A Lover's Mask (16 page)

The charged moment, however, thundered to a halt at the sound that caught their ears and widened their eyes.

“What was that?” they asked in unison.

 

“Quay please don't do this,” Ty whispered, frantic as she grasped her husband's arm. “Sweetie, not here,” she urged, gripping the collar of his jersey which threatened to tear under the pressure of his resistance.

“Let me go, Tyke,” Quay ordered, his black gaze fixed on Marcus Ramsey.

“Honey, please—”

“Ty!”

Tykira released her hold on his shirt and looked around for a sign that anyone heard the commotion and was coming to Marcus's rescue. Miraculously, no one seemed to have paid attention to the crash of the small table that carried the large cut glass punchbowl or matching glasses. Ty spotted Fernando and Contessa coming in from the patio and hurried over to them.

“What happened?” County asked.

“Marc said something to Quay and he went crazy,” Ty explained, clasping both hands to the front of her turquoise halter. “Fernando, please stop this,” she cried.

“Shh,” he soothed, taking her hands and giving them a gentle squeeze, “it's all right. Besides, don't you think Quay's entitled?”

Twin expressions of disbelief emerged on Contessa's and Tykira's faces.

“Fernando!” they cried simultaneously.

 

Ty moved on, desperate to find someone to stop Quay who, by now, was muttering something to Marc that was no doubt life threatening. Meanwhile, County continued to study Fernando.

“He's your father,” she reminded him gently.

“And he deserves whatever he's got coming from Quay.”

“How can you say that? You act like it was Marc who killed Sera.”

Fernando stood with one arm folded across his chest, one hand cupped beneath his arm while the other stroked his beard. “He's done enough to my brothers, my mother, me…”

“Will you tell me?” she asked, curving her hand over his forearm as she witnessed the glimpse of uncertainty in his gaze. “You think I'd use it against you?” she guessed.

Fernando turned the tables and clutched Contessa's upper arms in his massive grasp. “I'm about this close—” he tugged her forward “—to losing you and if you think I'm gonna tell you anything—” he stopped when she blinked in surprise.

“There's more isn't there? More secrets?”

“A man like me has plenty of secrets. Many that are better just left buried.”

“And this is why we're at a standstill, don't you see?”

“And there are some things I never want you to have to deal with. Now if you can't accept that, County…”

County's lips parted and she stepped away from Fernando. She watched him as though he were a stranger. Suddenly, the sound of more heated voices overshadowed all other conversations in the room.

 

“You and your brother never could control your tempers!” Marc raged, straightening his tie while eyeing the twins with unmasked disgust. “Especially you, Quay!” he accused and pointed a finger at his younger nephew. “You don't waste a minute to show your ass the first chance you get!”

“And you believe I care what you think of me?” Quay bellowed, his hands spread as he shrugged. “Hell, you harbored a murderer and have somehow managed to weasel out of payin' for it! But I guess that's small potatoes to you, huh? I guess you just add that to all the other crap you've pulled over the years. I bet Aunt Josie could probably give us an earful on what a sorry bastard of a husband you are!”

 

“Quest, please stop this before it goes too far,” Ty begged, clutching the front of the deep purple T-shirt emblazoned with the Greek letters of his fraternity.

Glancing at his watch, Quest shrugged. “Well, I promised him at least fifteen minutes to go at Marc before I stepped in.”

“Quest!” Tykira and Mick cried in unison.

 

“A sorry husband?” Marc threw back at Quay, pure wickedness fueling the smile on his face. “Hell son, your only experience with women is seeing how many you can screw and dump in a week,” he noted and cast a leering look toward Tykira. “She's quite a piece of eye candy but once you've had your fill, you'll dump her, too—wife or not.”

“Son of a bitch!” Quay hissed, blind rage blocking any sense of restraint he might've had. “Because of you,” he breathed, gripping Marc's jacket lapels so tightly they ripped, “you and your jackass brother, we went through hell.”

Marc simply rose a brow. “I see and is that how you justify treating that beautiful girl like a slut you banged and threw away?”

