Chapter 5 #2
“Absolutely.” Jasper took two glasses and handed one to Kenzie. He leaned in close. “Sip very slowly—or just pretend.”
She did, flashing a grin. “I love champagne.” The words were overly enthusiastic, giving away nerves that fit the situation perfectly.
He had no real friends in this crowd, but there were a handful of acquaintances he believed to be safe. He aimed toward the far corner, where an older couple he’d known for years stood chatting.
“Jaz, darling!” A woman’s voice came from his side, cutting through the murmur of conversation.
He turned to face Vivienne, a regular fixture at these parties. Her silver-streaked dark hair was piled atop her head, diamonds glittering at her throat and wrists as she air-kissed his cheeks.
“You look as good as ever,” she cooed, her German accent thick. Her gaze shifted to Kenzie. “And who’s this?”
“Simone Laurent,” Kenzie answered before he could, extending her hand.
“Pleasure. You’re here on vacation?”
“Yes. Anything to get a break from the cold. I’m from Nova Scotia.”
“How exotic.” Vivienne’s tone suggested Nova Scotia ranked in excitement somewhere between watching paint dry and filing taxes.
Jasper tightened his arm around Kenzie, drawing her closer. “We met last night.”
“And haven’t been apart since.” Kenzie added a girlish laugh that sounded nothing like her. She gazed up at him with adoration so convincing it threw him off balance.
Vivienne’s perfectly plucked eyebrows rose. “Well, she’s charming. Do try to keep this one longer than the weekend.”
As Vivienne drifted away to join another conversation, Kenzie leaned in. “Are all your friends so…?”
“Predatory?”
She looked up at him, a little smirk pulling at one corner of her lips.
He forced his gaze away so he could think properly. “She tried to set me up with her granddaughter, a charming woman who was not my type.”
“The real you?” Kenzie’s eyebrows lifted in true curiosity.
“No such thing.” With her tucked at his side, he resumed their walk toward the corner. The man saw him first and stood to welcome him.
“Bonsoir. Good to see you here.”
“Henry.” Jasper shook his hand.
Henry was in his sixties with thinning gray hair trimmed short—not bothering to hide his bald spot—and kind hazel eyes.
“Nice to see you again.” Jaz turned to Henry’s wife and kissed her cheeks. “Francine, you look lovely, as always.”
“You’re such a flatterer.” Not that she fell for it. She looked past him to Kenzie.
“Francine, Henry, meet Simone.”
Kenzie extended her hand to Francine. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“And you.” Francine looked from her to Jaz and back. “Have you two been together long?”
“We met last night,” Kenzie said. “I’m here on vacation, escaping the cold.”
“From?” Henry asked.
“Nova Scotia.” She exaggerated a shiver. “I dread going back.”
“Then you shouldn’t,” Henry declared. “Stay here forever. That’s what I want to do.”
“And abandon our grandchildren?” Francine leaned toward Simone. “He’s all talk. He loves those little ones. You should see how they crawl all over him when they come to visit.”
Kenzie laughed, the sound authentic and lovely, but Jaz missed her reply when he caught sight of a man headed his way. Broad shoulders, ill-fitting suit coat, and a telltale bulge at his left hip.
Jaz bent to whisper in Kenzie’s ear. “I’ll leave you here for a little while. Don’t leave the terrace.”
She backed up and looked at him, a flash of fear in her eyes.
He had no time to explain, instead turning to the older couple. “Will you two keep my date company for a few minutes? I have to have a quick chat with an associate.”
“We’ll take good care of her,” Francine said.
He gave Kenzie a warning look, then a quick kiss on the cheek, and slipped away before Bruiser could interrupt.
Not the guy’s real name, but Jaz had nicknames for all of Magras’s thugs.
It went against every instinct he had to leave Kenzie alone, and not just because he feared she’d make a run for it or start telling people the truth. No, he was worried about her. She was safe on his arm, as long as the wrong people didn’t see and start believing he really cared about this one.
Jaz caught Bruiser’s eye across the crowded terrace, getting a silent summons in the jerk of the thug’s head toward the far corner. They’d only been at the party for twenty minutes, and already Magras wanted to see him.
Jaz set his champagne glass on the tray of a passing waiter and sauntered toward the guard, going for casual, relaxed, and slightly buzzed. He’d expected this summons, but not so soon. Had Magras been watching for him?
