Heather Macallister - Jilt Trip

A shiver prickled her skin. Today, she would have acted exactly the same even without the other…complication Saunders had discovered.

“Which way?” Julian broke into her thoughts.

“Left at the entrance to Dolphin Bay.”

Sand dusted the edges of the two-lane road. Rusty mailboxes lined the entrance to the small beach house neighborhood. Street signs were carved into bleached gray wood. Everything looked the same as it always had.

Nikki felt hot, even inside the air-conditioned car. They were overdressed for the beach, and she couldn’t wait to climb aboard the Honey Bee and slip into her swimsuit.

The road deteriorated the closer to the beach they traveled. Several children dragging neon-bright beach towels stopped to gawk as the black limousine prowled their street.

“Turn on Conch,” she said.

Julian wrestled the big car around the corner, the wheels momentarily sinking into the soft sand. With a lurch, the car popped back onto the road. Nikki sighed.

And there it was—the Honey Bee, still berthed in the private cove she leased from a beach-house owner who wasn’t interested in boating.

Julian pulled the car as close to the dock as he could and stopped.

With the air conditioner no longer running, the interior of the car quickly became like a sauna.

“Now what?” Saunders asked when Nikki made no move to get out.

“I don’t know,” she answered, at a loss for the first time since the close of business yesterday, suddenly realizing that it was a Saturday in late June. The height of tourist season. And tourists abounded aplenty.

Why hadn’t she foreseen this? She’d driven straight into a casual beach-house community in a black limousine. And she was about to have two formally dressed men carry an unconscious groom aboard a boat.

And nobody would notice?

“Nikki?”

“I’m thinking.”

Julian turned and faced her. Both men waited.

Why did she have to make all the decisions? “Well.” She eyed the curious beach goers and made up her mind.

“My dear granny from the old country has come to pay a visit.” Nikki tied the scarf around Carter’s head again.

“Hey, it worked before,” she said when Saunders and Julian exchanged a look. “Release the trunk, Julian.”

Opening the car door to a blast of heat, Nikki climbed out, wincing as her black patent pumps sank into the dry sand. Removing the folded wheelchair from the trunk, she struggled to pull it apart.

Sand sifted into her shoes. Sweat dampened the silk blouse beneath her black suit. She’d worn black on purpose. Somehow, the occasion had called for it. But now, with the sun blazing on her back, she regretted it.

Besides, they all looked like gangsters.

The wheelchair ready, she tried to push it toward the open door of the limousine. The wheels sank. And this was without Carter’s weight. She sighed. Kidnapping Carter had seemed so simple this morning.

Julian leaned an elbow against the car. Saunders fussed with the afghan.

Carter’s face turned ruddy and sweat dampened the hair over his forehead.

“This isn’t going to work,” Julian said in a low voice. “How are we going to get him into the wheelchair with everybody watching?”

“Can’t we just slide him in?”

“He’s supposed to be an old woman.” Saunders joined them at the door. “We have to treat him with respect. We can’t haul him around like a side of beef.”

Nikki pushed the chair as close to the open door as she could. “I’ll block the view from this side. You and Julian get him in as best you can.”

Grumbling, they tugged, pulled and slid Carter into the wheelchair. Nikki tried to keep him covered.

The wheels stuck in the sand. They all stared.

Julian sighed and raked a hand through his hair.

Saunders scanned the distant horizon. “What’s happened to me? I had a nice life. I had a job that didn’t bore me and supported me in the style I desire.” He wiped his forehead. “And what do I do? Why, I drug and kidnap my boss, of course. Then I stick him in the sand to roast like a pig at a luau!”

Carter turned his head in the first sign of recovering consciousness. Three soft gasps were carried away on the gentle beach breeze.

“Doomed.” Saunders slumped against the car.

“We’re all doomed.”

“Nonsense.” Nikki grabbed hold of the wheelchair handles and tugged. “C’mon. The three of us should be able to move this thing.”

They managed—barely. Nikki expected to hear police sirens at any moment. As they bumped along the wooden pier, Carter moaned.

They walked faster and pushed him up the ramp onto the Honey Bee and out of sight.

Once on board, the men slung Carter onto the berth in the master stateroom and Julian ran back to the limo for supplies.

In the pilothouse, Nikki started the engine and checked to see that the radio worked. She let out a breath in relief. From here on out, it should be smooth sailing—at least for the Honey Bee.

“Nikki?” Saunders stuck his head in. “You’re going to have to tell him.”

She knew. “Let me handle Carter. You work on the legal end.”

“All right, then. Speaking as an attorney, I’d advise you not to venture into international waters.”

“I’ve got to sail out far enough so Carter won’t jump overboard and try to swim back.”

Saunders gave her a stern lawyer-look. Nikki didn’t like his stern lawyer-looks. Saunders, surprisingly, made a very intimidating lawyer. It must be something about the contrast in personae.

“We don’t know if the Karrenbrocks will call the police,” he warned. “We don’t know who thought we looked suspicious here at the beach and called the authorities.”

Nikki rolled her eyes. “Any rational person would think we looked suspicious.”

Julian was back on board. “I stowed everything below. Looks like you’re all set.”

“The papers?”

“Right here.” He tapped a leather briefcase. “We’re going to keep digging. You work on Carter.”

Nikki shivered.

“I know,” Saunders said with a gentle touch to her arm. “Don’t worry. Check in at eighteen hundred hours. We’ll be standing by.”

She nodded, loathe to see them leave. Both men had shed their jackets and she did likewise, peeling the black gabardine off her sweaty blouse.

They checked in on Carter one last time. He had slipped back into a deep motionless sleep.

“Looks like he’ll be out a while yet,” Julian said. “At least long enough for you to get away from shore.”

Nikki drew a deep breath and nodded.

Julian grinned. “Well, then. Bon voyage.”

She watched as he and Saunders walked down the ramp, jackets slung over their shoulders. They reached the bottom, cast off the ropes and waved.

Nikki waved back, then shoved the throttle into reverse.

The Honey Bee drifted away from the dock and for the first time in three years, seven months and twenty-two days, Nikki was completely alone with Carter Belden.

Her husband.

THE HAPPIEST TIMES of Carter’s life were spent aboard the Honey Bee with Nikki. Just heading south in the car was enough to loosen the kinks in his shoulders. Inhaling the salty air cleared his mind, the feel of gritty warm sand underneath his feet lowered his blood pressure. As the sun beat on his head, stress evaporated, leaving him pleasantly sleepy.

As soon as the Honey Bee was under way, he’d indulge himself in a nap, leaving Nikki at the helm.

Rocked to sleep by the waves of the Gulf of Mexico, Carter always fell into a deep, healing slumber, leaving his well-being in Nikki’s capable hands.

He trusted her as he’d trusted no other person. With Nikki, he shared his life and his dreams. When he needed her, she was there for him. Always. Without question.