Terror Stash (26 page)

“He thought I should know. He wanted more money from me.”

“Nice,” Caden said with a grimace.

“Wait, no, back up a second,” Montana said. “Are you telling me her parents hired a detective to catch their own daughter having an affair with the best man?”

The tears in Patrick’s eyes glistened and trickled down his cheeks. His chin wobbled. “They were trying to catch
me
.”

“With their daughter?” Caden asked, totally bamboozled now.

“No, with the best man,” Montana said, straightening up. “They must have been pretty sure to spend that sort of money on a private dick. Right, Patrick?”

His voice was very small. “Right.”

The police launched sidled very gently up beside them. “Hello down there! What do you need?”

“Tell me you have a pair of bolt-cutters on board,” Caden called.

The officer leaning over the gunwales looked back over his shoulder, called a comment and looked back. “No, nothing that could bite through chain.”

“Know how to pick locks?” Caden called. “Better make it quick. I figure we have maybe three minutes, max.”

“Oh, Arrabella, what have I done?” Patrick moaned softly.

Another discussion on the launch. The officer looked over his shoulder again. “What?” he said sharply. Then he looked back at Caden and spread his hands almost apologetically. “Apparently, you’re sitting right over a sandbank here. It’s so shallow, you’re probably going to bottom out before it reaches his knees.”

Caden could feel his eyes widening almost comically. Montana jerked her head up and around to look at the launch. Her hands were still on the lock. “Excuse me,
what
did you say?”

“It’s the way the tide runs down this coast. There’s a sandbank right here and it’s only about twenty feet deep. We figure that with the draft on this boat, you’re going to hit bottom any tick of the clock.”

Silence.

Then, sounding like aural punctuation, at that moment the padlock in Montana’s hands gave a loud click and fell open.

A deep groan shuddered through the deck beneath them. The deck canted to one side, then grew still and solid. They had come to rest on the sandbank.

Montana could feel her fury like a live thing, swirling through her, trying to find a way out, a vent. The problem was everyone else could see it, too. The police officers were being very polite and very formal with her. Strictly by the book. Under normal circumstances they were smart and efficient, but with a total disregard for rank or hierarchy. Knowing that they were tiptoeing around her fed her anger.

Caden was not helping her mood improve, either.

They were sitting on the police launch, wrapped in the blankets they’d been offered. The officers were discussing the next step with supervisors at home base. She had declared her diplomatic status as soon as they’d come on board and it was not something the police were used to handling. That was fine. She was used to people having to step through the process of diplomatic immunity.

What was keeping her temper simmering was that every couple of minutes, Caden would quiver under his blanket. His face was stoical, but Montana knew that he was laughing and holding it in.

When the boat had halted in the sand, he’d thrown his head back and given one loud, deep belly laugh before glancing at her face. Then he’d shut it off with a deep breath. All except the waves of laughter rippling through him every few minutes.

Caden Rawn found this whole situation wildly hilarious. She did not. Not even for a minute. They had risked their lives for a vengeful groom who was too drunk to appreciate it and all for no reason.

There was a clatter of heavy metal as the knotted chains around Patrick finally slithered to the deck. Patrick was blubbering with relief as they helped him onto the police launch. When he saw them sitting on the bench along the transom, he stumbled over. “How do I thank you? How can I ever make it up to you?”

Caden pursed his lips together tightly for a moment. His eyes were shining with good cheer. “Invite us to the next wedding,” he said, once he had his voice and diaphragm back under control. “You give one hell of a party, Patrick.”

They shook hands. Patrick held his out to Montana. She pumped it once and let it drop. She didn’t dare say anything. Her fury was too close to the top.

Patrick was led away by the youngest officer on the launch, down into the cabin.

“If I were the police, I’d be getting a reading on his blood alcohol level,” Caden said. “Poor ol’ Patrick is about to get hit from every side.” He paused for a moment. “I’d
love
to be a fly on the wall when he faces Arrabella after this.” He swallowed another guffaw and took a deep, sighing breath.

