Karen Harper - Drowning Tides

“Don’t cry. I know things look dark in more ways than one,” Nick whispered, raising one hand to lift her chin.

He gently rubbed his thumb along her sensitive lower lip she chewed too much when she was upset or scared. Her lips parted. He skimmed the slick part of her lower, inner lip. His hand smelled of pine-scented soap and his breath of mint. She felt prickly hot all over from his merest touch.

“You know—like I said, we can work things out,” he went on, suddenly seeming to stumble for words. His gaze devoured her. “We’ll work together. I promise to take good care of both of you. I—we’ll take things slow between us,” he promised, his voice not only quiet now but rough.

She began to tremble as she whispered, “We need to talk about what our marriage means. I won’t hold you to it once we do what he says, once you can get him arrested or whatever it takes to stop him. But that means we have to be so careful now.”

“If I’m too careful, you will drive me crazy. Good night, wife. Let’s both get some sleep, so I don’t do something out of my mind right now.”

He kissed her hastily but hard on her mouth, reached down to pat her bottom and headed to the sofa bed in front of the door. He yanked the single throw pillow there under his head and flapped the big bath towel over himself, waist to feet.

Claire hurried to the bed and downed the dose of her bitter-tasting sedative on the bedside table. Surely her narcolepsy, the medicine and her physical and emotional exhaustion would knock her out.

She carefully tugged the sheet Lexi had pulled away over both of them. The room had seemed cool before but not now.

For once she didn’t sleep right away. She was worried about Jace, but it was Nick’s tossing and turning and heavy breathing that made her thoughts and heart race.

* * *

Jace’s captors half dragged, half marched him through the wrought iron gates of Nightshade, into the service entrance of the house. In what was obviously a laundry room, they turned on the overhead light and tied his arms and legs to a wooden chair with a couple of clotheslines from a plastic basket. The small, windowless room held a washer, dryer, sorting table and one chair beside his.

“Go tell the boss,” one goon said to the other.

“I have others who know I’m here,” Jace told the man who stayed with him.

“Yeah, well, I do too and I’m betting on them,” he said, going through Jace’s pockets. Luckily, he’d taken his ID info out. His passport was still in the plane parked in a rented hangar. Man, he’d really blown this but when he’d seen those pictures of Claire and Markwood—with Lexi—getting married he’d lost his mind, lost control.

The man pulled out the key to the motorbike, the one to his room, American dollars and his cell phone. “We know who you are and where you’re from,” he said. “But I’ll let the boss decide where you’re going.”

Jace’s insides did a nosedive. What if this Clayton Kilcorse-Ames was not only a kidnapper but a killer? Blinded by his passion to save Lexi and help Claire, he had not realized it could come to this. Could they still be on the premises? He figured not or he would have been gagged as well as tied in case he shouted for help.

His guard turned on his cell phone and started to skim through something on it. He stopped a moment to lay the keys and cash on the washing machine and sat down in the other chair to glare at the phone.

“Nice pics you got of the outside of Nightshade from across the street,” the guy said. “Looking to buy multimillion-dollar property here? Coupla good ones of the balcony with the party.”

“Were you at the wedding?” Jace dared to ask.

“Part of the reception. Great coconut shrimp and lobster with hot sauce,” the guy replied as if they were just buddies shooting the breeze. But when he’d been hustled in here, pressed between the two goons, he’d felt both carried pistols under their jackets.

Jace tried to get more out of him, but the guy clammed up. He wasn’t sure how long he waited. He had no idea what time of night it was and couldn’t see his watch. Finally, he heard footsteps in the hall. The door opened. A short, white-haired man stood there in a white terry cloth robe over what looked like black silk pajamas. He motioned for the man guarding Jace to step out in the hall, where he also glimpsed the other man. They closed the door, and Jace faced the man he assumed was Clayton Ames alone.

“Well, the third leg of the triumvirate,” the man—the boss—said. “That is, if we don’t count your little girl, Lexi.”

“Is she all right? Did you let her and Claire go home?”

“And your nemesis Nick Markwood, Claire’s new husband. You see, he’s my nemesis too, so I think you and I might be able to do business, Jason—Jace—Britten. Frankly, I can use a man of your skills and connections. You can call me Mr. Kilcorse as I’m known around here.”

“Yeah, well, Mr. Kilcorse-Ames, I’m previously employed. I’m an international airline pilot, but I suppose you know all that. You’re the one who sent me the photos of Claire and Markwood together when they were in St. Augustine.”

“Brilliant deduction. I see we have your cell phone, so I’ll be sure to send you a few of the wedding pictures.”

“I’ve seen some and that was enough.”

“I’m sure you’d like a few reminders of why you’ll want to work for me. But to answer your first question, Lexi is fine, a little charmer. She will be going back to Naples soon, with her mother and new stepfather. And I need you to leave that alone, for now, at least.”

“Meaning what? And why would I work for you?”

“Ah, let me count the reasons. One, because you like to fly and are a skilled pilot and are likely to be asked to take a leave from your assignment flying to Singapore, which you like so much. By the way, Singapore’s getting to be quite a tax haven, and I’d like to have a man on my payroll who knows his way around there. I might have you fly me there yourself. Much better than those crowded public planes, even in first class.”

“I’m not on that run anymore. I’ve asked for assignments closer to home, so if you don’t know that, you’re slipping.”

“Actually, I think the airline has pegged you as unstable in general.”

Jace just gaped at him. This guy thought he was God, with his all-knowing information—or just the opposite of God, Satan himself.

His captor went on, “You’d be best off flying a second new Learjet I just bought. It seats eight, and for long flights you’d have a copilot, not be one. I’d pay you about four times the salary you’ve been making now with a big bonus up front. You can keep the Lear in Naples until I need it somewhere, keep an eye on your little girl and ex-and-future wife if you play your cards right.”

“Future wife? What the hell are you talking about?”

“By your dangerous presence here, you’ve proved you love your daughter and would risk anything for her, and I believe, despite your frustration and anger, you feel that way about your ex too. You’ll never get Lexi away from Claire or really be a part of their lives unless by eventually marrying her again. Oh, let me tell you, Nick Markwood is a take-charge guy in every way. But who would Claire and Lexi run to if it doesn’t work out with Nick or if something happened to him?”

“You’re not—not thinking I’d kill him for you?”

“Of course not. You’d be the first one they’d look at. But I am thinking that the third reason you’ll work secretly for me is that if you don’t agree, I’ll have the two gentlemen who brought you here take you out in a boat to Cemetery Reef and feed you to the fish. Now let’s talk business.”