Bruiser was waiting by the doors to the hotel’s interior. “This way.”
They moved through the resort’s elegant lobby with its soaring ceiling and trickling fountain.
The sliding glass doors that made up the rear wall were open, as usual, letting in the evening air.
Jaz had expected to be escorted to the boss’s office, but Bruiser led the way out the back and toward one of the resort pools.
Jaz was accustomed to check-ins, Magras wanting to see his face, read his body language, test his loyalty. Jaz usually did what was expected of him. He hadn’t today. Would his decision to follow Kenzie and protect her cost him? Probably. The real question was, how much?
Following Bruiser along a path lined with flowers and palm trees, Jaz checked his body language: casual smile, loose limbs, relaxed shoulders. The picture of a man who’d had just enough champagne to feel good but not enough to be sloppy.
A second guard lingered near the gate that led to the smallest of the pools. Bruiser and Pizza Face—so dubbed because of pockmarks scattered over his cheeks like pepperonis—exchanged a silent nod, and then Pizza Face stepped aside.
“Good luck.”
Jaz had never heard the man speak, and the two words, spoken with a sardonic edge, didn’t bode well.
He stepped through the gate and took in the scene.
Jean-Pierre Magras sat on the edge of the pool, silver hair glinting in the overhead lights.
He wore a casual Hawaiian shirt and khaki shorts, his feet kicking lazily in the water.
The first time they’d met, Jaz had been struck by how much Magras looked like the minister of the church he and his family had attended when he was a kid.
Magras’s wife, Rosa, was perched on the edge of a lounge chair, talking to their youngest child, a girl of about nine, who had her mother’s long brown curly hair.
The child seemed to be pleading for something while her mother gently, kindly, shook her head.
The woman was a couple of decades younger than her husband, in her late forties.
She was beautiful in that way of women who knew who they were and were comfortable in their own skin, even if they no longer looked sexy in a bikini.
Jaz had always liked Rosa. She was sweet and authentic. He doubted she had any idea what her husband did for a living.
“Dad, watch!” The oldest Magras child, a fourteen-year-old boy, did a cannonball on the far end of the pool, splashing water on the middle child, a girl who sat on the edge, dipping her toes in the water, a cell phone in hand.
Magras said, “Nice form—”
“Knock it off.” His daughter frantically wiped the screen on her swimsuit. “I’m on the phone!”
“Which you shouldn’t be.” Rosa held out her hand.
The girl slouched to her and relinquished her phone, then caught sight of Jaz and smiled.
“Oh, hey Jaz.”
“Hey, Dominique. Having fun?”
She shrugged. Since she’d turned twelve, he’d never seen her admit to enjoying her family.
Magras turned in Jaz’s direction, then stood and nodded to a patio table on the opposite side of the pool.
Jaz headed that way but remained standing until Magras reached him and settled into one of the chairs. He nodded to the other.
Jaz sat, noting the other guard, Knuckles, at the far end of the pool, watching the scene from beneath the shadow of a flowering bush. The guy looked like an extra from a gangster flick. Jaz had seen him break a man’s nose for accidentally bumping into Magras in a crowded room.
“Aylett.” Magras was one of the few people who knew Jasper’s full name and where he was from. Jaz kept those details close to the vest these days, but he’d met Magras before.
The thought brought a flash of memory, something Kenzie had said. He needed to ask her about it, assuming he survived this conversation.
Magras watched his kids play for a few minutes before speaking. “Family. Nothing else matters. Everything I do, I do for them.”
Jaz understood more than Magras knew. He’d given up his own child to keep her safe from this life he’d fallen into.
“I expect the same loyalty from you.”
The kids’ laughter and splashing faded into the background as Jaz felt the weight of Magras’s words.
“Of course.” Jaz kept his tone light. “I won’t jeopardize what you have here.”
“I expected you at the lunch this afternoon.”
“Right, I know. I screwed up. I met a woman last night, and…” He trailed off, ending with a suggestive grin, letting Magras fill in the blanks. “We, uh, slept in. I shoulda set an alarm.”
Magras had bright blue eyes, the kind that would look beautiful on a woman. On Magras, they were glacier ice as he glared at Jaz. “Have you been sampling the product?”
