Barefoot in Pearls (Barefoot Bay Brides Book 3)

  “Because the Super Min is generally the center of all information on Mimosa Key.”

  Ari stood frozen in the doorway, part of her wanting to run out and stop…Michelle. The name popped into her head, but something kept her rooted to the spot, staring at the car as it pulled away.

  “Weird.” Which was exactly how she felt inside. Finally, she stepped all the way into the store. “Did she say why she’s looking for me?”

  “No, but—”

  “You didn’t tell her about what’s going on in North Barefoot Bay, did you?” It was only a matter of time until the media got this news. In fact, if people were asking about her, then it had probably hit the Internet already. They’d told the deputies about the gold. It had probably leaked already, and the gold-rush craziness was bound to start.

  What had Luke said? Gold makes people lose their shit.

  Like shoot a man and bury him on a hillside. Or sow seeds of doubt with your lover.

  “I didn’t tell her anything,” Ashley assured her. “I’m not Charity. Anyway, my mom said mum’s the word until we have to deal with the media.” Her pretty features melted a bit. “Are you okay? I heard you found the body.”

  “Not exactly, and I’m fine.” She passed the counter and headed toward the wine cooler. “I’m going to your mom’s house now. Do you know what kind of wine she likes?”

  “Red. White. Pink.” She grinned. “My mother likes wine.”

  “Who doesn’t?” Ari grabbed a chilled bottle of chardonnay and paid for it, still glancing out to the parking lot. “I know her,” Ari said. “Her name’s Michelle, and she works on the mainland. I wonder if she lives here on the island.”

  “Doubtful. I know everybody.” She gave Ari change and the wine. “If she comes back, should I tell her where you are?”

  Why would Michelle be looking for her? True, they hadn’t returned the core sample they’d borrowed, but was she so efficient at her job that she tracked down clients where they lived and demanded missing bags of seashells? “No, don’t tell her where I live. I’ll call her at work tomorrow.”

  “’Kay. See you soon, Ari. I’m done here in an hour, and I’m hoping there’s food at home.”

  “I’m sure there will be. See you there.” Holding the wine, she walked out to her car, the real reason Michelle wanted her all too clear. Word must be out about Jim Purty’s death and, no doubt, the possibility that there was gold hidden in Barefoot Bay. That would bring all kinds of weirdos out of the woodwork, and maybe Michelle thought she had a leg up or something since they’d met.

  There were so many things she hadn’t considered this afternoon, she thought as she got into the car. So many things to talk to Luke about. For that reason alone, she was—

  “I want the gold.”

  Ari jumped at the voice, shrieking softly. Then she saw the gun in the rearview mirror, the barrel pointed right at her head.

  “And I know you have it.”

  * * *

  The place was overrun with billionaires. Three, at least, and Cutter Valentine, who was clearly at home with the men who’d hired him to manage their minor league team. Clay Walker seemed comfortable with the rich company, too.

  Luke stood on the outskirts of a conversation circle, listening to Cutter relive the day’s events, one eye on the door. His conversation with his sister had been enlightening, and a little frustrating. How could Arielle think he wouldn’t believe her? He hadn’t been allowed to talk to her all day, all personal conversation forbidden while they were being interviewed. Under the circumstances, he could definitely be a suspect in this killing.

  But they could talk now, so why hadn’t she come?

  And he didn’t care that Gussie told him she was determined to stay in the villa. He knew her; Arielle would get to that empty villa, instantly realize how foolish she was being, and jump into her car and drive here. He knew it in his gut. And if there was anything that woman had taught him, it was to listen to his gut.

  “You were military, Luke.” Clay Walker came around the large glass table that filled much of his patio, obviously wanting to bring him into the conversation. “Would you say the wound that killed Purty was from a rifle or close range?”

  Luke managed a shrug. “Hard to say, but whoever pulled the trigger had good aim. It was dead center to the heart.”

  “I didn’t know you were military, Luke.” Nate Ivory, one of the most visible members of the large, moneyed Ivory clan, turned in his chair, training lion’s-gold eyes on Luke. “What branch?”

