Feta Attraction (24 page)

“What do you mean, ‘our way'?” I had a bad feeling about this, even worse than having been kidnapped.

“You're coming with me.”

I gulped. “Where?”

He smiled and a dreamy look came over him. “Tahiti.”

I stalled. “What about my restaurant? I can't just leave.”

“You already did.”

I tried another tack. “Did you kidnap Spiro?”

“No.” There was that patronizing tone again that I was beginning to hate. “I did not kidnap Spiro. I paid someone else to do it.”

“But why?”

“He is a damned nuisance.” I couldn't argue with that. “He finally paid me the money he owed me, but he refused to deliver up the real prize, the jewels. I had planned to kill him—that would solve so many problems for everybody—but I needed him alive in case you couldn't find the jewels. Which you say you can't.” He gave me a penetrating gaze. “And, since I want to get our relationship off on the right foot, I've decided to believe you.”

What was that expression Cal always used?
As if.
But I played along. “What about Big Dom? Did you take care of him too?” I gave him what I hoped was an encouraging smile.

“Oh, yes. He was another nuisance. He owed me money too, and he took too long to get it back to me. And then he threatened to go to the Feds about me and my enterprises.”

I gulped again. Drug running, extortion, and kidnapping were one thing. Murder was quite another.

“Those people at Sunshine Acres, are they part of your business too?”

“They're just my growers. Or, I should say they were my growers. We've already harvested, and I'm getting out of the business. I've instructed them to burn off any residual crop, not that there better be much left, and plow under all the fields.”

“The rumor around town is that the Sunshine Acres people are running the money operation.”

He snorted. “Hah! That bunch of gray-bearded burnouts? You've got to be kidding me! Still.” He paused. “It did suit my purposes to have everyone believe that it was them, rather than me.”

“What are you going to do about your businesses? Your house? Your shop?”

“That's the beauty of this plan. I've mortgaged everything to the hilt. I've maxed out all my credit cards with cash advances. I've taken all that cash, along with the money I've made from my other endeavors, and invested it all in offshore accounts. It's completely safe from the Feds. I'm just going to walk away. Or I should say sail away. And never come back. Never live through another six months of winter again. And you, my love”—he picked up my hand and brushed his murderous lips against my damaged wrist—“get to come with me.”

I fought back a wave of revulsion and smiled at him. “What about this ship?”

He chuckled. “I had only intended to borrow it and pick up something else to get me to the islands, but I've rather come to like it, you know?” He caressed the varnished wood steering wheel. “It has style. So I've decided to keep it. The price was certainly right.” His lips twisted into a grin. “I'll make a few alterations when we get there, and no one will ever be the wiser. Now, come over here.”

With only a moment's hesitation, I complied. He pulled me down onto his lap, knocking my rib cage on the steering wheel. I sat down rather harder than I had intended and he let out a breath. His face darkened, but then he smiled. “We'll get you a chef and a personal trainer when we get to the villa.”

Jerk. I batted my eyes at him flirtatiously. Well, I hoped it was flirtatiously. He reached around me with both arms and put them on the wheel, pinning me in. It would have been sexy if he hadn't been a criminal. I thought of Cal being motherless, and it called up the pain of my own mother abandoning me when I was younger than she. Something in me changed. I smiled at him and put my left hand up to his ear, which I lightly traced with one finger. He made a little coo of pleasure. “Plenty of time for that later, honey,” he said, but he was enjoying it.

I raised my right hand, and he took his eyes away from the water for a moment to see what I'd do next. I touched my throat with my fingers, and trailed them slowly down into my cleavage. He sucked in a breath, and I could feel him shift under me. “This is so tempting, honey, but I have to get this cargo delivered.” I fingered the V-neck of my T-shirt and he started to breathe heavily. I reached down inside my bra and I thought he was going to pass out.

“I always fantasized that you were like this, you know.”

I did the thing with my other hand and his ear. I reached farther down into my bra.

“Just give me a few hours and I'll be able to help you with that.” His eyes were almost popping out of his head and I wished he'd keep them on the water so we didn't crash into anything, like the Ogdensburg Bridge to Canada, which I could see coming up far ahead of us. Could the masts of this ship fit under the bridge? No time to worry about that now. I arched my back so he could get a better view of my chest and neck, reached down beneath my cleavage, and pulled out Marina's tiny gun.

TWENTY-FOUR

“Now, Keith.” I jammed the gun up against his side. “You are going to pull into the port at Ogdensburg and let me off this ship. Do it, and I won't turn you in,” I lied. I planned to sic as many authorities as I could find on him just as soon as I got back to land.

