Deborah Brown - Madison Westin 07 - Kidnapped in Paradise (25 page)

How Creole found this isolated piece of beachfront property amazed me. He had the last house on a dead-end that curved around the water. Only a handful of houses had been built here, the nearest one at least a quarter of a mile down the road. A real estate investor friend alerted him to the tear-down after the owner decided it would require too much cash for an investment property he wouldn’t live in and couldn’t unload on someone else at the profit margin he required.

Creole had stripped it down to the studs, keeping the original footprint. What had once been a small three bedroom home, he rebuilt into one large space with a separate bathroom that rivaled the kitchen in size.

Figuring his coffee was ready, I stopped my musings and went inside. My coffee only required a microwave and some mix. Creole preferred some sort of smelly dark roast. Not as bad as Fab, though, whose morning beverage brewed up into thick slime.

Creole ran his fingers up my back and pressed me up against the counter. “Hands over your head,” he barked.

My hands shot up. He pulled his t-shirt over my head and wrapped his arms around me, nibbling my neck.

“You get the shirt back when you answer my questions.” He pushed me down, kissing up my spine.

“You
’
re so mean,” I moaned.

“I see you
’
re going to need a full interrogation.” He left a trail of biting kisses across my shoulders.  “Do you want me to stop?”

“
Nooo,
” I whimpered.
      

“This time she didn’t include me,” I said breathlessly. “Not a word that she had a job or that she was leaving. Any particulars about the job, you
’
ll have to ask her.”

“Was that so hard?” He jerked me around and kissed me hard.

“If one of her jobs goes awry, you can’t expect me to tell on her.”

“Something did happen. Something she wasn’t expecting.”

He thought he had me caged, but I had a trick up my sleeve and changed the subject.

“What time do you have to leave?”

“Got the day off.”

I unbuttoned his jeans and slowly unzipped them. I pushed them down his thighs. I tapped his leg and he stepped out one foot, then the other. I took his hand to drag him over to the bed, stopping short when he jerked me back against his chest.

“Here
’s fine,
” he whispered against my cheek as we slid to the floor.

* * *

Both of our phones started ringing at the same time. While Creole fished his phone out of his pocket, I went out to the deck to find out why Fab not only called, but texted 9-1-1. Since she was not given to theatrics, I had a bad feeling waiting for her to answer my return call.

“There
’
s another dead body,” Fab whispered.

“Where are you? Anyone else hurt?” I couldn’t bring myself to say dead. “Tell me someone didn’t dump another head.”

“Everyone
’s fine,
” she reassured. “Take a breath. Calm down. Just get home and drag lover boy
’
s ass along with you.”

“I’ll be right back,” Creole yelled from inside the house.

“Got to go,”
I told her.

Creole was halfway out the door.

“You stop right there. I
’
m coming with you!”  I screeched.

“You are staying here,” he ordered. “It
’
s not safe. I’ll be back as soon as possible.”

I raced into the kitchen and picked up his t-shirt, sliding it over my head. “If you leave this house without me, I’ll walk to the main highway and hitchhike.” I grabbed my purse off the counter and tried to push past him.

“Just please stay here.”

“You listen to me. I
’
m going. It
’
s my house, my family. How dare you make decisions for me!” I seethed in hot anger. “I can’t believe that if my phone hadn’t been turned on, you would have left me out here. By myself, with no transportation, in ignorance, while you figured out what to do.”

He threw open the gate and opened the passenger door. “Get in.”

Neither of us said a word the whole way back to my house.

He squealed around the corner of my street and parked across from the house. None of the neighbors were milling around, and there was no sign of a law enforcement vehicle. 

The gate stood open, the body of a jean-clad male lying in the middle of the driveway. Creole reached for me and I sidestepped him.

“I might know him,” I said.

At least this one had his head.
      

I paused when I heard my name being called. I turned and saw Fab run around the side of the house, Didier two steps behind her.

“Anyone we know?” I asked her.

“Never seen him before.” Her eyes were huge; she looked unnerved. “Didier and I were going out for breakfast, and that
’
s when we found him.”

Creole was off to the side, his phone to his ear. The conversation was short. He stashed the phone in his pocket and motioned Didier over.

The guy confab irked me. I hoped Creole would share information.

“Did you get pictures?” I asked Fab. 

When she nodded that she had, I said, “Let
’
s go in the house.” I looked over my shoulder and saw the guys still talking.

“Brace yourself; Creole
’
s not going to want us to stay here. He made noises about us relocating when the head showed up. Maybe we should think about going to The Cottages.”

