went with Nick to their suite down a hall with breezeways throughout. Two double beds, thank heavens, instead of one. A sitting area and decent-sized bathroom. Fantastic view, of course, through sliding glass doors that led to a private lanai set off from the rooms next to it by flowered trellises. Bright beach umbrellas stuck in the sand provided some shade for patrons in the glare of the sun. Too much of that and Claire’s skin would freckle and turn as red as her hair, but what did any of that matter now—matter ever again if they didn’t get Lexi back and soon?
Nick put her small bag on the bed farthest from the door. “Don’t unpack too much,” he said. “I’m sure things will work out and you and Lexi, at least, will be leaving soon, and I’ll do whatever our friend wants.”
Dialogue prepared in case there were mics or cameras in the room, of course. That gave her the creeps too: Did Clayton Ames hope for some sort of reading on Nick’s relationship with her? Were they being watched to see if they were affectionate? Made love? More than once, she would have liked to but she’d thought they barely knew each other and circumstances were bad then—ha! How could they even pretend more than clinging to each other when things were so dangerous and desperate? Ames obviously knew enough of what they meant to each other to be sure that threatening Lexi’s well-being would turn the screws on Nick.
She made some small talk about the hotel and the view, unpacked a change of clothes and went into the bathroom. She propped her hands on the seashell-shaped pink sink and stared at herself in the mirror. Grayish bags under her eyes like half-moons. Windblown hair. A bruised bottom lip she’d chewed too hard. Exhaustion. Terror she was trying to control. She hadn’t eaten a thing and she could throw up in this basin right now.
She set to work washing up and changing, then twisted her hair into a topknot. Or, since she didn’t wear it like that much, would that set Lexi off when they were reunited? She took her hair down and brushed it loose again, refreshed her makeup and went out.
Nick was stretched out on his bed, using his laptop. Wi-Fi was included here. She wondered if the dangerous, ubiquitous lackeys who reported to Ames had a way to snag whatever Nick was sending or reading online. Probably. But surely he knew that.
“Lie down and take a nap,” Nick said. “I’ll be here, waiting.”
“Yes, all right. But I’d rather pace. I’m praying we will have Lexi back safe and sound as soon as possible,” she said in a loud voice. Let the eavesdroppers and spies report that to Clayton Ames, she thought.
She leaned against the open sliding glass door and watched the sunbathers in various sizes of bathing suits or near undress. Could their contact be out there? Was Jace out there?
She jolted when a knock sounded on their hallway door. Had Nick ordered anything while she was in the bathroom? He got up from the bed, but she beat him to the door, slid the bolt and pulled it open.
The plump, chatty British woman they’d sat next to on the plane stood there, dressed the same as before with a little smile on her lips and a beige envelope in her hand. Claire gasped as Nick appeared beside her. “We meet again,” he said to the woman.
“Indeed. A friend has sent you this,” she said, extending the envelope to him. “I wasn’t to give it to you earlier. If I were you, I’d follow those directions straightaway. That is all I know, so don’t inquire more. Ta-ta, then.” She turned away and scurried down the hall.
Claire tugged Nick out into the now empty hallway and whispered, “What does it say?”
They bent close as he pulled a card from the stiff vellum envelope. “It’s a handwritten invitation,” he muttered so quietly that she could hardly hear him. “Our presence is requested, and so on—smart-aleck wording. But here’s his address. I’d love to let the FBI have this, but Lexi comes first.”
As he started to go back into their room, she grabbed his arm and mouthed, “The FBI? Are they in on this?”
“No,” he whispered so quietly she had to read his lips. “But an agent questioned me—grilled me—a couple of years ago over what I knew about the man I used to call ‘Uncle Clay.’ They’re not interested in my father’s death but looking into IRS taxation questions about Ames’s global companies that are under the umbrella of a massive conglomerate called Ames High. I could only tell them I’d tried to track him but he kept moving and lives mostly as an expat now. Let’s get a cab and go see him before he disappears again.”
“With Lexi,” she muttered as they went back into the room to grab their things. She was annoyed he had not told her about the FBI earlier. What else was he hiding? She’d barely glimpsed the so-called printed invitation, but she would read it on the way.
Before they grabbed their gear, they fell into each other’s arms, holding hard. It terrified her to think this might be the last time—if, just maybe, things went wrong. He suddenly held her at arm’s length, almost as if he was thrusting her away. He stared into her teary eyes.
“You will leave here with Lexi, no matter what else happens. I said it before and I mean it now—more than ever.”
* * *
Jace had to move fast when he saw Claire and Nick emerge from the front of the club. His hands shook as he unlocked the chain around his bike. He saw Nick scanning the area, frowning, but he didn’t react as if he recognized him. Was he looking for him or a spy or stalker? It didn’t matter since they waited barely a minute before a brightly colored cab pulled up and they got in. He had to keep up with his motorbike, but at least the cab had to stop a lot, heading back into George Town.
Jace thought Claire looked pale and nervous, but why wouldn’t she? He pictured Lexi, green-eyed like Claire, though she was more blonde than red-haired. Well, strawberry blonde. And she loved strawberry ice cream and her so-called Frozen doll—what a name for a doll. She loved her cousin Jilly, the same age. Yeah, she was as close to Jilly as Claire was to her sister, Jilly’s mom, Darcy. That and his international traveling were reasons he’d never so much as considered trying to take “Princess Alexandra,” alias Lexi, from Claire when they divorced. But if Claire ever married Nick or anyone else, he’d sure sue for equal time with his daughter. But first, they had to get her back.
He swore under his breath as the cab got through an intersection when the light changed but he didn’t. Too many tourists loose in town, taking too long to cross the street, rushing back to their ships. A policeman with a pointed white cap was still holding up his line of traffic.
He revved the bike and stretched as tall as he could, trying to pick out the cab they were in from vehicles one block ahead now. He should have memorized the number on its back, 4-4 something. If they got much farther ahead, he’d have to just guess which private mansion along the area called South Sound they’d gone to, since that’s where it looked like they were headed. He prayed he hadn’t already ruined his chance to help them and save Lexi.
* * *
Claire gazed at the mansions along the South Sound. Some of them reminded her of the massive ones in the Port Royal area of Naples. Even behind privacy walls, they loomed vast, beige-and-white concrete and stucco, some with wood pillars or pastel trim. Their fronts bordered on the canal with boat access. “More like yachts, nuh,” their driver said—you might know, the same driver they’d had before, no doubt someone else on Ames’s payroll. She could see tall masts or an occasional yacht through the spaces between the buildings. The houses’ rears, where she glimpsed
