Addicted To Him (Man Season) (8 page)

She was sobbing; she had tried
valiantly to hold back, but saying everything out loud was too much for her.

“There, there,” he comforted her,
patting her back. “You love him, I suppose, or it wouldn’t be hitting you this
hard. I never much liked the jerks that guard that place anyway! They’re always
running me off from the best fishing spot this side of
Cuba
! Sit down and dry your eyes, Miss!
We’ll get him out!”

She nodded, sat down on a bench and
dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. Grissom started the engine and steered
them away from the marina. Once out onto the open sea,
Tegan
stood and began to breathe deeply. The salt air revived her, gave her strength.
She had no plan as to what they would do when they reached Red Thorn Key, and
she wasn’t sure Grissom did either. But her determination would see her
through. She wasn’t coming back to
Marathon
without Fleet Westcott. And damn
anyone who tried to stop her!

Grissom eased them into his favorite
fishing spot; set up his pole and began to fish.

“Is that it?”
Tegan
wondered, staring at a small island with high bamboo fences surrounding some
swanky bungalows.

“Yep.
That’s Red Thorn Key. You’d think it
was
Fort
Knox
the way they guard the place!”

“But how will we get to Fleet?”

“Is that his name?”

“Yes.
Fleet
Westcott.”

“Seems I’ve heard of him.
Wasn’t he on the TV a few days ago?”

“Yes, he was talking about going to
rehab, but they were controlling everything he said. I could tell.”

“I consider myself a good judge of
character, Miss. Most folks wouldn’t believe you, but I can see in your eyes
that you’re telling the truth. Sometimes the people there see me fishing,
sometimes they don’t. We’ll sit here till dark, if they don’t come out by then.
Once the sun is down, we can swim over to the beach there. I’ve noticed a blind
spot where their cameras don’t reach. I can cut the bamboo and sneak you in …
after that you’re on your own. I can’t do much more.”

“It’ll be enough! Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet. The day
ain’t
over.
You hungry?”

“Yeah, I am.”

“I’ll whip us up some stew. You can
go below and freshen up if you like.”

“Okay. And I will say thank you now.
You’re a kind man, Mr. Grissom.”

“
Don’t let nobody
know. I’ve got to keep up my crusty old sailor image for the tourists.”

He laughed, his barrel chest
quivering like
Jello
in an earthquake.
Tegan
smiled, took the steps down into the cabin.

Grissom’s seafood stew was excellent,
full of lemon and herbs and tender fish, but
Tegan
supposed anything decent would have seemed good to her growling stomach. Worry
had taken over and dulled her appetite since she’d last seen Fleet. She knew
she had to build up her strength though, and ate until her insides were near
busting.

She set her eyes to the shore,
watching carefully to see any movement or change. She could make out shapes of
people behind the bamboo, shadows draping the beach huts. She wondered if Fleet
was among them, feared he was locked in some dank dungeon, clinging to life, or
drifting off in a drug-engorged haze.

The day lingered far too long.
Grissom fished and smoked and told her a myriad of tales about mermaids and sea
serpents and killer sharks. She listened impatiently, pacing the boat deck,
twitching in anticipation of the night.

Finally the sunset blasted upon the
horizon, sending waves of orange and gold to douse the yellow globe then
smothering it in deep shades of blue and purple. The sky filled up with bitter
stars and streaks of black clouds, hinting at a nearby storm.

“Our luck’s holding out, Miss! They
either
ain’t
seen us or they’re too busy to fuss over
a lone fishing boat in their mist. Are you a good swimmer, I hope?”

“I am. I was born and raised in
California
. My parents took me to the ocean
every weekend. I used to surf when I was a teen.”

“Well, I’m glad of that! I didn’t
want to be teaching you at this late date! You didn’t bring a suit?”

“No, but I can manage in these
shorts. Don’t worry about me.”

“I know your mind’s set on this thing
so it
ain’t
no
use in me
thinking about it too much. I don’t have a raft, or I’d pitch that out for you.
Do you think you’re ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Let’s go then!”

He slipped into the water, waited as she
did the same. It was warm, felt as soothing as bath water as they swam slowly
and quietly towards the shore. The island was lit up with dozens of electric
lanterns; they could hear voices on the other side of the bamboo. They reached
the beach. Grissom pointed at two posts with cameras. They ran beneath them,
made for a stretch of unguarded fencing. Grissom drew out a long knife, hacked
at the bamboo till it cracked, opening a small space for
Tegan
to slip through.

“There you are, Miss,” he whispered.
“I’ll be waiting on the boat till you come back. Take care now!”

“I will. Thanks again, Mr. Grissom!”

He waved her off, disappeared into
the black.
Tegan
took in a big breath; slid between
the fencing and fell out on the inner side. She hid quickly in a bunch of
hydrangeas as two young blondes scuffled past. They were laughing like
mischievous school kids; the odor of marijuana followed them. They had found a
supplier and were breaking house rules by smoking it. Or so they said in
giggling voices.

“Naughty Ned will have our hides for
this if we get caught!” one said.

“Yeah!
But I’d like to hang his hide if you
get my drift! Mother was a bitch sending us to this dump!”

“So true!
I could be in
Aspen
right now, sexing it up with that
Duke I met in
Austria
!”

