Love and Dreams: The Coltrane Saga, Book 6 (44 page)

“No,” he said firmly, planting himself in front of them. “I’m not budging till you let her go. That ain’t no way to treat a lady, and if she don’t want to go on this trip, then, by God, I ain’t going to be no party to forcing her.”

Bryan glared at him, drew in his breath, nostrils flaring, let it out slowly as he felt a shudder of rage. There was no time to argue. “You’re fired,” he said. “Get off my boat. Now.”

Walt could not believe what he was hearing. He had known Bryan all his life, had worked for his father, and the
Marnia
had never been to sea without him. “You—you don’t mean that!” he cried.

Bryan turned and took Jade from Monroe’s arms. “I certainly do. I gave you a chance, but you had to meddle in my business. Get off my boat, I said. Burton, get him off!”

Walt stared at the knife Monroe Burton had quickly slipped from his back pocket. “You heard the skipper, old man,” Monroe said. “You either go ashore or I’ll feed you to the fish.”

Walt knew he had no choice, but he stalled. “I’ve got some personal things below,” he growled. “I’d like to get ’em if you don’t mind.”

“All right,” Bryan agreed. “But be quick about it. Burton, stay with him. See that he leaves immediately.”

Bryan hurried on down to his cabin, laid Jade on the bed, and promised, “I’ll be back later, darling, and as soon as we’ve sailed, I’ll untie you and we’ll talk.” He kissed her forehead, then quickly closed his eyes. Her contempt for him glowing in her green, green eyes was more than he could bear.

He went out, locked the door behind him. Walt Gibbons had gone toward the little crew section, entering his tiny cabin, and Monroe was right behind him. Bryan called to him, and he turned and came back to where his skipper stood, keeping a wary eye on the door Walt had entered.

Bryan hissed, “Get one of the other men to go with you when Gibbons gets off. Don’t hurt him bad, but just make sure he’s out for a few hours to give us a chance to be on our way. If we let him just walk away, he’ll head straight for the police, and we don’t have time for that.”

Monroe grinned maliciously. “No problem, sir. I’ll see he’s got one hell of a headache when he wakes up probably sometime tomorrow.”

Lita could not sleep. She tossed and turned in her bed, sobbing with self-pity because her plan had failed. Mr. Stevens was gone to her forever, gone to his island paradise with a woman who didn’t even want to be with him. It wasn’t fair. Not when she wanted to go so badly. Life, she decided, was cruel. No matter that he had kept his promise, paid her nicely for her services. For once, she was not so sure money meant everything, especially if it could not buy the love of the man she wanted.

And now, in addition to trying to mend her broken heart and dreams, she had to make a new life for herself. Mr. Stevens had ordered the house closed up, furnishings sold at auction, the property put up for sale. He was not planning to return to New York, had even turned his share of his business over to an associate.

Dawn was just starting to creep up on the horizon when Lita got out of bed and went into the kitchen to make a pot of strong coffee. She poured a generous splash of brandy into the coffee, figuring she deserved it. Then she walked out onto the sun porch to stare at the river and contemplate her problems.

Someone knocked on the glass door, and she jumped, startled. Her heart leaped into her throat at the sight of Colt Coltrane.

“You’re Miss Tulane, aren’t you?” he said softly. “We met at the studio. I need to talk to you.”

Lita began to back away as she nervously stammered, “Go away—go away, or I’ll call the police.”

“No, wait,” he protested quickly. “You’ve no cause to be afraid of me. I don’t mean you any harm. I just want to talk to you. I’ve got to see Mrs. Stevens. Get her for me, please.”

She shook her head slowly, calming a bit as she realized he didn’t know she was the one responsible for him and Mrs. Stevens getting caught, and he had not come to raise hell with her. It was just her own guilt making her nervous.

He was, growing impatient. “Well, where is she?”

“I don’t know.”

“You work for her. Surely you know where she is at this hour.”

“Not exactly. Please go.”