  He didn’t answer immediately, not relishing the expected response. The barely hidden curled lip or the raised eyebrows of disdain.

  “Luke was in the French Foreign Legion,” Cutter answered for him. “I think I told you we go way back to our high school days before that.”

  “Really?” Nate looked more intrigued than disdainful. “That must have been interesting.”

  “Not always,” he said.

  “What did you do?” Zeke Nicholas, the hedge fund whiz who’d famously married one of the Casa Blanca maids, also turned to Luke with interest.

  “A lot of things,” Luke said, purposely vague.

  “Like what?” The question came from a tall Texas-sounding man who’d been introduced as Elliott Becker. “I think of the Foreign Legion as a bunch of guys in the deserts of Africa.”

  “I did some time in Africa, but also South America. French Guiana.” He cleared his throat and barreled on to say what he so rarely admitted. “Worked as a bodyguard.”

  Now, eyebrows shot up. “No kidding,” Nate said, throwing a look at the other two men. “We were talking about getting a couple of them down here.”

  “We sure were,” Zeke agreed, standing to make his point. “Don’t suppose you’d like another job?”

  Luke laughed a little and then stole a glance at Cutter. “I probably won’t be building anything for the foreseeable future.”

  Cutter held up his hands in resignation. “I may be renting, man. Had no idea my Uncle Balls left such a hot mess in his will. I’m bringing in lawyers, not builders.”

  “If they find who did this and locate that gold,” Luke said, “I might be able to have something built by summer.”

  But Cutter shook his head slowly, as if he’d already written off the idea.

  “Damn,” Clay said. “That’s a gorgeous house you’re giving up.”

  “I feel like the land’s cursed,” Cutter said. “And I know that sounds ridiculous, but—”

  “Not really,” Luke said. “Sure has a pall over it.”

  “Then maybe you are looking for a job,” Nate said, clearly disinterested in building prospects. “I’m definitely going to need security for my wife and son now that I know there’s a criminal element on Mimosa Key.”

  “Whoa, whoa.” Clay held up his hand. “This island has been virtually crime-free for eighty years. I wouldn’t call one murder and a robbery a crime spree.”

  “But if people think there’s gold here or even a shipwreck off the coast,” Zeke said, “there could be issues.”

  “There are always issues where I am,” Nate admitted. “Money and magazine covers make the people I love vulnerable. I, for one, want protection.”

  “And the resort should be doubly prepared,” Elliott said to Clay. “Your wife might want to beef up security there, too.”

  “She’s been talking about it,” Clay said.

  “I’m serious about this.” Nate approached Luke, his expression underscoring his statement. “If you’re not building Cutter’s house, come and see me at my office tomorrow.”

  A low-grade buzz hummed through Luke, a mix of wanting to say, Hell yeah! and You’ve got to be kidding. He went with something more benign. “The Legion doesn’t give references.” ’Cause if they did, my security service record would suck.

  “Screw references,” Nate said. “I can see you’re built like a mountain, you don’t flinch under pressure, and I’d bet a grand you’re carrying.”

&nb
sp; Clay’s eyebrows went up in surprise.

  “It’s in the car,” Luke assured his host. “But I can handle a weapon. And a potential kidnapper.” Shit, how had this happened? Somehow, he was standing here practically interviewing for a job he really did want.

  Arielle would say that was the universe at work. He didn’t know, but damn, he wanted to talk to her. He fought the urge to look at the door again, or whip out his phone and call her. He wanted to share this with her. He had to share this with her.

  “You have any buddies who might want to come work with you?” Zeke asked.

  “I know a few people in the security business.” Hell, could he even track down a guy like Gabe Rossi? His whole family was in the business. Maybe he’d have some friends looking to move to Florida for a while. “I could look into it.”

  “Let’s talk,” Nate said, putting his hand on Luke’s shoulder. “Unless you want to go build houses elsewhere.”

  He’d rather have his molars yanked out with rusty pliers. Luke laughed softly, the force of the realization hitting him, along with how bad he wanted to tell Arielle and how right this conversation felt. Organic. Natural. Right.

