I'll Find You Part 18

"Well, he can't have him!" she'd declared furiously.

"Tucker doesn't know you anymore!" Aimee had snapped back.

"I'm picking him up tonight. Get him ready."

"This man knows where I live. He'll see you."

"I don't give a flying f.u.c.k. I'll call you back." She'd hung up in a fury, but it was also mixed with fear. She'd thought she only had to worry about Andre, and though that was certainly enough, the idea of one of the Laughlins on her trail twisted her insides into a knot.

She'd taken a cab to the Royale Caribe in Pointe du Bout. She wanted to hook someone. She wanted to seduce some loser, walk away with a roll of cash, and have no one be the wiser.

For a brief moment she'd considered just grabbing Tucker and leaving, but then she'd headed to the hotel.

The guy with the brunette was getting up from the table. The girl placed a hand lightly on his arm and they headed for the elevators. The guy threw her a look that said he was sorry he wasn't available, and Teresa felt a spurt of anger.

She paid for her gla.s.s of chardonnay and left the hotel. A cab pulled up and dropped off a young man and woman, and Teresa climbed inside. She would go back to her hotel and prepare for the next day. She had a ticket for herself to Dallas through Miami, and one for Tucker as well. She'd foolishly left Tucker's pa.s.sport with Aimee, afraid to keep anything with her when she went back to Andre. She hadn't expected her friend to turn on her.

As they were heading out, she realized the Bakoua Beach was ahead on their left. "Bakoua Beach," she told the driver, who looked unhappy that his fare was cut short.

She wasn't ready to call it a night yet and she'd had a lot of luck at Bakoua Beach.

At seven A.M. there was a knock on Callie's door. She knew without a doubt it was West and she'd already been through the shower and dressed. She crossed to the door hurriedly, regardless of the trepidation she felt. He wouldn't understand the conflicted feelings she was experiencing. h.e.l.l, she barely understood them. She wanted to know about Tucker, but she was worried the more entangled she became in his situation, the worse it would be for her in the end.

And then there was her attraction to West himself, which only complicated everything. Too bad he wasn't old, ugly, or as mean and harsh as she'd originally thought. As it was, he was good enough to gobble up, and if she ever let down her guard and he sensed her feelings, he would undoubtedly believe it was just more of her hidden agenda. And well . . . yes . . . she wanted to be with Tucker, so that was certainly driving her too.

He looked a little rumpled when she opened the door. A developing beard darkened his chin. "Tucker's on the boat with his friend Michel and the father, Jean-Paul."

"You saw them leave?"

"I followed them to the boat a couple hours ago."

"You watched Aimee's place all night?"

"Surveillance sucks," he said with faint humor. "But at least we know where Tucker is for the day."

She pulled the door open wider. "Come on in. I've got coffee, or we could go out for breakfast."

"Coffee'd be great," he said, walking past her and dropping onto the couch. "I'll have a cup before I head back to my hotel and catch some sleep."

"You want me to watch Aimee's, in case Teresa shows up?"

"We don't have any real intel on Teresa. She could be in Timbuktu. I need to think up a plan to find her that's more proactive than just watching Aimee's apartment. I'd like to exert some pressure on her." He yawned. "After I get some sleep."

Callie went through the process of filling the small coffeemaker that she had on her kitchenette counter. "Sorry I was so abrupt last night."

"Sorry I didn't tell you I was at the Bakoua."

"Let's start today fresh. I want to help Tucker. I just was feeling . . . raw." She glanced back at him to see his gaze was steady on her. Her heart jumped a little and she returned to her task.

"I talked to Victoria," he said.

"Oh?"

While she watched the coffee drip through the filter into the carafe, he brought her up to speed on that conversation.

"So, you're planning to go back to LA?" Callie asked when he'd finished.

"Eventually."

"I don't want to leave Tucker. Aimee could take him away." Anxiety ran along her nerves, making her voice tight even though she was trying to sound calm and reasonable.

"Victoria's working on it. I don't know how much effect her lawyer will have internationally, but maybe we can get a DNA sample, if nothing else. Establish he's a Laughlin and go from there."

"Doesn't mean she'll stay put." She poured them each a cup of coffee. "Cream and sugar?"

"Black's fine. Thanks."