Quay roared something vicious and indecipherable as he lit into Marc. His fist crashed squarely into his uncle's cheek and repeated nonstop. Contessa begged Fernando to step in, while Mick and Ty pleaded with Quest. Josephine tried to push Yohan to do something. Even Damon and Westin were reluctant to intervene on their brother's behalf. Quay followed Marc to the floor and continued to pound away at his face.

Quest finally decided to get involved. Unfortunately, he found it almost impossible to pull his twin off their uncle. Luckily for Marcus, his eldest son was just arriving for the party. Moses hesitated but a moment when he witnessed the scene, before going to assist Quest. Together, they managed to pull an infuriated Quay off Marc. Quay roared obscenities as his brother and cousin dragged him down one of the corridors leading from the sunroom where the guests had gathered.

“Get the hell off me! Dammit…I'm not done!” Quay raged, punching at Moses's forearm where it lodged beneath his neck.

Quest nodded for his cousin to let go once they were safely tucked away in his study. Quay made a dash for the door, but his brother held him fast.

“Let it go, let it go,” Quest whispered, his arms locked around Quay's torso as he spoke the words against his ear. “Come on, that's it…” he soothed, feeling his twin's breathing slow. When a few moments passed, Quest released his hold and caught his own breath. “Thanks man,” he said to Moses.

A playfully uncertain grin crossed Moses handsome blackberry face. “And here I was feeling bad about coming to tell you what I knew—thought I'd be putting a damper on a sweet family gathering,” he added in a sarcastic manner.

“What are you talkin' about?” Quay asked, as he sat massaging his hands. “What do you know?”

Moses's playfulness vanished as he fixed his cousins with solemn looks. “Wake Robinson is dead.”

“A
re you sure?”

“How?”

“When?”

Such were the questions thrown at Moses when he announced Wake's death. By that time, Quest's study was filled by Mick, Ty, Yohan, Fernando and Contessa.

“I'm positive,” Moses answered Mick, dropping an arm across her shoulders and pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “After the incident on the train, my team kept an eye out hoping Wake would surface. One of my guys caught up to him just as the accident happened.”

“Accident?” Mick queried.

“Some kind of freak explosion,” Moses explained, taking a seat next to Quay on the sofa. “Wake had the cops on his ass.”

Again, stunned silence filled the room.

“Cops?”

Moses leaned forward, bracing his elbows to his knees while massaging his bald head. “There was a chase that ended at some warehouse when he rammed into it with his truck.” Moses leaned back on the sofa. “Next thing the cops knew, the truck had gone up in flames. It destroyed the building, the truck…Wake.”

“Are they sure it was him?” Ty asked.

Moses nodded. “My guy out there made visual contact just before the chase headed out to the freeway. As far as I know, the authorities haven't uncovered anything more binding—no dentals, no nothing.”

“Why were the cops chasing him?” County asked.

“That's the crazy part of it,” Moses assured with a grimace. “It was some stupid traffic violation—he ran a red light or something.”

“That
is
crazy,” Quest said from the spot he occupied behind his desk, “why would he do something to bring attention to himself like that?”

“Are they sure it was an accident?”

Silence filled the room as everyone turned to Fernando who had voiced the question. Then, at once, they all looked to Moses for answers.

“They honestly don't know, man,” Moses told his brother and stood. “But my guess is that it was anything but an accident.”

 

Michaela had intended for her shower party to be a weekend affair with everyone staying over and making it a two day event. Circumstances made that impossible. Marc left the party without Josephine. In spite of his injuries, no one knew or cared where he'd gone. Damon and Catrina took Josephine home with them for a change of scenery and to give her a breather from her husband. The group was reeling from the news of Wake's death. Now, they had a new mystery on their hands: had Wake been murdered? If so, by whom, why and why now?

Fernando left with his brothers that night and Contessa was glad. She needed to be focused on the situation at hand. She couldn't afford to let her emotions be swayed anymore by her feelings.

 

“Would you please cheer up? I'll be fine.” County tried to assure Mick who'd been grilling her about taking the trip, for the better part of the morning.

“I just don't like this,” Mick said skeptically, eyeing the cab that waited for County. “There has to be another way.”

