Greed in Paradise (Paradise Series) (3 page)

Johnson, the newest member of the sheriff’s department, would laugh off threats of bodily harm. Best case scenario, he gets transferred to Boise.

I changed the subject. “How was your day, honey?”

He put his lips to mine. “I could get used to you asking me that question.”

One of the cooks came out and set our hamburgers—loaded with lettuce, tomatoes, pickles, and secret sauce—and little skinny fries in front of us. “I love their fries.” I popped one into my mouth.

Creole watched me devour the French fry. “I had a high-level meeting this morning and then went back to the office for a long, boring conference call. Harder and I started throwing paper balls at one another. He taped the call so his assistant can get us a transcript by morning.”

“Did I say thank you for rescuing me from a dreadful evening?” I looked at his flawless caramel-colored skin and shoulder-length dark hair. I wanted to fling myself in his arms, but not while still second-guessing my previous relationship, which felt like a failure on par with my divorce. “You’re smoking hot. You deserve someone not on the rebound; a woman who makes you laugh and serves you breakfast, or coffee anyway, in bed.”

He lifted my chin and looked into my eyes. “You have a little time left to decide you want me on your own. After that, I’m going to pursue you relentlessly until you change your mind.”

“That sounds stalkerish.”

Creole tightened his grip on my chin. “Tell me you feel nothing when we kiss, that my fingers on your skin leaves you cold. Tell me to get lost and I will.”

We stared at one another. “No matter what happens, I’m never going to tell you to get lost.”

He picked up a French fry and shoved it between my lips.

Fab stomped into the kitchen, yelling, her blue eyes glaring. “I will not allow you to turn into a crappy friend.” She grabbed me and ran her hand across my back. “Go get your Glock, right now.”

“He’s dead. That should make you happy.” I reached for my favorite coffee mug, white ceramic with raised seashells.

It annoyed me that Fab always managed to look great in the morning with relatively no primping. Her waist-length brown hair tied up in a ponytail, she had on her favorite skinny jeans and a white, low cut T-shirt, which camouflaged her Walther at the small of her back.

Fab, a coffee snob, got her special blend out of the refrigerator. If you asked me, it looked like mud and the first sip made you gag.

She snapped her fingers at me. “I hate that Zach made you doubt yourself. If you don’t snap out of it, I will hurt you.”

“How will you explain that to Mother?” I smirked. “Did you know what she had planned at dinner last night?” My eyes narrowed.

“What I know is I had to hear from Creole that you almost died yesterday. The only thing that made me happy was that he had to hear the news from Harder,” she snickered. “What did Madeline do now?”

Fab and Harder had an avid dislike for each other. He itched to arrest her, and he knew her investigation skills blurred the lines of legality, but she still managed to elude his grasp.

“She fixed me up with some bland piece of toast, forgot his name already. Can you imagine the first kiss when he feels up my Glock?” I half laughed. “Creole said he’d make sure she doesn’t do that again.”

“What’s up with you two? The way he looks at you should make you want to get naked.”

“He did mention he could use my body in delightful ways to wipe every memory of Zach from my mind and heart.”  The thought of being horizontal with an unrestrained Creole made my skin tingle.

“What’s wrong with you? He’s almost as hot as my Didier. What is it that disgusts you? The rock hard abs, tight ass, or those long legs that could wrap double around your frame? He speaks French, so he can whisper those naughty things you like to hear.”

Didier had spoiled me and Mother, always whispering French in our ears, eliciting blushes and giggles. He flirted shamelessly, and we loved every second.

“Just like I yelled at Mother last night in the middle of the restaurant, I’m not ready.”

Fab poured herself some coffee and sat at the island. “Sorry I missed that scene. How are you two going to make up?”

“I’m not speaking to her today so I have time to come up with something.”

We clinked coffee mugs and laughed.

Zach walked by the kitchen window, not looking in. It had recently been replaced with a garden window and filled with small tropical plants. The last hail storm that blew through targeted the panes, causing cracks. Now we had a larger view of the entire front of the house and anyone who walked through the gate.

“Hand me the gun in the drawer.” Fab held out her hand. “I’ll get rid of him and explain what no trespassing means.”

