Going Overboard (13 page)

The public saw Daphne as a jet-setting clothes horse, but Carly knew the real woman beneath the gloss. Daphne was as staunch a fighter as her father, and she was determined to see that the children of Santa Marina had access to the best medicine available. For two years she had worked tirelessly to make that private dream come true. Now it seemed she was ready to take her dream public.

“Get me ten copies and I'll shoot them off to the right people.” Carly frowned as Daphne turned to pace restlessly. “Wasn't David helping you with that?”

“David has been wonderful. He funded this first

video, then steered me to possible sponsors last year. I only wish we had had more time together.” Daphne twisted her engagement ring. “I want a real home, a real marriage, but we can't even agree on a wedding date. Maybe we'll get married via camcorder over the Internet.”

“I doubt the wedding night would be very satisfying. What else is bothering you?”

Daphne took a deep breath. “I just got the news this morning.” Her voice trembled. “I'm pregnant.”

“Pregnant?” Carly sat back, stunned. “As in Lamaze classes and transition breathing?”

“The whole amazing, miraculous thing. I'll probably be terrible at motherhood. I'll be thrown out of prenatal classes and throw up at the worst times.” She touched her stomach wistfully. “But I want this baby desperately. I want a family with David even if neither of us has any idea what's normal. David has no family at all, and I lost my mother so young that she's only a blurry memory.” She sank onto the bed next to Carly. “Maybe you could film the delivery. On second thought, no. If I have to scream for an epidural, I'd rather not have my hysteria immortalized on digital film.”

“You'll do exactly what's right.” Carly squeezed her hand. “How's David taking the news?”

“David? I refuse to convey the most exciting news of my life over the hiss of a transatlantic phone connection. It will have to wait until he returns in two weeks.”

There was a light rap on the door. “Daphne, may I come in?” Nigel Brandon's voice sounded tight with worry.

“He's been outside talking with his security chief from Santa Marina,” Daphne whispered. “I don't want him to know about this, not until I've spoken to David.”

Carly drew her finger across her lips.

Daphne nodded gratefully. “Come in,” she called.

Nigel Brandon was the height of elegance in a gray tropical suit and an Hermès tie. “Still getting into trouble,
I see.” He gripped Carly's hands tightly as he searched her face. “How are you feeling?”

“Nearly human again. It's lovely of you to come.”

“Lovely?” For a moment anger flashed in his eyes. “I should have prevented what happened. You should never have been hurt.”

“It's not your fault. We're not even on your home territory here. Bad luck put us in Barbados at the wrong place and the wrong time.”

“Bad luck. I suppose you could call it that.” A muscle worked at his jaw. “Is your room adequate? Is there anyone you need to contact?”

“Only my crew. After that I need to get back to work.”

“Your crew is booked into a resort hotel in Bridgetown near the beach. They refused to return to the cruise ship without you.” He gave her a stern, fatherly look. “Set aside any thought of work for the moment. That bullet missed any deep tissue, but you can't disturb those sutures.” He put his hand on Daphne's shoulder. “Meanwhile, we have a little surprise for you.”

He opened the door and ushered in a uniformed attendant carrying a huge arrangement of orchids and four large foil-wrapped boxes.

“The flowers are from me, the chocolate from Daphne. In addition, we hope you will fly back to Santa Marina with us when you leave the hospital. I've missed having noise and turmoil at the estate, and you two always make me feel young again.”

Carly grinned. “Or very irritated.”

Brandon raised one brow, every inch the distinguished and powerful public official. But the warmth in his eyes enfolded Carly, just as it had the first summer she'd spent with Daphne in the islands. “Not in the slightest. Will you come?”

“I wish I could, Uncle Nigel.” Carly sighed. “But I can't possibly leave this project in the middle.”

“I told him you'd say that.” Daphne sent her father a smug look, waving a set of keys. “Uncle Patrick's estate

is only thirty minutes away, and everything's arranged with the staff. You'll love Paradise Cay.”