“Don’t take this personally, but there
’
s no room service and way too many weird people,” she said with a frown.

We avoided the front door, although the body was only a couple of feet away, and cut through the side path instead. Once inside, I headed straight for the kitchen window, where we had an unobstructed view of the driveway. Unfortunately, the body was in plain view, too.

“Creole and I are fighting,” I declared to Fab. “He just tried to leave me behind with no intention of filling me in. He
’
s not happy I made threats to get a ride, and the feeling’s mutual.”

Fab hugged me. “You
’ll make up. He’
s just trying to protect you. ”

“I could use some alcohol but, since it
’
s not even noon, I guess I’ll have water.” I opened the refrigerator door. “Want to join me?”

“After the shock, Didier went ballistic. He
’
s already agreed with Creole that we should stay somewhere else. He mentioned Miami Beach. When the two of them figure out they are on the same page, the pressure will ramp up.”

“What in the hell is going on?” I whimpered, as I leaned over the sink, my head in my hands. Creole and Didier had moved to the end of the driveway. “Why has my house suddenly become a dumping ground for bodies? Bodies of men we don’t know. I haven’t made anyone mad lately. Have you?” 

“It
’
s a message to one of us or someone connected to us. It normally means stop whatever you
’
re doing, or you
’
ll end up in the same condition. We need to figure out the whatever.”

Thankfully none of my family had stayed overnight after yesterday
’
s get-together. Even though we were the only two in the house, I leaned into her ear and whispered, “Jax.”

“Why are you whispering?” She peeked out the window. “They
’
re still out there, haven’t moved.”

“Do you think this man is the other partner that Jax mentioned the other day?” I wrinkled my nose at her. “I
’
ve got Phil looking for him again so we can finish the conversation we started. She
’
s good, better than any of the locals we
’
ve used in the past.” I'd given Phil instructions to find him ASAP and to dig around for any information she deemed pertinent.

“I like that the ballsy blonde can back up her big talk with results.” Fab continued to stare out the window. “Let
’
s go to Miami.”

“Too far for me. I
’
d be totally out of touch with the Cove, and that
’
s not a good idea. I
’
d rather hide in plain sight. You go and enjoy sitting on the powdery white sand, drinking your nauseating vodka drinks.” I held out my pinky finger. “Swear you won’t divulge our ultimate hideout. If we get separated, we meet up there.”
 

Chapter 30

Kevin squealed his squad car up to the house with no lights on and triple-parked so that he was blocking one side of the street. He waved, catching me gawking out the window. At least it was a nice change from stomping over and threatening to arrest me on the off chance that I might have been the one to kill the guy.

It surprised me that the next car to block the street belonged to my brother. It also sucked. Ever since my brother and Kevin had become pals, all sheriff calls involving me got reported before I had a chance to make the call myself. On the upside, this meant that I could tell Brad that he
’
d be the one to call Mother with the grisly details.

“That makes me nauseous.” Fab pointed to the four men standing off to the side. “When did they get so friendly?”

“Since they started hanging out together, challenging each other. Running, biking, always a competition to see whose is bigger.” I smiled at her, knowing what she was thinking.

“
Didier’
s.”

I burst out laughing. “You
’
re so juvenile.”

“We have more company,” she said, nodding to the driveway.

Two more sheriff cars drove up and, behind them, the coroner’s van approached.

“I
’
m going out and sitting by the pool. If anyone asks, tell them I went to Key West,” I said.

“Since your SUV is blocked in, that
’
s not going to sell. Besides, you might want to hold off. The guys are headed our way.”

The front door opened and Creole stomped in, Didier and Brad behind him. Whatever the bad news was, Creole had drawn the short straw.

“Pack lightly,” he ordered, his lips in a hard line. “Leave your phones on the counter. I’ll find someone to take care of Jazz.”

I ground my teeth together and then pinched myself as a reminder to break that bad habit. “Where are we going?”

Didier moved to Fab
’
s side and put his arm around her while she stared daggers up at him. Brad leaned against the kitchen door frame, a smirk on his face, knowing that ordering me around wasn’t going to be well-received. 

Arms across his chest, his best perp scowl on his face, Creole said, “I
’
m moving the two of you to a safe house until we figure out what
’
s going on and get this case solved.”

“I think asking would have been a better tactic. I
’
m not a criminal deserving of one of your tight-ass edicts. Fab and I can go to Mother
’
s and take Jazz with us. No one
’
s going to show up there.”

Creole
’
s hand slammed down on the island between us.

“You don’t know that,” he growled. “Don’t you care if someone you know ends up dead?”