Captain's Paradise (6 page)

“Michael, your timing is lousy.”

Robin couldn’t see the man’s face very well from where she was standing beside Michael, but she thought he was younger than the rest, and he was exquisitely dressed in white trousers and vest and neatly knotted tie. He was in his shirtsleeves, with his suit jacket over the back of his chair, and his hands were beautifully long-fingered and graceful holding the cards.

“Finish the hand,” Michael said. “Then we have to talk, Dane.”

Robin stood beside him in the shadows near the wall, listening silently as the men continued playing, talking in low voices as the pile of money in the center of the table grew. It was another half hour before the hand finally ended, and it had come down to just two players: Dane and an unnamed man with about six diamond rings and a harsh voice.

“Four of a kind,” the harsh voice said, laying down four nines.

There was a beat of silence, and then Dane sighed and stacked his cards neatly facedown before him. “My luck,” he said mournfully, “seems to have deserted me today.”

With no sign of triumph the winner raked in his money, and the other men gathered their belongings. In a loose group they moved to the door, escorted by Dane, and within moments were gone. Dane crossed the room and snapped up the three shades at the windows and the small room was abruptly flooded with light.

“It better be important,” he said cheerfully to Michael.

Robin made her way to the table and sank down in the chair Dane had recently vacated, staring at him. He was a man women would always stare at, she acknowledged silently to herself, feeling a bit numb. He was absurdly young to have made and lost several fortunes, being somewhere in his mid-thirties, and … God, the man was
beautiful
.

His size alone made him impressive, since he was easily six and a half feet tall with shoulders to match, and he was lean-waisted and slim-hipped. He looked athletic yet moved with lazy grace as if he couldn’t be bothered to stir himself enough to move quickly. His thick, shining hair was black as a raven’s wing. And in a lean, tanned face with every feature perfect, his eyes were a striking violet. Robin had never before seen such laughing eyes so vividly filled with life.

“It is important,” Michael was saying, taking a seat to Robin’s left and watching the other man sit across from him. “This is Robin Stuart. Robin, Dane Prescott.”

“Hello, Robin,” Dane said.

“Hi,” she managed weakly, and tore her gaze away to look down at the cards he had left stacked on the table. She picked up the cards and looked at them, but she had only a moment before he took them from her gently and smoothly as he was gathering the rest from the table.

“What’s up?” he asked Michael.

“Ever play cards with Edward Sutton?”

Dane shuffled the deck idly, looking at Michael with a slight smile. Without speaking, he placed the deck facedown between them. Michael reached out and cut the cards, producing the king of spades faceup. Dane cut and got a jack. He sighed.

“Yeah, I’ve played against him. A number of times.”

“At the Serendipity?”

“There. And other places.”

Michael glanced at Robin, then said slowly, “We’re looking for a yacht we have reason to believe Sutton owns.”

Dane grinned. “I called her
Lady Luck
. He changed the name, of course. She’s the
Dragon Lady
now.”

“Any idea where she is?”

“No. I might know who to ask, though. Why? What’s your interest?”

“Personal.”

Dane lifted an eyebrow and waited.

“Did you know he was into white slavery?” Michael asked.

The laughter in Dane’s eyes vanished, and his slight smile disappeared. “No. Are you sure about that?”

“Ask Robin.”

Robin squarely met Dane’s inquiring gaze, still admiring his looks but glad to feel no tug of attraction. “I was at the Serendipity a few nights ago. I had one drink, and there was something in it. I woke up to find myself with four other girls in the cabin of a boat, a yacht. They kept us drugged most of the time, but I managed to get out and jump overboard sometime last night. Michael pulled me out of the water.”

“Sure it was Sutton’s yacht?” Dane asked.

Michael replied, “Robin’s a reporter, and she came up with Sutton’s name in connection with that club. I know he’s in the area because he’s waiting for me to contact him; he’s set a trap for me.”

“What’s the bait?”

“Lisa.”

Dane said something violent under his breath,
and though she only half heard what he said, Robin wasn’t about to ask him to repeat it.

Michael went on steadily. “Robin heard another girl on the yacht, crying. It’s the only lead I’ve got, Dane.”

