Chapter 7
Nutmeg settled on Lena's lap, his entire twelve pounds of curly brown cuteness thrumming with the excitement of a child about to ride his first roller coaster.
Lena stroked his tight chestnut curls, feeling grateful for his cheery presence.
His incessant optimism about the world around him and everybody in it lifted her spirits.
The feeling faded as they passed Delphine's car in the driveway. She'd felt comfortable around Delphine until Nash's whispered accusation a few minutes ago. Now the familiar distrust she'd developed for so many people in her life formed for Delphine as well.
Suddenly hyper-aware of Nash's presence, she wondered if she'd accepted his story too easily as well. She stole a few glances at him while she feigned readjusting Nutmeg on her lap. Yesterday there had been moments she wasn't sure she trusted him. But other times she sensed a steadfast integrity.
And now?
What made her instinctively jump into the car with him as if he were rescuing her from Delphine?
She couldn't name it exactly, but there was something grounding about his presence.
Calm confidence wafted off him, whispering that he was one of the good guys—which did not make rational sense, but for the moment, she apparently trusted him enough to be driving off with him, going who knows where.
The more logical side of her mind needed answers.
"What did you mean when you said that Delphine lied?"
"The kids didn't start that fire. I have cameras pointed at the beach area. A stranger came up just before the kids got there yesterday and started the fire with a lighter."
"Are you sure?" she asked.
His silent look wasn't reproachful. But it was firm.
"OK," she said. "What does that mean? Does this have anything to do with Cassidy or the jewels?"
He turned onto the main road. "I don't know yet."
"Are we really going to Morghana City today? Or was that just a story to get out of there?"
Ten silent seconds came and went. His eyes didn't leave the road. Though, the tightness in his jaw signaled he was considering his words, not ignoring her.
His eyes darted to her, then back to the road. "I really should be taking you to the airport."
"Well, I didn't bring my suitcase, and we've been over that.
I'm staying until I see Cassidy. Let's go to the marina.
If Cassidy is on the yacht, she'll probably walk outside at some point, right?
Who stays on a yacht and stays below deck the whole time?
We could, you know, stake it out. And if I see Cassidy, or any evidence that she's there, I'll go aboard and talk to her. "
He re-gripped the steering wheel. "No way, that's not the plan. First of all, you act like I don't have a plan, which is not the case. Second, that's way too dangerous. We don't know—"
"But it's what you want, right? As soon as I see Cassidy, I'll talk her into leaving. We go to the airport. We're out of your hair. We could be gone this afternoon. Isn't that what you want?"
"Yes."
Why did that sting?
He inhaled and exhaled a deep, intentional breath as he snatched his sunglasses from the visor and slipped them on.
She assumed she was getting on his nerves.
But his tone belied any irritation. "Lena, we have to play this smart.
For everyone's sake. We're on the same side.
I don't want anything to happen to Cassidy, or to you.
But you're going to have to trust me. Okay? "
He didn't know what he was asking. She wasn't going to explain that, though.
Nutmeg barked at something out the window. She stroked his curly fur in an effort to keep him settled on her lap.
"Okay," she said. "What's your plan?"
His mouth quirked up in a kind of half-smile. Before she could rein in the thought, she wondered if he knew how incredibly attractive he was. Whoa, girl, stay focused. You're not even sure you should trust this guy.
She refocused on Nutmeg, repositioning him on her lap.
"My plan?" He paused. "To answer your earlier question, we are going to the marina."
He glanced at her.
Even through his sunglasses, she could tell what that look meant. "Oh. Don't worry." She held up both hands in surrender. "I won't run onto Emil's yacht yelling for Cassidy."
He gave a curt nod.
"Probably," she added.
That elicited a smile on his face that made her stomach perform an unfamiliar somersault.
Oh, boy. Change the subject. And stop looking at him.
She turned to her window, pretending to be half as interested in the passing palm trees as Nutmeg. "So, what's your plan after we get to the marina?"
"I'll get aboard Emil's yacht. Alone." Another half-smiling, half-accusatory look from him.
She huffed. "I get it. I'll stay in the car with Nutmeg. Just promise you'll tell me if you . . . see anything . . . or—"
"I will." His voice lowered an octave. "I promise."
Her stomach did another little flip. If this guy was lying, he deserved an Academy Award for his "most trustworthy man you've ever met" performance.
"Lena, I'm not working against you. Cassidy's life is more important than the jewels. But we're going to proceed with caution."