Past experience taught us that a Beretta in the utensil drawer could come in handy.

Zach Lazarro owned AZL, a security firm that boasted individual and corporate clients. Slice, his right-hand man, recently became a partner and the two traveled in a pack. Slice put his hands to the window, looking in, and waved. The doorbell rang.

Fab slid off the stool and was half way to the door. She cracked the door open, sticking her nose out, and said, “What?”

I couldn’t hear what was said, but Fab looked at me and I nodded to let them in.

Zach and Slice filled the kitchen; both were over six feet tall, ex-navy seals, and hard-asses. Slice was a species all to himself. Over two hundred pounds, he was a solid wall of steel, complete with a menacing scar that ran the entire length of his face.

“You made me coffee.” Slice bared his teeth at Fab, his version of a smile.

Zach hugged me. “Came to check on you. I heard about yesterday.”

I wanted to run my hands through his tousled black hair and smooth it down. “Help yourself to something to drink. I’m considering a name change for Jake’s, and in the meantime, I’m putting up a sign shouting new ownership.”

Zach grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and slid onto a stool across from me at the island. His blue eyes were intense, checking me over. Slice grabbed Fab’s elbow and lead her out to the patio. She’d be mad that he cut off her eavesdropping opportunity.

“Jake’s not coming back,” I told Zach. “I bought him out and it’s all legal-like.”

He covered my hands with his. “I’m sorry about how everything went down between us. You deserved to find out from me and not to be publically embarrassed.”

He had been my boyfriend since shortly after I arrived in Tarpon Cove. After a long relationship of I save your life, you save mine, I met his parents for the first time in a restaurant, along with his ex-wife, Lucia, and son, Anthony III—Zach looking uncomfortable to acknowledge our relationship. Thank goodness for Mother and Creole; they got me out of there with my dignity intact.

He continued. “Lucia showed up on my parent’s doorstep with her luggage and our son. Anthony had begun asking questions about his father, and she didn’t want to compound her lies by saying I’d died.”

“That must have been a shock for your parents.” I’d already heard bits and pieces of the hows and whys and, quite frankly, I didn’t want to hear anymore. At the time of Lucia’s arrival, our relationship had begun to crack under the stress of what he termed my being a “Fab wannabe.” Earlier that day, he told me he needed a break in the relationship. He wanted a stay-at-home girlfriend, not one who carried a gun and partnered with Fab on her quasi-legal jobs.

“Lucia found out she was pregnant after the divorce became final. She figured I wouldn’t be interested since we had an acrimonious divorce. We’ve talked through our issues and we’re considering reconciliation, but our focus is Anthony.”

This was the first time he had stopped by since that fateful night, although I’d seen glimpses of him around town. I supposed it was nice for him to stop by and check on me, but I wanted to tell him not to do it again. “I’m happy for you; I know you wanted a family.” I smiled, although I know it never made it to my eyes. “You look rested and relaxed.”

He squeezed my hand.

Do I look happy? Look rested and relaxed? No, I don’t.
I wanted to tell him to get out of my house.
I couldn’t fault him; he did what any man with integrity would do, stand by his child and the child’s mother. That’s why I had loved him.

“I want us to be friends.” His blue eyes searched my face. “I hope you’ll call if you ever need anything. You are the first woman to drag me out of my cave and make me laugh at myself.”

On the verge of crying, I picked up my mug and put it in the sink. I needed a distraction from his scrutiny. We’d both been instilled with good manners, so it was a given we’d always be pleasant to one another. Hopefully I never ran into his new family. “I’d like that; your number is still on speed dial.”

Zach checked his watch. “We’ve got a meeting to get to at the office.” He walked around the island and pulled me into a hug.

Slice must have positioned his chair so that he could see inside the French doors from the patio to the kitchen. He and Fab walked back in as if on cue. Slice picked me up off my feet in a bear hug. “Call me.”

When I didn’t respond, he squeezed me hard. I grunted, “Okay, already.”

Fab and I sat in silence and watched them leave, hearing the truck doors slam.

