Finding Harmony (Katie & Annalise Book 3) (20 page)

Bill called at 3:30 to let us know
Kate
would leave the dock in a half hour. Nothing like an early start from a last-second warning, but it was good news. Collin and Kurt appeared at our door seconds after I hung up the phone.

“Bad news, sports fans. We have watchers,” Collin announced.

“What?” I sputtered. Where had they come from? “How could they have found us? I thought that’s why we paid in cash.”

“We did pay for our rooms in cash. But remember dinner?” Collin asked.

I thought back. I hadn’t paid, but I couldn’t remember who did. I looked at Nick and he lifted his shoulders in a “Dunno” sort of way.

Kurt mumbled something.

“What, Dad?” Nick asked.

“I said, ‘Shit,’” Kurt said. “I slipped the waiter my credit card to make sure I beat you guys to the bill. I was tired. I drank too many cocktails. Damn, I just forgot.”

“Blame it on the a-a-a-a-a-al-co-hol,” Collin sang, imitating Jamie Foxx poorly. “Here’s the deal. One of our goons is in the lobby. But there are more of them, one in a car by each exit. So, unless someone comes up with a better idea, I think slipping out the front door makes the most sense.”

“What? Just walk right past the guy sitting out there?” I said in a sharp voice.

“Well, I do think we should stage a diversion.”

“Like what?” Kurt asked.

“Like Kurt goes to the front desk and asks the clerk in a very loud whisper to send a taxi to the back door for his party.”

“Collin, you’re confusing me. I thought you said you think we should go out the front door,” I said.

“And so we shall, as soon as the lobby watcher leaves his post for the back door,” he said.

“Which we will know how?” I asked. Collin’s plan was giving me a headache.

“Because I will call the clerk two minutes later and order a taxi for the front door, and I will nonchalantly ask if my yellow-shirted friend is still waiting for me in the lobby.”

Ahhhhh.

“It all sounds good except for one thing. I’ll go to the lobby. I’m the most recognizable member of our group,” I said. “We need to be sure the watcher sees and hears us.”

No one disagreed.

I won’t pretend my heart wasn’t in my throat, or rather, pretty much all the way up my nasal passages and into my cranium. But I sashayed my tall red-haired American self into the lobby like I owned it, channeling the energy I used every time I went onstage. I wanted rent-a-thug to be unable to tear his eyes from me, to strain to hear my every syllable.

In my best slow Texas accent, I over-enunciated terrible Spanish to the clerk. “Par-doh-nuh-may, señor. I need a taxi, um, I mean, Yo necesito uno taxi por favor, en cinco minutos? Did I say ‘five minutes’ right?” The clerk nodded. “Now how do I say ‘to the back door?’ Um, puerta posterior? By our room?”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a burly man in a yellow shirt stand up and stretch. Bingo.

“Sí, un taxi, puerta posterior. A taxi to the rear door. You are checking out?” the clerk responded.

“Sí, checking out.” I gave him our room numbers and a vapid grin. “Dónde está el aeropuerto?”

“It’s OK, I speak English,” the poor guy said. His ears were probably bleeding. “Your taxi driver should know the way to the airport, but here’s a map.” He handed me a map and a receipt for our rooms.

“Gracias, señor,” I said, but it came out more like “grassy ass.”
My work here is done
.

“Safe travels,” he said.

“Adios.” Addy-ose.

I felt the eyes of Yellow Shirt following me as I continued my performance down the hall and back to my first floor room. I fumbled my room key on purpose so I could get another look at him. He was talking into a cell phone and had moved to the end of lobby nearest me.
Take the bait, sucker, take the bait.

I slipped into the room.

“Well?” Collin asked.

I pretended to put out the fire on my smoking hot hand. “No problem. He appeared to be rounding up his buddies on his cell phone and heading toward the back door.”

Collin grunted, which I took to mean “Wow, sis, you rock.” “Let me go make the call for the taxi from the other room, so they won’t think it’s related to you.”

One minute later, he knocked and beckoned us out into the hallway. I held my breath and Nick’s hand. We humped our packs on tiptoe through the lobby and out into the tropical night, where we found Ponce still awake around us. Puerto Ricans partied every night, which meant cabs were always available. We ducked into the one waiting for us, which was a tight squeeze with four passengers, our bags, and my hatted head. The cab appeared to have had a spray-paint makeover, and patches of yellow were still visible through the uneven sky-blue paint job. If I had seen it on the street, I would have walked.

