Читать книгу Drowning Tides - Карен Харпер - Страница 10

4

“My, aren’t you a clever girl, but Lexi can’t hear you from here,” Ames said as he came to stand beside Claire, and Nick rushed to the balcony to stare outward. “It’s too far, and the breeze is in the wrong direction to carry your voice. But I assure you, Lexi, with her companions, will disappear before you can even cross the road if you two don’t sign on my dotted line. When you do, of course, we’ll get Lexi back so she can prepare—like all of us—for a lovely, private wedding this evening. I’ve had a cake and the attire ordered. Now, don’t disappoint the child, as she’s tried her pretty frock on already and practiced carrying the rings on a little pillow. I’m sure you’ll like those too.”

Nick stood silent. He covered Claire’s trembling hand with his where she still gripped the balcony. The red kite had taken a dive into the sand, and her two companions were running after Lexi toward it.

“I just love surprises,” Ames said, clapping his hands. “Oh, and Nicky, there’s more to it for you than just saying ‘I do.’ Let’s you and I chat about that while I send for Lexi to be brought here for a little future family reunion—or not. What do you say, my boy?”

“I say I’m not your boy and never was. That you and I are not finished over this or—or the other matter between us.”

“Finished? I hope not. I have another profitable offer to make, which I’m certain you will take. You see, I need your promise to work for me as well as to wed the lovely Claire. You’re a fine attorney, just as your father was, and I have a particular case for you to oversee. Why, your future wife, clever forensic psychologist that she is, may be able to help with it too. Because as long as you win that case for me, there won’t be a worry in the world about Lexi or your future. Let’s step inside, and I’ll explain more. Ah, isn’t it a lovely day for a wedding, even an evening one? We’ll have it right here in moonlight and candlelight with a view of the lagoon and the sea, so romantic.”

For the first time in her life, Claire understood murder as a crime of passion. Her head was spinning. Was this a dream or a nightmare? At least Lexi was alive and ran free and in her sights—for now.

“If you want to talk to Nick,” she said to Ames, “can I just stand here and watch Lexi until you send for her?”

“Why, of course. And while I do that, I’ll have the housemaid Jemma come out to keep you company.” He patted her shoulder. She shuddered at his touch and yet she had to obey him at least until they got Lexi back and got out of here. She prayed Nick would agree to anything and everything this man said—because that’s exactly what she was going to do.

“Oh, Claire,” Ames said, as he followed a grim Nick to the door to go back inside, “I should assure you that, although Lexi was surprised at first that my man who picked her up at your home was not her daddy, she adapted quite well when my people told her the happy surprise you and your betrothed had planned for her. She understands that you two needed time to plan the wedding. Also, I believe she calls you Mr. Nick, doesn’t she, my boy? We told her that her new stepfather would be a big part of her life but that she could still see her daddy. That is, if he doesn’t hurt himself flying all over the Caribbean, right?”

He turned away, but Claire glimpsed Nick’s expression of shock that Ames must know Jace had come down here too. They were doomed, she thought. But she’d marry Nick, keep it in name only, a partnership until they could stop this devil—someday, somehow.

* * *

“Look, Clayton,” Nick said the moment they sat down in facing black leather club chairs in his darkly paneled den, “I’ll do what you say, but can’t you leave Claire and Lexi out of it?”

“I’ve seen via lovely photographs how much you like Claire and evidently want her. Well, what red-blooded bachelor would not? No, you need to marry Claire, and I need her and your darling new stepdaughter for insurance that you will do as I ask on a particular local matter of great importance to me and my business affairs.”

“Local? You want a lawyer to try a case here in Grand Cayman?”

“Hardly. You don’t have the credentials or the clout here as you do in Collier County. No, this is a case local to you near Naples I need to have you take and win for me. I believe you’ll realize why you’d be the ideal attorney on this. And well-paid, of course, so you and your new family can get a very nice home.”

“One with your listening devices and hidden cameras built right in.”

Ames ignored that and went on, “Once you hear me out, you’ll want to do this not only for me.”

“For keeping my new wife and stepdaughter safe, you mean.”

“My, you’re paranoid. You don’t have what they call a wire on you, do you, Nicky?”

“I’m not that stupid.”

“You’re not stupid at all, which is why I want you to work for me. I was quite annoyed when I found you’d traced the name of my offshore company, Ames High, which stores my resources here in Grand Cayman as well as in a few other places in Europe and Asia. Now that you are working with me, I absolutely expect you to keep that a secret, especially not to share it with any US agencies that may inquire.”

