Then You Hide (23 page)

His expression darkened. “I swear on our friendship that I didn’t kill Charlie or Russell. You have to believe me.”

Did she?

The helicopter took a dip of turbulence, and she sucked in a breath as her knees smashed against the rusted metal. The whole thing was as flimsy as hell and felt as if it could fall out of the sky at any minute. She ventured another glance out the window. “Where are we going?”

“St. Kitts,” he said. “Bones has another safe house where we can stay.”

That wasn’t far; she could already see the island lights. The minute they were down, she’d call Wade. She slid her gaze to Clive’s face, seeing the dark shadows under his eyes, the deep lines around them.

She put her hand on his cheek. “I’ve been trying so hard to find you.”

His look was apologetic and appreciative. “I know. And I love you for that.”

She sank toward him, so many questions bouncing around that she didn’t even know where to start. “Were you in that little house on the beach all this time?”

“Most of it. I’ve moved around. But I’ve been trying to find you, too. I left the beach house and got in a little freaking boat to get to St. Kitts, flew to the cruise you were on, sweet-talked the crew into letting me back onboard, and danced with an old Jewish grandmother just to find you.”

“Stella? When?”

“Last night. Bones figured out where I’d gone and found me there—I’m afraid he scared your friend Stella a little, trying to get to me without being seen, but she’s fine—and I agreed to come back with him, but only if he’d take me to you so we can protect you.”

“I was protected,” she said miserably. “I had my own bodyguard.”

Clive shook his head grimly. “Not protected enough. I saw what this guy can do. I saw Charlie’s body.”

She jerked back. “You did?”

“When I had lunch with Russell that day, he told me the EPA was investigating Vexell’s products and I knew what it would do to the stock. I knew it was huge and would cost a lot of people a lot of money. I also knew that if I did anything to stop that, I’d be trading on insider information.”

“So, what
did
you do?”

“I told Charlie.” Guilt and remorse pulled at his expression. “It wasn’t really insider trading; I just got her to stop a deal before it happened—not dump stock. But I swear to God, Vanessa, I wouldn’t have told her if I thought it would get her killed.”

“You had a fight with her that day—that’s what someone told the police. And then you were seen on the street in front of her apartment building in SoHo. What were you doing all the way down there?”

“It wasn’t a fight, it was a loud discussion. I didn’t want her to tell
anyone
—just change her buy strategy on the deal that included Vexell stock. But she was determined to tell Marcus. You know what an industrial-strength kiss-ass she was.”

She could just imagine how Charlie would burn to use the Vexell leak to her advantage. “Did she tell him?”

“I don’t know. He wasn’t around that day. But I was really worried, mostly for Russell, who would get canned if he was identified as the leak in the EPA. So I went to her apartment that night to plead his case.” He closed his eyes. “It was unbelievable, Vanessa. She was…brutalized.”

“Maybe it really was random violence, like the police first thought,” Vanessa suggested. “If someone only wanted to shut her up, why not just shoot her?”

He shook his head. “I don’t think so. Somebody left a bloody Vexell T-shirt there.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Did you take it?”

“Are you fucking
nuts
? Of course not. I didn’t touch a thing.”

She wanted to tell him about the bloody Vexell T-shirt in the toilet tank, but something stopped her. Maybe someone had put it there to set Clive up…but maybe not.

“What happened after you found her?” she asked.

“I was so scared I ran my ass off,” he continued. “I called Russell and told him everything. I knew he might not be safe, since he started this. So we decided to fly separately and meet down here. I went on the cruise as cover, and then Bones stayed with me like a bodyguard.”

She glanced at the man flying the helicopter—big, silent, and not even bothering with headphones or the least bit of conversation with, say, air traffic control. “And you trust him?”

“I do. He’s a friend of a friend of Russell’s, and he’s been great. A little eccentric, but he knows everybody everywhere on these islands, and people just want to help him. He’s kept me safe this whole time, and when he found out about you, he—”

“Tried to freaking kill me!”

“He’s very overprotective,” Clive said. “He was afraid you’d find me and lead someone right to me, so he kept sending you to different places to keep you away from me.”