“He wasn’t into you, dear Apple. He
was all over me!”

“The hell he was, Peach! I had him at
hello!”

“Well, I had him at first glance!”

“You did not!”

Apple pushed Peach; a regular shoving
match ensued.
Tegan
rolled her eyes, frustrated.

Peach fell down on the stone path,
landing dangerously close to
Tegan’s
right foot; she
yanked it out of sight too late.

“Someone’s there!” Peach whispered,
shivering.

“Oh, you’re lying!” Apple shrugged,
and pulled her up. “Come
on,
let’s enjoy this stash
while we can!”

“I tell you I saw a foot!”

Apple peered into the darkness. A
crab conveniently came crawling out of the flowers.

“It’s a crab, you idiot! Come on!”

She hurried the girl away.

Tegan
waited until they were out of range then
she began to explore the island, taking great pains to avoid the cameras posted
at several intervals. Guards walked through every so often; they seemed
unarmed, at least to the naked eye. She would cower in the sanctuary of the
numerous bushes and shrubs each time they appeared. Her nerves were unraveling.
She had no idea where to look for Fleet, but she knew he was there. She could
feel him.

A great commotion echoed from a
nearby bungalow. It sounded like a scene from
an
80s
action film, with all the cussing and crashing.
Tegan
peered into the window; saw Fleet Westcott, dressed only in jeans - flinging
off guard after guard as Ned Grant stood watching. Her heart tightened when she
recognized Fleet; it took all her willpower to keep from bursting blindly into
the room.

“I have to wait,” she told herself.
“If I go in now, we’ll both be caught.”

“That’s enough!” she heard Grant
yell. “Fleet, you are a lot stronger than I gave you credit for. But I’m tired
of waiting. Sign over everything to me now, or I will have the girl killed.”

“I never should have believed you
when you said you had her! But I was messed up from the withdrawal. Now that
you’ve obliged me by drugging me up again, my thoughts are clearer. And I won’t
sign anything unless you prove to me that
Tegan
is in
danger!”

“This is futile, son. Just sign the
God Damned papers!”

He held them out; Fleet ripped them
to shreds.

“For the last time, I am not your
son! My father was a womanizing, wife-beating bastard but he was a better
father than you could ever be!”

“Shut up, you stupid fool!” Grant
screamed, frightening the guards. “Get out of here, all of you! I want to talk
to Fleet alone!”

They scrambled out the door, just
missing
Tegan
, who had fled to the safety of a rose
bush, scraping her limbs on the thorns as she jumped.

“Your father!
YOUR
FATHER!” Grant shouted. “I took care of him! He thought he was so strong,
beating my poor sister half to death! And then he went after you. But I showed
him! I showed him who was really strong!”

Fleet stood there quietly, trying to
comprehend what Grant was saying.

“You poisoned him?
You?”

“Yes, I did! I couldn’t bear to see
him hurt her anymore!”

“Then you let her take the fall for
it? You let her go to jail?”

“She insisted on it. I couldn’t stop
her.”

“You could have, if you’d been man
enough! Damn you!”

Fleet pounced on him like a wild
animal, began to pummel him into the floor. The guards were all down the
walkway, passing round cigarettes, oblivious to the shellacking their boss was
taking.
Tegan
couldn’t bear it; she burst in. Fleet
glanced up then did a double take. He dropped the whimpering Ned Grant to the
floor.

“
Tegan
?
Are you real? He did have you, after
all?”

“I’m real, darling, but Grant didn’t
have me. I came here on my own, to rescue you. But I think Grant is the one who
needs rescuing! Please stop, don’t become as twisted as he is.”

He rushed to her, smothered her in
throbbing arms, his breath quick and furious. He pulled her face up, kissed her
so tenderly she melted into him. All the tension, the worry and frustration,
oozed out of her as he swept her up and carried her out the door.

“Wait, the guards are nearby!” she
whispered. “Come this way!”

She pointed him in the opposite
direction. He let her stand, took her hand in his and allowed her to lead him
to the break in the bamboo fence. They squeezed through, made a dash for the
beach.

Someone yelled: “There he is!” And
the spotlights bathed them in a harsh glow. Then the guards filed out of the
fence gate and surrounded them on the sand. Ned Grant, flanked by two guards,
hobbled onto the beach.

“This won’t do, Fleet. We can’t let
you get away now.”

“You can’t kill us, either. Or can
you trust all of these men to keep quiet about murder?”

“Nonsense!
You’re demented, saying things like that!
My guards are used to the ravings of drug addicts! Go back to your room, and
end this ridiculous charade.”

A crowd was gathering behind them;
other guests of the retreat, followed by a line of doctors in white coats.
Apple and Peach were leading them, pointing fingers.

“We told you!” Peach said, nodding
her head so that her pale blonde hair danced in the lights. “They were beating
this guy! We saw them!”

“Dr.
Grant,
is this true?” a gruff woman asked.

“Of course not!” he lied. “This patient
got out of hand. He was beating me! We have the situation well-covered. All of
you,
return to your rooms!”

“I don’t think we will, Dr. Grant,”
the woman decided. “We’ve heard way too many rumors about your methods. As a
matter of fact, that’s why we came here. You’re under arrest!”