My cell phone rang and Fab grabbed it off the counter and handed it to me. I listened and said, “Fab and I are on our way.” I hung up. “Gus Ivers died and Tolbert needs company.”

Fab held out the car keys. “Would you like to drive?”

I laughed and reached out and touched her forehead. “My own SUV? Since I’ve been busy feeling sorry for myself, your crappy driving doesn’t bother me as much.”

We bumped over the gravel road into The Wild Bird Farm and under the cement overhang to the driveway, which was home to hundreds of varieties of wild green parrots with varied-colored underbellies. Fab blew down the road, making it in record time; she had the two-lane Overseas Highway mostly to herself. It wasn’t until another driver wanted to use a piece of her road that horns honked and fingers waved.

Once we parked, Grover, a Golden Retriever, ran to meet us. He had lived with me for a while; I rescued and nursed him back to health. Eventually, I located and returned him to his owner. He hadn’t forgotten me and a lapping dog kiss was just what the doctor ordered.

Tall and lean, Tolbert Rich stood on the porch of his old, rambling plantation-style home. The large property boasted one hundred-year-old willow and oak trees, a pond that had recently been home to an alligator until it wandered off, and an assortment of children’s toys. The toys belonged to his grandchildren, who lived with him full-time since the death of their father.

I chose the wicker bench because Grover could sit next to me. Fab hugged Tolbert and they whispered to one another. She had grown as attached to him as she had to Mother. A tired wicker serving tray sat on the table; today it held a pitcher of raspberry and strawberry water. Someone had shared the recipe with him and now every time we visited he found new fruit for a different flavor to try. I picked up a cookie and shared half with Grover, who had already put his head on my lap.

Tolbert sat opposite me and ran his fingers through his full head of white hair. “Gus wasn’t that old in the scheme of life. He recently had a doctor’s appointment and got a clean bill of health and goes home and dies?” Gus and Tolbert were close in age, both in their seventies.

“Did the sheriff suspect foul play?” I asked. “Do you?” I grabbed two more pillows. The wicker furniture had character, but wasn’t all that comfortable without cushioning.

“The coroner deemed it ‘natural causes,’ pending toxicology reports. Gus went to bed and never woke up.” Tolbert poured himself some tea. “I hadn’t heard from him in a couple of days and went over there and saw his car in the driveway. I beat on the door and got no response, and the doors were locked. I got the key from the planter and went in, the smell alerted me that he’d died before I found him and confirmed for myself.”

“Gus was a crusty old thing.” Fab patted Tolbert’s shoulders. “Anyone want him dead?”

“I guess I’m just being silly. He died in his sleep, no pain, no suffering, and he’s in a better place.” Tolbert held her hand.

“Who inherits his estate?” I asked. The answer would put that person at the top of a suspect list if there were to be questions.

“His daughter, Violet. Those two locked horns recently over some business dealings. It upset Gus that she had been digging into his financial affairs and knew details that he clearly had no intention of sharing, as he thought they were none of her business. He couldn’t figure out how she managed to get her hands on his private information. Then she started to make threats about taking him to court for conservatorship. He wasn’t out of his mind.”

“Conservatorship? She’d have to prove him mentally incompetent and have doctors concur. How did she plan to hop that hurdle?” I asked.

“At first, Gus laughed it off. But I know it worried him because she seemed to know more about the process than made him comfortable, and quite confidant she would be doing what was in his best interest.”

“Depending on the judge’s order, she could’ve potentially controlled every facet of his life. Did he show signs of dementia?” I asked.

“Gus did the numbers puzzle every day in the newspaper,” Fab sniffed.

I raised my eyebrows. “How do you know?”

“He showed up here every time I came to visit. He’d sit his butt in the chair over there and complain that he couldn’t hear out of that crappy hearing aid of his. Maybe that’s why Violet thought he was losing it. I had to yell at him; with all his money, he took cheap to a new level.”

“That’s so sweet of you to yell at an old man,” I said.

Tolbert laughed. “Fab has a way with us older men.”

“How the hell else could he hear me? Last visit, I told him I’d go to lunch, but only if he could hang on my every word without having to ask, ‘What?’”

I reached for another cookie and shared it with Grover, who lifted his head.