High Tide (4 page)

Two
 

It was six o'clock on a winter morning, and already it was bright enough for Fiona to need her sunglasses. Of course a night spent in a police station, while recovering from a hangover that would have killed a lesser person, didn't help any.

It seemed that James Garrett's secretary had “forgotten” to give Fiona the name and number of the car service that was to take her to this Kendrick Park, so Fiona had taken a taxi. Just one more item to add to the list of indignities she'd already suffered on this trip-in-hell, she thought.

The taxi let her off in front of what seemed to be impenetrable jungle. “I think there's a mistake. This place is supposed to be a park.”

The cab driver shrugged. “This is the address,” he said,
pointing to a small, sun-bleached sign near what was possibly an opening in the jungle mass.

Reluctantly, Fiona paid him then got out of the car.

“Better watch your shoes,” he said as he drove off, laughing.

Upon closer inspection there was a four-foot-wide path meandering through the shrubs, but deep sand covered the walkway. “Of course,” she muttered. “What did I expect? A sidewalk? Oh, Fiona, you do have a sense of humor.”

She was wearing her New York uniform: black wool jacket, white silk blouse, short black skirt, black hose, and black high heels. In her suitcase had been some lovely outfits perfect for wearing on a boat, but they were now ashes, she thought with a grimace. But maybe this place had a gift shop and she could at least purchase a pair of sneakers.

But the further she walked, the more run-down the place seemed. Not exactly Disney, she thought. There was a little kiosk that seemed to be a ticket-taking booth, but no one was there this early in the morning. Further on was another building that looked as though a good wind could knock it over.

What a dreary place, she thought, picking her way across the sand, but still getting it in her shoes. Cupping her hand, she looked inside the window of the larger building. On one side was an old-fashioned juice bar with stools covered in worn red plastic and what had to be the gift shop on the other side.

Fiona rubbed the dust from the glass and looked closer. Inside all she could see were things about birds. There were bird photos, plastic birds, huge bird kites, bird posters, birds made of stone. Even the cash register had birds painted on it.

Turning away, for a moment she leaned against the building, removed her shoe, and poured a couple of pounds of
sand out. The only shoes a place like that was going to carry were for webbed feet.

With a glance at her watch she saw that it was nearly six-thirty. So where was everyone? At that thought she almost cried because
they
were probably all still in bed. Sleeping.

Suddenly, she thought she saw movement through the abundant greenery. “If it's an alligator, I'll throw myself on it,” she said aloud, then cautiously moved toward what looked like something in human clothes.

A man was bent over something. She couldn't see much of him, just his back and one corner of his right ear.

“Excuse me,” she said softly, but the man didn't seem to hear her. “Excuse me!” she said louder.

“I'm not deaf!” the man said as he turned partway around, then swung back again. “Damnation! Look what you made me do. Don't you know better than to sneak up on people? What are you doing here this early anyway? We don't open until nine.”

With that he turned back toward her, and there was a tall, long-legged white bird in his hand. For a split second it registered with Fiona that the man was as tall as, if not taller than, she was, which was a welcome treat.

“Hello, I'm—” she said, and had her hand extended when she recognized him.

“You!” they shouted in unison.

He recovered first. “If you've come here to apologize, I won't accept it. The only thing I'll accept from
you
is a check.”

“Apologize? Are you out of your mind?” Fiona said, her anger instantly at the boiling point. “I saved your worthless
life.”

“From what? Death by plastic? Look, lady, I don't know why you came here, but I want you to leave
now.”

“For your information, not that it's any of your business, I'm meeting someone. Are you killing that bird?”

He dropped the bird, and it went running into the plants. “And who would you be meeting?”

“Roy Hudson,” she said, and hoped with all her might that Hudson owned this place so she could do what she could to get this creep fired. “And Ace.”

“Ace?” the man said, his face softening.

Now she had him. Maybe Ace would beat him up. “Yes Ace. He and Roy are meeting me, and we're going fishing.”

“Really. So what are you doing here? Planning to use the cormorants?”

At that she could only blink at him. Was that a private Florida joke?

“You are certainly dressed for fishing,” he said, looking her up and down.

She badly wanted to zap him with a put-down that would set him on his ear. “At least today you're wearing something other than a set of teeth.” At that retort, which made no real sense, she happened to look at his shirt. Embroidered on the pocket was, Ace, Kendrick Park.

“That's it,” she said, then threw up her hands and started walking back to the entrance. “I have had it. I have reached the limit of my endurance. I am going back to New York where people are
safe.”

“Fiona,” came another voice from behind her, this one older and friendly, but she didn't stop walking toward the entrance.

“Honey, I'd recognize you anywhere,” the man said as he caught her arm and prevented her from moving.

“Let me guess,” she said with heavy sarcasm. “Roy Hudson.”

“Right you are, little lady. Now come over here and meet the rest of the crew.”

Roy Hudson was in his early sixties and looked to be as cuddly as Winnie the Pooh, whom he somewhat resembled. Fiona felt like asking him if he had a penchant for honey and a friend who loved to bounce.

“This is Ace Montgomery, and he owns this little ol' place.”

“And he deserves every square inch of it,” Fiona said as she smiled across Roy's outstretched hand into the eyes of the owner of the dilapidated Kendrick Park. But she didn't extend her hand to shake Ace's.

“We've met,” Ace said, his upper lip curled into a sneer as he again looked Fiona up and down. “Miss Burkenhalter and I had a … a confrontation at the airport.”