“I don't know if I like this side of you. You never seemed to have this much spice.” He considered. “Yes, I do think I like it. Where'd you get that gun? The toy aisle at Kinney's?”

“Are you going to do as I say?”

“Mmm, no, I don't think so. You won't shoot me.”

I poked him harder with the gun. I hoped he couldn't feel that my hand was shaking. “Try me,” I said.

He still had both hands around me and on the wheel. He was much stronger than me and there was no way I'd be able to break through the circle of his arms. We stared at each other like greasy gunfighters in a spaghetti western, at a temporary impasse. “We're going to be so good together,” he mused.

“We're not going to be anything together.” I punched at his crotch but wasn't able to get much force behind it because of my angle and having to use my nondominant hand, but it was enough. He cried out and dropped one hand to his privates. I used the opportunity to swing my legs over him and stand up. I trained the gun on him.

“Damn it! That wasn't very nice, honey,” he gasped.

“Stop calling me ‘honey.'” I took a few steps back. I didn't think he'd try to come after me, because somebody had to drive the ship.

I was wrong. He lunged. I scrambled to one side and his momentum carried him past me. I ran for the door. Locked or jammed, it wouldn't open. I fiddled with the handle, desperate. He came up behind me and pawed at me. I twisted out of his grip and tried the handle again. I whirled around and smacked him on the head with the butt end of the gun. It was too small to do much damage. He put a hand up to his head, then caught me by the shirt, grabbing a handful of boob in the process. He looked pleased, and continued to hold on. I brought the gun up again, but he smacked it away with his free arm. The gun skittered away across the polished wood floor and ended up against the back wall, out of reach.

Keith dragged me over to the bridge and gave the wheel a turn, away from the American shoreline where we had started to drift. He reached into a drawer near the wheel and pulled out a gun, quite a bit larger than mine. He stuck it into my ribs. “See, I just want you to understand that this doesn't feel good. If our relationship is going to work at all, we can't be trying to shoot each other all the time. It's kind of a turn-on, though.” My God, he was delusional.

I gulped and nodded. “Now I'm going to call up Wally on the radio and have him come up here and babysit you while I finish this business deal. Somebody in this family has to make a living, you know.” He picked up a microphone and pushed a button. “Wally, come on up here. Over.” No response. He tried again, yelling this time. “Damn it, get up here now.” He pressed the button again. “Over.” He turned to me. “I am going to fire him.”

He tried calling up two more of his crew, but still got no response. “You generously pay these people a year's salary to help you out with one day's work, and this is the kind of response you get. I'm telling you, there is no work ethic anymore.” He poked the gun into my ribs for emphasis.

He kept buzzing and buzzing, getting more frustrated with each press of the button. I glanced around the cabin for something close by that I could use as a weapon. I'd dropped my twisted notebook wire belowdecks, so that was useless to me.

The door burst open. “It's about goddamned time you got here. I'm cutting your pay.” Keith whipped around. His jaw dropped. I turned to look. Jack Conway stood in the doorway, with a gun pointed in our direction.

TWENTY-FIVE

“Put the gun down, Morgan. Georgie, come over here behind me.”

“Conway, with all due respect for your rank and all”—he snickered—“I've got a gun too. And I've got our Georgie here keeping it warm for me. If she moves, I'll shoot her. You have to agree, that would be a shame.”

“You might as well give it up. I've secured your entire crew, and you can consider yourself boarded. The U.S. Coast Guard is now commanding this vessel.”

Keith's face purpled with anger. “This is my ship, and I'm going to finish my job and spend the rest of my life on a tropical island.”

“I've got a dozen trained men outside who say you're not going anywhere except on an Adirondack vacation at Dannemora or Ray Brook penitentiary. Now drop the gun, and let her go.”

“Make me.” Had he regressed to grade school? I half expected him to stick out his tongue.

“Morgan, look out your front glass.”

We turned simultaneously, the gun still pressed against my torso. The Ogdensburg Bridge to Canada loomed in front of us. We were drifting toward the Canadian side, where the clearance above the water was lower. If we didn't move under the highest span of the bridge, and soon, we were going to hit.

“Crap!” He took the wheel with both hands, holding the gun up against the wooden circle. Jack motioned and I ran over to the far wall and retrieved the little pearl-handled pistol. “I'm not letting this boat break up! I'm not!”

