Greed in Paradise (Paradise Series) (15 page)

“And then I get my one kiss!” He rolled off, pulling me into the spoon position, throwing a thigh over my legs.

Why can’t I just whisper yes? You know you want to.

* * *

Fab squinted at Creole. “How long have you been here? And how did you get in?” she demanded when we walked into the kitchen in search of coffee.

“How did you get past the guard dog?” I asked.

“Yeah,” Fab said, not happy. “Now that you two are sleeping together, when are you going to start telling everyone you’re a couple?”

I glared at her. “We are not doing anything and don’t you tell anyone anything to the contrary.”

Fab rolled her eyes. “Your hair is a mess, your lips look swollen, and you’re wearing a shirt with his name on the back. And I bet you’re naked under it. And nothing happened. Oh, okay.”

Didier laughed, he clearly didn’t believe my explanation either.

Creole had given me his quarterback jersey from when he played football at the University of Miami. He stroked my hair, working on a knot.

“Stop it.” I jerked away. Little good that did me, he jerked me back and continued to untangle the knot using his finger.

“Does Creole remind you of anyone you know?” I looked at Didier.

“You and I will have a talk later,” he informed me and smiled.

Oh, great. That didn’t sound fun. I’d be avoiding Didier like he had crabs.

“I need your help today,” Fab said.

“I’ve got a busy schedule.” I looked her in the eye which sold a lie faster than fidgeting around.

She narrowed her eyes. “What?” she demanded.

“Ask me again later and by then I will have thought of something.”

Creole laughed. “Good one.”

“You’re not the least bit funny. We’ll leave after you get rid of lover boy,” Fab said, glaring at Creole.

“Ignore her, she’s irritable because this is the second time you’ve snuck into the house right under her nose.” I grinned at her.

Fab prided herself on her security guard skills where the house was concerned; no one had ever been able to sneak past her before. Creole now put two blemishes on her perfect record.

He leaned across the counter, getting into her face. “Do not upset Madison.”

I smirked at Fab, knowing she and Didier liked Creole and wanted me to stop being so indecisive when they were both certain I liked him back.

Creole put his coffee mug in the dishwasher. He advanced on me, a fierce look on his face. I thought briefly about running, but I knew how that would turn out—he’d catch me and I’d be lying under his body.

He grabbed my arm. “As of right now, I’m out of patience,” he said, and jerked me toward the front door. “She’ll be back.”

“Where are you taking me, I don’t have shoes on.” I tried to pull back but he held fast, slammed the door, and pushed me up against it, kissing me.

“Have a good day, honey.” He smacked my butt and left.

“Do you have to have to go to the bathroom?” I asked Fab as she slid behind the wheel.

“Nooo,” she said, and glared.

“Just checkin’. Mother never allowed us to get in the car without peeing first.”

“My mother never mentioned bathroom habits in her life.” Fab rocketed out of the driveway. “I need a triple espresso.”

“Is today’s job for one of your smarmier clients?”

“No, this is a personal favor. You didn’t leave your gun in your underwear drawer, did you?”

I made a face at her and lifted my skirt, my Glock holstered to my thigh. “Hmm…‘Personal favor’ translates to ‘you owe me.’”

“When have I ever said no, unlike you?” Fab asked. “Lately, your stories are not up to your usual high standard.”

“My memory is better than yours. In the past I remember having to trick and lie to get you to help me. I’m still the Queen of the Stories.”

Fab slid into an available space at The Bakery Café, right in front of Zach and Slice, who were sitting at an outdoor table. “It’s not too late to back out and we’ll get coffee somewhere else.”

“I’m not happy we broke up but I’m very happy Zach Jr. has a hands-on dad. Besides, Slice just waved.” I crossed the sidewalk to their table. “Hi, guys.”

“I’ll be back with your usual, to go,” Fab said from behind my back.

“Heard you had a little trouble at your house,” Slice said. Zach’s partner scared most people by his sheer size, as well as the fierce look on his face. He didn’t scare me, but I’d never been on his bad side and he helped me out when I needed muscle.

Zach looked surprised.

“Good news travels through interesting circles; didn’t know it was common knowledge.”

“It’s not, but my connections are impeccable.” He bared his teeth, in a Slice smile.

