Runaway Mistress (35 page)

She took a stack of toiletries, makeup, belts, bracelets and clothes to the lavatory. At least in the private jet there was plenty of room for changing. This transformation would be impossible in a commercial jet.

As she traded her shirt and jeans for this expensive, soft and silky pantsuit, she remembered too clearly the last big change she’d made, and how it had made her cry. But then it was more out of fear than disappointment that she wept. The tears that threatened now were wrought of a breaking heart. She didn’t want to be that woman again! She had grown so comfortable in her own skin.

Would Nick let her go? Would Alex be waiting? Would he believe what she’d told Rose—that she was just going home for a while, that she’d be back soon? If Alex believed that, maybe he’d just wait around. But for how long?

The top was low cut, but not the lowest she had in the suitcase. She put on silver bangles, a silver pendant that hung from a black cord just above her breasts, and a black-and-silver belt that hung low on her hips and fastened with a big silver hook. She was in no mood for makeup, or the heels for that matter, but if there was one thing she had learned, it was best not to disappoint Nick. He was as tenacious as a bulldog at getting what he wanted.

When she exited the rest room, he was standing there with a drink in his hand and a smile on his lips. “Better,” he said. “Much better.”

She held the discarded jeans and polo. He took them from her and handed them to the cabin attendant. “Get rid of these,” he told her. Then, taking Jennifer’s hand, led her back to her seat. He looked between Barbara and Jennifer. “The two of youse is pretty damn good-looking,” he said.

Barbara groaned and turned her face away, looking out the window. Jennifer just stared at him in awe. What was this? Did he think he was going to have a harem now?

The flight seemed longer than usual and they had flown over water for quite a while. They were obviously not going to Fort Lauderdale as the cabin attendant had originally announced. But this was typical of Nick, to change plans on a whim. He enjoyed watching people jump around to keep him happy.

Four hours into the flight, Nick finally went to the front of the cabin. He talked to his boys for a minute, then stood in the cockpit doorway to talk to the pilots. Jennifer crossed the cabin to Barbara’s side of the plane and sat on the end of the chaise beside her. Barbara was lazily filing a nail.

“Look, Barbara, I don’t want to be here.”

“Oh? And you think I do?”

She was a little surprised. “That’s what I assumed.”

“Shouldn’t make assumptions, little girl.”

“Then what are you doing here?”

“The same as you. Enjoying the pleasure of his company. Or that of one of his boys. Twenty-four-seven.”

Jennifer sat back, frowning as she tried to comprehend this. “Since when?”

“Since March.”

“So you
have
been out of the country. At spas, in Costa Rica, on a cruise…”

“How would you know that?” she asked.

“I was trying to find you. I thought he killed you and hid your body!”

A look of shock passed over Barbara’s features just before melting into laughter. She laughed a little at first and then laughed harder until it verged on hysteria. “No kidding? You were trying to find out if I was
dead?
”

“Shh,” she warned. “We don’t need him back here.”

“What made you think I was
dead?
”

“That day. That fight. I snuck back into the suite. Nick was in the shower and you were facedown on the bed. You looked dead to me.”

“Oh, that,” she said. “Let me give you some advice. Never take a drink Lou has fixed for you.”

“I saw blood. I thought—”

“Bloody nose,” she said.

“You hit him in the face?”

“No, I didn’t hit him in the face,” she replied, sarcasm dripping. “He just started gushing. It was disgusting. I think his blood pressure got so high, he sprang a leak.”

“Oh. Pushed some buttons, did you?”

She laughed a little. “I’d say so.”

“That tax record stuff?”

Now Barbara looked confused. “What are you talking about?”

“He said you threatened to turn his records over to the IRS to get him into trouble for tax evasion.”

Her smile was slow and mocking. “God, he is such a liar.”

“You didn’t do that?”

“I threatened to turn him into the FBI for fraud and money laundering.”

“You can prove that?”

Her eyes lifted to look over Jennifer’s head. Nick stood behind her. “Isn’t it nice,” he said, “that my girls are getting along so good?”