Jack moved quicker than I would have thought possible for a man of his size and came up behind Keith, who was still frantically trying to correct our course. He jabbed out with his right arm, but Keith swiveled around in the chair and ducked the blow. He sprang up and the two grabbed onto each other, landing on the deck. Neither was letting go and they began to writhe around like a pair of Greco-Roman wrestlers at the summer Olympics. I stared, fascinated.

“Georgie,” Jack gasped through the chokehold Keith was trying to put on him. I shook my head to bring myself back to reality. “Steer the boat!”

“I can't!”

“Yes, you can!” I don't know which of them said it, but I sat down in the captain's chair and took the wheel. My breath was coming in ragged puffs as I saw what I had to do. Panic surfaced. A thought flashed absurdly back to the books I used to read Cal when she was little. Madeline. The little French orphan girl. What was it she used to say? “I'm Madeline, and I can do anything!” I took a deep breath and said out loud, “I'm Georgie. And I can do anything!”

“Huh?” I heard from the floor.

I gripped the wheel with a smidgen more confidence and aimed for the highest span of the bridge. I had to think that if those giant lakers could make it, so could we, but I didn't know for sure. Our masts were very tall. I steered, too hard, and the boat listed to one side.

“Ease up, or we're going to capsize!” I heard from the flailing tangle of bodies beneath me. They were both panting and I wasn't sure how much longer they could keep this up. These guys weren't kids, but they were both in good shape. The boat righted itself. I vaguely wondered why the rest of Jack's Coast Guard contingent hadn't come in to help, but I had to turn my attention back to the water ahead of me. I kept my hands on the wheel and steered, more smoothly this time, aiming us toward one of the arches of the Can-Am bridge. A smallish motorboat was right in front of us. There was no way I could maneuver this ship around it. The driver looked up at us in a panic.
I'm sorry,
I mouthed, not that he could have read my lips from his position. Our momentum continued to carry us forward. The small craft's engine gunned and passed from my sight, right in front of us. I lost sight of it and closed my eyes. My heart sank as I waited for the sickening crunch. It didn't come. I opened my eyes and the boat darted out to my left, intact, leaving a plume of white foam in its wake. I said a silent thank-you. Grunts and groans were coming up from the deck, but I didn't dare turn around to see what was happening.

“Georgie,” one of them rasped. “Cut the engine!”

The engine. Of course!
I scanned the console.
Okay, if I were a throttle on a tall ship, where would I be?

“I can't find it!”

“Keep looking! And keep steering!” I still didn't know which of them was talking to me, but it didn't matter.

I glanced back and forth between the console and the rapidly approaching bridge. Was that it? It had to be it. I said a little prayer, then jammed down the lever as fast as I could. I heard a thud; then we were all whiplashed forward and back. The two men on the floor rolled right up against the console at my feet. I glanced down and saw that Jack had ended up on top. He landed a barrage of heavy blows to Keith's gut, and I heard the wind rush out of him. “Georgie, hand me that line!”

I tossed him the coil of rope that was within my reach and he deftly trussed up Keith while he was still gagging and coughing. Jack got up, panting, and dragged Keith, still struggling but unable to get a purchase, over to a chair. I turned back to the water ahead of me. The boat had slowed but our momentum was carrying us forward.

“Untie me, Conway, now! You don't know what's at stake!”

We were right at the bridge. I closed my eyes involuntarily. A muffled wooden crack like the sound of a baseball bat being broken sounded high above us. I opened my eyes and we were on the other side of the bridge, passing the Port of Ogdensburg at a slower and slower pace. I couldn't see behind us but I hoped that no drivers going over the bridge were injured.

“You've ruined my boat! You've ruined everything!” Keith yelled.

“Shut up,” Jack said calmly, and hauled off and smacked him in the jaw. Keith's head lolled to one side as he lost consciousness.

“What did I do?” I was starting to panic again.

“You did fine,” Jack reassured me. “I'll go out onto the deck and take a look at the damage.”

“Can I come with you? I don't want to stay in here alone with him.”

“He's not going anywhere. And somebody's got to drive the ship, Georgie.”

Oh, yeah. “Well, hurry up, okay?”

He grinned at me, his lower lip already swollen on one side. His smile was devastating, despite the injury, and I felt a little flutter in the pit of my stomach.
Get a grip, Georgie,
I told myself.
You almost took out the Can-Am bridge driving a ship full of illegal drugs and nearly killed yourself and who knows how many other people. Now is not the time
. The boat was now drifting along with the river current and all I had to do was keep a steady course down the middle. Jack brushed back a lock of my hair that had fallen in my face and I could see that his knuckles were raw and already bruising. I looked up into his blue-green eyes, and he looked into mine. He leaned in and brushed his lips against mine. My breath caught and it was a second or two before I could draw in air again. He massaged his thumb across my upper lip and pulled it away, rubbing his thumb and forefinger together. A dark oily smudge covered both digits.