“Did he bug a hotel room to hear me get it on with some guy?”

Clive nodded. “He’s really a frustrated spy.” Clive smiled and whispered close to her ear, “Plus, he’s got a wicked crush on me.”

“Did he send me to a racetrack on some bogus rumor that you were betting on horses?”

He smiled. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Did he send some asshole in a yellow truck to run me off the road?”

“Some of his guys get a little carried away.”

“Did he send somebody into your resort villa to plant evidence that you killed Russell?”

He jerked back. “No.” He glanced at Bones, who shifted his massive girth in his seat, making the helicopter drop. Had he heard them?

Vanessa shot Clive a warning look. “When you were staying at the Four Seasons, that wasn’t exactly in hiding.”

“That’s what Russell wanted to do. I told him it wasn’t safe, but he didn’t believe me. And sure enough, he went out and…” He shook his head. “I can’t talk about it yet.”

She still wasn’t sure. Something didn’t fit. “So, do you think this same person killed Nicholas Vex?”

“What?”
Clive practically spit with shock. “Nicholas Vex is dead?”

“At his beach house in Nevis. It looked like suicide, but I’m not so sure.”

Clive frowned. “Vex’s house isn’t in Nevis. I’ve been there. It’s a mansion in St. Barts.”

“Then he has two places, because Marcus told me—”

He shifted her from one leg to the other. “My phone is vibrating.”

“Don’t answer it!” Bones ordered. So, he
could
hear every word they were saying. “Even up here, someone could track you.”

Clive pulled it out and looked at the caller ID, then gave her a confused smile. “Are you speed-dialing me in your pocket?”

“I don’t have my phone,” Vanessa said, seizing his. “I lost it at Vex’s house in Nevis.” But the call disappeared, the screen went blank, and she swore softly. Who had her phone?

“Like I said, he doesn’t have a house in Nevis,” Clive said.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “I know you’ve been there, Clive. I found your Zoloft bottle.”

“What are you…do you mean Mango Plantation?”

“Yes.”

“That’s not Vex’s house. That place belongs to Marcus.”

“Marcus? He’s the one who told me it was…” Her voice trailed off, and she and Clive stared at each other.

Marcus?

Could he be behind all this? Charlie and Russell and Nicholas Vex?

“He has an awful lot to gain…or lose,” Clive said quietly, reading her thoughts. “And if Charlie told him about the news that day, maybe he wanted to keep it quiet. Or use it.”

“Is Marcus Razor capable of murder? Of multiple murders?”

“If so, I’m one sucky judge of character.”

Maybe he was. Maybe they both were. “As soon as we get to St. Kitts, we have to notify the police. The New York police. They have to question him. I have a connection now—”

The helicopter took a quick dip, along with Vanessa’s heart. Behind Clive, she could see island lights in the distance—disappearing.

“Hey!” She whipped around to Bones. “I thought we were going to St. Kitts.”

His look was stony. “I’m taking a different route in case we’re being followed.”

Clive’s gaze darted from the window to Bones and landed on Vanessa. “He’s a little erratic at times.”

No shit.
She nudged Clive and mouthed, “Can you fly this thing?”

He just snorted.

“Where are we going?” Vanessa demanded of Bones.

He just shot a venomous look at Clive. “This is never going to work.”

Chills danced down Vanessa’s spine at his tone, and Clive paled as he looked at Bones. “What does that mean, Gideon?”

“I mean…” He moved the control stick, and the helicopter banked sharply enough to make Vanessa gasp. “That I have looked after you long enough, and now I have to look after me.”

She stared out at the black sea, the sparkly island lights, and the inky sky around them, the slow burn of fear building in her gut with each question in her head.

Could anyone be trusted? Was Marcus somehow involved with all these killings? Would this helicopter ever safely touch the ground?

And the one that made her heart twist most of all…

Would Wade ever find her?

TWENTY

WADE DIDN’T WASTE
much time on a cursory search. He knew Vanessa was gone when he ran outside and heard a helicopter take off; he just didn’t know where she’d gone or who had taken her there. But he was going to find out.