That meant he and the District Attorney were still an item. “The last of Jake’s disgruntled business associates, I hope. I’m thinking about a name change.”

“That’s a great idea.” Zach ran his fingers along my arm. “You doing okay?”

“How’s fatherhood?” I asked, ignoring his question.

“The three generations of Anthonys got together last weekend for an all-male outing to the Alligator Farm and had a great time. I’m learning more from my son than the other way around.” Zach smiled the whole time he spoke, and the hard lines in his face softened.

“I think you’ll be an amazing dad,” I said, and I meant every word.

“I’m at your service, anytime.” Slice hit my arm.

Fab appeared with our coffees and a bag of treats. It was damn near impossible to walk by the bakery case and not want something; they made the most mouth-watering sweet rolls. Mother always bought an assortment.

“Are there two in there?” I pointed to the bag. Fab had the annoying habit of wanting to share.

She rolled her eyes. “We’re late. Bye guys.”

Zach stood and caught my hand. “I hope we’re still friends.” He hugged me.

I nodded, unsure of what to say. “Stay safe, both of you.”

Fab grabbed the back of my top, jerking me away. “Why do you always have to be so nice? Creole won’t like Slice riding to the rescue, think about that before you make the call.”

“He won’t mind Slice as much as Zach. Tell me about the job.”

“You’ll see.”

I hated those words and gave my Glock a reassuring pat.

* * *

We rode in silence down the Overseas. I stared out the window at the Gulf of Mexico. I realized Creole had been consuming more of my thoughts lately and I smiled at the thought of saying “yes” to him, and then Mother’s wagging finger flashed before me.

Fab interrupted my thoughts. “What are you going to do if you drag your feet with Creole until he feels jerked around and is done with you?”

“I’m just scared. All the what-ifs and then there’s Mother, who seems so sure we’re not a match. I want everyone to be happy.”

“Ponder this: if your mother slapped around in your flops, would she not date someone just because you asked? Brad is proof that the answer is no. He practically begged her to stop seeing Spoon.” She held up her hand.

“I’m not finished,” she said. “I’ve seen the way you look at him all breathless and wistful. I know your thoughts are naughty, because your cheeks get flushed when you’re lost in thought and you think no one’s paying attention, like now.”

“I’m happy I didn’t give up on you and your negative attitude about being friends.”

“Another thing,” she said, and shook her finger. “Creole and I get along; he gets me. When I offer up a load of sarcasm he doesn’t get all mad and stomp out the door, he serves it back. Did you know that Didier and Creole went for a twenty-mile bike ride? We have the potential for doing something a lot less strenuous as couples.”

Fab jerked the wheel and took the exit to Pigeon Key. We bumped over the gravel, and leaving a dust bowl in our wake, we pulled into The Wild Bird Farm, but Tolbert’s car was nowhere in sight. Grover must have gone for a ride because he wasn’t standing guard on the porch. She drove to the far side of the property and veered off on a dirt side road.

“You’re going to get the Hummer dirty,” I whined.

“You keep lookout and make sure we don’t attract the attention of the guard at the end of the driveway.”

I had forgotten that Tolbert’s property and Gus Ivers’ property shared an access road that ran along the back. We parked on the far side of the two-story Victorian-style house, completely hidden from the road.

“This is illegal, Fabiana Merceau.”

“We saw a pickup blow out of the back of the property and didn’t recognize the driver, came over to investigate, and found the back door open. We’re in the process of securing the place.”

I wanted to stay put in the SUV with the door locked but got out anyway, despite my better judgment.

“Just checking to see what Violet is up to.” Fab slipped her lock pick out of her pocket and tossed me a pair of rubber gloves.

The lock popped in a second and we entered the kitchen. “All’s quiet; that’s a good sign.” Fab looked around. “What do we have here?” She pointed to a stack of boxes lining the wall in the dining room.

To me, the house was dark and dreary and more than a little creepy. I lifted the lid on the nearest box. “Looks like Violet’s packing personal mementos.”

In the corner sat a large roll-top desk. Someone sitting there could see the comings and goings along the main highway. “She’s looking for something,” Fab said. “The desk is mostly empty; she upended the contents onto the floor and what she didn’t want went into these plastic bags to be dumped.”

“Judging by the number of boxes, I’d say she’s been busy since his death. Can we leave now?”