  The way things felt with Arielle.

  “We can talk,” Luke said. “Assuming the Collier County sheriff doesn’t think I killed my predecessor on Cutter’s job.”

  Cutter snorted. “I think they have their eye on me.”

  They all laughed a little nervously. “Who do you think would want that guy dead, Cutter?” Clay asked.

  Cutter shrugged. “My guess, based on the excellent investigative work Luke’s already done, is that Jim Purty figured out there was gold somewhere on that land, and he made the mistake of telling someone.”

  Luke nodded. “That’s what I told the deputies. His shallow grave was marked with those pearls so, who knows, maybe their forensic people will find someone’s fingerprints on them. Someone’s other than Arielle’s, obviously.”

  “Where is Ari?” Clay asked.

  “Don’t know.” Luke seized the excuse. “I’ll give her a call. ’Scuze me.” He started to walk away, then stopped, extending his hand to Nate. “Thanks so much for the offer. I’m extremely interested.”

  “So are we,” Nate assured him. “And you’ll probably need more than one other guy. Hell, start a security business down here. We’ll fund a start-up. We live to fund start-ups.”

  “I will definitely talk to you about that,” he said, already hustling toward the front door, threading through a few ladies chattering inside, wanting to get to the quiet driveway to make the call. Or better yet, get in his car and go to her.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Gussie snagged the sleeve of his T-shirt.

  “To call Arielle and go home.”

  Gussie grinned. “That didn’t take long.”

  “I told you I believe her and—”

  “No, I meant it didn’t take long for her to become home.”

  No, it didn’t. But then…he smiled. “She’s The One, Auggie.”

  “Then go find her.” She gave him a hard nudge toward the door. “I’ll say your good-byes to Lacey.”

  He gave her a quick kiss on the forehead and stepped outside as a car pulled up, something subcompact, but not Arielle’s little Mazda. He swallowed the disappointment and recognized Lacey’s daughter, Ashley.

  She smiled at him as she got out of the car. “Hi again,” she said. “We met at the Super Min when you were with Ari.”

  “Hi, Ashley.”

  “I thought you’d be with her,” she said. “Is she inside?”

  He shook his head. “She’s not coming.”

  She frowned. “Really? She was at the Super Min buying wine to come up to this party. Well, I guess it’s not exactly a party, but—”

  “When?” Of course he’d known she’d change her mind. He didn’t know what made him happier—that she’d decided to come or that he already knew her so well.

  “About an hour ago. I’m sure of it, because some woman in the store was asking about her and then she showed up. It was such a coincidence.”

  Or the universe at work. “Who was the woman?”

  “No clue. She was definitely not a local. But Ari knew her. Said her name was Michelle.”

  A cold sensation, a low-grade dread, a deep-seated worry, crept through him. He’d normally ignore something like that, but not now. Not now that he’d learned to pay attention to intuition. “And Arielle left the Super Min to come here an hour ago?”

  “Well, she got in her car. Maybe she changed her mind.”

  Or maybe not.

  He nodded good-bye and dialed Arielle’s number. But it rang four times, and he hung up before it went to voice mail.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  “Luke McBain. We’ll ignore that call.”

  Luke called. Of course he had. Ari had known he would.

  Her cell phone hit the floor of the backseat with a thud, like her heart dropping to the bottom of her stomach. Now he’d assume the worst and leave her to stew all night.

  No, not the worst. The worst was happening—a slightly crazed, probably deadly, definitely nervous woman had a gun to Ari’s head and was demanding something Ari didn’t have. And there was no convincing Michelle of the truth.

  “We can drive all night, hon.” Michelle settled in closer, keeping the gun resting on the back of the seat, visible in the rearview mirror along with Michelle’s steel-gray eyes rimmed with smeared mascara and lines. “But eventually I’m going to get tired of holding this gun, and then we’ll make this look like some kind of carjacking, and you’ll be dead.”

  “I don’t have any gold.” Ari had to work to keep her voice from cracking, trying to concentrate on the road but also out-think this woman before she got a bullet in her brain.

