“What was that for?” she asked.
“For luck.”
Her eyes widened. “Blink twice. Quick. That’s really bad luck to say out loud.”
He laughed softly. “You blink for me. While you’re at it, keep your eyes closed.”
When she did, he kissed her again, tunneling his fingers into her hair, slanting her face to cover every bit of her mouth, and tonguing the roof of her mouth just to feel her body tighten in response.
“Move it.” Max nudged him in the back.
Dan released her with a meaningful look, and the glint in her eyes confirmed she understood.
They loaded up the smaller of Max’s two boats, an easily maneuverable open-bow Contender, while Maggie familiarized herself with the instruments and checked the chart plotter to map out a course for the short run to the mainland. She asked Max a few questions. Then they took off across the bay toward the maze of canals that ran behind Coral Gables’ multimillion dollar homes. And one ratty mess of a former drug house.
Max planted himself on the bow peering ahead into the darkness. Maggie stood confidently behind the wheel, her gaze moving between her charts and the reflective channel markers that rose up from the black water of the bay.
Dan wrapped his arms around her waist, the only thing between them a thigh-high helm bench, not nearly wide enough to separate his front from her back. She looked over her shoulder at him.
“You’re such a natural on a boat,” he murmured in her ear.
“I got used to them, and I like the water. I hated having to sell Smitty’s, and so did Quinn.”
“I have one,” he said.
“In New York City?”
“In upstate New York. I have a restored Chris Craft Cobra up on Lake George.”
She drew back, eyes wide. “Nice.”
“It is. Maybe you can come up sometime.”
“With Quinn?”
“Of course with Quinn.”
She turned to face front, her body stiffening a little as they bounced on a wave trough. He tightened his grip around her narrow waist, her head fitting under his chin perfectly.
“Or maybe Quinn can just go up there alone and see you.”
“I’d prefer if you came with him.”
“Why?”
He covered her ear with his mouth, her hair whipping in his face. “If you have to ask, I’m doing something wrong.”
“Oh, you’re not doing anything wrong.” She turned her face toward his. As he kissed her, they hit a high wave and bounced out of each other’s arms.
Max turned, and pointed toward the channel marker. “Let’s take this entrance and work our way over to the Gables.”
As soon as they entered the canals, Maggie took them down to a quiet, no-wake five miles per hour. They kept the legal minimum lights on the boat, snaking through the waterways that made Coral Gables more like Venice than a South Florida metropolis. Almost every home had a dock, many covered, most mooring to impressive miniyachts, sailboats, and cabin cruisers.
When they reached the entrance to the canal that ran behind Viejo’s house, she slowed the speed even more.
Dan reached into his pocket and pulled out her comm device. “Here you go, Maggie. Your wireless.” He slipped the bud in her ear, turning the tiny microphone toward her mouth. “You can hear me this way.” And he’d hear her every breath.
“There,” he said, flicking her three silver hoops in his fingers. “Except for these, you look like a Bullet Catcher. One more time, let’s review the plan. You and Max wait at the dock while I go up and check out the house and make sure we can get into the shed. If anyone comes up the canal, Maggie, you leave. Circle around until they’re gone.”
“You’ll have no way out.”
“That’s fine. I’m armed. Once I know we can get back in that shed, I call in Max and we’ll go to work. If not, we’ll look at options for getting back in.”
“If someone’s there?”
“We might bail.” He glanced at Max. They’d worked all this out in prelim. “Or might reassess.”
“If someone’s visible from the dock?” she asked.
“We cruise right on by.” And he and Max would drive back and enter on foot later.
He moved to the starboard side as they got closer. They passed a poinciana tree that marked the edge of the property, and a long row of queen palms.
“Looks black as night at Casa Viejo,” Maggie said, peering up toward the house.
Looks could be deceiving. As they reached the uncovered dock where the Cigarette boat had been tied up during the last pickup, she veered closer. Before he climbed out, Dan pulled her into his chest again to whisper in the ear with no comm device.