Nick’s stomach went into free fall. He tried not to show surprise, for why should anything shock him with this man? Could Ames know the FBI had interviewed him and that the IRS was on his tail? He said nothing, but met the older man’s eyes with a steady stare. Those cold, pale blue eyes: Nick was certain he had either pulled the trigger of the gun that killed his father or hired the man who did. He clearly recalled his father telling him that “Uncle Clay” was going to stop by that night.

Ames leaned forward in his chair, elbows propped on his knees. It took all the restraint Nick had not to launch himself at the man, to pound him to pieces.

“Nick,” he said, finally dropping the silly Nicky, “I need you to defend your friend Chet Hazelton from Goodland in a Collier County court, a criminal case.”

“A criminal case? He goes by Haze, you know.”

“I do know. I know a lot about him.”

“Then with all your spies, listening devices and drones, you realize I have other cases that need my attention. What’s he done? He’s a longtime friend, and I’d work pro bono for him. But I believe he has money flowing in, thanks to your leasing his Fountain of Youth water supply for your so-called health drink Youth Do, as well as the cosmetic firm Fresh Dew corporations.”

“I’m honored how closely you follow my career and my gifts to mankind through those excellent products. Now, Nick, sadly, my friend and yours, Haze Hazelton, is in dire straits.”

“Is he being sued for that phony water you use and promote? You have to know that spring his family has owned for years, though it may be worth megamillions, is bogus.”

“Nick, Nick. I’d have to sue you for slander and libel if you ever said that in public, but I need you to say just the opposite. I know you’ve kept your mouth shut for years since your friend believes in his sparkling waters. Worse, you simply must keep up with current events in your own backyard, so to speak. Our mutual friend Haze has something bigger to face. A dreadful murder occurred in Goodland yesterday, and he is the number one suspect, though the police haven’t arrested him yet.”

Nick sucked in a breath. “I—I didn’t know.”

“Quite simply, he’ll need you to defend him. I’m sure he’s been calling your office. He could be arrested any day now for, as they say on TV, murder one.”

“Who’s he accused of killing?”

Ames ignored that and went on, “And when you do defend him in the media or the public venue of the court, be sure to extol the virtues and the claim that the Goodland water’s curative and youth-giving powers are valid and that my products are not only health-giving but anti-aging. You see, the person he’s accused of killing said just the opposite.”

Nick snorted. Though he’d let Haze have his pipe dream, he’d always figured the miraculous water was all hype and lies. Scientists were on his side that the $292 billion global industry of turning back time in the human body was mostly smoke and mirrors. Desperate Americans were anti-aging crazy, and that was driving the sales of any new book, supplement, food or drink that held the promise of eternal health and life. And the government only controlled meds and food, so that meant the selling of water or cosmetic products that were mostly water was outside their jurisdiction.

Nick asked, “I repeat, he’s likely to be accused of killing whom?”

“I assume you’re familiar with that mouthy rebel Mark Stirling, owner-editor of the Marco Island newspaper, The Burrowing Owl, rag that it is. It’s been attacking Haze’s claim that the spring he owns is indeed Ponce de León’s fountain, instead of that one in St. Augustine. But, you see, that’s the same as attacking my company’s claims and my reputation. Before his sad demise, Stirling had even—let’s say—‘burrowed’ his way into probing my offshore profits from the Dew and Do corporations, just when they are starting to take off big-time with the huge Gen-X and millennial markets as well as the aging baby boomers.”

“Haze wouldn’t kill anyone. I’ve known him for years.”

“Precisely, and you can defend him well and get him to avoid a silly expose-the-false-advertising case. Keep your Markwood, Benton and Chase law firm going, but on this case you and your firm will really be working for me—as a priority. That way you and yours, as they say, won’t be endangered like the poor, vulnerable little fish sometimes eaten in my aquariums.”

Again, Nick had to fight to keep from vaulting out of his chair and pounding Ames. But he knew a guard would rush in, and Claire and Lexi would suffer too.

“So, do we have a deal?” Ames asked. “For the wedding and your loyalty to me in the Goodland case?” He extended his hand.

“Do I have a choice? But that’s how you play the game.”

“Nick, it’s not a game. I’m deadly, deadly serious.”

