Deborah Brown - Madison Westin 07 - Kidnapped in Paradise (32 page)

“I want to go home.” I made a half-ass attempt at not sounding whiney and failed. “Not that I don’t like it here at Chez Funeral Home, but I don’t.”

Fab
’
s phone materialized out of nowhere.

“What do you have for us?” she asked.

I knew by her tone and question she had our favorite snitch on the phone. Procurer of Information, as Phil labeled herself.

“Any weak spots?” Fab paused and listened intently. “Keep looking and do it fast.”

She removed the battery and card and threw the pieces on the floor.

“Creole stopped by Jake
’
s and left you a message just in case you called in. He
’
d like to chat,” Fab told me. “Phil said he wasn’t his usual sunny self, more like frustrated and angry. She called Mac and found out that he left the same message with her.”

I grabbed a pillow from behind my head and curled up into it. “What
’
s the latest?”

“Bonnet lives out on Bonnet Island. When you
’
re rich, you can buy a private island and name it after yourself.” She half-laughed, clearly not amused. “It
’
s only accessible by boat, and it's purported to be well-guarded. Mr. B is well known to law enforcement. He keeps his hands clean by farming out the dirty work to his minions, who line up to commit a felony or two to stay in favor.”

I sat up and scooted over, shoulder to shoulder with Fab.

“There
’
s only one person who can help us and that
’
s Mr. Bad Ass himself.” I dialed and held the phone between our ears. Repeating everything was getting old.

After a pause and a cautious hello––no one liked blocked numbers––I said, “You remember when we first met and you told me you were a problem solver, big or small, didn’t matter, and offered your services?”

“Where in the hell are you?” Spoon growled, his exasperation radiating through the phone.

“We need your help.”

“Get your ass to the houseboat and plan on staying,” he barked, hanging up.

It surprised me that Creole
’
s phone went to voicemail after he
’
d left messages all over town.

“Meeting with Spoon at his houseboat within the hour,” I told him.

I hugged Fab.

“I
’
m sorry,” I whispered. “Bonnet
’
s only interested in me because of Jax. You should go to Miami and stay with Didier.

“I
’
m not going anywhere,” she sniffed. “Get off your ass and help me clean this place. We don’t want to leave anything incriminating behind that will get the guys in trouble. Good time to be leaving, too. Several funerals are booked, so we
’
d have to stay up here or not return until after dark.”

* * *

Spoon, in a fashionable pair of ragged jeans and a t-shirt showing off his biceps, leaned against the concrete wall on the side of the Dock Master
’
s building. From his vantage point, he could keep an eye on the comings and goings or slip away unnoticed. I felt his eyes on us before we got out of the car.

I
’
d been under the impression he lived in the apartment over J S Auto Body, his primary business a couple of blocks away. It came as a surprise when Mother informed me he lived on the water. According to her, it had plenty of interior living space and an outdoor entertaining area, and she liked staying there. Any socializing he did was on his other boat, the one Jax was currently repairing. No one got an invitation to stop by here.

“You got any other bags?” he gruffed as he checked out our shoulder bags. “Promise me right now that you two won’t be sneaking off anywhere, scaring the hell out of your mother.”

He held out his hand and helped us on board.

I climbed aboard and came face to face with Creole, who sat crunched down in a chair; he looked good, his long tan legs hanging out of a pair of shorts. I honestly didn’t know what to say. “Sorry we jerked you around
"
seemed more like a fight starter
.

It surprised me that he
’
d shown up, instead of writing me off and looking for a new girlfriend who
’
d graciously accept help in the life-saving department. The thought of him being with someone else pained me, but it would be my own damn fault. I also opted out of launching myself in his arms and begging for mercy, as it might fall on deaf ears. Instead, I offered up a weak smile.

He crossed his arms across his chest and didn’t say a word. His body language read, ‘Done with you.
’

“Didn’t know you
’
d be here,” Fab flashed Creole a suspicious smile.

I could kick myself for not having the ‘
be nice’
talk with her.

“Sit.” Spoon indicated some deck chairs that were situated under cover. To be seen, a person would have to be standing at the back of the boat. He pointed to a bucket of beverages on the table. “Help yourself.”

“Did you talk to Jax?” I asked, stalling the conversation to come.

“The only reason his ass is still on my boat is because of your mother. She assured me that he knows boats and that I won’t be disappointed. Besides, she still has some misplaced fondness for him, and it appears it
’
s reciprocated.”

Creole groaned and shook his head.

Spoon glared at him and continued. “As added incentive, I told him once he
’
s done with the repairs, I
’
d get him a plane ticket to wherever he wants to go.”

I relayed what Jax had told me and refrained from a single embellishment, telling them how the two dead men screwed Bonnet. I told them how Jax claimed a certain amount of ignorance in the beginning and that I believed him. The Devereaux and Westin families had history, and therefore I didn’t want to see him sacrificed only to end up dead.

