Ring of Lies (9 page)

The conveyor belt whirred into life.
Grace stepped forward
to
reclaim
her suitcase
.

‘
Here, let me get that for you
.
’
He dragged
it
off the carousel,
then took
her elbow
and
urg
ed
her
toward the exit.
‘
I’m parked
in the multi-story
.
Do you want to wait
while I get
the car
? O
r d
o you feel up to a short walk?
’

‘
A walk would be good
.
’

Without speaking, t
hey made their
way
through the terminal
.
As they
neared the door
, Jack caught a glimpse of t
he man
who’d been
staring at
Grace.
For a millisecond their gazes locked
.
Something about the man’s demeanour and his overt interest in Grace brought Jack’s senses to full alert.
He
lengthened his stride
and hustled her towards the parking garage
,
where they
took the elevator to the second level
.

Jack couldn’t stand
the silence
anymore.
‘
So where am I taking you?
’

‘
I
have
a reservation at the
Island Palm
Hotel.
Do you know it?
’

‘
I
t’s about half an hour from here on Collins Avenue in South Beach.
’
He
stowed the luggage in the trunk
, then helped her into
the passenger seat
, before climbing behind the wheel
.
The engine
growled to life
with the first turn of the key.
He cranked the air conditioning up to full, then steered the
Explorer
out of the parking lot into the steady stream o
f traffic heading for the city.

Grace sat in
silence;
her arms folded across her chest
,
and
star
ed
out the window
.

‘
Jet
lag is the pits.
Trust me
.
After a
hot
shower, and something to eat,
you’ll feel
a whole lot better.
’

‘
I’ll take your word for it.
Right now
my nerves
feel as if I
’ve drunk a year’s supply of coffee
.
’

Jack turned onto the Dolphin Expressway and followed the traffic towards the MacArthur Causeway.
‘
All right, Grace
.
T
ime to tell me why you’re here.
’
He stole a glance at her
.

Sh
e shook her head.
‘
Not yet.
’

‘
Then when?
’

‘
Soon,
’
she whispered.
Her eyes closed, she sat rigid,
her fingers pluck
ing
at the fabric of her shirt.

He knew what it was like to feel strung out, and
if
her
tight-lipped
expression was anything to go by, she was near breaking point.
He reached for her hand to offer a little comfort, and then thought the better of it.
Nothing had changed
between them
.

Everything had.

Instead
,
he
pulled his sunglasses out of his shirt pocket and
concentrated on getting her safely to
her
hotel.

The traffic on Collins Avenue consisted of the usual snarl-up o
f
tourist buses and private cars.
Jack drummed his fingers on the dashboard while an elderly matron tried to reverse into a parking space that was obviously too small for the
Lincoln
she was driving.
After three attempts
,
she gave up and drove off, much to his relief and th
e queue of vehicles behind him.

The
Island
Palm Hotel, one of the more upmarket hotels in South Beach, was situated just north of the Art Deco District.
He swung the
Explorer
into the hotel’s forecourt and pa
rked in front of the entrance.

‘
Grace?
Wake up
.
We’re here.
’
He climbed out from behind the wheel and retrieved her luggage.
By the time he walked round to the passenger side,
she’d
clambered
out of the vehicle.
Together they
mounted
the marble steps to the hotel.

The lobby
,
a mixture of South Beach Chic and Southern Charm
,
was quiet
and blessedly cool.
The concierge was on the phone, talking rapidly in Spanish, as they approached the desk.
Jack understood enough of the language to know that
he
was berating whoever was on the other end of the line for taking a break rather than delivering
fresh
towels to
room four-oh-six.

After a little haggling
,
he got Grace’s reservation upgrade
d
to a one-bedroom suite on the ninth floor overlooking the ocean.
He picked up her suitcase, and
ushered
her toward the elevator.
Once inside the suite,
he placed her suitcase
in the bedroom
on the stand provided
,
and handed her
the room key.

‘
I’ll give you an hour to
get settled and
freshen
ed
up
.
I’ll
wait for
you in the lobby.
Then you
can
tell me why it was so importa
nt to travel six thousand miles to
ask for my help.
’

The door closed softly.
Grace shot the bolt
.
She
draped
her jacket
over the
back
of a chair,
and
dropped
her
oversized black leather purse
and
the room key onto the coffee table
.
Elegantly decorated in muted shades of cream and chocolate, the large airy sitting room felt welcoming after her long journey.
She
kicked off her shoes
,
stretched
, and then winced
.
H
ours of sitting
cramped
in one position had made her back
, neck,
and shoulders ache.

She removed a bottle of mineral water
from the mini bar,
emptied the contents into a glass, and added ice.
The cold liquid tasted li
ke nectar
and
was
a welcome change from the
bitter,
semi-warm airline coffee she’d
drunk
for the last ten hours.

After the cold of England, the room
felt
overheated.
She
crossed
to
the
balcony
and
threw open the door
.
Warm
, humid
air billowed through the curtain.
Nine floors below
,
the
half
-naked bodies of sunbathers stretched out
on loungers
around the pool
.
T
hrough the palm trees
,
she could just make out the
white
sand
beach
and
turquoise waters of the Atlantic
Ocean
beyond
.