“How wonderful,” Roy said, then slapped Fiona on the back so hard she nearly fell forward onto Ace. “You all ready to go? I gotta car waitin', and the boat's all packed.”

“Mr. Hudson,” Fiona said firmly. “I think there's been a mistake. I know that you talked to Garrett about me and that you requested me, but I really don't know anything about the merchandising of action figures. Or stuffed animals or whatever it is you want to sell. And I also don't know anything about fishing. So, if you don't mind, I think I'll excuse myself from this excursion and return to town.”

Putting her hand into the outside pocket of her backpack, she pulled out her cell phone. Truthfully, she was dying to tell The Five that she'd been right: Ace was gorgeous
beyond belief: black hair, black eyes, a body … And he was as big a loser as she'd predicted, she thought as she glanced back at the crumbling gift shop.

As she lifted her finger to push the buttons, she looked at Ace. “Don't worry, it's real, not a plastic fake.”

Before Ace could reply to that gibe, Roy started laughing. “That must have been some meetin' the two of you had yesterday. But we got days for you two to tell me all about it.” With that he put his arm around Fiona's shoulders and firmly turned her away from the entrance and just as firmly held her arm in a way to prevent her using the telephone. “Now, honey, why I asked for you is somethin' we gotta talk about. But not yet. First we need to have some fun.”

Throughout this exchange, Ace had been glaring at Fiona with so much hostility that, had the circumstances been different, she might have been afraid of him. But right now her mind was too full of plans to be afraid of anything. She stepped away from Roy as she realized she
had
to get out of this situation. Even Garrett would understand if she left after what she'd been through. All she'd have to do is mention “lawsuit” to Garrett and he'd forgive anything.

“I think we need to get this lady some different clothes, don't you, Roy?” Ace said in a voice that dripped with kind consideration. But the steel grip he put on Fiona's upper arm was anything but kind.

“I'm not staying here,” she hissed at him, then turned back to smile at Roy. She'd better not anger the man who owned
Raphael,
not when Garrett wanted the franchise rights so much. She'd just explain to Roy that they'd have to
take their little trip at another time—preferably after this man Ace was rotting in the ground.

“I have clothes for her,” Ace said loudly to Roy; then into Fiona's ear, he said, “You either come with me or we spend this afternoon with lawyers talking about how you're going to pay for the property you destroyed.”

Jeremy wouldn't like that, she thought, then tears came to her eyes as the man's hands bit harder into her flesh. “I, ah, think I should wear something different,” she mumbled to Roy, then tried to keep up with the stride of the maniac parkman.

Once they were out of sight of Roy—out of sight of civilization, she thought as the plants closed about them—she halted and jerked her arm out of his grip.

“There are laws against this,” she hissed at him so Roy wouldn't hear.

Ace closed the one step that separated them and put his nose to hers. “There are laws against destruction of property, too. My lawyer said I was a fool for not suing you. Do you have any idea how much that alligator cost me?”

“Trade price or retail?”

Obviously, the man had
no
sense of humor. At the look of rage on his face, she stepped backward.

With the muscles in his jaw working frantically, Ace grabbed her wrist and half dragged her down what could have been called a path. As it was only about six inches wide, the plants scraped her arms, and she was sure they were snagging her hose. She'd been walking on sand for so long that it was beginning to feel normal to have grit between her toes.

“Where are you taking me?” she demanded, but he just kept pulling her along, saying nothing.

Finally they came to a clearing in the “jungle,” and there was a tiny house, the front of it fitted with screens from the roof to halfway to the ground. Ace threw open a screen door, pulled her through the long narrow room, then opened another door and shoved her down onto a bed.

For a moment Fiona felt real fear. If she were to scream, no one would hear her, and she was utterly alone with a raving madman.

“Don't flatter yourself,” Ace said with a sneer. “You're not my type. I like women to be
women,”
he said, then disappeared into a closet.

Fiona recovered instantly. Nothing like having your femininity attacked to dispel fear. “And what the hell is
that
supposed to mean?” she asked as she came off the bed.

“Here,” he said as he tossed a pair of jeans and a white cotton shirt on the bed. “Put those on.”

She looked down at the two garments. “Your clothes? You want me to wear
your
clothes?” Her tone said that she'd rather wear poison paint.

She wasn't prepared for his reaction. As fast as a snake's tongue, he grabbed her by the shoulders and pinned her against the wall. “Listen to me, Miss Snooty New Yorker, I've had all I can take from you. You destroyed something that took me and everyone else in this park three years to earn enough money to buy. And you don't care one damned bit that you did it. All I've heard is that
you
don't like it here, that this place is not up to
your
New York standards.”

Though it didn't seem possible, he leaned even closer to
her, and he had to bend down somewhat to put his nose so close to hers. “I want you to listen to me and listen well. I don't care why you're here or what Roy Hudson wants from you. All I care is that in the next three days—
on this boat trip
—he's going to decide if he wants to invest some of the profits of his TV show into this park. This place may not look like much to you—you've made that abundantly clear—but this place is
my
life.”

His voice lowered. “So help me, if you screw up this trip with your snot-nosed arrogance, I will sue you for everything you have, everything you will earn, and for what you plan to leave your children. Am I making myself clear?”

He paused a moment, but when Fiona didn't reply, he pressed her harder against the wall.

She could feel the pressure of his big hands, and she could feel the power of his huge body so close to her own. She'd had intimate contact only with Jeremy, and Jeremy was about half the size of this man.