Immediately Dane said, “There’s a man who might know where the
Dragon Lady
is. Big guy, with a full beard and about half his teeth. Peculiar man, very dangerous. He’s a smuggler. They call him Jack, and only God is privy to what his real name is. He knows the waters around here like the back of his hand, and if anyone has illegal cargo, he’d know about it. He spends his evenings in a dive called the Gold Coast. Watch yourself in there. And don’t play cards.”

“Why?”

“They shoot the winner.”

Michael smiled faintly. “Thanks, Dane.”

“Say hello to Lisa for me.”

A little while later, as they left the building, Robin said, “I looked at his cards, Michael.
Dane had a straight flush, ace high. He won that last hand.”

Michael didn’t seem surprised. “Did he?”

“And there must have been fifty thousand dollars in that pot.” She was bewildered. “Why would he pretend to lose?”

“I’m sure he had his reasons.”

“What reason would he have to throw away all that money?”

Michael took her hand as they emerged from the alley. “I know the Gold Coast; they don’t even open until after six. Why don’t we find a decent restaurant—if we can around here—and get something to eat. You must be starved.”

Robin ignored a sudden pang of hunger. “You didn’t answer my question,” she insisted.

He kept them moving but said dryly, “Dane’s probably setting up the man who was wearing all the diamond rings, Robin. And since he can’t hide his skill with cards, he just fakes a run of bad luck. It’s an old gambler’s trick. The mark wins a lot of money in the first few games and feels confident enough to keep playing; then
Dane arranges one final game for huge stakes, saying he wants to try to win back what he’s lost. And he does.”

“Does Dane cheat?” she asked, disliking the thought.

“He doesn’t have to. He was probably playing poker in his crib, and he’s the luckiest man I know.”

“But you said he’d already lost several fortunes.”

“Sure. Lost, spent … and enjoyed. Dane may sometimes be down, but he’s never out. His luck always returns. Now, are you hungry?”

“Starving,” she admitted.

T
HEY ENDED UP
finding a restaurant in a better area of the city, and Robin used the time before their meal arrived to place a call to New York to Teddy’s private number first, then the number of Long Enterprises, and drew a blank both times. There was no answer at Teddy’s home, and the voice answering the company’s phone merely reported that Mrs. Steele was out of town.

Robin, remembering Teddy’s impulsiveness, winced as she hung up the receiver. Her childhood friend, she reflected anxiously, was entirely
likely to appoint herself the cavalry and come charging to the rescue. And from what Robin had heard and read of the group of people surrounding Joshua Long, a group that included Teddy and her husband, Zach, none of them would be inclined merely to report Robin’s disappearance to the police.

Worried, Robin returned to the table where Michael waited.

“Well?” he asked.

“No good. She isn’t home, and when I called the company—”

“What company?”

“Long Enterprises. Teddy’s husband, Zach, is security chief.”

Michael was staring at her, frowning a little. Then the frown faded, and he shook his head. “Those people,” he murmured in a voice that was half amused and half worried.

“You know them?” Robin asked in surprise.

“I’ve … well, I’ve encountered them, let’s say. They keep turning up in these kinds of situations. Is your friend like the others? I mean, the
type to come down here and investigate rather than call the police?”

“I’m afraid so,” Robin confirmed. “But she might not have gotten the package I sent. The switchboard operator at the company just said she was out of town; she may have been gone for days or weeks.”

“But she may well be on her way down here.”

Robin sighed. “She may, yes.” She watched his face intently, a little surprised not to see anger or uneasiness; Michael seemed more thoughtful than anything else, and it was obvious he was thinking hard. “I’m sorry, Michael,” she ventured at last.

His gaze focused on her, and he smiled. “Don’t worry about it. I don’t know your friend, but if she brings any of that crew along with her, they won’t blunder in recklessly. They’re all too smart, and too careful. I did hear, though …”

“Hear what?”

Michael hesitated, then shrugged. “That Josh Long and several of his men had dropped out of sight. Something’s in the wind there, but I don’t
know what. Still, there’s apparently nothing we can do but wait and see who turns up.”