She carried his cup to him and handed it over, briefly touching his fingers as she made the transfer. She had a sharp memory of the same electric feeling she'd had with Bryan when they were young and in love/l.u.s.t. She'd never had the same sensation with Jonathan but she'd a.s.sumed it was because she was older and smarter, ready for a more mature relations.h.i.+p. What a crock that turned out to be.

They drank their coffee in near silence. When West was finished, he put the mug down and got to his feet, stretching. "I've got some phone calls to make. I'll come back tonight and we can put our heads together and come up with some plan." It was a statement, but he was looking at her questioningly.

"Sounds good."

"What time do you think Tucker will be back?"

"I don't have any idea. I only met Aimee the one time before yesterday. I really only saw Tucker when he would show up at my place."

"Give me your number and I'll call you."

Callie met his eyes. Their lies about their phones crossed her mind and she was pretty sure he was thinking the same thing, too. She recited her number as he punched it into his phone and he gave her his as well.

"We'll talk later," he said as he left. "Maybe if we work together, we can figure out how you figure in to all this. Maybe it is coincidence," he said quickly, expecting her to argue her side again.

Perversely, when he showed a conciliatory side, she immediately went the other way. Teresa . . . Jonathan had said. It hadn't been Marissa. Her deceased husband had known Teresa. It was time she gave him that information.

She opened her mouth to do just that, but he was already heading for the door.

Tonight, she thought, hating herself a little as her mind had already started worrying about what she was going to wear as if she were getting ready for a first date.

It was afternoon by the time Teresa rolled over in her bed, lifted the sleeping mask she'd purchased at the hotel store from her eyes, then thought grimly about what she needed to do today. She had to leave with Tucker. Had to in order to be safe. But she didn't want to. Not now, not when she was getting her mojo back without f.u.c.king Andre.

What had she seen in him for so long? What magic had she thought he possessed?

And Aimee . . . the conniving b.i.t.c.h had argued with her again about Tucker when she'd phoned her this morning!

"Answer," she'd snarled into the phone, prepared to go knock down her door if necessary, but finally Aimee had picked up her end of the line. "Well, finally," she'd said testily. "I'm here and I'm taking Tucker with me tonight. Don't even ask. It's too long to go into. Just get him ready. You've got the pa.s.sport?"

" Ye . . . e . . . ss . . ."

How long has it been since I've seen my son? she'd asked herself. More months than she wanted to count. "Is there another problem? I warned you I was on the way, when I was in Miami yesterday."

"People are looking for you," Aimee reminded.

"I know. I'll deal with it. Did the man asking about me give you his name?"

"West Laughlin."

Teresa hadn't known how to react. "West Laughlin? Stephen's . . . half brother? How could he be here? I don't even know him."

"Well, he knows you and he knows about Tucker, and he's with a woman that Tucker can't stay away from, probably because she looks like you."

"What are you talking about?"

"Tucker found this woman at the outdoor market, I believe. She resembles you. Her hair's the same and she looks a lot like you in the face, too. Tucker keeps going over to her place." In a tighter voice, she had added, "He gave her the bracelet."

"What?"

"He's lucky I didn't whip his hide. He stole it from me."

"He gave the bracelet to this woman?"

"That's what I said. She's working with Laughlin. They came together. They must have tracked you here."

"Impossible. I've only been here a day!"

"They came here and he threatened me. Said he would look into my background if I didn't tell him where you were."

"You have to get that bracelet back!"

"He wants Tucker, Teresa."

"Tucker's my son," she'd practically shouted into the phone.

"They're dangling the bracelet like bait. You want it back? Get it yourself. But you pay me what you owe me," she had added tautly, as if Teresa could forget.

"I can't believe you lost the bracelet!" she'd yelled at her. She'd counted on the money it would fetch. It was part of her plan. And the money she'd gotten off the fat man with the expensive boat last night hadn't been near what she'd hoped for.

"Tucker took it from me and gave it to them," Aimee had corrected angrily.

"What did you tell them about me?"

"Nothing. But they'll be back."

"Jesus, Aimee."

"You can't come here unless you want to face him."

She'd been incensed. If she didn't have the bracelet she didn't know what she'd do. "I can't pay you until I get the bracelet back."