Montana rolled her eyes. “Like they’re ever going to talk to each other again.”

“They will.” Caden was sincere. “There was something in his voice.”

“Oh please, spare me. Love conquers all?” Suddenly the anger was there, huge and spewing from her. “For the sake of love, Patrick has screwed up the lives of...how many people? Arrabella, the best man, their families and friends and let’s not forget us, either. You could’ve drowned in that cabin. In the end, what is love? Nothing. You can’t touch it, you can’t taste it, you can’t hold onto it. Love is a crock of shit, Rawn. It doesn’t make the world go round. It screws people over and leaves their lives a total mess.” She was astonished to realize she was panting with the effort to vent it all.

He turned to face her. Any humor in his expression had gone. “You like your world so ordered?”

“You’re damn right I do!”

“You’re not really pissed at Patrick for wasting your time at all. You’re pissed because he’s stupid enough to let his life be messed up by love. You don’t want to save the life of someone who, in your exalted opinion, is too stupid to deserve it.”

She stared at him, her anger draining like air from a balloon. Just like that it was gone and in its place was a swiftly growing shame. She turned her head, embarrassment fighting with her shame. “You’re wrong,” she said stiffly. “No one deserves to die. Not in that way.”

He was silent for a long while and she thought he’d decided to spare her.

“So, Ms. Dela Vega....”

She looked around, relieved.

The young constable stood before them, notebook in hand. He waved toward the bow of the boat where another officer was lowering a small inflatable dingy and outboard motor into the water. “We’re going to get you back to the beach so you can pick up your belongings. You’re free to go. We just have to get your name, sir.” His pen hovered over his notebook as he looked at Caden.

“Hey, man, I was just helping out,” Caden said. Montana felt his wariness like a living thing, surrounding him. Pulsing its warning.

The constable lowered his notebook. “It’s possible there could be civil charges as a result of Patrick’s actions. This isn’t his boat. I have to take your name for the record.”

Caden shook his head a little. “Clint Eastwood.”

The other constable casting off the dingy came up to his side and looked at Caden, his eyes narrowed. “I know you,” he said. He glanced at his fellow officer. “There was something about a big American they were looking for.”

“The Pink Galah,” said the first, his eyes widening.

Both constables turned to face Caden accusingly.

Caden got to his feet, throwing off his blanket.

Alarm speared through her. Before she had even properly processed the idea, Montana slid between him and the officers. “His name is Caden Rawn, gentlemen. And he is under my protection and, through me, under the protection of the United States. You must let us go.”

“She’s with the consulate in Perth,” one said to the other.

“Man, you know we can’t fuck with them,” the other said under his breath.

She was shaking. She had never in her life used the power of her position in this way. She had never tried to outface authority before. This was exactly the sort of confrontation she sucked at.

The captain of the boat stepped up then. “I couldn’t help overhearing,” he said, hitching his belt back into place. “I think I can solve this problem here. I’ve had a bit of experience before.” He was middle-aged, deeply tanned and wrinkled, but his eyes were sharp and glittering with intelligence. “Normal practice in a situation like this is to have the Australian authorities escort such personnel directly to US soil. In this case, that’d be the consulate in Perth.”

Montana’s heart sank. “That isn’t necessary,” she said.

“Yes, I believe it is. We’d be amiss in our duty if we didn’t make sure he reached US soil as you insisted. So, we’ll take you there.” He jerked his head towards them both. “You two, and....” He looked Caden over, with a quirk of one brow. “Three others. Escort Ms. Dela Vega back to the consulate and make sure they both arrive unharmed. Hand ‘em over and get a receipt.”

He touched the brim of his hat at her and headed back down to the cabin of the launch.

Montana’s trembling intensified. She was useless! Useless when it came to dealing with people. Now, things were worse.

