.”

“How did Creole end up with someone so pushy?” Pinter asked.

I laughed.
“Creole's my cousin, sort of. Trust me, we
’
re well matched.”

Creole grew up as a neighbor to my Aunt Elizabeth, and she had unofficially adopted him. We joked about being cousins and anyone who didn’t know us assumed that was why the Westins were so weird.

Fab turned down a narrow road, which started off paved but quickly became gravel.

“There
’
s no lights out here,” she said as she drove through the forest.

The farther she drove, the darker it got. She pulled up in front of a log cabin nestled between the trees, the porch overlooking an inlet of water that rustled by. Pinter's home looked modern and up-to-date, peaceful and quiet. Two Border Collies came of out of nowhere and stood in the middle of the driveway, their eyes glowing yellow as they waited. Pinter barely got a leg out when they ran to his side.

I held the back of my hand out to the dogs and let them sniff before I gave them a quick head rub.

“If you
’
re ever in Tarpon Cove, stop in at Jake
’
s bar. Tell the bartender ‘
Moonshine,’ and
get
your
meal on the house. That
’
s going to be our new password,” I said.

“Come back anytime. Go fishing,” Pinter said. “You
’
re both welcome. No need for an invite.”

He stood and waved as Fab turned around. We drove back through the road nestled between the trees.

“What did Ellie and her sons want?” I asked.

“Gofer has a stolen car parts business. Not a lot of Hummers out here, so they saw a perfect opportunity. No overhead. When jailbird saw our ride, she called the twins. They flipped a coin to see who
’
d get to jack us.”

Fab made zero effort to remember names.

“What
’
s her connection to Brick?” I asked.

“I asked, and she grumbled she never heard of Brick Famosa.”

This was another one of those times I was happy not to drive; the headlights illuminating the foggy road weren’t enough for me. I wanted to go home and forget this day.

“I have to call Creole,” I said.

“Did that already. I also talked to Brick. He sent his brother to collect the tied-up felons. Thank you for threatening him for me. Now that
’
s a best friend.”
 

Chapter 21

“Do you suppose it
’
s safe to go in the house?” I asked.

Fab and I sat in the driveway, staring at Didier and Creole
’
s autos parked in the front.

“
I
don’t like it when they get together and one of us is not there to listen,” Fab said.

“What about when they run around the state?”

Besides bicycling, the guys ran together and did push-ups. They didn’t stop after one or two for a rest like I would.

“
You can’t
talk and run. They
’
re out of breath, so no chatting it up about what we might be doing,” Fab said. “We know they talk, I just wonder what they share?”

“They know we
’
re here,” I said. I figured Creole didn’t have to look out the window to know we were sitting outside. “Creole has a sixth sense. The longer we sit here, the guiltier we look, and we haven’t done anything wrong today.”

We jumped out of the SUV, and I followed Fab up to the door.

“What are we going to do about Kelsey?” Fab asked me, hand on the doorknob.

“Have we chosen a side?” I hesitated. “I
’
d like to meet the gorilla. But for now, no more work talk.”

The guys must be mind readers. They were both in bathing suits. Didier wore an apron that made him look even sexier than usual, if that were possible. He moved to the kitchen sink as we walked in the door. Creole was putting together some fish kabobs at the island.

Fab slid over to Didier and they engaged in a long, smoochy kiss.

Creole wandered a leisurely eye over me, up and down. I blushed at the scrutiny.

He pointed upstairs.

“You
’
re overdressed.”

“Can you come upstairs and help me with my buttons?” I winked at him.

“Come over here.” He crooked his finger at me. “I’ll unbutton you.”

I pouted and backed out of the kitchen, not wanting him to see that my outfit didn’t have a single button.

“We slaved all day in this hot kitchen and we
’
re eating in a half hour,” Creole called, as I dashed up the stairs.

Fab ran up the stairs after me.

“Here
’
s an incentive to hurry–– there's a pitcher of margaritas in the refrigerator.”

* * *

Fab beat me back downstairs, but she only had a couple of strings to tie on her hot pink bikini.

From the top of the staircase, I saw Creole, out of the corner of my eye, leaning over the barbeque. Wait until Brad found out that someone had figured out how to turn it on besides him. All I knew about it was that it looked pretty, all shiny stainless steel. The old one stopped working, which surprised me. I thought you just threw in charcoals and lit them on fire.
      

Opening the refrigerator, I smiled at the pitcher of my favorite drink. Creole had left a glass on the counter with salt around the rim.

* * *

I flipped on the lights that flooded the backyard; lights wrapped around the trunks of the palm trees, and every potted plant had a solar light stake.

Fab and I tossed inflatable rings in the pool. We swam around, splashing water everywhere. We squawked and yelled, then dissolved into laughter.

After the first few yelps of, “Help, she’s drowning me!”, the guys realized attempts at shushing us and evil glares had no effect, so they ignored us. 

They both cooked us dinner ––we didn’t have to lift a finger––and they cleaned as they used the dishes. Creole barbequed the fish and vegetables on skewers and served them on a bed of risotto prepared by Didier. Too many vegetables in my opinion, but they looked pretty on the plate.

Didier was a health nut, and if he had his way we
’
d eat more of them, including drinking stinky green juice for breakfast. I didn’t utter a word of complaint; I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. Instead, I used my old trick from childhood and pushed everything I didn’t like around my plate, hiding little pieces under big ones and making it look like I ate more than I did. Times like these called for a dog.

After I snuck up behind Fab and pushed her in the water, she grabbed my wrist and dragged me in along with her.

Creole towered over us at the side of the pool, glaring. “Could the two of you make any more noise?”

“Yes!!” we screamed in unison.

“You
’
re cut off. No more wine.” Creole pointed to Fab, then looked at me, “No more tequila.”

He dove in and came up under me, lifting me in the air. Didier pulled off his shirt and threw it on the chaise.

“How are old you? You
’
re acting like children—loud, noisy, pain-in-the ass children!” came a woman
’
s high pitched voice.

“Where in the hell did you come from?”
Fab snarled at her.

Mrs. Ricci stood in my backyard, looking down her nose. She was dressed in black knee-length shorts and a silk blouse, looking expensive. I spent a little extra time staring at her black leather slides. Her stance suggested it was her house, not acknowledging that it wasn’t and she hadn’t been invited.

How did she find us?

“You must be lost,” I said through clenched teeth. “Let me give you directions and you can leave. Go back the way you came in.”