Карен Кингсбери - A Distant Shore [calibre]

He stayed at the club for an hour, chatting with a handful of members. Long enough to validate his story. He was Henry Thomas Ellington IV, and he was about to marry Eliza. About to join two of the most powerful crime families in the Western Hemisphere.

When he’d put in his time, Jack walked back to his Porsche and climbed inside. He checked his phone. Nothing from Oliver. No change of plans from the other operatives in town. He glanced at the time. He needed to get to the beach. If possible, the goal was to make contact with Eliza. But only if a meeting seemed natural. A quick stop at his hotel and he was ready for the water.

Jack parked the car at the beach lot, and walked down a narrow path toward the water. Most of the city had no sandy shoreline. Just a steel railing and a rock border. Typically tourists drove or flew the extra nearly two hundred miles south to the Placencia Peninsula, home of some of the prettiest beaches in the world. Jack and his family had vacationed there every year except the one time when…

He didn’t finish the thought.

This stretch of sand just outside Belize City was only a few hundred yards long and hard to find off the main road. Tourists usually considered it a private beach. Just a small parking lot and a grove of palm trees that opened up to the beach, all of it nestled at the base of a mountain plateau a few hundred feet up from the sand.

The place where the Palace stood.

Members from the Blue Breeze were the main beachgoers here. Oh, and Anders McMillan’s captives. Especially Eliza. Intelligence from other operatives had told Jack that Eliza came here at the same time every day. Her armed guards walked her halfway down the mountainside and waited there. She would walk the rest of the steep path by herself and for two or three hours she could sit in the sun and read or swim in the warm, clear water.

But Henry Thomas Ellington IV wouldn’t have known any of that.

So Jack had to act totally unaware of Eliza. He didn’t look around as he reached the clearing. Memorized instructions played in his head. Walk straight to the water. Casually turn left and count out fifty yards. If she’s not there, she’s twenty yards up the sand in the shade of the palm trees. Whatever you do, don’t look around. Her guards will be watching.

Jack wore Tommy Bahama khaki shorts and a dark blue tank top. He worked out two hours a day and it showed. His body was part of the job. He carried a backpack over one shoulder, a beach chair over the other, and an oversized towel. Focus, Jack. Don’t look for Eliza. Keep your eyes straight ahead.

He was definitely being watched. Jack could feel the eyes on him.

As soon as he reached the water and turned he spotted her. Ten yards down the beach, sitting in a low-slung chair reading; her pale hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail. Feet in the gentle surf. Jack slowed as he approached her.

Their eyes met and Eliza took off her sunglasses and stared at him. “My groom.”

Jack hated this. “I was. I… um…” He looked up the beach a ways and back at her. Play the part, he told himself. “I didn’t think I’d see you till tonight.”

“You?” She sneered at him. “You won’t see me. It’s not a date.” Hatred filled her tone. “You and your family… you bought me. It’s a business deal. Tonight you collect your purchase.” Her eyes were steel cold. “There’s a difference.”

Wow. Jack fought every instinct to apologize, to tell Eliza the truth that he would never buy a person. But this was the job, and if the mission was successful, it would save her life and the lives of every teen still being trafficked by Anders McMillan.

There was nothing Jack could say. He shook his head and stared out to sea for a beat. Then he started to walk past her.

“Wait.” Anger rang in her voice. “Why?” She looked him up and down. “Why would you agree to an arranged marriage? Don’t you have a choice?”

Jack felt his muscles tense. He didn’t dare look up the hillside to the place where her guards stood. Eliza had a point, but Jack was ready. “Relationships are messy.” He shrugged and cocked his head. Keep the attitude, he told himself . She’ll expect an attitude. “I’m not looking for love, Eliza.” He worked to keep a stone face. “I’m looking for obedience.”

For a few seconds she only stared at him, her contempt a physical presence. Then she gripped the arms of her chair and set her eyes on the horizon. “We’ll see about that.”

Again Jack said nothing. He set his things down and crossed his arms. “The deal isn’t set yet, Eliza. Remember that.”

Her blond hair blew in the breeze and a pair of seagulls flew past. It took her a minute, but finally she looked at him again. This time there was a sense of fear about her. Even with her sunglasses on, Jack could see it. She pulled her cover-up more tightly around her body. “I’m sorry. Please… leave me alone. Until tonight.”

Jack had no idea what to say next. He was her groom, not a customer. He steadied himself. “I’m sorry, too. For bothering you.”

As he walked a hundred yards down the beach and set up his chair, as he stripped down to his bathing suit, walked through the surf and dove into the salty smooth water, he could only hope he had passed yet another in a series of tests. Should he have been meaner, more angry? Sarcastic? He had no room for error.

He swam for half an hour and then returned to his chair. By then Eliza was gone, back up the hill with the guards, back to her bedroom at the Palace to get ready. Jack looked at the spot where she had been. Did she know she was a victim? That it was sinful and illegal and vile for her father to keep her in a place where he sold girls for other men’s pleasure? Or was she Anders’s accomplice, with no qualms about what she did?

Jack returned to his Porsche and drove to the Great House Inn on Cork Street in the northern part of the city. The same hotel where he and his parents and brother had stayed during that terrible summer. Same room. He could practically see his brother and his parents in the lobby and hallways and stairwells. He could hear their laughter.

The soap and sheets and towels smelled as familiar as the memories.

His suitcase—with Ike’s leather satchel—was already in his room, the place where he would stay until the mission Thursday night. When he would either helicopter out of here with every girl from the Palace.

Or die trying.

The hot shower and handmade coconut soap was exactly what he needed. He let the hot water run over his face and hair and body. I don’t know if You’re there, God . He closed his eyes and rinsed out the shampoo. But if You are, I could use Your help tonight.

If Anders’s henchmen had a suspicion that Jack was only going to talk to Eliza tonight, or that he wasn’t Ellington the Fourth, they’d kill him and dump his body in the canal. And that would be that. He stepped out of the shower and toweled off. There were a dozen reasons why God probably wasn’t real. Jack didn’t want to rehash them. But nights like this, he figured it didn’t hurt to ask.

Just in case.

He dressed in white pants and a short-sleeve white button-up shirt. Fine leather loafers. No socks. Wedding attire. He still had time to kill so Jack grabbed a sandwich from the lobby and ate it on the deck outside his room. The spot faced the ocean, the place where he’d last seen his brother alive.

His family had always loved Belize. Of all the rooms, this one had the best view. He could remember sitting on this very deck with Shane, watching the puffy white clouds pass over the water. Each a unique shape. That one’s an elephant, Jack had said the night before the tragedy. And a tiger over there, Shane had chimed in.