Redemption Key (A Dani Britton Thriller) (11 page)

If the Feds had a problem with that, they could go fuck themselves.

Jackson had been right about getting around the island. Even at night, she’d been able to hitch a ride in no time. A golden-tanned family with a matching Golden Lab didn’t hesitate to let her climb into their Jeep. They’d heard about the party she mentioned, and Dani could hear a distant twinge of disappointment that they hadn’t been invited and didn’t know exactly where it was. Instead they dropped her at a little market that looked like it had been airlifted from the Deep South circa 1950, charmingly rustic with bins of fruits and vegetables on the porch, and several old bikes with woven baskets leaning unlocked against the railing.

The illusion took a hit when Dani saw the shelves stocked with fourteen dollar jars of English lemon curd, exotic tapenades, and wines she couldn’t pronounce. She ventured to the high wooden
counter in the back and found a straight-backed old woman with enough New England crust to be an extra on
Murder, She Wrote
.

“Of course there are Charbaneauxs on the Vineyard. Always have been. If you want to find them tonight you’ve come to the right place. That way.” She pointed to her left.

“Could you be a little less specific?” Dani deadpanned.

“I could, but that wouldn’t be very neighborly. Keep walking that way. You’ll hear the music. It’s a wonderful celebration.” Her smile could have been sarcastic, or maybe the mirth had been worn away by the years. “Too bad you’re here at the end of it.”

“I’ll make a note for next year.”

Dani’s mood soured as she hiked the narrow roads winding through the darkness in the general direction the old woman had pointed. The houses, if they could be called that, got larger and farther off the road the longer she walked, but she could hear music rolling toward her so she figured she had to be close. Of course
close
didn’t really count when none of the roads she ventured onto led to anything but more roads and fewer houses, the last of the sunlight vanishing behind the scrubby pines.

She berated herself for the stupidity of this plan. She was going to wind up lost on a tiny island. When something rustled in the shadows of the biggest rhododendron bushes she had ever seen, she started berating herself for not checking to see if Martha’s Vineyard had any wolves or wildcats protected in its well-preserved bosom. She had just decided to turn around and try to find her way back to the little market when a Range Rover roared around the bend, illuminating the road ahead—a road lined as far as the eye could see with matching Range Rovers. That was a very good sign.

By the time Dani made it up the winding drive she was glad she’d taken up running. Despite what she’d seen on the map, this didn’t feel like a small island. The house—again, an understatement—sprawled across a wide, sloping expanse, porches layered three and four levels
deep toward what smelled like water in the distance. Lanterns hung everywhere, casting warm shadows over a crowd that danced and drank and laughed. African drum music kept bodies swaying around waiters laden with trays of something that smelled delicious.

Dani had chosen to live in Florida because she thought it was as far from her Oklahoma childhood lifestyle as she could get. She had been wrong. This house, this island, felt like another planet to her.

Planet Choo-Choo.

She didn’t spy anyone as beautiful as her friend, but as a whole, the crowd possessed that same long-limbed elegance, that ownership of the air around them that had always set Choo-Choo apart from the simply fine-looking. This wasn’t the sleek fashion and glittering jewelry of Miami; the colors were muted, the fabrics stylishly rumpled, and the accessories the women sported seemed more like hardware than fine jewelry.

But the people were gracious. They smiled when she said Charbaneaux; they hid most of their surprise when she asked about Choo-Choo. Everyone seemed to know him, or of him, and a few thought they’d seen him at the party. They shared meaningful glances when they thought she wasn’t looking. Passing deeper into the party, through a colossal patio room to yet another array of porches full of lanterns and food and partygoers, Dani sensed she was getting close. The reactions to Choo-Choo’s name became more guarded, the eyebrows arched higher, and more than one person let their gaze drift to a section of porch screened behind a trellis of grapes.

She headed into the shadows of the trellis, the music growing fainter behind her, the crowd thinning out to nothing. The only light on this corner of the house came from a red Moroccan lantern hanging off the eave. It took a moment to make out the shape in the darkness.

Choo-Choo sprawled in a deep Adirondack chair. His blond hair caught the red glow and the sliver of his profile was expressionless.

Dani had seen a man sitting like this before, sprawled in a chair, face expressionless. That had been at Rasmund. He had been shot in the head. That’s when her world had fallen apart.

It couldn’t be happening again.

No, something moved. She thought he had shifted but as she regained her nerve and stepped closer, she saw that Choo-Choo wasn’t alone. Someone kneeled between his thighs, a blond French braid visible as it rose and fell in a steady rhythm.

Oh.

She must have said that out loud because Choo-Choo turned his head, finding her in the shadows. His expression didn’t change.

“What are you doing here?”

Dani didn’t know where to look as the blond girl between his legs lifted her head and wiped her lips. “What do you think I’m doing?” the girl asked, annoyed. “How much have you had to drink tonight?”

“I’m not talking to you.” He nudged her with his knee and ignored her grunt of protest, staring at Dani. “What are you doing here?”

“I’ve been looking for you,” Dani managed to say. The girl spun at the sound of her voice.

“Get out of here,” he said.

“What?” Dani and the girl spoke in unison.

“Not you,” Choo-Choo said to Dani and then nudged the girl again. “Get out of here.” He sat straighter in the chair and the girl tumbled backwards. He ignored the long string of profanity that poured out of her mouth, an unrelated string of
fuck
and
prick
and
shithead
jumbled together and trailing behind her as she ran back toward the party. Dani tried not to look too closely as he tucked himself back into his loose linen pants.

“You’re really hard to find,” she said.

“Am I? I wouldn’t think so.”

Dani stepped closer, not knowing what to do with her hands or how to stand. Of all the scenarios she’d pictured, this cold reception wasn’t one of them. Choo-Choo sat in the only chair on the porch, forcing her to stand like a student called to the principal’s office.

