Risky Business (19 page)

“You could be killed.”

“I've done nothing and they've nearly killed me twice.” She dropped her head on his chest. “Please help me.”

He couldn't force her to bend his way. Two of the things he most admired in her were her capacity to give and her will to stand firm. He could plead with her, he could argue, but he could never lie. If she ran, if they ran, they'd never be free of it. His arm came around her. Her hair smelled of summer and sea air. And before the summer ended, he promised himself, she'd be free. They'd both be free.

“I go with her.” He met Moralas's eyes over her head.

“That may not be possible.”

“I'll make it possible.”

S
he'd never been more frightened in her life. Every day she worked in the shop, waiting for Scott Trydent to approach. Every evening she locked up, went home and waited for the phone to ring. Jonas said little. She no longer knew what he did with the hours they were apart, but she was aware that he was planning his own move, in his own time. It only frightened her more.

Two days passed until her nerves were stretched thinner and tighter than she would have believed possible. On the beach, people slept or read novels, lovers walked by arm in arm. Children chattered and ran. Snorkelers splashed around the reef. She wondered why nothing seemed normal, or if it ever would again. At sundown she emptied her cash box, stacked gear and began to lock up.

“How about that drink?”

Though she'd thought she'd braced herself for the moment when it would begin, Liz jolted. Her head began to throb in a slow, steady rhythm she knew would last for hours. In the pit of her stomach she felt the twist come and go from panicked excitement. From this point on, she reminded herself, she had
no room to panic. She turned and looked at Scott. “I was wondering if you'd come back.”

“Told you I'd be around. I always figure people need a couple of days to mull things over.”

She had a part to play, Liz reminded herself. She had to do it well. Carefully, she finished locking up, then turned back to him. She didn't smile. It was to be a business discussion, cut-and-dried. “We can get a drink over there.” She pointed to the open-air thatched-roof restaurant overhanging the reef. “It's public.”

“Suits me.” Though he offered his hand, she ignored it and began to walk.

“You used to be friendlier.”

“You used to be a customer.” She sent him a sideways look. “Not a business partner.”

“So…” She saw him glance right, then left. “You've mulled.”

“You need a diver, I need money.” Liz walked up the two wooden stairs and chose a chair that had her back to the water. Seconds after she sat, a man settled himself into a corner table. One of Moralas's, she thought, and ordered herself to be calm. She'd been briefed and rebriefed. She knew what to say, how to say it, and that the waiter who would serve them carried a badge and a gun. “Jerry didn't tell me a great deal,” she began, and ordered an American soft drink. “Just that he made the drop and collected the money.”

“He was a good diver.”

Liz swallowed the little bubble of fear. “I'm better.”

Scott grinned at her. “So I'm told.”

A movement beside her had her glancing over, then freezing. A dark man with a pitted face took the chair beside her. Liz knew he wore a thin silver band on his wrist before she looked for it.

“Pablo Manchez, Liz Palmer. Though I think you two have met.”

“Señorita.”
Manchez's thin mouth curved as he took her hand.

“Tell your friend to keep his hands to himself.” Calmly, Jonas pulled a chair up to the table. “Why don't you introduce me, Liz?” When she could do no more than stare at him, he settled back. “I'm Jonas Sharpe. Liz and I are partners.” He leveled his gaze to Manchez. This was the man, he thought, whom he'd come thousands of miles to see. This was the man he'd kill. Jonas felt the hatred and the fury rise. But he knew how to strap the emotions and wait. “I believe you knew my brother.”

Manchez's hand dropped from Liz's and went to his side. “Your brother was greedy and stupid.”

Liz held her breath as Jonas reached in his pocket. Slowly, he pulled out his cigarettes. “I'm greedy,” he said easily as he lit one. “But I'm not stupid. I've been looking for you.” He leaned across the table. With a slow smile, he offered Manchez the cigarettes.

Manchez took one and broke off the filter. His hands were beautiful, with long spidery fingers and narrow palms. Liz fought back a shudder as she looked at them. “So you found me.”

Jonas was still smiling as he ordered a beer. “You need a diver.”

Scott sent Manchez a warning look. “We have a diver.”