“Did one of your spies or hit men kill Stirling? I’ve always known you killed my father, but you operate through others now. You had everything to lose if this Stirling probed deeper and turned up your offshore accounts.”

“How insulting and outrageous. Although Haze hasn’t been arrested yet since Stirling had other enemies, I expect you and your clever little forensic psychologist bride can ferret out enough other suspects to muddy the police investigation waters. Meanwhile, after your nuptials, you might want to read the Naples Daily News online for today. I believe they’re dubbing Stirling’s sad demise the Mangrove Murder, since his battered body was wedged under mangrove roots not far from that precious ‘fountain of youth.’ Nick, win that case for your friend Haze Hazelton—and for me.”

Hating this man, hating himself and the trap he was in, Nick thrust out his hand and they shook on it. No contract, though Ames had earlier mentioned signing on the dotted line. He must have meant the marriage license.

* * *

When she heard Ames’s voice behind her, Claire finally turned away from gazing at Lexi. Nick followed him out onto the balcony, which another housemaid was already setting up for the wedding with a long, damask-covered buffet table and an arched trellis under which they’d take their vows. Unbelievable. She cared for Nick and he cared for her but not to this degree, at least not yet. They’d have to come to an understanding, to set some rules. How well did she really know the man she was expected to live with, sleep with? A forced marriage, a different sort of shotgun wedding.

“Boring business all concluded,” Ames said with a clap of his hands, and a tight smile. “I’m sure your intended will share with you later what we intend, Claire.” He chuckled at his play on words again. “And,” he went on, “I’ve just sent someone to bring Lexi over so we can move on to wedding plans.”

She noted a man in casual clothes, big-shouldered and tall, walking toward Lexi and the women, though she wasn’t sure where he’d emerged from. Not this house while she was standing here. Did Ames have this entire property surrounded by guards?

She squinted through the sinking sun to her right side, still trying to keep an eye on Lexi. At least they hadn’t locked her up or, from the looks of it, terrified her. The Disney world of princesses and fairies was still real to her at times, so why not a Cinderella fantasy that her mother would marry Prince Nick in a distant land called Grand Cayman?

“Good,” she finally said to Ames. “Nick, is everything decided?”

Ames answered for him. “It is, and he can explain it all to you later. We have only about an hour before the celebrant will be here to have you sign the special visitor’s marriage license to make things legal in the British territory. Needless to say, the Caymans are often a destination wedding site, and this lovely event is one of my gifts to you. The dresses and Nick’s suit are laid out in bedrooms on this level, and I’ll bring Lexi right in to see you, Claire. I’m sure both of you, bride and groom, will say the appropriate vows and answer any questions from the celebrant to his—and my—satisfaction. And that includes calling me Paul Kilcorse this evening, not Clayton Ames.”

Nick merely nodded. No wonder, Claire thought, Nick and his tech team hadn’t been able to trace or locate him here. In Grand Cayman, Clayton Ames didn’t exist.

“Jemma,” Ames said, turning to the woman who had silently watched Claire, “please escort the bride to her room. Oh, and I’m pleased to say, Nick, now that things are settled between us after all these years, I will stand as your best man this evening, while Lexi does double duty for Claire. After all, now that you are working for and answer to me, I am your best man.”

As he turned away, Ames again chuckled at his own lame joke. Nick shot Claire a quick look she couldn’t read. Did it say, I’m sorry or At least we’ll all survive this—or I do love you, despite everything?

As Nick followed Ames into the house, Claire turned again to gaze out at the beach. The two women were bringing the kite and Lexi back toward the house, trailed by the man. Lexi was barefoot beneath that yellow, flowered dress. Despite the straw hat, Claire hoped they’d put sunscreen on her. She wanted to throw herself off this balcony, to run to her.

“Miss Claire, come on,” Jemma urged from behind her. “We do what he say.”

“I’ll bet,” Claire muttered. She started to turn away, but her eye caught something else besides the people on the sand with Lexi. A grungy-looking guy with a pronounced limp and stooped posture was following them at a distance. Another guard? But no—it looked like Jace’s body build despite the slouch and lack of well-cut clothes. Still, she couldn’t tell his hair or eye color.

But the closer he got, the clearer the image became and Claire realized, yes, Jace was here! He’d made it and he was close! He’d seen Lexi but at least he knew not to just try to grab her. And he was hanging back, maybe so Lexi wouldn’t see him. Or else he finally saw the power and evil of the man who owned Nightshade—and, right now, owned them.