County took Mick by the shoulders. “Listen to me. This is information that I don't want secondhand. I have to see it for myself.”

“What you'll see is what I'm afraid of,” Mick grumbled as they hugged. “Are you sure about this plan of attack you and Spivey concocted?”

“Well, I better be, because we don't have time to change it,” Contessa sighed, taking her overnight case as she and Mick descended the wide front porch steps.

Mick pushed her hands into the side pockets of her tangerine and white sundress. “Are you sure they'll let you on the boat—it being a gentleman's ship and all?”

“Spivey and I are a powerful couple with lots of money to spend,” County reminded Mick, speaking of the ruse they'd devised for their cover, “woman or not, those folks ain't about to turn down those sorts of high rollers,” she said, smiling as the cab driver went to place her bags in the trunk.

“Just keep Spivey in your sights at all times,” Mick cautioned, blinking tears from her eyes when she and County hugged again.

County promised to do so and then pressed a kiss to Mick's cheek. Soon, the cab was rolling down the brick drive on its way to the airport.

 

Meanwhile, Fernando was having the same
think twice before you do this,
speech with his brothers. Moses, who seemed to fear nothing, thought it was a good idea for his brother to go and only wished he could tag along. Yohan was just as fearless, but took note of their father's evil tendencies. Clearly, Yohan preferred his brother staying alive to having him out gathering evidence against their father.

 

“My mind's made up,” Fernando said as he snapped the last two locks on his suitcase. “I gotta do this Yo,” he told his younger brother, clapping one hand to his shoulder. “That ship is partly in my name which means whatever's going on out there is my responsibility. Hell, I thought I was done lying to Contessa,” he grimaced, stroking his beard out of frustration. “But this, I don't know if I could tell her about this.”

Yohan smiled knowingly. “You love her.”

Fernando's grin crinkled his eyes at the corners. “Heaven help me I do. In only a few months time I've gone and fallen in love with a woman who's completely unlike any woman I've ever met and I'll do anything to keep her.”

“You know if her House is working on this book, there's a good chance this'll come out.” Yohan cautioned, folding heavily muscled arms across the front of the brick short-sleeved Karl Kani T-shirt he wore. “Then, you'll have to explain why you kept another secret.”

“Hell, Yo, how am I supposed to tell her something like this? Especially when she already thinks this family's scum?” Fernando questioned, searching his brother's face for answers he desperately wanted to hear.

“This is Pop's dirt, not ours,” Yohan corrected. “If you try to hide this and it comes out, even
that
won't matter.”

Fernando's light gaze hardened. “I don't want to talk about this, Yo.”

Yohan nodded, decided to let the matter rest. “As long as you understand that Contessa Warren isn't a woman you can just pat on the bottom, give a diamond bracelet to and then send her on her way when she starts asking too many questions.”

Fernando stroked the crisp whiskers shadowing the lower half of his face. “I know,” he admitted, closing his eyes. “I think that's why I want her so damn bad.”

Kauai, Hawaii

Cufi Muhammad was a picture of proud success. He'd made a living out of what many would have deemed a scandalous profession, but the arrogant South African decided he was providing a service—a service he was well paid and well envied for.

He nodded toward the arriving passengers, hands in the pockets of the elegant white quarter-length suit coat he wore with matching trousers. Cufi strolled the deck of
The Wind Rage
as though he were the king of a country.

Several faces he recognized—a few were new referrals from one or more of his many European and Asian contacts. However, it was the Americans whom Cufi was most anxious to meet. Aside from his partner Marcus Ramsey and his contributions to the business, Cufi had required little American participation in the other aspects of his organization. He'd never had an American client and had steered clear for fear that it could lead to disastrous results.

Of course he'd had Warren Frinks and Joseph Simon thoroughly checked out. Frinks and Simon held connections that might increase his business ten-fold.

Cufi's small, close-set eyes narrowed. He'd spotted the big man who towered over almost everyone he passed. He was younger than expected, Cufi noted. Still, that could definitely be to his advantage. Engaging an older man in such a venture could be quite difficult as experience had taught him.

“Mr. Simon?” Cufi called, smiling more broadly when the young man nodded and headed toward him.

