Into the Flames (Perilous Connections: Book Two) (6 page)

I survey the ferry.
A good sized boat, two decks.
Tourists and local
s are
already mingling aboard. Daphne goes up
to a small outhouse sized building
sitting right at the center of the deck that leads to the ferry and pu
lls out her
wallet.

I catch up with her before she can part with cash I know she cannot afford.

“Let me do this.”

She turns ferocious eyes on me. “I already told you I’m not for sale.”

God
please have
a little
merc
y on my soul. T
his
woman
or girl
because she didn’t
even look older than
the age of
fourteen with her butterscotch skin and amber colored eyes was certainly going to add numerous year
s to my already taxed existence
.

I make
my face colder than a whetstone,
“I seem to recall that conversation,” I ignore the line forming behind us, “but I’m sure you’ll agree that a maid’s weekly salary cannot cover the cost of tickets for three adults and one child.”

Her mouth drops open in amazement, then her eyes narrow with even more suspicion, which I
had
previously thought to be humanly impossible. “How do you k
now how much I make,”
s
he
hisses again. She is turning into a damn
cobra, next thing I know she’ll be spitting in my eyes.

“Let’s just say that my stay at Sunset Cove wasn’t entirely spent avoiding capture
and flirting with
heatstroke.
”

I manage to move her firmly out of the way and promptly pay the staring
ticket booth lady who is gawking
at us
with bright, rabbit eyes.

We head over to the boat and after furnishing the four bits of rectangular paper ar
e waved unceremoniously through unto the lower deck.

There is a crush
of bodies as everyone
runs to grab a seat alongside the rails.

Waiting for the confusion to die down
I glance out at th
e sea
. It
’
s green but not any ordinary
green rather it’s
a light emerald green, with hints of
sky blue splashed
through
it
. The Caribbean Sea never ceases to amaze me and for several
seconds I forget that I’
m
on a boat running from a hit-man
and married to a woman who hates the very shadow of my presence.

I feel a slight tug on the leg of my khaki’s and look down into Aubrey’s face. He smiles uneasily up at me.

“I’m hungry,” he says with
a
whine.

I
almost laugh out loud. Children,
they are so honest and to the point.

I bend down to him and from the corner of my eyes catch a familiar pair of jean covered leg
s headed swiftly in my direction.
I ignore it and meet Aubrey’s anxious brown gaze.
T
he ferry has to have some overpriced food, the kind that all tourist
y spots love to sell their
consumers.

I grin at him and I’
m surprised that I feel that smile somewhere inside, not just on the surface where nothing is real anymore. “What would you like
to eat little man?
”

Daph
ne has arrived and she catches
my question. “I can get him something to eat,” she snaps at me.

I don’t take my eyes fr
om Aubrey who is looking back and
forth between us with a bewildered expression on his face.

“M
y sister is mad at you, Mr.
Blackthorne
.”

“Nate, little man, my name is Nate, that’s all. And yes,” I tip a glance up at Daphne,
“
your big sister is mad at me, but I’m sure she’ll feel better soon.”
I dare not look up now, not from
fear but from the danger that her outraged expression will cause me to burst out laughing. I keep my face straight with some effort.

Without meeting her eyes I decide
to call a truce for the moment. “Daphne,
I promise that I w
ill no longer address you by the disgusting nickname of
Daffee
if you let me take care of this for the little man.”

There is silence and I wait for several seconds,
then
our eyes meet and I straighten
up
, my hand affectionatel
y splayed over
Aubrey’s
head.

She
seems to
be war
ring with herself but then I see the fight going out of her. She nods stiffly and turns on her
heel
s and head
s back toward
the seat
she
’d
taken with Elaine, at the furthest end of the boat.
Away from me.
No surprise there.

I get Aubrey something to eat and to be naughty a snickers candy bar. I had put the kid through some tough shit already and he deserved it.

He
thanks
me like a proper little gentleman and
skip
s
back to Daphne and Elaine.

I had originally planned to charter a plane, hide out in one of the French island
s
,
maybe
Guade
loupe or
Martinique.
I had done several drops on both islands several years ago and one of the places I had performed my bu
siness
had been a beautiful eighteenth century
estate
. It
s grounds had been gorgeously planted with orchids, native trees, and even white grapes vines, all bursting a
round lazy ponds and fountains covered with ferns.

It had been wondrous and my host had given me free run of the place for the entire week of my stay.