“Be careful. Follow directions.”
She nodded, but didn’t turn. He put a finger on her chin and tried to nudge her around, but she looked straight ahead. “You be careful, too,” she said, noncommital.
He ran his hand down her arm until he reached her three bracelets, then transferred one to her other arm, sliding it up with ease.
One bracelet: Meet me in my room.
He could swear he felt her shiver. With that to look forward to, he leaped onto the dock and headed into the mangroves.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“LOOKS DESERTED.” DAN’S voice, amplified through a state-of-the-art ear speaker not much bigger than her baby fingernail, was as effective as the real thing. Toe-curlingly warm and inviting.
She glanced down at the bangle he’d just used for what might be the smoothest move in the history of seductions. No, he never forgot a thing.
Max stood starboard, one hand on the weathered dock to hold the boat in place, the other at his ear. “Where are you?”
“At the pool. West side. I’m going to circle the house.” Maggie closed her fingers over the helm, the vibration of the twin outboards rumbling through her. She imagined Dan at the gate, rounding the bushes, passing the laundry room, stealthily eating up ground on his mission.
“All quiet,” he said softly. “Looks dark. Doesn’t mean deserted, just dark. I’m rounding the front and heading back to the shed.”
She exhaled and Max turned to look at her, making her remember she was miked, too.
“Part one complete,” she said with a quick smile.
“From here,” Dan replied, “a cakewalk.”
Max cringed.
“Did he just make a face?” Dan asked.
“Uh, yeah,” Maggie replied.
“I hate that word,” Max said. “Every time, it brings trouble.”
Maggie’s heart flipped a little.
“Don’t tell her that,” Dan said. “She believes in that stuff.”
More than he could imagine.
A few more minutes passed. The only sounds other than the idling engines were a dog barking in the distance and the steady song of the cicadas. And her heart, which thumped loud enough that they probably heard it in their earpieces.
“All right, kids, I’m at the shed.” Dan said. “The lock is on, but . . .” A long pause. “Our secret entrance is intact. Let me get in there and see what we’ve got.”
She imagined him sliding through the opening. The boat rose and fell on a swell, taking her stomach for the ride. Was she really worried about him? Did she really care?
Yes.
When did that happen?
About fourteen years ago. Some dreams die hard. That’s what it should have said on her fortune cookie. No. Some dreams die hard, stupid.
“Well, what do you know,” he whispered. “Santa’s been here. Come on, Max. And bring the tools. These crates are nailed shut.”
In one easy move, Max grabbed a duffel bag on the bench and stepped up to the dock. The boat rocked with the change in weight; then he turned to her. “You leave at the sight or sound of another boat. We won’t lose contact.”
She nodded and moved her hand from the wheel to the throttle, and scanned the canal up and down. Nothing.
He disappeared into a br
eak in the mangroves, as soundless as Dan.
“You okay, Maggie?” Dan’s voice rolled through her like warm syrup.
“I’m fine.”
“No lights? No boats?”
“Don’t worry about me, Dan,” she said. “Just find what’s in those crates.”
“I’m coming up the back,” Max said.
For the next minute or two they said nothing, and the only sound she heard was scuff and bump as they worked. A few words exchanged. Max swore. Dan blew out an irritated breath.
“Jesus, this is it? Anything inside that one?” Dan asked.
“Nope. Rock solid.”
Before she could ask what they were talking about, the low chugging throb of a speedboat came down the canal.
“Someone’s coming,” she said.
“Go, Maggie. It’s a Cigarette boat. Just roll east as fast and quietly as you can.”
Her “Okay” was almost drowned out by the backfire of a go-fast engine being held to a speed much slower than it was built to run.
Maggie pushed the throttle forward and steered into the canal.
She turned to squint back into the darkness, already two properties away. Then she looked forward, following the thin beam of the bow light. Four more docks; then she’d turn into the T in the canal, where she could wait or circle all the way around behind the next street. Once the other boat had passed the house, she could head back to the dock.
