Sleepwalker (34 page)

Banking toward the north, Jason shook his head. “We’re on visual flight rules. The whole point is for no one to know where we are. Since I didn’t file a flight plan, and we’ve been avoiding major airports, they won’t be able to track us even if they ever do figure out we flew out of Ypsilanti. Which isn’t likely.”

“Won’t there be a record that we refueled at that airport in Georgia?”

“Not that anyone will be able to find.”

The truth of the matter was, the credit card he had used for the gas, like the pilot’s license he was currently flying under, were all part of a fake identity created specifically for this job that he would never use again. Even if someone were to figure that out and start searching for his real identity, it was sheathed in so many layers of misdirection and protection that he was confident that his true name, Jason Davis, would never be found. Just like the ownership of the plane, which was his, and which Jelly and Tina had flown in on, could be traced, if anyone dug deep enough, to a real company in Buffalo, New York, that had
gone bankrupt during the worst of the Great Recession and no further. When he landed, he would change its identification number, and the plane that had left Ypsilanti would effectively cease to exist.

“This is how you do this? Fly in somewhere, commit a robbery, and then fly back to your home in the Cayman Islands with what you stole?”

There was a note in her voice that made him give her an assessing look. “You’re sounding like a cop, Mick.”

She regarded him unsmilingly. A pretty, delicate-looking, big-eyed thing with a to-die-for body and the soul of Elliot Ness. What the hell was he thinking?

“I
am
a cop.”

“I saved your life. I brought you home with me. I didn’t have to.”

“Why did you?”

“Oh, I don’t know, because I didn’t want you to die?”

“Are you saying I owe you because of that? Just for the record, you got me into this mess in the first place. I’d say that kind of evens things out.”

“Maybe, but now we’re both in it together. Back in Detroit, you agreed we were a team. You standing by that, or not?”

“I’m standing by it.” Her tone was faintly grudging. “Which doesn’t mean I approve of what you do.”

“You’ll get used to it.”

“You say that like you think I’m going to be here a while.” Her lips tightened, and faint lines of worry appeared between her brows. Her eyes were troubled as they met his. “I have a whole life back in Detroit. I can’t just disappear.”

“Baby, that’s the only thing you can do.”

They were coming in over the north end of the island now, and the sight of the rolling surf and long crescent beach of Old Man Bay lightened his spirits as it always did. The Bonanza swooped toward the waves until an unexpected updraft sent them soaring. Mick’s eyes
widened as she grabbed hold of the armrests. Jason had to smile again even as he brought them back around in a wide, banking turn.

“Anybody ever get airsick on you?” Mick asked. “Not that I’m going to or anything, but … just asking.”

Jason laughed. “We’ll be on the ground in a minute.”

A moment later he was setting them down on a private runway within sight of Sea Pond. His house, which fronted on Old Man Bay, was visible only as a red tile roof in the distance, where the land sloped down to the beach. The hangar where the Cessna Jelly and Tina had flown home in, and where the Bonanza would soon be parked, was directly in front of them.

“You remember that I don’t have my passport or any ID, right? Because if there’s going to be customs or something, we’ve got trouble.”

“There’s not going to be customs. This is a private runway. The property belongs to me.”

He could see her drinking it in. It was about ten acres, not including the semiprivate beach. The road was hidden from view by a stucco wall that was nearly hidden itself by a profusion of lush greenery, including broad-leafed palm and banana trees and the gorgeous scarlet blooms of hibiscus and bougainvillea. On either side of the asphalt runway, the grass was golf course smooth and emerald. To their right, the sea stretched out endlessly, shades of turquoise and teal and sapphire all the way to the horizon. The roof of his house was just visible, and a crushed shell path leading down to the house gleamed faintly pink in the golden light of the low-hanging sun. A flock of seagulls wheeled in the powder blue sky.

“Whoever said crime doesn’t pay sure didn’t know what he was talking about, obviously,” Mick said, and Jason laughed again.

Even with a snarky, disapproving, not-so-pleased-to-be-there cop in tow, it was good to be home, he thought. Then, as she looked back out the window some more, and he thought about showing her around,
introducing her to the island way of life, getting her into a bikini and out on the beach and watching her relax, he amended that to
especially.
Especially with a snarky, disapproving, not-so-pleased-to-be-there cop in tow, it was good to be home.

Which was something he probably ought to think about. But later, when he had some time. Not now.