He let her stand there for several moments before he spoke. “Did you know there is not one single Danielle Britton in the entire state of Oklahoma? Not one. It’s not that unusual a name, is it? What do you suppose the odds of that are? And I had it on excellent authority there would be at least one.” He shrugged, the closest thing to an expression he’d shown so far. “I didn’t look any further than Oklahoma. I figured you had your reasons to lie to me.”

“I didn’t lie to you.” She took a step closer, trying to read him. “I lied to them.”

“Of course, because that would keep ‘them’ from finding you.”

“I didn’t know where I was going. They were recording everything we said. They dumped me on the sidewalk with just my car keys. I just—”

“What the fuck, Choo-Choo?” A tall, bronzed woman stomped onto the porch, her armload of thick copper cuffs clanking together. She stopped when she saw Dani. “Who are you?” The woman didn’t wait for her answer. “What the fuck? I mean seriously. Sibbie is in tears telling everyone that you hit her. Did you hit her?” He didn’t react. “Jesus Christ, Choo-Choo. I don’t know why I let you in the door. I really don’t. I don’t need your scene. I don’t need this shit. If you can’t behave like a human being why don’t you and your . . . your . . .” she waved her hand in Dani’s direction, “get the fuck out of my house.”

Choo-Choo sighed. “Fuck off, Caroline.”

“Fuck you!”

Dani said nothing. She thought she had a filthy mouth, but from what she’d seen tonight, these people tossed f-bombs like confetti. She wondered if they even heard the word anymore.

Caroline studied Dani once more. “I don’t know who you are or what the fuck you’re doing here, but hopefully you have enough sense to avoid this blond hot-mess piece of shit. Take my advice. He doesn’t pay off.”

Choo-Choo gave a halfhearted eye roll as she stomped back off the porch, returning to the party. He let the silence grow awkward again before he spoke. “How long are you here?”

“I’m flying out at midnight. That airport in the middle of the island.”

He rose from the chair with the same feline grace she remembered. He didn’t look at her. “Congratulations on finding me. Have a safe trip back to wherever it is you call home.”

“Wait.”

His smile was tight. “If you’ll excuse me, I must go and make peace with the tribe. After all, these are my people, aren’t they? It won’t do to let hard feelings fester.”

He breezed past the trellis toward the party.

Just like that, Dani stood alone in the dark. Choo-Choo was gone.

Dani found her own cache of profanity as she made her way through the darkness back to the main road. She’d come all this way for nothing. She’d hoped, no she’d
expected
him to have missed her as much as she’d missed him. It was stupid. She was stupid. They hadn’t been close friends at Rasmund. None of them had been the close-friend type.

But after everything that had happened . . .

He’d taken a bullet for her. She remembered two shots ringing out, his long body falling over hers to push her out of danger. Was she remembering it right? Maybe he’d just been ducking for cover. Maybe she’d just imagined their closeness after the grueling ordeal of recovery. Maybe she had made up a bond that never existed.

He thought she’d lied to him.

“Fuck!” Dani shouted to nothing. They’d been monitored in the military hospital. Every word was recorded. She just wanted to get away from them, and Choo-Choo was nowhere near ready to be released. He needed weeks of recuperation.

Because he’d taken that bullet in the chest.

And he thought she’d lied to him.

She grappled with the idea of going back in and forcing him to listen to her, to let her explain. But she’d seen him in the crowd as she left, his arm draped around the mollified Caroline, a cluster of people laughing at whatever was falling from his beautiful mouth. He was home. He was in his element. However he might have felt about it during his years at Rasmund, he had obviously come to accept his place in his world.

Dani decided she hated Martha’s Vineyard. It was dark. Not dark like the remote Redemption Key. There were no streetlights on purpose. Only money, real money, could buy this kind of maintained rustic charm. What kind of island didn’t have houses with beach towels hanging from the railings? Where were the aboveground pools and plastic floaties? What the hell was lemon curd and why did it cost fourteen dollars a jar?

The best thing about her inner tantrum was that it made the miles pass beneath her feet as she stomped along, hoping she was headed toward the airport. She cleared a small bend in the road and saw a figure leaning against a rough wooden fence.

“Taking the long way?” Choo-Choo asked.

Dani looked around her, trying to find the road he must have taken to beat her here. “I don’t even know if I’m going the right way.”

He stuck out his thumb and headlights magically appeared. A busted-up, blue-and-white Range Rover pulled over, and Dani heard the strains of bluegrass music pouring from the window. He opened the door for her, letting her crowd in with the pack of twenty-somethings who greeted them with way too much enthusiasm, in
Dani’s opinion. She did catch the hiccup of attention when at least two of the passengers recognized Choo-Choo.

“West Tis,” he said, slamming the door. Dani knew he felt it too.

“I didn’t lie to you,” she said softly as they pulled back out onto the road.

“I know.” He rolled an unlit cigarette between his fingers, then motioned for her to wait.

She sat close enough beside him that their thighs touched. He didn’t pull away. His shirt was open several buttons and she could see the edges of a jagged scar.

They said nothing as they rode, listening to a heated argument about the set list at some Avett Brothers concert and pretending they didn’t see the surreptitious glances at Choo-Choo. When they pulled up to the front of the small airport, Choo-Choo didn’t even wait until they’d stopped before opening the door. No thank-you, no good-bye, he just stepped down from the car and waited for Dani. She could hear the laughter as they pulled away.

They sat side by side on an outdoor bench, watching small planes and private jets taxi here and there. Martha’s Vineyard airport was a busy place for the rich at midnight.

Dani’s fingers were soft. He didn’t flinch when she pulled down the collar of his shirt to look. She saw that he would have to take it off for her to see the entire scar.