“But I—”

“There'll just be you and McKay along with half a dozen of my uncle's staff.”

“Why McKay?” Carly asked suspiciously.

“Because you'll try to overwork. If McKay's there, he'll keep you in line.” Daphne smiled innocently. “I phoned your boss in New York and she agrees with me.”

“You did
what?”
Carly closed her eyes. Daphne and her father never thought twice about meddling when they were convinced they were right—and they generally were.

“Mel was wonderful. Your footage has created a real stir. Thanks to you, the CEO of the cruise line wants to triple their ads.”

Carly couldn't seem to breathe. “Triple?”

“That's what Mel said. While the lawyers thrash out a new contract, you are hereby instructed to take R and R on Barbados, then pick up the cruise ship on its return to Miami. Mel wants you to think about some new ideas, of course, but nothing concrete until the lawyers are finished. In short, you have nothing to do but rest for a few days.”

“Triple,” Carly repeated breathlessly, sinking back against her pillows. “That means we could add a water sequence, maybe some snorkeling. Even scenes of nightlife aboard the ship.”

“You could shoot the snorkeling scene right at Paradise Cay. There's a gorgeous beach that's completely private.”

“Enough talk about work.” Nigel gripped Carly's hand tightly, almost convulsively. “Rest, that's an order. Now I need to go talk with Mr. McKay.”

Carly stiffened. “Why?”

“I want his description of what happened.”

“Daphne and I can tell you that. Why do you need his version?”

“The more information we have, the sooner we'll find the people who did this. I want them all behind bars for what they did,” Brandon said savagely. “But that's my worry, not yours.”

Carly sighed. As usual, they had pegged her just right. It would be a relief to leave the hospital, and the privacy at Paradise Cay would give her a chance to take some sample shots of McKay. Maybe something with mist and water in the free-form rock spa.

The thought left an odd hitch in her chest.

“Go on,” Daphne said to her father. “I know you have appointments this afternoon. I'll take care of Carly.” She swung her leather bag over her shoulder. “But first I'm going for coffee.”

“Shouldn't you skip the coffee now?” Carly caught Daphne's warning look. “I mean—you've had five cups already.”

Brandon studied his daughter with concern. “You are looking edgy, my dear. Maybe you should see a doctor while you're here.”

“Don't start nagging or I'll ask why
you
were up pacing half the night.”

Brandon frowned. “Bloody paperwork, nothing more.”

“You'd tell me if there was something wrong.” Daphne's voice grew tight. “You would, wouldn't you? No secrets?”

“Absolutely.” Brandon cleared his throat. “You, my dear, are to do nothing,” he said sternly to Carly. “I'll have my spies checking just to be certain. All I can say is I'm sorry. I'd give anything if all this had never happened.” His hands fisted, then opened slowly as he bent to give her a hug. “Now rest.”

Daphne shook her head as the door closed behind him. “There's something wrong, I know it. He's quarreled with his staff, which he never does. Lately he broods, staring at the ocean and saying nothing. If I can't work the truth out of him, I'll tackle Inspector St. John. Remember

when he caught us trying to run away to St. Thomas one summer?” Daphne smiled at the memory. “He pointed to his car, drove us home, and never said a word to anyone. We were in misery for weeks, certain he would blow the whistle on us, but he never did. It seems like yesterday, doesn't it?”

There was no answer.

Carly was sound sleep.

Daphne straightened the covers, but her eyes, as she watched Carly sleep, were dark with worry.

T
he governor-general of Santa Marina looked like a man trying hard to convince the world and himself that his problems were small ones, though the lines of strain around his eyes argued otherwise.

“First of all, Mr. McKay, I want to thank you for saving the lives of two people I love greatly.”

McKay rubbed his jaw, wishing he had taken the time to shave before their meeting. “No thanks necessary, sir. The ladies managed very well on their own. Your daughter took down one man with a champagne bottle, and Carly finished him off with a rusty pipe.”