As the Bonanza bumped down the runway toward the hangar, a golf cart appeared over the rise from the direction of the house. Watching its approach, Jason’s smile was wry.

“Here comes Jelly. He must have been watching for us.”

Mick shot a look at him. “Oh.
Oh.
” She looked back out at the oncoming golf cart. “I didn’t realize he lived with you. He doesn’t know you have me with you, does he?”

“He doesn’t live with me. He has his own house next door. And no, he doesn’t know. Although he’s about to find out.”

“He isn’t going to be happy.”

“Probably not.” No probably about it: Jelly was going to be pissed. He would get over it. “Don’t worry about it. Once he gets to know you, Jelly’s going to love you.”

“Yeah, right. That’s always provided he doesn’t shoot me on sight.”

“Way to look on the bright side.”

“The bright side sucks.”

Chuckling, Jason taxied into the hangar and parked. A moment later, suitcase in hand, he opened the door and climbed out. The scent he always associated with the island hit him first: salt air and fresh-cut grass and frangipani. The purr of the surf was music to his ears. The heat embraced him like a lover.

“Tina and me, we were getting worried about you,” Jelly called from outside the hangar, where he was sitting in the golf cart’s front seat. It was a club car, with a front and back seat, and a roof to provide protection from the sun. He saw Jelly’s eyes touch on the suitcase, watched
him grin with satisfaction. Money on deck: mission accomplished. “You timed that perfectly, you jerkoff. We were just getting ready to eat.”

“A little late for supper, isn’t it?” Jason grinned back at his friend even as he turned back to the plane. Dressed in baggy shorts, a Hawaiian shirt, flip-flops and a baseball cap, Jelly in island mode looked totally different from the black-clad operative who was his partner on jobs. “What is it, like, nine-ish? You’re usually headed for bed about now.”

Early to bed, early to rise, that was Jelly. He had no bad habits. Except, as Mick would undoubtedly point out, stealing.

“Yeah, well, I was thinking I was maybe going to have to climb back in the Cessna and take off on a search and rescue—” Jelly broke off as Mick appeared in the Bonanza’s doorway. His jaw dropped and his eyes bugged even as Jason set the suitcase down, turned back to the plane and reached up to lift her down. Not that Mick waited for his help: she jumped. “What the hell …?”

Jason couldn’t help it. He grinned. “Don’t tell me you don’t remember Mick.”

“The cop. You brought the fucking cop.”

“Micayla Lange, say hello to John Bean.”

“Hey,” Mick said. She looked, and sounded, about as enthused as Jelly did. Hanging back in the shadow of the plane, she tossed her hair back out of her face and took a good, solid grip on a wing strut. Her body was tense, her eyes wary. Like she thought Jelly really might have been thinking about shooting her.

“Jelly,” Jelly corrected automatically, before his popping eyes met Jason’s again. “Are you
nuts
? You just totally screwed us over. What, did you get arrested or something and you had to give up Tina and me in some kind of deal? What did they offer you? What did they threaten you with? I’m telling you right now, there’s no way they could have forced us to turn on
you
.”

“Calm down.” Tugging Mick’s hand away from the wing strut when it became obvious that all she was going to do was hang back by the plane while regarding Jelly suspiciously, Jason held on to it, grabbed the suitcase and headed with her in tow toward Jelly, who was looking at him with as much horror as if he had grown a second head. “You can relax. Nobody’s screwed over. Nobody made a deal. She’s on our side now.”

Jelly goggled at the pair of them. “You horny son of a bitch.”

Jason pictured how they must have looked—smokin’ hot Mick with her wide eyes and soft mouth, her pale face scrubbed clean, her tumbled
hair hand-combed over one shoulder and her killer bod on display in the tight tank top and barely-managing-to-cling-to-her-hip-bones sweats, flip-flops purchased at their refueling stop on her feet, himself grinning and holding her hand—and saw where Jelly was coming from with that.
Fair enough
was his answering thought. Not that he was about to say it to either one of them out loud.

“Hey, screw you,” Mick the ever conciliatory said.

“Be nice,” Jason told her, then said to Jelly, as they reached the golf cart, “after you left us, she and I had to team up. Like I said, she’s on our side now. Relax.”

“For Christ’s sake, last time I saw her she’d just about beat your ass up. You were holding her at gunpoint getting ready to lock her in Marino’s safe. How could anything have gone this wrong?”

