CHAPTER 46

After dropping Ajeet off, Klaire sped us toward her home on Blue Water Way. I decided not to call Carla. She might confide in Rick and word could reach the wrong person. What could I do? Did immigration handle people smuggled out of the country, or only those coming in?

“Can’t we call the Coast Guard?” I asked. “They wouldn’t have to wait for the local police to get involved, would they?”

“I doubt it. Let me think.”

Klaire stopped the Jag on the street two houses down from her bungalow, but left the car idling. Overhead, the streetlights cast a dim glow, and a sharp breeze swayed the palms, making the small branches of nearby tropical plants rise and fall as if a spirit moved among them.

“Someone is in my house!” she said. “I didn’t think they’d be here this fast.”

“I don’t see anything. Who is it?”

“Bad people.”

Currito? Though the Jag windows were closed, I felt a chill, as if the breeze had slipped inside and found me.

“You have your car keys?” she asked.

I pulled them from my tote and the metal winked at her in the dash lights.

She eased the Jag forward, pulling up next to my car near the end of the block. Fortunately, when I’d parked the Toyota hours earlier, there had been no spots available in front of her house.

“We must separate, then flee!” she said, looking anxiously back toward her house. “Do not call me on my cell. I will get in touch with you.”

“But—”

“Just get out and get in your car!”

I did, running from her car to mine, slamming into the driver’s seat, cranking the engine. Klaire screeched the Jag forward, turning into a driveway. I followed in a squeal of rubber. The driveway was more like an alley and cut through to the next street over.

Moments later we were gone.

* * * *

I circled around the Sand Castle parking lot, all my nerves on full radar. I had the windows down so I could listen. The breeze off the ocean had sharpened, making the palm fronds overhead rattle and drop debris onto the pavement. Did the coconuts up there ever drop on pedestrians’ heads?

I needed a shot of bourbon, hair extension removal, and a double-lather shampoo. I’d had too many adrenalin rushes that evening and wanted to lie down. More than anything, I wanted to do something about Jade. Who could I call?

I parked the Toyota close to the exit, face out. Leaving the car, I headed for my room, avoiding the streetlights as much as possible.

A figure separated itself from the shadow of the motel’s wall and hurried toward me. I froze, then heard a familiar voice.

“Nikki?”

“Stella?” Why was she whispering and wandering about after midnight?

“Don’t go to your room,” she said. “That schmuck with the tattoos has been hanging around your door for the last hour. I think he’s lying in wait.”

“His name’s Gonzales.” I was too tired for this. Shit.

“Whatever, he’s a putz,” Stella said.

“Exactly. Thanks for the warning, Stella. I gotta disappear. Don’t talk to him, he’s dangerous. And for God’s sake, don’t tell him you saw me!”

“My lips are zipped. You can count on me. Listen, that nice guy, Will, came by earlier looking for you. Brought Lou and me a six pack.”

Will! I could be so obtuse. That’s who I should call.

“Yeah,” I said. “He is a nice guy.” When he’s not lying.

“You be careful,” Stella said.

I gave her a little salute and hurried back to my car. After pulling from the lot, I drove down several side streets, keeping an eye on my rearview. No cars in sight. I wasn’t being followed. Stopping the Toyota, I eased it backward into a driveway, cut the lights, but left the engine running. Then I called Will.

He answered on the first ring. “Nikki, where are you?”

“It’s a long story.”

“Tell me.”

I did, and he listened without interruption until I finished.

“So,” I said. “I guess you were right about watching Currito. I just wish you’d told me.”

“We can worry about that later. Right now, you can’t go back to your motel. And you need to ditch your phone.”

“I can’t ditch my phone—”

“You’re not thinking, Nikki. They’ll use it to track you.”

“I’ll just turn it off.”

“That won’t work, Nikki. You have a brand new phone. They make ’em so they track on or off.”