Okay, maybe she was starting to trust him. She didn't have to admit that yet. She cleared her throat. "So, how are you going to get on the yacht?"
He cranked up the AC. "As his driver, that won’t be a problem.
A couple of days ago, he asked me to be on the lookout for a helicopter.
I'm also a pilot, so we chatted about it.
He wants his own helicopter to hop around the islands.
I'm going to tell him there's a helicopter for sale in Morghana and ask if he wants me to look at it for him. "
"Is there really a helicopter for sale?"
"Nope, but that's not a problem. If I need to back up my story, Jason and Knox can handle that."
"Are you really a pilot?"
He grinned. "Yes. No fib there. I can fly or drive just about anything."
"Good to know."
He adjusted the AC vent. "You getting enough air?"
She aimed one vent at Nutmeg and one at herself. "I'm fine. Thanks. So, you’re going to get aboard under the pretense of discussing a helicopter. How are you going to look around?"
"I doubt I'll get an opportunity to explore, but I’m going to plant some bugs. That’s likely all I can do today.
When I get back to my apartment, I can analyze what the bugs pick up.
How many people are on board, their roles, etc.
I need to know how much security is on board. And whether Cassidy is there."
She leaned her head against her headrest, wishing his plan sounded more promising. "And I guess it would be nice if Emil stood next to one of your bugs and happened to say, 'I'm so glad the jewels I stole are safe and sound in this desk drawer.' Or something like that."
Nash's chuckle, deep and easy, settled her soul a little more. "Yeah. It doesn't usually happen that way, but yes, that would be ideal."
The road led them out of the jungle and closer to the shore. A pelican swooped a few feet from the windshield, prompting Nutmeg to deliver a litany of opinions on the bird's egregious action.
Nash leaned over and rubbed the top of Nutmeg's head. "Careful, buddy. You're punching above your weight. That bird could carry you away."
Lena tried not to smile. "Don't listen to him, Nutmeg. Pelicans just eat fish. I'm pretty sure."
He gave Nutmeg's head another rub. "She's right. Just messing with you, Nutmeg."
Nutmeg leaned into Nash's hand, his adoring doggy eyes full of appreciation for all the attention.
Nash returned both hands to the wheel and steered the SUV into the marina parking lot. "I'm not sure Nutmeg is much of a guard dog. I'm pretty sure he'd become immediate best friends with anyone who petted him."
Yes. The lovable Maltipoo trusted too easily. Lena envied—just a tiny bit—his blissful ignorance of the evil in the world. Must be nice. "He might be a little na?ve. That's okay, though. He's a sweetie."
Nash drove past the main pier and slowed. "Okay. I'll park behind the ice cream shop. You'll be out of the yacht's line of sight."
"Okay," she said, "but Emil wouldn't recognize me if he saw me."
"Why not?" Nash asked.
"I know him mainly by reputation. Through business and through Cassidy. The only time we were in the same room for an entire evening was at a Halloween party, and I was wearing a mask."
"No offense, Lena, but he’s probably resourceful. I’m sure if he were interested, he could find images of you. Besides, you don’t know that Cassidy hasn’t shown him a picture of you."
"I doubt she has."
"Why do you say that?" he asked.
"Because . . ." How much should she say? She didn't want to open this can of worms. Although she could see how it was somewhat relevant. She could stick to the highlights.
"Cassidy knows how he feels about my family, my parents, my uncle, my great uncle. Their real estate business has butted up against some of his interests in the past. There’s a lot of bad blood.
I’ve never interacted with him personally, but I guarantee you there’s animosity there.
He made an exception for Cassidy because Cass doesn't work with my family's business—that's the Ashworth business, on my dad's side.
Cassidy is my cousin on my mom's side. Anyway, she understands the feud and doesn't want to remind Emil who she’s related to. She's said that more than once."
"Ouch," he said. "Sorry she said that."
"Not really," said Lena. "I'd do the same."
The perplexed look on his face was killing her. She didn’t want to tell him any of this. All of a sudden, it had seemed relevant. But now she needed to change the subject.
"It doesn’t matter. The point is, she wouldn’t want to show him a picture of me, so we don’t have anything to worry about. I’m just the dog-sitter. If he notices I’m here with you, give him the same story you gave Delphine. That Nutmeg and I are along for the ride to pick up some supplies."
She knew he wanted to ask more, but he didn’t.