The first thing he did was corner Sarah and demand to know who she worked for, making sure she saw his gun and knew he wasn’t afraid to use it.

“I swear to God,” she half whimpered, her eyes like saucers, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t work for anyone. I really met your friend in the bar, and we got drunk together, and he told me all that stuff Maddie and I told you…” Tears welled in her eyes.

“No one paid you to send us to Nisbet Plantation?”

She shook her head. “Honest.”

He was back out on the tram landing when his phone rang.

“I got a reading on Vanessa’s cell-phone signal,” Sage said. “It’s not in Nevis; it’s coming from a mountain on the southeast corner of St. Barts, called Morne Rouge. Looks like pretty rough terrain on the satellite image. I can find one house with no actual address, and the owner is listed as Nicholas Vex. If you call right now, there will be a signal. I guarantee it.”

But who would answer it? “Can you do me a favor and track down the owner of Mango Plantation, where Vex was shot today?”

“I did already. It’s a corporation: Razor Partners.”

He slammed the accelerator around a sharp curve, trying to put the pieces together. When they didn’t fit, he signed off with Sage, then dialed Vanessa’s phone, fully expecting voice mail.

A woman answered in a whisper. “Dolly, is that you?”

Speechless for a moment, he pressed the phone harder to his ear. “Who is this?”

“It’s Stella, and God, I hope you’re coming to help me.”

Stella? The orange-hat woman? “How did you get Vanessa’s phone?”

She was quiet for a minute, and he thought he’d lost the connection. Then he heard a man’s voice in the background and a very soft whisper. “Wait.”

He did, listening to soft, indecipherable sounds. A man talked mostly, but the words were impossible to make out.

Finally, she spoke again. “You have to tell Vanessa not to come here.”

His heart kicked. “Where?”

“I don’t know where I am. In a house. It’s like suspended in air. I followed him, and he caught me. I…I shouldn’t have, but…” He could hear her breathing, a soft, pitiful sound. “I think he’s gonna kill me.”

The clunk told him the phone had dropped, and instantly the connection was lost. His mind whirred with possibilities as he pulled into the tiny airstrip in Newcastle, where the Bullet Catchers’ unmarked Gulf-stream IV was already fired up and on the runway.

“We need to go to St. Barts,” he told the pilot. “How far is that?”

“Fifty miles northwest,” the pilot said. “Let me clear with air traffic control, and we’ll be there in less than an hour.”

Wade headed straight to the back conference area, where additional firepower was locked up. Only Bullet Catchers knew the safe code, and he used it, opening the door and reaching instantly for the Barrett 82A1 rifle.

He’d used this stick in Sierra Leone, and at least a dozen times in Iraq. Lifting the 50-caliber heavy from the slot, he closed his eyes.

He’d sworn to God, and himself, that he’d never take a rifle in his hands again. But some promises had to be broken.

After all the years of silent looks across a conference-room table, Vanessa and Clive were pretty damn adept at nonverbal communication. They did plenty of it while Bones swerved and dipped over strings of Caribbean islands that were only clusters of light surrounded by blackness.

Vanessa tried to track where they were going, but the darkness and turbulence disoriented her enough that she had no idea which island was which. With each foreboding second, Clive got a little more uptight, Bones got a little more nutso, and Vanessa got real scared.

They had no choice but to let him fly, even though everything had changed in the last few minutes. He muttered, threw looks at Clive, wiped a tear, and flew the shaky bird with jerky movements on the foot pedals and a trembling hand on the stick.

Gideon Bones was just crazy enough to crash this thing.

“Where are we going, Bonesy?” Clive finally asked, his voice as soft as if he were talking to a child. “Why aren’t we going to St. Kitts?”

He got the evil eye in return. “You never loved me.”

“No,” Clive said calmly. “I like you a real lot, though.”

“You loved Russell.”

“Not anymore. Even before he died, I was over him.”

Bones choked at what Vanessa suspected he knew was a lie. “I should have listened to Russell in the first place.” He gave the stick an angry shove, making the helicopter dip and Vanessa gasp.

Clive gave her a reassuring pat. “I’m sorry. He’s…emotional.”