When the plane landed, Jennifer recognized the airport. She’d been here with him before—the island of St. Martin. One of the most beautiful places on the planet. Under any other circumstances, she might have really enjoyed this. Nick had a big place on the beach, fully staffed and luxurious, and every bit as gorgeous as a resort. But it looked very much as if he was planning to keep her prisoner, along with Barbara. He handed her her passport and told her to behave herself. “Don’t make any trouble for me.” And after they cleared Customs, he took it back.

She didn’t say anything. Barbara might have the goods on him, but she didn’t. She had absolutely no idea what kind of illegal activities he’d been involved in, as she had already told the FBI.

They were taken to the house, a ten thousand square foot beach house surrounded on three sides by a ten-foot wall and on the remaining side by the sea. The sky was bright blue, the weather warm and balmy, and the house a big glittering gem with an enormous pool. It appeared as though a person could just walk away from this rich and lavish prison.

She went to her room, the same room she’d had on previous visits. The door remained unlocked and she sat on her balcony, staring at the sea. There was a knock at the door; a maid brought her a glass of lemonade and some fresh towels. It was surreal—that he should bring her here against her will and yet do nothing to try to keep her from leaving. She toyed with the idea of walking down the beach until she came to the road. But she had no shoes for walking.

She wandered around the house for a while, found the staff at work. There was meal preparation going on in the kitchen, the dining table was being laid, and to all appearances Mr. Noble was visiting for a little vacation.

She decided to walk right into the lion’s den. She found him at a poolside table, wearing his terry robe, chewing on a cigar, his phone handy and briefcase open. She sat down. “Nick, you can keep me here against my will by threatening my friends, but things are not going to be the way they were between us.”

He smiled. “What? No jewelry? No money for shopping? What?”

“I’m not your girlfriend anymore.”

“Aw, baby, you’ll come around.”

“I don’t know what you want from me.”

His fist hit the glass tabletop. “I want you under wraps until my people get my business straightened out! Then you can do whatever the hell you want.”

She never flinched. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Maybe you do, maybe you don’t.”

“Nick! What do you
mean?
”

“Don’t be cute. One of the things I like about you is that you’re smart. Maybe too smart. So, we’ll have a nice little vacation until the coast is clear.”

She leaned forward. “Is that why you’ve kept Barbara with you for three months? Till you can tidy up your tax records? So if she talks, she’ll be too late?”

He looked into his briefcase, shuffled some papers, stuck the cigar back in his mouth. “Something like that…”

She laughed. “Nick. Three months?”

He made eye contact with her again. Not happy eye contact. “Yeah. It’s been a real picnic.”

“I’ll bet,” she laughed. “So—how long you think this will take?”

“Not so long. And is this place so bad? You think you can stand this?” he asked, waving a hand.

“Let me call my friend Rose so I can tell her I’m all right and make sure she’s all right.”

The hand holding the cigar dropped to the tabletop and he looked at her curiously. “You’re really into these people.”

“They were awful good to me. I landed in that town with nothing but the clothes on my back.”

He pointed the cigar at her. “What’d you do with the hair?”

“Left it in a crappy motel behind a railroad track.”

He sucked on the cigar again. “I can’t believe you were that scared of me. What ever made you think I could kill someone?” He reached across the table and gently stroked her arm. “You really think that of me? I know I’m a little rough around the edges, but baby…”

“I don’t know. All of a sudden I was terrified. I really thought you’d done it.”

He puffed some smoke. “Yeah? Well I shoulda. She’s a giant pain in the ass.”

“Three months?” she repeated. “Oh, Nick.”

“Tell me about it.”

She glanced over her shoulder and saw Barbara standing in the doorway. She was dressed in a lovely silver caftan, scowling blackly. She had seen her husband toying with his mistress, or so she thought. She whirled around and went back into the house.

“When this is behind you, what are you going to do about her?”

He didn’t even have to think about it. “Shit-can her. Big D. Cut her off without a cent. She’ll wish she was dead.”

For a minute, Jennifer almost felt sorry for her.