I didn’t respond. The world was too complicated

“Nikki, please make sure you’re not being followed, check into a motel under a false name—you got cash?”

“Yeah, but—”

“Listen to me. Get to a safe place.”

I felt like things were slipping more and more out of my control. “Do you want to know where I go?”

“No,” he said softly. “You don’t trust me, remember?”

“That was low, Will.”

“I need to make calls to the right people,” he continued as if I hadn’t spoken. “If we’re lucky, we can stop the Sirena before she takes Jade into international waters.”

“But how will you find the yacht?”

“My contact in the DEA can alert the Coast Guard. You’ve done enough. Stay out of it!”

“Okay, okay,” I said, as a deep exhaustion hit me. It was time to drop the reins.

“You’d better get going,” he said and disconnected.

I threw the phone onto the seat in frustration. Will got to me in more ways than one. I focused on the phone instead, giving it a hard look.

“You cheap little spy.” I got out of the car, lay the phone on the pavement before the front tire, and drove over it. I could feel the back tire hit the thing, too. Nikki takes charge.

* * * *

I didn’t want to go to a motel. Instead, I did what I’ve always done when things are at their worst and I need to be comforted and have a safe place to sleep. I went to the barn.

Sleeping in stalls was nothing new to me, and I’d learned from long experience that horses are careful not to step on you and will usually stand over you while you sleep. If they know you and like you, if they consider you part of the “herd,” their instinct is to guard you.

An added benefit is no one ever expects to find you asleep under a horse.

It was almost 1:30 a.m. when I drove past the stable gate and into the relative safety of the backstretch. The stables were quiet, the hour too early for anyone to be around. I parked the car out of sight behind a dumpster and went right into the stall of my old friend Imposter and buried my face in his neck, drinking in his horsey smell.

“I’ll be right back,” I said. I removed the gypsy skirt and blouse, then went to the wash stall hoping the bottle of Mane-and-Tail shampoo I’d seen there earlier was still lying about. It was, and after a few curses and bobby pin gouges, I removed the extensions and threw them in the trash barrel with the gypsy clothes.

Turning on the water, I waited for a warm flow, then doused my head and slathered on shampoo. I scrubbed away the hair color and grease paint, being mindful to keep my cargo shorts dry. After a rinsing, I shook my head like a dog. Short hair has its advantages.

Rubbing my head with a towel and pulling on one of the extra tees I keep in the tack room, I returned to Imposter. He’d always been neat about pooping in one area of his stall, and I curled up in a clean corner on a mattress of fresh alfalfa, silently blessing Orlando for being a conscientious groom.

Imposter’s warm breath tickled my head as his curious lips nuzzled my damp hair. I put a hand up and patted his soft nose before settling myself deeper into the hay.

* * * *

Imposter’s restless pacing and inquisitive whinny startled me awake. A low vibration purred through the barn. A truck engine. Imposter nudged me with his nose then moved to the stall gate, his ears and eyes forward, intent on whatever was out there.

I scrambled to my feet and peered outside. A two-horse trailer pulled by a Dodge pickup with a diesel engine idled outside. Parked right beside our shedrow. What the hell?

I dove away from the see-through wire gate as lights flicked on in the stall next door. Diablo’s stall. Whoever it was had gone in there before I’d had a chance to see them. I moved to the side of the stall and peeked through a tiny gap in the boards.

A wizened man quietly threaded a chain through the rings in Diablo’s halter, getting ready to slide the metal links over the horse’s gum. The colt seemed to know him and wasn’t putting up a fight. An old groom from South America? Someone was helping him, but my view was so narrow I couldn’t see who. I moved further along the slat, peeked again. If not for the wooden stall partition, I could have touched the Poseidon tattoo. Stifling a cry, I stepped back. Gonzales.

They were here to take Diablo to La Sirena! The horse was so valuable and dear to Currito, he couldn’t bear to leave the colt behind. Diablo would lead me right to Jade, I knew it.