Great—an emotional, heartbroken, erratic, gun-carrying lunatic was flying the rickety old helicopter. She closed her hands over the seat belt that wrapped her with Clive into the seat and tried to consider her options.

Zero, at the moment.

“He has a lot more money than you do,” Bones said suddenly, flinging a hand at Clive. “A lot.”

“Who?” Vanessa asked.

Bones just stared straight ahead, his jowls shaking with the vibration of the helicopter. “You know,” he spat out. “You just said his name.”

Marcus?

“And he offered me money for you. But what did I say? ‘No. I’ve fallen in love with Clive. I can’t betray him.’” He used a singsong voice to imitate himself. “So I said no to all his money. And I was going to take you to one more hideaway, and wait one more day, one more week, one more month for you to reciprocate my feelings. But you know what, my friend?” He snorted. “Love sucks.”

They tilted suddenly, then hovered over one of the larger islands. There was a cluster of bright, citylike lights on one side and cruise ships in a harbor. Bones barreled the bird over the darkened center of the island and down toward the opposite coast.

Very few houses or hotels or restaurants lit this side; it was black but for an occasional glimmer as he flew them deeper and deeper into the unknown island.

Bones started to descend into what looked like a clearing, but when he turned on the headlight, she saw it was a helo pad at the top of a hill. They hit the ground with a thud, and Vanessa’s stomach dropped just as hard. He shut down the engine and stared into the blackness beyond the circle of light from the front of the helicopter.

No one moved until Clive leaned forward.

“Gideon,” he said gently. “I know you’re upset. And I don’t know where we are or why we’re here, but I really think you need to leave Vanessa out of it. I’ll stay here, but you need to take her back—”

“No,” she interjected. “I’m getting out of this thing, and we are not separating again.” She turned toward Bones, ready to negotiate for her life. “What exactly do you want from us, Bones, and how can I give it to you?”

“From you, nothing. From the man who is willing to pay the ransom on his head…” He pointed to Clive. “Cash.”

Perfect. This she could do. This was her game. “Name your price, Mr. Bones. And I’ll get you cash. It could take a few days, but you have my word: I will sign anything, and I will pay you whatever you like for our freedom. How much?”

“You can’t match his offer.” He glanced over her shoulder. At first, she thought he was looking at Clive, but his gaze went past both of them. Something flickered on his face. Surprise? Shock?

“I’ll double the offer,” she said, keeping her attention right on him. “What’s your number? Ten grand? Fifty? A hundred grand?”

“He’s…paying me a million. Two if…I bring you both.” He still stared outside.

“Two million!” Clive choked.

“Who?” she demanded at the same time.

“Him,” Bones whispered, still looking outside.

As Vanessa whipped around to see, Bones threw himself toward the door in the back. She instantly fumbled with the release of the seat belt, her fingers bashing Clive’s as he did the same thing.

The door popped open, and a loud, sharp crack rocked Vanessa backward into the pilot’s seat, where she watched Bones tumble out of the helicopter door, his massive body thudding to the ground.

Clive screamed, but Vanessa pulled him back before he could go after Bones.

“Get down!” She dropped as low as she could to peek out around the passenger seat to see who’d shot Bones. A shadow of a man, muscular and solid and moving with the confidence of someone armed and dangerous, emerged into the light. A silhouette of power and control, with the stance of a gunslinger.

Her heart soared as she rocketed forward, her rescuer’s name on her lips. “Wa—”

Then she stopped and stared in complete disbelief.

“Clive,” she whispered. “Russell’s not dead.”

It was too late to rent a car in St. Barts, so Wade stole one. It was an ancient Moke, a cross between a Jeep and a beach buggy, parked on a side street near a noisy bar with the keys in the ignition. He carried the rifle in a soft-sided guitar case they kept on the plane for precisely this purpose. Once he’d found a vehicle, he tossed the case in the back, and took off for Morne Rouge.

He tried Vanessa’s phone again, but it went into voice mail. Sage had fed GPS into his phone, and he had a general idea of how to get to Morne Rouge, but the roads were even worse than on Nevis. Poorly paved and much more mountainous, they were so narrow at times that there was nothing on one side but cliff. And damn near pitch-black, with not a light in sight.