Colt stared down at the ground wearily, worriedly. Dammit, he had to have some answers. He had been lurking around outside for several hours now, waiting for a chance to see Jade. He might not know just who she was, what she had meant to him in the past, but one thing he did know—he loved her now, and he couldn’t just back off, no matter the danger.

He had tried to telephone, but the operator said something was wrong with the Stevens line. She could not put him through, and that had alarmed him even more. He felt he had to do something. Triesta was watching him like a hawk. And she refused to tell him where Lorena and the baby had gone. Strange things were going on. He had to have some answers. Fast. Because he was afraid the pain in his head was going to get worse and worse until his brain just exploded trying to figure things out. He was having more flashbacks, memories of moments with Jade in unfamiliar, exotic places. The pieces of the puzzle were jagged, fragmented, and unseen ghosts were rattling chains inside his skull. So he had done the only thing he knew to do—try to see Jade. If this crazy-acting woman didn’t give him some information, he feared Bryan Stevens might whisk Jade off somewhere and he would never see her again. No matter that he was her husband. Colt wasn’t thinking about the right or wrong of the situation, only that he was driven by something within that he couldn’t understand, knew only that he had to pursue it and find out what was eating at him.

He raised red-rimmed eyes to stare beseechingly at Lita. She had backed across the porch, hands clutching her throat, eyes wide with apprehension. “Please,” he begged. “Please tell me where I can find Jade. I think you know. I think you know a lot you aren’t telling…I think you know what this is all about, and if you’ve got a merciful bone in your body, help me. Please…”

Lila did not know what to do. She felt sorry for him, but Mrs. Stevens had said he didn’t mean anything to her, so she probably wouldn’t want her telling him anything. What could he do anyway? They’d probably sailed by now.

“Please!” he all but shouted in his desperation. “Please tell me where she is!”

Oh, Lila really felt sorry for him then, because it was obvious he was really upset. Well, she thought with a sigh, what harm would it do if she did tell him? He would go to the harbor, but he wouldn’t find them, and then he’d give up—as she was going to have to do. It was painful when you had to let a dream die, she mused.

She told him then about Mr. Stevens’ yacht, how he was taking his wife to his private island somewhere to get her away from
him
.

Colt exploded then, losing all patience. “Where does Stevens keep his boat docked? I can’t run up and down every pier in town looking for it, goddammit!”

She lifted her chin haughtily. “I’ve told you all I’m going to. Now I’m warning you—”

“And
I’m
warning
you
, goddammit!” He jerked the gun from inside his shirt, had planned to be ready should he encounter Stevens. “You tell me where he keeps that boat or you’re dead. And if you lie to me, I’ll be back.”

Lita hoarsely told him what he wanted to know…then fainted.

Colt sprinted across the lawn to the bicycle he had ridden, because it was easier to conceal than a horse while he prowled around the estate. Now he was even more glad for the two-wheeled wonder machine since he could maneuver it quickly, quietly, through the streets as he made his way toward Battery Park. It was a long way. A hell of a long way. The weather was against him, too. The wind was starting to howl and whip about, making the ride precarious. Thunder rumbled in the skies to the east, and against the angry red light of dawn he could see silver fingers of lightning streak across the heavens. A vicious storm was about to break, but he had to get to the harbor, dammit, and if he didn’t make it in time, he’d
swim
to Bryan Stevens’ yacht—or die trying.

Chapter Thirty-Five

The rain had started by the time Colt reached the dock. He leaped from his bicycle, running to and fro looking for some sign of Jade or Stevens.

Hardly anyone was about, just those checking to make sure their vessels were secured against the storm. Colt spotted a grizzled old man feverishly working to secure his rowboat to a piling. “Do you know where the Stevens’ yacht is tied up? I’ve got to find it.”

“Don’t know ’zackly, but the bigger boats all pull in down there in the yacht basin.”

Colt turned, broke into a run. The rain began to come down harder, and he was quickly soaked to the skin. He could see four yachts, but no sign of life on any of them. He jumped from the pier onto the deck of the first, quickly looked about, then continued on to the next…and the next…and the next. Finally he stood with the rain coming down in sheets against his face and knew utter defeat.
The woman had lied
, he fumed. She had deliberately sent him to the wrong place, and by the time he went back to try to scare her into telling him the truth, it would be too late. Stevens would have sailed.