Jason nudged a reluctant Mick onto the golf cart’s front seat, while he and the suitcase climbed on the back.

“You and—Tina?—took off and left Jason behind. If I hadn’t helped him out, he’d probably be dead now. That’s how things went this wrong, for starters.” Mick glared at Jelly.

“We had to. We were surrounded, nothing to do but cut and run. And he can take care of himself. What do you know about it, anyway?” Jelly glared back.

“Okay, you two,
truce
. Bottom line is, however it happened, Mick’s with us now.” Jason nudged Jelly with an elbow. “You going to take us to the house or not?”

Jelly grimaced but stepped on the gas, swung the golf cart in a wide arc, and, motor humming, took off toward the house. Mick grabbed the long banner of her hair, which flew out behind her when they took off, and held it secure with one hand. The sheer beauty of the place stretching out around them hit Jason just like it always did. Coconut trees and palm trees provided shade for banks of lilies and orchids and star flowers. Butterflies flitted from plant to plant. A couple of terns lit
on a rocky ledge near the beach, one after the other. Mountains formed a blue haze to the south. To the west, the sun was just starting to sink toward the horizon in a glowing orange ball. It would be night soon: here, there was no prolonged dusk. When the time came, night fell like a curtain dropping over the island.

Jason might have been born and raised in Chicago, but this place was home. Something about it nourished his soul.

“What did Tina make for dinner?” Jason asked with interest as they approached the rise that led to his house, and, farther down the beach, the one Jelly and Tina shared. All he’d had to eat that day was a McDonald’s burger and fries in Detroit and a Snickers and some peanut butter crackers he’d grabbed when they’d stopped to refuel. Just thinking about food made his stomach rumble. Besides her many other talents, Tina was a notable cook.

“Chicken masala,” Jelly answered, naming one of Jason’s favorites. Giving Mick a long look, Jelly then said over his shoulder to Jason, “She made plenty. She told me to bring you.”

“You can just drop me off wherever I’m going to be staying,” Mick turned sideways to tell him with a haughty sniff. “I’m not hungry.”

“Oh, for God’s sake. You two might as well make peace, because you’re stuck with each other. Mick, you’re staying with me in my house, and you’re going with me to Jelly’s to eat. Tina loves feeding people. Jelly, you know Tina would tell you to bring her.”

“Yeah, she would.” Jelly’s tone was glum. “She’s got about as much sense as you do.”

“I’d rather—” Mick began hotly. Jason cut her off.

“We’re eating,” he said. “I’m hungry, you’re hungry, Tina made food. You and Jelly can keep taking potshots at each other over dinner if that makes you feel better.”

Mick’s lips compressed. But she didn’t argue anymore. Jelly hunched his shoulders, but he took them to his house without another word.

“Jason! We were so worried about you!” Having obviously heard the golf cart coming, Tina hurried out of the house to greet them. Around five foot two, plumpish, with curly, jaw-length platinum blond hair and a liking for long, dangling earrings and lots of makeup, she served as a cheerful counterbalance to Jelly’s habitual dourness. Wearing a lime green caftan and clattering clogs, she greeted him with a hug when he jumped off the golf cart, then she turned inquiring eyes on Mick.

“Mick Lange, Tina Preston,” Jason introduced them. “I brought her back with me from Detroit. You got enough food for her to join us for dinner?”

“I always have enough food.” Tina transferred her beaming smile to Mick. “Hi. Come on in. You can tell me all about it while we eat.”

Mick responded with a “hi” of her own, while Jelly said in a strangled voice, “She’s the
cop
.”

Tina looked bewildered. “The cop?” Then enlightenment appeared to dawn. “The
cop
. Oh.” She and Jelly exchanged glances, then she looked at Jason, and, finally, Mick. “I have got to hear
this
. Come on in, all of you.”

“She’s
the cop,
Tina,” Jason heard Jelly repeat in an urgent undertone as he set the suitcase down inside the back door; Jelly would have already put the other two in the safe, and Jason would add this one to it when he got home. Tina gestured to Jason to take Mick on into the dining room while Jelly followed Tina into the kitchen. To blister her ears with his thoughts on Mick’s arrival, Jason had little doubt. The spicy, tomato-y smell of the chicken made him conscious of how truly hungry he was. For Tina’s food, he was willing to put up with Jelly’s negativity.