"Then you won't get Tucker."

Teresa had d.a.m.n near thrown her phone across the room. She'd wanted to strangle Aimee. "Well, I'm going to come get him, so you'd better get him ready."

"He's not here." And then she'd gone on to explain he was on a fis.h.i.+ng boat with a friend of his and the friend's father. That hadn't set well with Teresa, either. She only had so much time.

"So help me, Aimee, I'm taking Tucker back to the States tonight. I've got a ticket and we're catching a flight to Miami."

"Are you taking him to Andre?"

"What are you, stupid? You know I can't do that. Andre wouldn't know what to do with a child, especially Stephen's child. I'm not going back to Andre."

"But he's the man you love." She had sounded concerned, though Teresa had known it was a fake. Aimee had always found Andre attractive, and she was probably just hoping Teresa was done with him.

"You're working off old information," Teresa had told her. "Andre's not the same man he was."

"You said he was the most beautiful man in the world."

"I said a lot of things," Teresa snapped back at her. "I was a lot younger. So were you. No, I'm taking Tucker far away from everything."

"Andre will find you," she had predicted.

"No, he won't. He'll give up on me. He's got the handmaidens now. It's not the same."

Aimee had subsided into silence for a moment, then said, "I don't know about these handmaidens. You and Andre were a team."

"Yeah, well, that was years ago. I know you had a thing for him, but you wouldn't feel the same now," she'd added, giving Aimee a dig. Aimee hadn't been able to keep her eyes off Andre. She'd l.u.s.ted for him in a way that had made Teresa laugh behind her back sometimes. It wasn't that Aimee wasn't pretty enough. It was that she was just so focused and humorless. G.o.d. Being around her had been exhausting, and she could see things hadn't changed in the intervening years.

"Tucker is on Jean-Paul's boat," Aimee had then revealed.

"What?" Teresa had been incensed. "You knew I was coming! You shouldn't have let him go."

"You told me to treat him like my own son. You told me that," Aimee flashed. "He wanted to go. What was I supposed to do?"

"Keep him close. When will he be back?" Teresa had demanded, cutting through any further explanations.

"Tonight."

"When, tonight? Give me a time."

"Whenever Jean-Paul returns," she had said in that uncaring way of hers that drove Teresa crazy.

With an effort, she'd held on to her patience and had managed to pry the name of the boat out of Aimee, who never seemed to offer up information unless she was asked directly.

"Call me when he's back," Teresa had ordered, then hung up in a fit of pique, grinding her teeth together as she recognized she would probably have to change those airline tickets. And these people who were looking for her? West Laughlin and this woman? Why were they in Martinique now? How had that happened? Were they watching Aimee's place? It was a possibility, she supposed, unless Aimee was lying to her for her own purposes.

Climbing out of bed, Teresa took a long, hot shower, fighting the weariness produced from long days and nights without the proper amount of sleep. Last night had been fun, if not as productive as she'd hoped. The big lunk had a lot of money to spread around and he was happy to do it, buying Teresa food and drink and promising all manner of things. They'd gone to his boat, which actually had a very nice queen-size bed in a room below. She'd debated on whether to drug him first and forgo the s.e.x he was expecting, but in the end she'd gone through with it, thinking of the experience as a kind of purge against Andre. The latest Mark wasn't much of a lover and it had taken a few tries for him to even show some proper enthusiasm; his d.i.c.k was a wet noodle that only halfheartedly rose to the occasion. But they'd finally managed and afterward, when he'd suggested another drink, it had been easy to lace his with the roofies she'd smuggled into her suitcase. She'd worried about that a little, but the small bottle of "shampoo" she'd taken with her sailed right through, and it worked like the proverbial charm.

With Mark out cold, she had done a quick inventory of what he had on board the boat, but apart from a well-stocked liquor supply, there had been basically nothing of any value but boat paraphernalia. It had kind of p.i.s.sed her off. She'd always picked up hotel guests in the past, not boaters. Even though the boat itself had to be expensive, there had been nothing to steal. Angry, she'd emptied his pockets and netted herself about three hundred dollars. He had a bank card, but she didn't know the PIN and as soon as he woke up and realized he'd been rolled, he would cancel any one of his credit cards, though she had looked longingly at his black American Express.