He wormed through the island, around hairpin turns, past gated homes and hills nestling restaurants and understated resorts. He went up one mountainside and down the other, seeing no farther than the twenty feet his headlights illuminated ahead of him.

He could still hear Stella’s desperate plea:
You have to tell Vanessa not to come here
.

Would she, to save Stella? Probably. To find Clive? Definitely.

But why would she do it without telling him? She couldn’t have left the restaurant voluntarily; someone took her.

A sick feeling of dread rolled through him. If something happened to her…

He gunned the accelerator until his phone GPS alerted him that he’d reached the address. He peered into the darkness, seeing a tall gate covered with foliage and brush. He backed up and turned to shine the headlights on the gate, looking for a keypad or a bell.

He pulled the car into the brush and climbed out, leaving the lights on to give him some path to follow, circling the perimeter of a wall that was so overgrown with shrubbery that it blended right into the trees. He dropped low, looking for an opening or a way to climb in, just as the steady thump of a helicopter filled the air.

He squinted up to where it landed, about half a mile away and up a fairly steep hill. It was a little Robinson R-22 or 44, a two-seater. Definitely not the big Bell he’d seen at the beach.

He unzipped the guitar case and grabbed his rifle, adrenaline moving through him as naturally as oxygen. He slid deeper along the perimeter of the wall and started searching for a way in.

At the crack of a gunshot, he stilled. After a few seconds of silence, he heard a loud, long wail of gut-wrenching pain.

He stopped searching for a foothold and just started climbing.

Vanessa kept her arms in up in a classic pose of surrender while Clive fell to his knees, tears rolling down his cheeks as he cradled Bones and looked incredulously at Russell Winslow.

“How could you do this?”

Russell Winslow had always looked like a textbook Navy SEAL to Vanessa—tall, wide-shouldered, with a buzz cut and a jawline that advertised steroids. Tonight, he also looked hell-bent on murder.

“Anybody stupid enough to think you’re worth a million dollars deserves to die.” He waved the gun. “Let’s go. Both of you.”

Clive held Bones tighter. Vanessa blinked, wishing she could see beyond the circle of light from the front of the helicopter. There was only enough light to see the blood oozing from Bones’s stomach and the pistol lying next to him.

“Move!” Russell ordered again.

“I mourned you, you son of a bitch.” Clive’s voice cracked.

“Touching, dude, and I appreciate it. Move.”

“But why did you make those plans—meet me in Nevis, string me along? If you want me dead because I know you leaked the information, why not just kill me?”

“I needed time, man. Needed to set you up as Charlie’s killer, then get you into a place where I could get rid of you—after I’m considered dead, of course—and arrange your suicide. Which is what’s about to happen.”

He’d
been the one in the villa when she and Wade were hiding under the bed. Why hadn’t she recognized his voice? Because…she thought he was dead and never dreamed it could be him.

Clive stood slowly, Bones’s blood on his hands and fire in his eyes. “But I
mourned
you,” he repeated.

“You should have known I wouldn’t die in a car over a cliff, C. I’m a fucking fish.”

“You bastard!” He lunged at Russell, and the gun went off again, shattering the helo’s headlight and plunging them into darkness.

Clive rolled to the ground with Russell, grunts of pain and fury coming from both men. Clive didn’t stand a chance against that beast.

Vanessa dove toward Bones’s gun, then hoisted it up and aimed at the rolling shadow that was Russell and Clive. Another shot came from Russell’s gun, followed by an inhuman growl of pain.

If Russell was shot, Clive would find her. If it was Clive…

She flew over the asphalt toward a wooded area, the pistol heavy in her hand. She ran to the darkest spot she could find, slipping past trees and branches that scraped her skin, moving as fast as possible, the sound of her breath deafening her.

Her night vision improved with every step, allowing her to make out the trees and bits of moonlight and clouds above the branches, her feet going and going and going, just waiting for that shot in her back, in her head.

Then she smelled saltwater. Pausing, she clamped her mouth shut to stop the sound of her breathing and listen. Surf pounded.