But if she wanted to turn before that, she was moving far too slowly to reverse directions.
She glanced over her shoulder as the speedboat’s engine exploded with one more ear-cracking shot of built up exhaust, then went silent.
“Aw, shit.” Dan’s whisper was barely loud enough for her to hear it.
One hand on the wheel, she stared behind her, but the moon was only a sliver, giving just enough light for her to make out the bobbing of a low-slung boat without a single light on board.
“They’re docking,” she whispered.
“Get out of there, Maggie,” Dan urged. “We’ll hide. There’s a ton of cover here. Just go.”
“We gotta move now, Dan.” Max warned.
“We have to check that one. Before he takes it.”
Maggie pressed the throttle forward but not enough to get the attention of whoever was docking at Viejo’s.
“I think there’s just one person,” she whispered.
“Get the hell out of there, Maggie.”
She moved on, but more slowly than she knew he’d want her to. Wasn’t she more valuable as their eyes than if she were hiding down the next waterway? “One guy. Definitely. Tying up.”
“Drive, Maggie.” Dan’s voice was tense. “I mean it.”
“He’s off the boat. He’s going up there.”
“Let’s go.” That was Max, with urgency. “Just leave it. We got one open, Dan. We saw what’s in there.”
“You go first,” Dan said. “And I’ll just . . . get this.”
Shuffling. Movement. Scraping metal, exerted breaths.
The driver of the boat disappeared into the mangroves, through the same break in the branches Max had used.
“He’s on the property,” Maggie said. And a hundred and fifty feet from the shed.
“Max.” Dan’s voice was low and dead serious. “You better get back in here.”
“Not now. He’s in sight. Going to the house.”
“You better get back in here,” Dan repeated. “And Maggie, I need you to get back here as fast as you can.”
Now he wanted her back there?
“Fast, Maggie.” Something in his voice left no room for question. Something was very, very wrong.
She used her left hand to throw the wheel, then alternated with both hands on each throttle handle, silently thanking Smitty for teaching her the twin engine turning trick.
In her ear, she could hear movement, action, words she couldn’t make out. She shoved the left throttle forward and yanked the right one back.
Sweat rolled down her back as she worked furiously to turn the boat around.
In her ear she heard muffled sounds but couldn’t imagine what Dan was doing. Maybe he’d found drugs. The evidence they needed to nail Viejo and Ramon again, another way to keep Quinn and her safe from them.
Or maybe he’d found the unlaundered money!
She gave the wheel a shove to the right, nudging the rudder, and the craft started to circle back, close to the sea wall on one side, but clear enough for her to continue. As she did, she glanced up at the house just in time to see a light go on in the one window visible over the trees.
Someone was in the house. How long did they have? Long enough to get whatever they’d found to the boat?
“Maggie, how close are you?”
“I’m one property away from the house,” she replied. “Should I meet you at the dock?” She’d have to do some fancy maneuvering to get around the Cigarette boat, but she could get close enough and they could jump.
“Fast!” he ordered. “Kick up the engines and move!”
She did, powering down the canal, her focus on the dock ahead. “I’m going to go around the boat and sidle up to the eastern side. Can you jump?”
She saw the mangroves rustle and shadows move as the men broke through the foliage. “Can’t jump,” Dan said. “You have to get closer.”
He was carrying something. “Can’t you just throw it in the back?” she asked.
Just as she reached the stern of the docked boat, she got a good look at the two men on the dock. Max waved her around the Cigarette boat.
Dan held the limp, naked body of a woman in his arms.
Max leaped off the dock onto the bow and reached up, taking the body from Dan.
“Go, Maggie!” Dan vaulted into the boat as Max laid the woman on the bow deck. “Go!”
As she threw the throttle forward, the deafening crack of a gunshot echoed over the water.
Dan threw Maggie to the deck and Max took the wheel.