  “You have the Cracker Jack box, so I know you have the gold.”

  “How do you know I have that?”

  “Because after you left my office I went straight there and it was gone. Pretty obvious it was you and your boyfriend who found it. Now I want it back. And the pearls.”

  The pearls. The pearls that marked Jim Purty’s grave. “How do you know I have the pearls?”

  “’Cause they weren’t where we—I—left them, either.”

  We? She wasn’t alone in this? “They’re in a safe-deposit box,” Ari said. “We could get them in the morning.” Except they weren’t. They were in an evidence bag, but if she could get to the bank in the morning, surely she’d get help. If she could stay alive until morning.

  “I just want the box.” She ground out the words so hard Ari startled, bracing for the bullet.

  None came. She breathed. And re-engaged her fried brain. “I hate to break it to you, but that piece of gold is gone, and there’s nothing left in the box, so even if I had it to give you, you wouldn’t find anything worthwhile.”

  “We’ll see about that.” Michelle snorted. “There’s more in there than shells and stones.”

  “You’re right. There are ancient Native American tools and artifacts. Is that what you’re after?”

  “I’m after what Jim and me—just drive!” She jabbed the gun against Ari’s neck.

  Jim? Jim Purty. Ari closed her eyes and saw the former contractor’s corpse. Would Michelle kill over that bar of gold? One glance to the gun at her right gave Ari all the information she needed.

  But did she know that Jim’s body had been discovered today? If not, Ari had a chance. If so, Ari was as good as dead. She had to get information, keep her talking, and make her think she could take her to the box somehow.

  Ari put her foot on the brake, bringing the slow-moving car to a stop. “I know where it is,” she said.

  Instantly, the gun moved infinitesimally away, the tiniest reprieve, but that filled Ari’s heart with hope. There was a person—a living, breathing woman—inside of Michelle, and everything about her was hurting. She’d been hurt, and bad, Ari could tell. And that made her even more dangerous.

&n
bsp; “Where?” Michelle asked.

  “It’s in a museum in Fort Myers Beach.” Unless the sheriff took it as evidence. “Why don’t we go tomorrow, and I’ll give it to you?” And surely a deputy would be there, waiting to help.

  “Like you would do that.”

  Ari blew out a soft breath. “I’m not interested in gold, Michelle. I wanted to save the artifacts inside that crate, and I wanted to be sure that hill wasn’t an Indian burial ground, although…”

  Michelle looked sharply at her, fear suddenly etched on her face. “Although what?” she demanded.

  In addition to hurt, fear and guilt rolled off Michelle in palpable waves. Lots and lots of guilt, confirming Ari’s worst suspicions.

  Ari took a slow breath, praying hard to the universe, to the gods, and to the one her father so believed in…prayed that she could pull this off and not be killed. She had to be sure that Michelle didn’t realize that the body had been found.

  “What were you going to say about that hill?” Michelle demanded.

  “I think that hill’s a lost cause,” Ari said, choosing every word as if her life depended on it. Because it sure as hell did. “They want to bulldoze it and get a view for that house.”

  Even in the ambient headlights, she could see Michelle’s color rise. “Trust me, we, er, I’ve done everything possible to delay that.”

  “Like file a report with the Army Corps of Engineers and use my name?”

  She grunted in acknowledgment. “I couldn’t use mine, but after you came to the offices, it gave me an idea. And you’d already called there, so it was perfect. And those guys could delay the sunrise if they wanted to.”

  But wouldn’t she know they’d find the body if they investigated? Maybe in her business she knew that phone call would slow everything and give her time to move that body, and time for her to find the gold.

  Ari fought a shiver and managed not to let her gaze shift to the gun. She couldn’t let Michelle know they’d found that body. She had to do everything in her power to keep her calm and think she had time to get what she wanted and escape.

  Then Michelle would be law enforcement’s problem. If only Ari could stay alive that long. Why the hell hadn’t she gone with Gussie to Lacey’s house? She could have been with Luke right now, safe and happy.