“What you have is a team. Liz and I work together.” Jonas blew out a stream of smoke. “Isn't that right, Liz?”

He wanted them. He wasn't going to back off until he had them. And she had no choice. “That's right.”

“We don't need no team.” Manchez started to rise.

“You need us.” Jonas took his beer as it was served. “We already know a good bit about your operation. Jerry wasn't good at keeping secrets.” Jonas took a swig from the bottle. “Liz and I are more discreet. Five thousand a drop?”

Scott waited a beat, then held a hand up, signaling Manchez. “Five. If you want to work as a team, it's your business how you split it.”

“Fifty-fifty.” Liz spread her fingers around Jonas's beer. “One of us goes down, one stays in the dive boat.”

“Tomorrow night. Eleven o'clock. You come to the shop. Go inside. You'll find a waterproof case. It'll be locked.”

“So will the shop,” Liz put in. “How does the case get inside?”

Manchez blew smoke between his teeth. “I got no problem getting in.”

“Just take the case,” Scott interrupted. “The coordinates will be attached to the handle. Take the boat out, take the case down, leave it. Then come back up and wait exactly an hour. That's when you dive again. All you have to do is take the case that's waiting for you back to the shop and leave it.”

“Sounds smooth,” Jonas decided. “When do we get paid?”

“After you do the job.”

“Half up front.” Liz took a long swallow of beer and hoped her heart would settle. “Leave twenty-five hundred with the case or I don't dive.”

Scott smiled. “Not as trusting as Jerry.”

She gave him a cold, bitter look. “And I intend to stay alive.”

“Just follow the rules.”

“Who makes them?” Jonas took the beer back from Liz. Her hand slipped down to his leg and stayed steady.

“You don't want to worry about that,” Manchez advised. The cigarette was clamped between his teeth as he smiled. “He knows who you are.”

“Just follow the coordinates and keep an eye on your watch.” Scott dropped bills on the table as he rose. “The rest is gravy.”

“Stay smart, Jerry's brother.” Manchez gave them both a slow smile.
“Adios, señorita.”

Jonas calmly finished his beer as the two men walked away.

“You weren't supposed to interfere during the meeting,” Liz began in a furious undertone. “Moralas said—”

“The hell with Moralas.” He crushed out his cigarette, watching as the smoke plumed up. “Is that the man who put the bruises on your neck?”

Her hand moved up before she could stop it. Halfway to her throat, Liz curled her fingers into a ball and set her hand on the table. “I told you I didn't see him.”

Jonas turned his head. His eyes, as they had before, reminded her of frozen smoke. “Was it the man?”

He didn't need to be told. Liz leaned closer and spoke softly. “I want it over, Jonas. And I don't need revenge. You were supposed to let me meet with Scott and set things up by myself.”

In an idle move, he tilted the candle on the table toward him and lit it. “I changed my mind.”

“Damn you, you could've messed everything up. I don't want to be involved but I am. The only way to get uninvolved is to finish it. How do we know they won't just back off now that you've come into it?”

“Because you're right in the middle, and you always have been.” Before she could speak, he took her arm. His face was close, his voice cool and steady. “I was going to use you. From the minute I walked into your house, I was going to use you to get to Jerry's killer. If I had to walk all over you, if I had to knock you out of the way or drag you along with me, I was going to use you. Just the way Moralas is going to use you. Just the way the others are going to use you.” The heat of the candle flickered between them as he drew her closer. “The way Jerry used you.”

She swallowed the tremor and fought against the pain. “And now?”

He didn't speak. They were so close that he could see himself reflected in her eyes. In them, surrounding his own reflection, he saw the doubts and the defiance. His hand came to the back of her neck, held there until he could feel the rhythm of her
pulse. With a simmering violence, he pulled her against him and covered her mouth with his. A flare that was passion, a glimmer that was hope—he didn't know which to reach for. So he let her go.

“No one's going to hurt you again,” he murmured. “Especially not me.”

 

It was the longest day of her life. Liz worked and waited as the hours crawled by. Moralas's men mixed with the vacationers on the beach. So obviously, it seemed to Liz, that she wondered everyone else didn't notice them as though they wore badges around their necks. Her boats went out, returned and went out again. Tanks and equipment were checked and rented. She filled out invoices and accepted credit cards as if there were some importance to daily routine. She wished for the day to end. She hoped the night would never come.