* * * * *

Sitting on the beach, Steve saw the launch head off with Montana and Caden still in it, and knew that something had happened. Caden had probably been recognized—his accent and size and the menace that radiated from him most of the time made him unique around Margaret River, and easy to identify.

He pounded the sand by his hip, frustrated and angry at the unfair turn of events.

They had swum out to that boat with the most pure motives someone could have—to help a stranger. Both of them could have walked away with their noses up in the air, knowing that eventually the marine patrol would find the boat. They could have stayed out of it.

But they hadn’t.

In the end, it all comes down to people.
That was what Caden had been saying.
You do what you can, where you find yourself.

Steve considered all the excuses he had given them for not marching into his own station and demanding that Borelli listen and do something. They
were
all excuses and pretty flimsy, too. The only relevant fact was that he found himself here and he knew of a threat to the people of his town. He was supposed to do what he could.

When the launch was out of sight down the coast, he picked up the two pairs of shoes and the tee-shirt on the ground next to him and headed into town, following the river. He had work to do.

* * * * *

For Montana, the trip back to the city was torture. She had tipped Caden out of the frying pan and into the fire. He had made it very clear that getting snarled up in any official investigation that started off with questions like “who are you?” would be bad for him.

But she didn’t know what else she could have done. The police on the launch would have arrested him right then and there. By stepping between them and blanketing Caden with the authority of the United States, she had possibly made it worse. The problem was, she didn’t know enough about him to know if there was anything she could do to minimize the damage she’d caused.

He sat next to her in the back seat of the cruiser, watching the trees zip past, completely silent. He hadn’t spoken a word since the officers has shepherded him to the car and stood shoulder to shoulder until he got in. His silence was as bad as if he had screamed at her for her stupidity.

The police car was negotiating the metropolitan canyons of St. George’s Terrace when he spoke again. He leaned towards her, so that his cheek was within a few inches of hers and spoke quietly. “
Insh’Allah
. You know that?”

The matter rests with god.
She nodded.

“That’s where we’ll leave it. Play the rest by ear.”

“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I was trying to—”

“I know. But you have to stay alert now. Don’t chew up the juices looking back. Understand?”

She took a breath. “Okay.”

In a more normal volume, he said;
“You know what I keep picturing? I keep seeing Arrabella’s parents.”

Look forward. Not back.
She took another deep breath and tried to match his tone. “You mean, opening the envelope and seeing pictures of their daughter when they thought they were buying pictures of Patrick with the best man?”

“Yeah, there’s that, too. But what I keep seeing is her father’s expression when they’re presented with the bill for the reception. You gotta give Patrick credit. He has a wicked sense of humor and his timing is perfect.”

The laughter came at her completely without warning. Suddenly, she found herself shaking with mirth. She painted in her mind the moment when Arrabella’s parents realized that not only had they failed to rid themselves of Patrick, but as the parents of the bride, they got to pay for the wedding, too.

Her laughter came harder. She realized she had fallen against Caden, the tears streaming from her eyes, and didn’t care. The humor of the whole disastrous wedding kept coming at her from different angles. The faces of the friends and family as they opened the envelopes. The best man. Above all, Patrick’s deliciously ironic sense of vengeance.

She held her sides as her muscles protested. Then she sighed as the laughter let her go and straightened up. Caden was watching her with a small smile of his own.

“Better?”

“Yes,” she said truthfully.

The car was coming to a halt, the second police cruiser behind it.

Caden’s warm hand rested on her thigh and he turned on the seat to face her properly. “For the record, I’m glad I met you,” he said.

She frowned. “Why do you say that like...like...”
Like the world as we know it is about to end.

His answer was to lift the hand on her thigh to cup her jaw. He kissed her thoroughly, making her heart race and her limbs tremble. When he finally released her, he looked into her eyes, his thumb stroking her cheek. “Because it
is
like that. I just wanted to get it in under the wire.”

The car door opened and the officer grabbed Caden’s elbow and hauled him out of the back seat of the cruiser, onto the footpath.