He turned his face to the sky and welcomed the cold, slashing rain. The thunder rolled, and the lightning popped, and the wind screamed and moaned…

No!

That was not the wind moaning! It was a man, and he sounded as though he was hurt.

Colt looked about, straining to see in the driving storm, the bushes and weeds on the above embankment swaying wildly in the frenzied winds. Had the sound come from up there? It had to.

He took a cautious step forward, heard the sound again, and then he saw the tip of a man’s shoe among the weeds. He hurried up the incline and saw him—an old man lying on his stomach, struggling to lift himself up. Blood was dripping from a nasty wound in his head.

Colt knelt beside him and gently tried to lift him in his arms. “Let me help you. I’ll get you to a doctor.”

“No time!” the man cried, and with great effort, got to his feet. He looked at Colt in confusion. “Who…who are you?”

“The name’s Coltrane. I was looking for the Stevens yacht, but I think somebody gave me the wrong information. Now let me help you to shelter. You could be hurt bad.”

“You’re looking for the Stevens yacht? You here to help Miss Jade?”

Colt’s heart skipped a beat. “What do you know about her?”

Walt Gibbons came alive. His head hurt like hell, but he could stand it. He wasn’t licked yet. “All I know is that Mr. Stevens has gone loco. He brought his wife here all trussed up like a Christmas goose, and when I started asking questions, he fired me.”

Every nerve within Colt tensed. “How long ago?”

“Hard to tell,” Walt said. “Don’t know how long I was out. I got hit from behind. I guess they wanted to make sure they’d have time to get away, figured I’d go to the police, which I sure aim to do. But it was dark. Maybe it was near two or three o’clock in the night.”

Colt swore. “Dammit, they’ve been gone for hours.”

Walt shook his head, wincing with pain. “No. The boat wasn’t ready to go. Would’ve been another hour or two at least. He gave us pretty short notice to get things ready.”

Colt felt a ray of hope. “Then maybe we’ve got a chance. They can’t have gotten far in this storm.”

Walt agreed, pointed to one of the smaller boats a few slips up from where they were standing. “Come on. That’s Mr. Herreshoff’s sloop. We can take shelter there. I know him, and he won’t mind.”

Once on board, Walt formally introduced himself, then said, “You’ve heard my story. What’s yours?”

Colt would only say that he wanted to save Jade. “And you’ve got to help me,” he said firmly.

Walt grinned broadly. “I can outsail the best of ’em, and we’re sittin’ on about the fastest sloop in the world. This here is Nathanael G. Herreshoff’s sloop, the
Vigilant
. It’s a keelboat, but it’s got a centerboard worked through a slot in the lead keel that makes it faster’n hell. With her, we can beat Bryan Stevens to his island if we want to!”

Colt reached out and shook his head firmly, feeling confident for the first time in a long time. “I don’t want to beat him to his island,” he tersely told Walt. “I just want to catch up to him and get Jade off that boat. Can you do it?”

Walt was already up and making ready. “We need a crew. I know where a few old salts hang out in a tavern nearby. I’ll tell you where it is, and you just go walk in the door and yell that ol’ Walt Gibbons needs help, and they’ll come runnin’. I’ll worry about making it up to Mr. Herreshoff later.”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll buy this sloop at any price he names.”

Walt did not doubt that he would—or could—but didn’t think it would be necessary. However, he felt compelled to bring him out of his state of euphoria long enough to grimly advise him, “It ain’t safe out there. I want you to know that. We could tip over. I’m not scared. I’ve been caught out in worse blows than this. But you look like a greenhorn to me.”

Colt could not help smiling. “I know about storms, Mr. Gibbons. I was in one…once.” He offered no further explanation, and the man politely did not ask for one.

The
Marnia
pitched and rolled in the churning sea. The rain had abated somewhat, but the winds were still rough, and conditions precarious.