“Cufi Muhammad,” he announced once they were shaking hands. Fernando, who decided to use his mother's maiden name and the male version of her first name, cast an approving glace at his surroundings.

“Quite a vessel. Must be a challenge running it,” he predicted.

“You have no idea, son,” Cufi agreed, his round dark face beaming with pride. “I wouldn't trade that challenge for anything. My silent partners allow me to staff
The Wind Rage
with the best people, thus making my job much easier. I have every luxury at my fingertips,” He paused, to gesture around the main deck complete with glistening cherrywood floors and lounge chairs that were lined with silken cushions.

“And may I assume that the gambling aspects are just as luxurious?” Fernando inquired, casually easing one hand into the pocket of his cocoa trousers.

Cufi chuckled. “Luxurious doesn't begin to describe it, son. You'll have an endless selection of games at your disposal.” He said, drawing Fernando closer. “The same is true for the women. My people
did
inform you about the women?”

Fernando bowed his head, stroking his beard in an effort to hide the distasteful grin on his lips. “I know about the women,” he confirmed, raising his striking gaze to Cufi's face. “I hope that selection will be just as impressive?”

Cufi rubbed his hands together. “A breathtaking selection. I can assure you of that—all shapes, all sizes…all ages.”

Fernando's chin rose. “Ages?” he prompted.

“As firm and as young as sixteen,” Cufi taunted, complete delight in his voice, “of course, if you require younger treasures that will cost you and, of course, I don't travel with them.”

“Of course,” Fernando replied, swallowing the bile flavoring his throat. “But that won't be necessary. I prefer my women more experienced.”

Cufi nodded and clapped Fernando's back. “Then, I'm certain you'll find just what you're looking for.”

The sound of Cufi's voice, his grinning face and friendly pats to his back, were slowly fueling Fernando's anger. He could feel the low rumble in his chest as his fists clenched—telltale signals that he was seconds away from losing his temper. Cufi had turned to speak with one of the pursers and Fernando used the opportunity to take deep, refreshing breaths. He ran a hand across his face and looked up to see something that set his temper back to simmer.

“Jesus,” he hissed, then remembered Cufi and turned to see that he was still involved with the purser. Satisfied that the man would be thoroughly occupied for a while, Fernando left his side.

“Dammit,” Contessa hissed, when the ringing cell phone interrupted her search for Spivey across the crowded deck. “Yes?!” she snapped into the receiver.

“Contessa!”

“Spivey? Dammit where are you? I'm looking all over this place and I can't—”

“Chicago!”

County felt her heart sink. “What the hell? What are you still doing back there?”

“What happened to us leaving from Chicago and arriving in Hawaii together?” Spivey wanted to know.

“It made more sense to just go on and leave from Seattle,” County sighed, the gorgeous view of turquoise skies forcing no improvement on her mood. “I know the ship doesn't sail 'til in the morning, but this would give us more time to investigate.”

“You could've told me about this little change in plans, County.”

“Spivey really. What difference does it make now? What I want to know is why you're still in Chicago and not flying through the air on your way to Hawaii?”

Spivey hesitated. “I found out more information on the ship.”

“So? Tell it to me when you get here. I'll keep up the cover and head on to the cabin.”

“The cabin? County where are you?”

“I'm at the ship. I'm standing on the main deck talking to you right now.”

“Jesus…”

“Spivey what's wrong with you?!”

“I want you to turn around and walk off that boat right now!”

“After all the scheming we did to get on this son of a bitch? Hell, no!”

“County—”

“Listen Spivey, I don't know what's going on, but there's no way I'm gonna turn and leave just because—”

“Dammit Contessa!”

Blinking slowly, County gripped her phone a bit more tightly. “Spivey? Spivey what's going on? What's wrong?”

“They're slavers, County,” Spivey said after taking several deep, calming breaths. “They drug and abduct women, get them on that ship and then it's off to parts unknown.”

County pressed her lips together to stop their sudden trembling.

“Somehow they lure 'em in with the promise of a great lifestyle, travel, financial freedom…that probably explains how your boy's strippers got there. Once they realize what's going on, it's too late. There's no way out.”