Kurt got in the back seat last. As he shut his door and settled in, though, he said, “Uh oh.”

I didn’t like uh oh.

“Señor, how fast can you get us to La Guancha dock?” Collin asked. “There’s $100 US for you if you lose him.” Collin pointed to Yellow Shirt, who stood in the hotel entrance speaking into a cell phone and looking at us.

The young driver said, “Sí, señor,” and stomped the gas like in the movies, only harder.

I closed my eyes. Horns blared and brakes squealed as the taxi bounced into the street and fishtailed through a right turn. We accelerated like a drag racer and cornered on two wheels, or as close to it as I ever wanted to come.

“What if we don’t lose them?” I asked.

No one answered me.

After we had gone about three blocks, the cab driver stepped on the brakes. Revelers were spilling into the street from a bar that looked closed. Music blasted from a boom box and people were dancing on the sidewalk.

“We could get there faster on foot! Let’s run through that alley,” I said, pointing at a narrow opening on the far side of the bar.

Collin said, “Whoa, good idea, sis. But we need to throw the bloodhounds off our scent.”

He rolled down his window and held out a handful of hundred-dollar bills. “Who wants to make some money?” he yelled. A cry went up among the people nearest the cab. “Stop the car,” Collin said. He turned to the driver. “Here’s a hundred bucks to drive these folks to the airport, and there’s another hundred for you when you get back. Go when I tell you to.” He turned to the three of us crowded in the back seat. “Don’t wait for me. Run like mad. I’ll meet you in the alley where it ends at the dock. Stay hidden until I get there. Everyone out.”

We barreled out of the car one at a time. Collin got out and smiled at his new friends. “I need two men—you and you—and one woman—you.” He handed them each two hundred dollars. The trio cheered. “All you have to do is ride to the airport and back in this taxi. We’re trying to get away from her husband, so we can have some fun,” he said, pointing at me.

The crowd cheered.

“And wear this,” I said, snatching off my straw hat and jamming it onto the drunk woman’s head. She giggled and put her hand to the back of her head to hold it on.

The partiers clambered into the taxi, waving goodbye to their friends. Collin noticed we were still there and shouted, “Go, go, go, what are you waiting for?”

We took off, running into the pitch black of the alley.

The last thing I heard was Collin’s hand slapping the roof of the car as he yelled, “Now,” and the taxi’s tires peeling out.

We kept running. Nick had grabbed our duffel bag, but as weak as he still was, I kept up with him easily. I couldn’t see his face in the dark, but I could hear him breathing and he sounded as bad as I felt. Kurt pulled ahead of us.

And then the ankle strap on one of my gladiator sandals broke in two. I hadn’t packed for a track meet. Next time I chased a lost husband across the Caribbean I would know better what to wear. While I ripped the shoe off my foot, Nick caught his breath.

Ahead of us, Kurt yelled in a whisper, “The dock is across the street. We wait here.”

Behind us, I heard a splash—someone’s foot in a puddle. I yelped.

A second later, Collin’s hand clamped around my arm. “Move it, sis. We haven’t got all night.”

“Did we lose them?” I asked as I started my careful one-shoed run, scanning for broken glass.

“Last I saw, they’d picked up the taxi and were following it. But we have to hurry. They could figure out our switch any second.”

He led the way across the street, which was eerily devoid of partiers. Collin appeared relaxed, but the rest of us swiveled our heads back and forth, scared of the long night shadows. We sprinted for
Kate
down a dock that seemed to pull an Alice in Wonderland and stretch longer with each step. The hairs at the back of my neck tingled like hot needles. I wouldn’t relax until we were at sea with no other boats in sight.

Bill shouted a cheery “hallo” at our approach. He stood ready to untie lines with
Kate’s
engines running. Kurt dropped his bags and went straight for the helm.

Collin said, “Make haste. We have a tail.”

Bill patted
Kate’s
side and replied, “Sounds good, my friend. See that boat over there?” He indicated a Hatteras one hundred feet away, identical to ours. “Our mechanic borrowed her impeller and a few other odds and ends, and he asked me to remove the evidence as quickly as possible.” He high-fived Collin. “We are simpático.”

