Chapter 9
NINE
“I’ll be honest, Declan. Sitting at a café in the middle of Havana, eating a pork brisket under the starry sky with Cuban tango music playing, is the very last place I thought I would be when I boarded a ship bound for Cuba last night.”
He looked over at Austen, who sat in a yellow sundress, her auburn hair down and flowing, a tan on her skin, her green eyes glowing, a slight smile playing at her lips as she stirred her lemon water. Indeed, it had gone a lot more smoothly than he’d expected.
Sure, he’d suggested a tip to the captain for bringing them safely ashore, and another tip to the immigration official for calling the embassy.
Thankfully, a stop at a nearby bank had netted him the cash to fulfill those promises.
But in truth, he had his own military background to worry about, and if it hadn’t been for the call from his friend Phil, the senator from Florida, to the US embassy, well, maybe he would have followed Steinbeck into the ocean.
Truthfully, Declan was a little worried about Steinbeck and even Phoenix, although he blamed Phoenix for the Dark Horse slip.
Steinbeck certainly hadn’t known about it until recently, or he would have brought it up earlier.
But Phoenix seemed to have all sorts of tidbits of information about him, even if they were wrong.
Right now, all he cared about was the next twenty-four hours—making sure Austen got on a plane to Miami and that his boat, the Santa Maria arrived to her destination without altercation.
He’d called Zeus and pinpointed the Nina ’s location.
She was still in international waters, and Zeus couldn’t raise the captain, so that didn’t bode well.
Possibly the yacht had already reached her, the Russians already boarded her and discovered her cargo bay empty.
But as far as they knew, he’d disappeared at sea, so for now, he and Austen were safe.
Declan nodded to Austen’s statement. “I agree. I secretly feared that we’d end up in some state gulag tonight.”
“Really?” she said. “You seemed so calm.”
“No, I just really know how to hide it well.” He smiled.
She didn’t. “That’s the thing, Declan. You always seem so in control. So calm.”
“Me?” he said. “You’re the one who’s always calm, Austen. You have this aura about you that doesn’t seem to be shaken by the events surrounding you. I’m just trying to stay one step ahead of everybody.”
The waitstaff had taken their plates after the pulled-pork dinner, and now a waitress delivered slices of key lime pie.
Declan was very aware of the driver-slash-security-guard who had driven them to the café and was now standing by the door watching him.
But that was fine. It kept them against getting pickpocketed and secured their return to the hotel.
He liked the hotel, even with its outdated, slightly rundown exterior.
They’d given him one of the penthouse rooms on the third floor, with a mahogany bed and palm-tree bedding, and a worn green velvet sofa in the sitting room.
Austen took the room next door, and he supposed she had a similar setup overlooking the Havana port.
Austen picked up her fork. “It’s not that I’m calm. It’s just that I don’t like to sit in trouble. I’d rather just keep moving.”
“But trouble is what teaches us how to survive,” he said.
She looked away from him at the dance floor, where a few couples were salsa dancing. A mariachi band played on the stage. The outdoor café wasn’t full, and he had the sense that it was probably one of the cafés approved for internationals. But the food was good, and frankly, this felt like a date.
The wind tousled Austen’s auburn hair, and the twinkle lights above added a little magic to the night. Now if he could just get her to trust him.
“Please tell me you don’t believe what Phoenix said about me.” He knew it sounded a little too pleading, but he was tired, and Phoenix’s words about him stuck like a burr inside him.
“Actually, it’s not you, it’s me.” She sighed. “The fact is, I have a history of trusting the wrong people.” She took a bite of her key lime pie and then set down her fork, pushing the pie away.
“When I was in college in Miami, I dated a guy I met in a Christian group on campus. Nice guy, or so I thought. And yeah, he came from money. His family had a place in Boca. He took me up there a few times. We went out on his boat, and he even introduced me to scuba diving. He was two years older than me, and I thought he was the one. His name was Cameron.”
Declan didn’t like where this was going, wanted to reach out and take her hand, but she was chopping at her pie.
“One night, I was out with some friends, and I don’t know how, but we ended up at a local beach club.
I guess I was a little sheltered growing up, but I never got into clubbing, so I found myself sitting at a table while my friends danced, watching their drinks.
Way out of my element. And then I spotted Cameron.