I doubt that I’ d be welcomed
back
in th
at particular abo
de now as I’
m cut off from my former employer’s octopus
-
like influence
but I could have gained a little house by a stream and perhaps found some solace for a few weeks. Though m
y French isn’
t so good
I have found that being white and tolerably handsome has its advantages in these islands where the ghost of the
massa
and his invulner
ability still lingers like an unwavering
stink on the air.

Now though t
he one thi
ng I’
m c
ertain of more than any other
is that
human depravity has
no color and
some of us just
stink worse than others.
And I am one of those stinking people.
I can still smell the ta
int of it on my clothes left by the
filth of the drug trade
I’d worked in
for
five
long
years.

Looking around at the
excited
faces of the tourists who swarm around us,
I know
if I look h
ard enough I will likely see someone I reco
gnize from a street corner or one of the many fine
homes in this region.

I take a sip of the coke I’d gotten
along with Aubrey’s food. A
fter
several
deep swallows
I feel
somewhat satisfied.
S
o much for
a healthy
breakfast.

I
scan the crowd again for any sign that Emmanuel may have
a backup.
Pablo
Guarez
has never been the most patie
nt type when he sends his hit-man after you
.
But t
here
is nothing.
Everyone
seems busy talking, gossiping,
already
point
ing to vague images of
Montserrat in the distance.

Will it be as beautiful as I’ve read? Most active volcanic islands tend to be lush, full of life, ironic considering their propensity to blow that life to dust when least expected.

I tip my head back and
close my eye
s. I need to
force myself to enjoy this ferry
ride. The sun bright and sharp at eight is not truly hot yet, and it
s
warmth caress
es the tip of my nose, my brow.
I close my eyes and allow myself to get lost in the sen
sations
and try not to think of what I’ll do once we get to Montserrat.

Chapter Three

Daphne

I pretend that I’
m not watching him but my eyes some
how maneuver themselves in my
sockets and I find my gaze fixed stubbornly on him.

His hair glints in the sunlight,
like spun, indolent gold. I
turn away angry at
my
continued stupidity.

I catch Elaine watching me, her gaze considering.

It is too much.
“Why are you staring at me?” E
ven to my own
ears my voice is nasty. My cheeks
burn with shame but I cannot make myself take bac
k the words or muster the will to stem
the hurt that momentarily leaps into Elaine’s eyes.

“Just looking around,” she replies. T
hen she looks down into her lap, where one hand is resting, the other is latched around Aubrey who is too busy savo
ring
his illicit breakfast candy bar
to bother with either of us.

She purses her mouth together,
then
meets my eyes again. “Do you love him?”

I scoff and immediately several pairs of eyes flip to me before scattering away. A further dose of shame drenches me and I make my face hard to hide the rioting of my emotions, the tenderness that
has started bleeding inside me because of Nate.

Do I love him
?
How could I?
I’ve barely met the man. And he’s a criminal. I know that as surely as I know the
difference between a native or
imported
variety of
mango.

“That’
s none of
your business,” I whisper
in a savage undertone. Hopefully low enough for Aubrey in his chocolate haze to miss.

She flinches but does not break her
contact with me. “You were always so sure of yourself, so arrogant.”

I nearly fall off the wooden bench that laps around the deck of the fe
rry. Elaine of all people has the nerve
to c
riticize me?

“How dare you?” I sputter,
search
ing desperately
for the harshest, cruelest insult I can think of but my damned brain turns up empty at this most inopportune time. “You have no idea what you’re talking about,” I rage at her in another furious whisper, “you don’t know me. You never wanted to.”

She leans into Aubrey for a moment, places a tender kiss on his forehead. Aubrey’s
lashes have
descended o
nto his cheeks.
If
I didn’t know bet
ter I would have supposed he is
drifting off t
o sleep lu
lled by the fragrant s
alty air which has become much fresher and
cooler
since we
pulled
out into the
obliging
current
.

But I know different. He’s
been listening
to us
this entire time.
It
kills me that for once I ha
ve opened the door to my hate for
his mother in front of him
but I can’t help myself. I have lo
st control. Ever since I met Nate
it’s all just melted away.

Elaine and I are locked in a visual battle and I can feel the fresh, traitorous sting of tear
s trying to break
through
again.
But I will not crumble
in front of this woman. She doesn’
t deserve it. “You don’t know me,” I reiterate stubbornly, daring her to refute it.