Nice. Now we were knowingly transporting stolen property. Wait, no, as soon as we put
Kate
in gear, we were the thieves. Even better. I tried to clear my mind of things best not considered.

Collin stayed to help Bill with the lines. Nick tried, too, but Bill and Collin waved him off.

“Goldbricking ends tomorrow. Live it up while you can,” Collin told him.

I settled Nick on the couch in the salon. So far, no men with guns were running down the dock. I decided to think positive and stay busy, so during our rapid disembarkation, I made breakfast for the crew: scrambled eggs, toast, and little smokie sausages with a big pot of extra-dark-roast Colombian coffee. My hands were still shaking as I loaded the plates. I dropped one off with Nick and headed to the flying bridge with the others. I passed them out as we exited the harbor.

“No followers?” I asked.

“None,” Kurt said. He turned up the corners of his mouth ever so slightly.

“Thank God,” I replied.

“Thanks for the grub, Red. I’d slap you on the ass for good measure, but now that Nick’s restored to good health, I think I’d better not,” Bill said.

“There’s a man who has a way with women,” Collin said.

All Bill needed was Collin backing him up. “Not a good idea,” I said, “no matter how Nick feels. You’ve noticed the color of my hair, but I take it you haven’t figured out its significance yet.”

“Are you a natural redhead?”

It appeared that Bill had kept himself hydrated during our absence. I changed the subject to everyone’s favorite topic, our new plan, and then slipped away when I’d heard enough. It took a lot more than a drunken sailor to offend me, especially one who had helped rescue my husband. Still, best not to let him test my patience.

Nick held up his empty plate as I came back into the salon. His sunburn had started to peel, but still, somehow, his color looked better. His eyes were brighter, his movements stronger, and his appetite endless. I brought him seconds and curled up against him with my coffee.

“Bill said the plan is to drop us off on the dock around 10:30 on the west end of St. Marcos. He remembers it from dropping you there two years ago after Hurricane Ira.”

Nick chewed in exaggerated motions to show he wanted to speak when he finished his bite. “That was a wild trip. What do you think of Bill?”

“Childlike, endearing, irritating, drunk, and generous. Oh, and totally enthralled with your father and loyal to you like a brother.”

Nick speared a smokie, but waited to pop it in his mouth. “That about sums him up. He’s a great person, and he’s not afraid to be himself, even if no one else approves of him. He covers up the fact that he is highly competent at what he does pretty effectively with that surfer attitude, but the truth is, he’s sharp and he isn’t afraid of anything.”

Nice to be unafraid. I was afraid of a lot of things. Like Chihuahuas and their hired help. I was afraid of something happening to Nick and the kids. Of losing what I had with Nick. Of Tutein.

I owed Nick an enormous update about Annalise, the kids, and the bones.

I took his paper plate and plastic cutlery to the trash. “We’ve still got over six hours until we land. Want to go below?”

“Are you propositioning me, Mrs. Kovacs?”

“I would never take advantage of an invalid,” I said, glad to let last night’s tension go.

“I was thinking you could be the nurse, I could be your patient, and we’d take it from there. Besides, didn’t you ever see
Raiders of the Lost Ark
, in the scene where Indy shows Marion all the places that don’t hurt too bad for her to kiss?”

“As I recall, Indy falls asleep. And I forgot to bring my white satin nightgown.”

Nick sighed a long, beleaguered sigh. “Try to be prepared next time.” He walked past me and slapped me on the behind. I followed him down the stairs and swatted his behind right back.

With no disparagement intended toward my husband, who was dehydrated and tired after all, the extent of our Indy/Marion adventure consisted of me pulling back the covers and kissing the tip of his nose as he got in bed.

“Now that I’ve taken care of all your needs, are you ready for a bedtime story?”

“Are we going to sleep?”

“I sure as heck hope so. It’s not even six a.m.”

“OK, lay it on me,” Nick said, and he slipped his arms behind his head.

“Once upon a time, a very bad man lived on St. Marcos,” I began. I proceeded to tell him about Tutein, every last gory detail.

I had trouble getting the story out, because Nick kept interrupting me with angry questions every fifteen seconds, but I didn’t blame him. I was mad, too.

He balled his fists, and I reached out for his hands. He let me hold them.

“Katie, I’m not going to sleep anymore. I feel the need to plan Tutein’s immediate demise with Collin.”