The two men were sitting in a secluded courtyard at the rear of the hospital. Sunlight filtered through fronds of lush bamboo ringing a pool filled with goldfish.

The surroundings should have been restful, but Brandon looked anything but calm as he measured McKay. “I won't fault you for what happened at the waterfall. None of us saw it coming. But I can't say I like it.” He took an angry breath. “You've been fully briefed?”

McKay nodded. “You've been receiving threats from an undetermined source. I'm to provide Carly Sullivan with round-the-clock protection until the situation is resolved.”

Brandon's eyes were probing. “The cruise-line documents list you as a rancher from Wyoming off for some sun and fun in the Caribbean. I pulled strings to get

someone here, and I want to be sure you're the best. Are you one of those Delta Force men?”

McKay said nothing.

Brandon steepled his fingers. “Navy SEAL?”

“I'm the man who'll do the job, sir.”

“And that's all I need to know? When Carly came close to being killed and is lying in a hospital bed?” The governor tossed a piece of gravel from hand to hand, his expression savage. “Understand this: My life doesn't matter, but my daughter's does, as does Carly's. I want assurance that if another attack occurs, you won't bungle things. One man isn't enough.”

McKay clamped down hard on his anger. “I have all the support I need sir. If circumstances warrant more manpower, it will be available.” He weighed his next words carefully. “Meanwhile, you might want to ask why St. John and his people didn't notice the presence of one sniper and two associates until the attack was already in progress.”

Brandon waved his hand impatiently. “A mistake, certainly, but St. John has explained that. There was a school bus caught in the middle of the road and his men had to push it out of harm's way. He offered his resignation for the mistake. I turned him down.”

McKay rubbed his jaw. “Check on the driver and the bus company,” he suggested. “And consider putting a new protection team on your daughter. When their faces aren't known, men work more efficiently.”

“Good point. But what about Carly?”

“I'll be keeping her close. No one will get to her again.”

Brandon stared at him in stony silence. At the other end of the pool a goldfish burst to the surface, rocking the overhanging bamboo. “I want whoever did this caught and locked behind bars.” His tone implied that he wanted even worse done to them, but was managing to control the instinct. “I want them soon, McKay.”

“Perfectly understandable. Who are your most likely candidates?”

“Our criminals have never attacked political targets before, but we're not ruling them out. We're also checking newcomers from Jamaica who've been scouting territory in Santa Marina.”

“Anyone else?”

Brandon frowned at a pair of carp gliding in the shadowed depths. “Do you know a man named Nikolai Vronski?”

“A Russian?”

Brandon picked up a piece of bread from the bench and tossed it into the water. “Part Russian, part Gypsy, part Kirghiz. He used to be highly placed in the government. Later he moved abroad to pursue lucrative joint ventures in Albania and Southeast Asia. Six months ago he contacted me about a possible business venture. We were supposed to have our first meeting this week, but Vronski pulled out suddenly, and I haven't heard from him since.”

“You think there's a connection?” McKay hid his impatience. If Vronski had become a key suspect, McKay should have been informed immediately.

“So far he checks out, and the capital investment he's proposed for Santa Marina would be a considerable boon to modernizing our port facilities. On the face of things the project looks perfectly solid. In spite of that, I believe I'll dig deeper.”

Waves rippled against the stones at their feet as Brandon tossed out another piece of bread. “I pulled strings to get you here, McKay. I won't apologize for that. Carly needs my protection now, just as she did after her parents were lost.” His mouth curved slightly. “I still remember her first visit to Santa Marina and all the trouble she and Daphne brewed between them.” Still smiling, he reached into his pocket. “Here are the keys to my Triumph. It pulls slightly to the right on the curves.”

“I'm not planning on driving anywhere.”

“Yes, you are. My brother has an estate here on Barbados, though he's often in Europe these days. I've