It took Alex and Paula two days to get to St. Martin; flights were oversold all the way to Miami, and since they weren’t on official business they couldn’t pull rank of any kind. Neither could they take weapons. But the unavailability of flights did give Paula a chance to pack decently—and gave Alex a chance to speak with Rose before he left.

Rose was clearly disgruntled. He’d never seen her less than cool, less than totally poised. She was suddenly unsure of Doris, who she now knew was Jennifer, even if she didn’t know the whole story yet. She obviously wanted to believe, as Alex did, that Jennifer did not leave because she wanted to. At the same time that implied she was being forced, and that terrified her.

“I know you think of me as a kinky yet hip little old lady, but I used to date rich men in limousines and I know, from experience, they’re not the kind of guys you play around with. They’re serious—and sometimes dangerous.”

“That’s why I’m going to get her,” he said.

After they arrived at their hotel in the French section of town, Paula was overwhelmed by the quaint beauty of the place. She’d started oohing and aahing on the plane as they made their final descent over waters of clear blue bordered with white sand beaches. “Look at this place! This place is awesome! I’m going to make John bring me here,” she was saying.

Alex was busy opening his suitcase. He pulled out his binoculars, camera and film. He dug around in it and finally produced a Taser, a nonlethal weapon that produced a five-second-long electric shock. It could render a person helpless for that long, and the shock could be reengaged for another five seconds, if necessary. He had hidden it in his checked baggage where, if it had been discovered, would only have been confiscated once he produced a badge. He could argue that it was part of his work gear and he forgot he even had it. It would go harder on a civilian, of course.

Having it and using it on this island would be a whole other story—one that a Nevada police officer’s badge wouldn’t easily solve.

“Oh, Alex, you are going to get us into such trouble.”

“Only if I have to use it—and I won’t use it unless I’m about to die.”

“You know we’re not supposed to—”

“The less you say out loud, the better.”

So she pointed.
You. Me. The Finger.

Then they went, posing as a couple on their honeymoon, to rent a boat. Finding the location of one of the richest estates on the island was no trouble at all. Nick Noble was anything but incognito. He was flamboyant and relished in being well known. He employed an entire staff of islanders.

Jennifer was bored senseless. How she had managed to lie around and soak up luxury with nothing to distract her but the occasional novel was now beyond her. No wonder she had spent so many hours primping and managing a near-perfect appearance—there had been little else to do! And she might have told herself that she always kept a job for the sake of her self-esteem and maybe medical benefits, but now she realized that without work to do, she would go crazy.

She napped, she swam, she walked the beach. She read, she had a manicure and pedicure and a facial—all provided in the residence—and it soon became impossible for her to be still another second. Relaxing when one has earned a break, a rest, is one thing. Enforced relaxation, even in lavish comfort such as this, proved maddening.

Nick, she noticed, was not resting on his laurels. He was either at work in his study or on the phone—and when he was on the phone he was usually pacing. Now, with her mind turned toward self-preservation, she tried to pay attention to what he was saying, what he was doing—but he either closed the door or left the vicinity.

Barbara must certainly be equally bored because she seemed intent on playing lady of the manor and haranguing the staff. Nothing, it seemed, was folded quite right, prepared or served well enough, cleaned to her satisfaction, and no one was quick enough to carry out her demands. Jennifer stayed as far away as possible. If Barbara was at the pool, Jennifer went to the kitchen; if Barbara went to the kitchen, Jennifer went for a walk on the beach or to her room. They separated like oil and water.

If someone had suggested to her that she would suffer this feeling of listlessness and tedium a year ago or even two, Jennifer wouldn’t have understood. She was always so busy just trying to hang on to some semblance of security, of order, that she hadn’t realized it felt so much better to be
useful.
It had been such a wonderful accident, stumbling into that desert town, into the diner, where work was hard and steady. And then there were the acts of caring—taking a meal to a destitute elderly person, being a support to a young girl in need of a friend, walking an old dog. Doing something not for herself but for another somehow became more personally important than all the selfish indulgences of a lifetime.