“Isn’t that awfully risky?”

His smile went crooked. “Awfully.” He glanced up as their waitress approached with laden plates, and the conversation was over for the time being.

Robin was as grateful for the distraction of eating as she was for the food itself. During the encounter with Dane, she had managed to keep her mind occupied, but whenever she and Michael were alone she found it more and more difficult to ignore the tug of attraction that seemed to be growing stronger. And it didn’t help this time, knowing he was just the kind of man she had always resented. This time, her body and emotions refused to accept reason.

She caught herself stealing glances at him, grateful that he seemed preoccupied and unaware of her attention. She felt curiously, unusually, helpless, unable to fight this. As if something inside her
knew
, without doubt, that it was inevitable. And so strong was that conviction that
Robin felt tense, on the brink, waiting. He hadn’t even touched her except casually or by accident, yet her body felt heavy and restless, feverish.

She could keep her mind on the dangerous situation they were involved in, yet just beneath that calm surface something was moving, slowly, like water under ice. And she was very much afraid that the ice would crack, splinter, leaving her changed forever.

Because she hadn’t dared return to her hotel, Robin was without money, and she hadn’t been happy about accepting even a meal or change for her phone call from Michael since she already owed him so much. But her somewhat fierce assurances of paying him back were met with grave acceptance, and that eased her mind somewhat.

Still, she couldn’t help but feel that theirs was an unequal partnership; more than anything else she wanted to pull her own weight. It was just a few hours later when she got her chance. She
and Michael finally had found the tavern Dane told them about.

The bar rejoicing in the name Gold Coast turned out to be just what Dane had called it—a dive. Sandwiched between two pawnshops with heavily barred windows and located on a side street in the worst part of the city, the tavern was dank, dark, filled with smoke, and echoing with the harsh sounds of coarse laughter. There were several rickety tables around which card games were going on; the long wooden bar was stained and splintered; and the bartender boasted the tattoo of a naked woman on one corded forearm and a ship’s anchor on the other.

Standing beside Michael outside and peering cautiously through a dirty window, Robin shivered inwardly. The man they had come to see was easily visible at the far end of the bar, and he looked more dangerous than any other man in the room. Just as Dane had described, “Jack” was huge, massive really, heavily bearded, and when he ordered another drink, she could see that several of his teeth were missing.

She could feel Michael tensing even though his face remained expressionless, and when he began to move toward the door she quickly grabbed his arm. “Wait!” she whispered.

His voice was low as well. “You stay here. And keep in the shadows. If anything happens to me—”

Robin wrapped both hands around his muscled arm and held on grimly. “Michael, you can’t go in there. We’ve been standing here ten minutes, and there have already been three fights. There’s no way you can expect to go in there asking suspicious questions and still come out alive!”

He looked down at her, mouth tightening. “What choice do I have, Robin?”

“You’re not even armed.”

“They’d kill me for sure if I was.”

“Wait,” she insisted, turning her head to look back into the tavern. “Let me think a minute.”

Michael drew a deep breath. “It won’t be the first time I’ve gone into a place like this. I can handle it.”

“I’m sure you can,” she said almost absently, staring into the tavern with her eyes suddenly narrowed. “But there’d be some kind of fight. You’re too dangerous; it shows too plainly. You’d be a threat to them.”

“Robin—”

She looked back at him quickly. “We don’t want to draw attention to ourselves, do we? That’s the last thing we need.”

“Agreed. But there isn’t a choice.”

She lifted her chin and struggled to hide the terror she felt. “Yes, there is. I can go in.”

“You?” He laughed shortly.

Robin hoped he was strong enough that he didn’t feel a need to prove it with macho stand-back-little-woman-and-let-me-do-it determination. Steadily she said, “I’ve done something like this before. Please, Michael, trust me. I know what I’m doing. But I’ll need a couple of props.”

“Props?” He was staring down at her, frowning.

“Yes. That pawnshop over there is still open. Try to find a necklace with a crucifix on it—the
bigger the better. And if they have any clothing, get a pair of long pants for me; it’ll be better if they don’t fit.”