“I've never kissed a woman with a mustache before,” he commented. “Well, except my great-aunt Tillie. Hers was more prickly.”

Damn! I must look ridiculous
, I thought, as the heat rushed toward my hairline. I put my own finger to my lip and rubbed, probably making it even worse, as if that were possible. I was too mortified to speak.

“Don't worry about it,” he assured me. “You're beautiful even with fake facial hair.”

I blushed again.

“I'm going above to check the masts. Just keep a steady course and keep the red nuns to your port side.”

“Huh, what's a nun?” I looked for some kind of black-and-white object, but didn't see anything.

“Those nuns, the red bullet-shaped buoys—see over there? Just keep them to your left, and keep the green can buoys to your right, and you'll be fine.”

I located the channel markers and nodded. Jack went upstairs. I steered us on, although we were just drifting along at this point, so it wasn't too hard. Keith groaned but didn't regain consciousness. I had to hope Jack's knots would hold—well, he was a sailor, right?

Jack reappeared in the doorway. “You didn't do too badly, all things considered. You clipped the bridge with the main mast. The mast is cracked, but I think it'll hold until we get to port if we keep the sail furled.”

“What about the bridge?”

“It's still standing, if that's what you mean.”

I guessed that would have to be good enough. “Where are all your men? The ones who are waiting to take him away?” I nodded in Keith's direction.

“Err, there's something I should tell you about that,” he said.

“Like what?” I'd still not gotten rid of my suspicion that he knew more than he was telling me. The muscles of my shoulders tensed into tight knots.

“I'm sort of here by myself.”

“You were bluffing?” I was incredulous. “What about the rest of the crew of this ship?”

“As I said, I secured them.”

“What do you mean, ‘secured'?” That ever-present lump of panic resurfaced.

“Relax, Georgie. I didn't kill anybody, if that's what you mean. I just tied them all up. Somebody already started the job for me belowdecks,” he added. “I found one of them facedown on the boards, out cold.”

The guilt struck me again. “He's just a kid. We should get him to the ER when we land this thing. By the way, when are we landing?”

“We've already left the Burg behind, and to be honest”—he grinned—“I've always wanted to sail one of these things. I think we'll head farther downriver and put in at Massena. I'd love to try to get this through the Eisenhower Locks, but I guess we'll have to forgo that bit of fun,” he said regretfully.

“You do know that we're carrying a full cargo of drugs?”

“I do. Here, do you mind if I take over?”

Did I mind? I moved aside and he took my place in the captain's chair. He restarted the engine and leaned back, resting his hand on the wheel.

“This would be a lot more fun if we could use the sails instead of the engines,” he mused, “but I'd need a competent crew to work the rigging. Still, you don't get to do this every day, now, do you?” He smiled and drove us along.

“You didn't happen to notice a bathroom on this thing?” At this point all sense of personal dignity had drained away from me, but I wanted to see whether I could freshen up a little before we docked and I rejoined humanity on dry land.

“It's called the head, Georgie, and I think I saw one toward the stern.” He paused, registering my blank stare. “The back of the boat,” he said. “I'll make a sailor of you yet.” He gave me that devastating, temporarily damaged smile again and I nearly melted into a puddle right there on the deck.

I passed the still-unconscious Keith, resisting the urge to give him a kick in the shins, and exited the cabin door, toward the back of the boat. I located the head and entered. I closed my eyes and raised my face to the mirror, opened my eyes, then closed them up tight again. It was as bad, no, worse, than I had feared. My hair was an Einstein mess, frizzed out into an unflattering and unnatural shape. I made my fingers into combs and tried to smooth out the tangled mess. This was going to require a lot of conditioner when I got home. I found some soap and made a lather in my hands, then scrubbed at the greasy black smudge across my lip. The lather turned gray and oily and I looked back in the mirror to see that the smudge was now less intense but had expanded onto both cheeks. I rinsed off my hands and started again. This time, with some scrubbing, the makeup came off, leaving fresh pink skin underneath.

I put the toilet seat down and sat on the closed lid, trying to collect myself. I should have felt relieved, but I was still keyed up. After a few deep breaths, my heart rate slowed to an acceptable level. I went out onto the deck into the fresh air and headed up toward the cabin. The hairs stood up on the back of my neck.
Not again!
I thought.
What now?
I returned to the cabin. Jack was practically humming at the wheel.