“I want to check upstairs and then we’re out of here.”

I followed her, since there was no way I’d stay behind by myself.

Fab peeked in each bedroom and opened the last door at the end of the hall. An unidentified bald man with a three-strand comb-over pointed a gun in her face. “You’re trespassing,” he said as he cocked his gun. “I’m here to protect the place from the riffraff and here you are.”

I always wondered how a guy with missing teeth could eat his food, and I supposed now was not the right time to ask. He didn’t look that smart. If we kept him talking, maybe we’d get out of here in one piece.

“Calm down,” I said. “Tucker Davis, the lawyer, asked us to stop by and check on the property. When we found the back door ajar, we decided to check it out. As you can see, we’re not here to steal anything.”

“I never killed anyone before. It might be fun. Dump your bodies in the abandoned well out back where no one will ever find you.”

His creepy laugh ran up my spine. “You’re going to shoot us with a rental cop at the end of the driveway? He’ll hear the shots, Einstein.”

“She doesn’t like problems. She’d want me to kill you.”

“Who’s ‘she?’” I asked.

He ignored me, cleared his throat, and let the contents fly across the room.

“Let’s deal,” Fab said. “I have a key to the safe. It’s yours if you let us leave.” She held out her arm sideways. “No sudden moves, I’m taking the key out of my pocket, nice and slow.”

Fab distracted him, kicking the gun out of his hand; it flew and landed across the room. She lodged her foot in his gut and he screamed, dropping into a heap on to the floor. I cracked him over the head with the handle of my Glock.

“Now what?” I asked. “Do you suppose ‘she’ is the childlike Violet and wants moron here to kill people?”

Fab lifted his wallet off the bedside table. She took out the driver’s license. “Says here, ‘Gary Greene.’ We’ll tie him up and let it be Violet’s problem, or whomever’s.”

“Where’s the gun safe?” I asked, now knowing why we were here sneaking around. At least it’s not pitch dark out. Fab had a preference for sneaking around late at night.

“Ivers was a cagey old guy. There’s a fake wall in the garage and the safe is behind there. Only two people know that, and one is a dead guy. Wonder why he gave what’s probably a pricey collection to me?”

I spotted a tie rack inside the open closet door, helped myself to three nice striped ones, and tossed one to Fab. I jerked Moron’s legs together and wrapped the ties around his ankles, tying the ends in a knot. “Should we gag him?”

“No one would hear him screaming unless they were inside the house.” Fab kicked him in the ass and retrieved his gun, using a stained pillowcase.

“I thought we’d get more information out of Gary here, before you kicked the crap out of him.”

“Let’s get the hell out of here. I’m hungry.”

* * *

Fab pulled into the driveway. Home at last! “This can’t be good news.” I drew my Glock as a scruffy-looking man dressed in jeans and a naked woman T-shirt, sunglasses, and in desperate need of a shave, strolled away from the front door and stared. “Recognize him?”

Fab cut the engine, jerking her Walther from the back of her waistband. “On three, shoot. If he lives, we’ll ask him what he wants.”

“Let’s try a little patience and ask first.” She rolled her eyes at me. “Okay, we’ll talk at gunpoint. Whoever shoots him first has to deal with the cleaner dude.”

Despite the fact the man looked homeless, when he realized we weren’t jumping out to greet him, he started in our direction full of arrogance and cockiness.

“I’ll bet he’s packing behind his back, jeans are too tight to be anywhere else,” I said, noticing his muscled thighs. He wore his jeans well.

“Roll down the window,” Fab instructed. “I’ll show off my gun, you chat it up. But if he makes a sudden move, he’s dead.”

His eyes smoldered with anger, but his hands went straight in the air. “Hey, Madison, I’m a friend of Creole’s.”

“He looks like a friend of Creole’s,” Fab said.

“Or Didier if he hadn’t bathed,” I hissed and hung my head out the window. “Prove it.”

“I have a badge in my left front pocket. I’ll take it out slow.” He eased his police badge out of his pants, demonstrating he had plenty of practice.

Fab and I got out. “I won’t shoot you, but she will, in case that badge came from a costume shop. What do you want?” I asked.

“Creole’s out of touch. Sent me here to let you know if you need anything to call, and I’ll send a posse or show up myself.”