“Stay under me,” Dan ordered as he unholstered his weapon and aimed. But he knew he couldn’t hit whoever had a rifle in the upstairs window, and another bullet whizzed by, missing them.
Dan held Maggie immobile on the deck as Max drove away, and in a minute they were out of range.
“Who is that?” Maggie asked, staying low.
“I think you know her as Lourdes.”
“Lola? She was—”
“In a crate. And she’s alive, but barely. Faster, Max!”
Dan rose up as they got half a mile away from the house and no one made any move on that dock. Instantly, Maggie started to crawl to the body in the front.
“Lourdes?”
Confident they weren’t being followed, Dan went with her, yanking off his sweatshirt to cover the woman. At the wheel, Max was already doing the same thing.
“Oh my God, look at her face.”
Someone had cut Lola, and cut her bad. Scabbed lines slashed her cheeks, her breasts and torso, and her thighs. Nothing deep enough to bleed out, but enough to badly scar. Her eyes fluttered; then her head lolled to one side. Her whole body quivered with shock, which was the only way Dan knew she was alive.
Maggie covered her with the sweatshirts and scooted closer, cradling her head just as Max hit the open water of the bay and took off with more acceleration.
“Should we take her to a hospital?” Maggie asked.
“No.” Lola shook her head slowly, fighting for consciousness. “No hospital.”
Maggie held her closer. “Are you awake? Who did this to you?”
Lola opened her eyes and worked to focus on Maggie’s face. “Mag . . .” She shivered again with a shock wave. “I don’t know,” she managed to say.
The boat bounced hard on a wave, knocking Lola’s teeth together and making her moan.
“Hang on, Lola.” Maggie looked over at Dan. “She was in a crate?”
He nodded, checking the bay behind them. “Why?” Maggie asked. “Why would someone do that to her?
”
“The fortune,” Lola said with a soft moan. “He wants the fortune.”
“Did you give it to him?” Dan asked.
“I told him where to get it, but it was gone. That’s when he did . . . this to me.” Her voice cracked and Dan turned to see her looking up at Maggie. “How bad is it?” she asked in a rasp.
“Not bad,” Maggie assured her, stroking her hair soothingly. “Let us take you to the hospital. Mercy is really close.”
“Please, no. I can’t. Just. Home.”
“You’re not safe at home,” Maggie said. “Can you describe this man?”
“Yes. I think so. Not now.”
Dan and Maggie shared a look, and he could see the sympathy in her eyes.
“Did you find anything else in the shed?” Maggie asked him.
That was the other thing pissing him off. “Tools.”
“Tools?”
“A crate full of wrenches, hammers, and nails, packed for shipment, and heavy as solid steel.” Meaning they weren’t hollow and stuffed with cocaine. They’d checked one before the boat arrived.
Lola managed to lift her head. “Where are you taking me?”
“My house,” Max said, flipping his phone to his ear. “I’ll get my wife’s doctor to look at you, and if he says you go to the hospital, you go.”
She barely nodded, falling back on Maggie’s lap until they docked. Dan carried her up to the house, where Cori waited on the patio. She directed them to the wing of rooms off the laundry and kitchen, where the housekeeper lived when Cori and Max weren’t in residence.
When the doctor arrived at the gate, Cori left and Maggie helped put Lola in a robe and on the bed. Dan waited in the doorway, assessing how much he could trust Lola. Not much.
“Lola . . . Lourdes,” Maggie said, kneeling in front of her. “Do you know exactly what it said on the fortune you have? Can you remember the words and numbers?”
Lola nodded. “Of course I can.”
“I have to know them,” Maggie said.
Even in her post-traumatic state, Lola’s look was sharp. “Give me yours,” she said.
Dan took a step into the room. “Listen to me.” When he had her attention, he leaned closer. “I don’t know what you’re trying to prove, or if you think for one minute that you can get your hands on that money and keep it. But you are inches away from a visit to the FBI, Ms. James. In case you don’t remember me, my name was Michael Scott and I have some very strong ties to that agency.”