It hadn’t escaped my notice that Creole hadn’t said a word. Nor had Fab, who threw furtive glances in his direction.

“Leave Bonnet to me,” Spoon said. “I’ll arrange a sit down and come up with a truce. It might take a day or two; he
’
ll want the meeting to take place out in the Gulf. You two stay here and out of sight. Under no condition do you leave this boat. Got it?”

We both nodded.

“Warning: All bets are off if Bonnet gets his hands on you first. Negotiations at that point might well prove useless.”

Creole snorted. “You might want to issue a warning of your own to Bonnet,” his voice was calm and quiet, hard words spoken softly. “If anything happens to either of these women, retribution will be sought, and it won’t be a quick bullet to the head.”

Spoon held out his hand. “Give me the car keys. Where do you want it returned?”

Always faster than me, Fab said, “Leave it there. It will disappear in a couple of hours.”

I hadn’t realized I
’
d held my breath until I saw that the explanation went unchallenged. Fab covered for me. They thought the car came from one of her shifty connections. She must have come to the same conclusion as me, although we hadn’t talked about it. We needed to keep the extent of Phil
’
s abilities a secret. Spoon probably knew of her informational talents; he just hadn’t connected her to us yet.

“Billy Keith is on the way over; he
’
s sleeping on deck.” Spoon wagged his finger, “Behave yourselves. I told him a well-placed bullet in one of your ass cheeks will stop the other one from escaping. I’ll be stopping by tomorrow and expect to see the both of
you.”  He climbed over the side and disappeared down the docks.

Fab jumped up, practically sending her deck chair into a spin. With a glance between Creole and me, she headed off in the opposite direction, looking eager to get away. I hoped this would be one time she wouldn’t take cover close by and eavesdrop.

I gave myself a mental kick and moved to a small table in front of Creole, sitting down. “I
’
m sorry for the worry we caused.”

“Are you really?” he spit out. “Sorry? You
’re damn lucky it’
s illegal to strangle you.”

“I… uh… I’ll make this up to you.”

“Do you trust me?” He held up his hand. “Apparently not, with the duo Wonder Woman act you two pulled off.” He stared at me and stood. “I have to get back to work.”

“Don’t leave like this. I really am….”

He cut me off. “I can’t help with Bonnet. I
’
d like to put him in a prison cell where he belongs. Considering he manages to remain rather elusive when it comes to leaving his fingerprints on anything, I don’t expect an arrest in time to help you.”

I wanted to cry when he left without another word, a kiss, or a hug.

When Fab reappeared almost immediately, I wondered why I thought she
’
d go hide out in another room.

“I suppose you were listening?” I asked.

“That didn’t go well.” Fab hugged me.

“Is the beautiful Fabiana going all soft and sentimental?”

She snorted, a most unladylike sound. “His feelings are hurt. Hopefully he
’
ll get over it and realize that except for the occasional quirk, you two are quite happy together.”

I arched my brows. “Quirk?”

“Hey, can I get some help over here?” a male voice yelled.

Billy Keith stood dockside in knee-length bathing trunks, a t-shirt, and sun-bleached windblown hair. He had a couple of brown shopping bags in his hands.

“I ordered dinner,” Fab announced, proud of herself.

“If one of those bags holds a pitcher of margaritas, I
’
m going to think you
’
re the sweetest ever,” I told Billy.

His laugh was a deep growl.

“I
’
ve never been sweet a day in my life. Don’t let my boyish charm fool your ass.”

That would be a big mistake.

I
’
d heard the rumors and personally witnessed his charm in a three-on-one fight in front of Jake
’
s. Terrible odds. I
’
d been ready to call the sheriff, but Billy made short work of them, knocking them unconscious and dumping the bodies next to the trash for pick-up the next day. 

Billy minded his own business and kept to himself. The only thing I knew for sure was that he worked for Spoon, doing something. One day at Jake
’
s, I challenged him to play twenty questions. He didn’t answer a single one. He just yawned and informed me, “You ask too many questions.”

“Just give me a tidbit, free refill on your beer,” I'd offered.

“I
’
m a NASCAR fan.”

“Favorite driver?”

He stabbed his finger at me. “That
’s a second question.
”

My x-ray vision failed to see if there were margaritas in one of those bags. No matter. Soon I would stop feeling sorry for myself. I didn’t take my eyes away as Fab helped to unload the dinner. No liquid refreshment.

Billy stretched up to his skinny six feet and cleared his throat.

“
Listen up, ladies. I’
m going to tell you the rules.”

“Don’t waste your breath,” Fab hissed at him.  “Here
’
s the rule. You don’t make us mad, and you won’t find yourself gagged and bound to a chair.”