He was dancing with some girl, clearly tipsy or more, and I watched him drag her off the dance floor and crowd her into a corner and kiss her. There was a lot of kissing.”
She looked away again, and again he wanted to reach for her hand, but now it felt invasive.
“I was really angry, and I don’t know—I decided to confront him.
His friends were there, and I knew a few of them, and they intercepted me before I got to him.
But I shouted his name, and he saw me, and he came over.
And that was when I realized I knew the girl.
We’d been out on his boat together when I visited his family.
Her family lived next door. So of course they knew each other.
And from the way she was hanging on him and he on her, probably pretty well. ”
Her face had turned a shade of pink. “Cameron and I didn’t have that kind of relationship because, well, I was and still am a Christian. But I made a complete fool out of myself by bursting into tears and saying, ‘What are you doing here with her?’ His friends laughed, and he said, ‘Upgrading.’”
Oh, Declan really wanted to get his hands on this Cameron fellow.
“I just left. I was humiliated and angry.” She looked at him and shook her head.
“I realized that I didn’t want a man like that.
A man who could lie to my face. Later I found out he’d been dating her the entire time he’d been dating me.
So, yeah, I too easily give up my heart, and I too easily trust.” She met his eyes. “At least, I did.”
“I promise you, Austen,” he said quietly. “I’m not dating anyone. Except maybe you, if you’ll let me.”
She seemed to be considering his words, her eyes narrowing.
“I can add that not all of our dates are going to be quite this exciting. I tend to lead a rather quiet life.”
“Really. With your yacht and your numerous homes and your extensive travel?”
“With my long hours in the office and my occasional solo dinner with steak and a glass of wine. My life isn’t as fantastic as you’d think.”
She sat back, arms folded.
He sighed, not sure how he’d gotten here. “Actually, it’s rather lonely. I’m not unlike you in that sometimes it’s hard to find someone to trust. I thought Steinbeck and I were friends, for example. Guess I got that wrong.”
She leaned forward and touched his hand. “I don’t think so,” she said. “But Steinbeck—well, he’s been betrayed too. And he’s got an even touchier trust meter.” She met his gaze. “He’ll come around, Declan. He’ll see that you’re a good man.”
Declan stilled, his chest tight as his breath caught. He didn’t know why he needed to hear those words from her, but yes. “Thank you,” he said softly. “I am trying.”
She nodded, sat back. “And for the record, I really love the dress you bought me. I think it needs a decent twirl on the dance floor, don’t you?” She winked.
And something inside him released, set free. He smiled. “Oh, indeed.” He got up and held out his hand.
She followed him out to the dance floor and stepped into his arms. “You do know how to salsa, right?”
“Oh, honey,” he said. “Hang on and try to keep up.”
She laughed, and it was like glitter to an already beautiful night.
He cradled her hand, settled his other at her waist, and started to move.
They circled the dance floor, him twirling her in and back out again.
He did a couple of quick moves and then pulled her back into his arms. She stood maybe six inches shorter than him, and oh, she fit perfectly into his embrace.
The song ended and segued into a slower and more sultry beat. She hung her arm around his neck as he pulled her closer to him. The blues rhythm had their bodies tight, moving around the dance floor as one.
“You are a pretty good dancer for being a lonely guy,” she said.
“You can blame my mother for that. She would come home from a shift, and it would be late at night, but if she’d had a good day, she’d turn on the radio or put on a Sinatra CD or even country western, and we’d dance.”
“Sounds like you two were close.”
“Very,” he said. Austen smelled so good. She’d showered after they’d arrived at the hotel, clearly, and the scent of her soap rose up, twining around him.
“How old were you when your brother died?” she asked, her head on his chest.
“I was twelve,” he said. “We had just gotten a paper route and were trying to help Mom make some extra bucks.” He closed his eyes, losing himself in the rhythm, making the story easier. “We were crossing a slick street, right about at dusk, and a car took a corner and didn’t see him.”
“Oh no.” She looked up at him. “That’s terrible.”
“Yeah. He was right behind me. And then... his papers were all over the road and he’d been thrown into the ditch. He died instantly.”
She stopped dancing. “I’m so sorry. And your poor mother.”
And now he’d wrecked the night. He took her hands. “She never got over losing him. There was always a sadness in her eyes, even though she tried to hide it.”