“What? No.” Did Magras really think Jaz would use drugs? That was one of the few vices he’d never even tried. “You know I stay away from that stuff.”
“Drugs, liquor, or women. All the same to me if they get in the way of your job.”
“It was just a party, a little lunchtime—”
“You were supposed to meet a client.”
“I’ll get the details worked out with him. Already have a call in.” Which he did—he’d called the potential client that morning before he’d left with his team. Magras didn’t look mollified, so Jaz tilted his head to the side, going for confused and concerned. “Wait? Did something happen?”
“You could say that.” Magras’s children started a game in the pool, their laughter a strange soundtrack for this conversation. “When I need you, I expect you to be available. Not distracted.”
“I get it. You’re right. I mean, but if you could see this woman…
” When Magras’s expression didn’t change—Jaz had known it wouldn’t—he hurried on.
“You’re right, though. You know how I get when there’s a woman.
I need to work on that. Won’t happen again.
” He ran a hand through his carefully styled hair, mussing it further, letting his nervousness show.
“I’ll talk to the client and smooth things over. Whatever you need.”
Magras studied him, those glacial eyes searching for weakness. “Something happened this afternoon. A vessel was destroyed.”
“So it’s true?” Jaz widened his eyes. “I heard someone mention it, but I thought—”
“What else did you hear?”
“Some guy said a yacht exploded, but that can’t be right.
You know how the gossip mill is out there.
” He gestured in the direction of the terrace on the far side of the resort, as if to include all the party guests.
“Boats don’t just spontaneously combust.” He grinned like it was a funny joke. “What really happened?”
“It exploded.”
“No way! That’s—”
“It was one of ours.”
“Oh.” He added a curse word, as the playboy Jaz would.
“Seems a rival cartel got wind of the plan and decided to steal from our client. Interesting timing.”
“What do you mean?” Jaz wished he’d taken some acting classes in school rather than wasting those years studying business. “Did you hear something? You think someone’s working against you? Just tell me who you suspect, and I’ll—”
“You, Aylett. You miss an important meeting—”
“It was just a lunch—”
“—the same day one of our shipping arrangements is compromised.”
Magras gave the words time to drop.
“Wait.” Jasper’s tone rose with fear. That part wasn’t an act. “You mean you think I did something? What boat was it? I didn’t have any shipments running today.”
“You hear things. You know what’s going on.”
“I didn’t hear… I didn’t know about any shipments today. You can’t really suspect me.”
“You, or maybe this woman you can’t seem to get enough of.”
Terror dripped down his spine. “No, man. Look, she’s just a girl, a tourist. She’s nobody. We’re just having a good time. She’s totally clueless.”
He was babbling, but it seemed to be working, so he let the words flow on, talking about how he’d never betray Magras, how he’d proved his loyalty, hadn’t he? Acting offended while inside, his heart hammered.
This was bad.
Magras interrupted. “I assume she’s here?”
Jaz should have left Kenzie at his safe house. He never should have brought her tonight. But without her, his story wouldn’t seem true. And he’d been afraid to leave her, afraid that when he got back, she’d be gone.
Since the party was crawling with Magras’s guards, Jaz had no choice but to be honest.
“Yeah, she’s here.”
“I’d like to meet this woman who’s so captivating that she causes you to shirk your duties.”
“I’m sorry about that, really.” Jaz switched back to his lazy smile.
“She’s amazing, dove right into the crowd, not nervous at all, even though she doesn’t know a soul.
She’d love to meet you.” He made it sound casual, like introducing a date to a friend, not offering her up to a man who could talk about drugs and issue threats while his kids played a few yards away.
Magras pushed back in his chair and stood to look down at him. “You remember why you’re here, don’t you?”
Jaz shifted in his chair, the memory of that night burning in his gut. “Yeah, of course.”
“So far, you’ve done a decent job.”
Decent? Maybe. But no matter how good a job he did, it would never be enough. He was Magras’s slave, and they both knew it.
Except Jaz had found another way. Instead of being Magras’s slave, he’d offered himself up as a DEA informant.
Now he was a slave to Uncle Sam. But at least the only deaths on his head were those of drug dealers, not innocents.
Would that change now? In trying to save Kenzie’s life, had Jaz put the young, attractive captain in Magras’s crosshairs?