A thousand times she thought of telling Moralas she couldn't go through with it. A thousand times she called herself a coward. But as the sun went down and the beach began to clear, she realized courage wasn't something that could be willed into place. She would run, if she had the choice. But as long as she was in danger, Faith was in danger. When the sun went down, she locked the shop as if it were the end of any ordinary day. Before she'd pocketed her keys, Jonas was beside her.

“There's still time to change your mind.”

“And do what? Hide?” She looked out at the beach, at the sea, at the island that was her home. And her prison. Why had she never seen it as a prison until Jonas had come to it? “You've already told me how good I am at hiding.”

“Liz—”

She shook her head to stop him. “I can't talk about it. I just have to do it.”

They drove home in silence. In her mind, Liz went over her instructions, every point, every word Moralas had pushed at her. She was to follow the routine, make the exchange, then turn the case with the money over to the police who'd be waiting near the dock. She'd wait for the next move. And while she waited, she'd never be more than ten feet away from a cop. It sounded foolproof. It made her stomach churn.

There was a man walking a dog along the street in front of her house. One of Moralas's men. The man whittling on her neighbor's porch had a gun under his denim vest. Liz tried to look at neither of them.

“You're going to have a drink, some food and a nap,” Jonas ordered as he steered her inside.

“Just the nap.”

“The nap first then.” After securing the lock, Jonas followed her into the bedroom. He lowered the shades. “Do you want anything?”

It was still so hard to ask. “Would you lie down with me?”

He came to her. She was already curled on her side, so he drew her back against him and wrapped her close. “Will you sleep?”

“I think so.” In sleep she could find escape, if only temporarily. But she didn't close her eyes. “Jonas?”

“Hmm?”

“After tonight—after we've finished, will you hold me like this again?”

He pressed his lips to her hair. He didn't think he could love her any more. He was nearly certain if he told her she'd pull away. “As long as you want. Just sleep.”

Liz let her eyes close and her mind empty.

 

The case was small, the size of an executive briefcase. It seemed too inconspicuous to be the catalyst for so much danger.
Beside it, on the counter of Liz's shop, was an envelope. Inside was a slip of paper with longitude and latitude printed. With the slip of paper were twenty-five one-hundred-dollar bills.

“They kept their part of the bargain,” Jonas commented.

Liz merely shoved the envelope into a drawer. “I'll get my equipment.”

Jonas watched her. She'd rather do this on her own, he reflected. She'd rather not think she had someone to lean on, to turn to. He took her tanks before she could heft them. She was going to learn, he reminded himself, that she had a great deal more than that. “The coordinates?”

“The same that were in Jerry's book.” She found herself amazingly calm as she waited to lock the door behind him. They were being watched. She was aware that Moralas had staked men in the hotel. She was just as certain Manchez was somewhere close. She and Jonas didn't speak again until they were on the dive boat and had cast off. “This could end it.” She glanced at him as she set her course.

“This could end it.”

She was silent for a moment. All during the evening hours she'd thought about what she would say to him, how she would say it. “Jonas, what will you do?”

The flame of his lighter hissed, flared, then was quiet. “What I have to do.”

The fear tasted like copper in her mouth, but it had nothing to do with herself and everything to do with Jonas. “If we make the exchange tonight, turn the second case over to Moralas. They'll have to come out in the open. Manchez, and the man who gives the orders.”

“What are you getting at, Liz?”

“Manchez killed your brother.”

Jonas looked beyond her. The sea was black. The sky was
black. Only the hum of the motor broke the silence. “He was the trigger.”

“Are you going to kill him?”

Slowly, he turned back to her. The question had been quiet, but her eyes weren't. They sent messages, posed argument, issued pleas. “It doesn't involve you.”

That hurt deeply, sharply. With a nod, she followed the shimmer of light on the water. “Maybe not. But if you let hate rule what you do, how you think, you'll never be free of it. Manchez will be dead, Jerry will still be dead and you…” She turned to look at him again. “You'll never really be alive again.”