Honor Among Thieves Page 11

  “How did you know it was me?”

  “You look so much like your father,” she said, her eyes dancing between the features of my face. She laughed. “Look at your freckles! Just like his.” Lily put her arm around my shoulder and guided me into the kitchen. “Can I make you something to eat?”

  “I’m sorry about this,” I said. “I don’t really have time for that. I just came to see if you’d heard from my dad recently. I need to find him.”

  She tilted her head sideways slightly, like a dog confused by a strange sound. “What do you mean?”

  How much does Lily know about my father?

  “His phone number is disconnected,” I said. “It’s an emergency.”

  Lily took her seat at the kitchen table. I’d interrupted some kind of project with some kind of plant…

  Pot. Lily was putting weed into individual baggies and weighing them on a scale.

  Really, by the smell of the kitchen, I probably should have figured it out sooner.

  “What kind of emergency?” She raised an eyebrow at me as she continued weighing and sorting. “And please be honest with me.”

  “I need his help. Someone he has known for many years wants—” I felt cheesy even saying the word “—revenge. They kidnapped my boyfriend. They want to trade him for Dad.”

  Lily’s face remained calm. “And you’re going to give them what they want?”

  “No!” I exclaimed. “No. I mean, I was hoping Dad could help me come up with a plan. A better plan, I mean.”

  She peered out the front kitchen window and then back to me. “Is there a chance anyone followed you here?”

  I shook my head.

  Lily sighed, thinking it over.

  Her hesitation was making me jumpy with anxiety. “He’s not hiding in South America again, is he?”

  She snickered. “No. He’s in the greenhouse.” She nodded to the building behind her home.

  I stared at her for a second and rushed out the front door, running around the side of the house. Lily had quite the little operation going in her backyard. I lifted the plastic door flap and stepped inside the dome-shaped greenhouse. About twenty feet wide and forty feet long, the greenhouse was lined with rows of deep green marijuana plants and fitted with an irrigation system along the top ridge of the structure.

  Two men at the back of the greenhouse were chatting and inspecting plants. Hearing one of those voices filled me with so much relief, I thought I might cry.

  “Dad?” I said.

  Dad looked up and broke out into a wide smile. “Punkin!” He moved up between the rows and hugged me. He kissed my forehead and then looked around him at the masses of pot around us.

  “Marco,” he yelled to the other man. “Why didn’t you tell me this was marijuana? I thought it was a type of spinach.” He looked back at me. “Don’t do drugs.”

  Marco rolled his eyes and laughed.

  “I think Haylee does more than enough drugs for the both of us,” I said.

  Dad frowned.

  I winced. “Too soon?”

  He hugged me again. “How did you find me?”

  “Audrey said you still stay in touch with your sister, so I took a flight and drove. I had to find you. Rhys is in danger.”

  Dad and I went back to the house, and I explained what was going on. Lily poured us a couple of glasses of strawberry lemonade as we figured out what to do next.

  Dad listened and nodded. “And they want to meet with us in Key Largo?”

  I nodded. “Yeah, but we have to keep you safe. I’m afraid they’ll just take you out to sea, murder you and dump your body in the ocean.”

  He winced. “Yeah, I’d rather avoid that.” He thought for a second, massaging the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger. “Did they say specifically they wanted me dead?”

  “No, not specifically.”

  He nodded. “‘Kay. That’s interesting.”

  “What? Why is that interesting?” I stared at him. “Also, can you be a little less chill right now? My boyfriend could be dead right now.”

  Dad’s eyebrows lifted. “Your boyfriend?”

  “Er, yes?”

  “I didn’t realize you and Rhys were a thing beyond partners in crime.”

  I shrugged. “Yeah, well, things changed.”

  “Well, that settles it,” Dad said, standing up from the kitchen table. “You will take me to Key Largo as requested.”

  “Don’t be stupid, Dean,” Lily chimed in. “They’ll shoot you on sight.”

  “I think I know what they want from me, and they need me alive for that,” Dad said.

  “And what happens after they have what they want from you?” Lily added.

  He thought for a moment. “We’ll deal with that when the time comes.” Dad nodded at Lily. “Thanks for the hospitality.”

  Lily rolled her eyes and licked the edge of a rolling paper. “No sweat, little brother.”

  I followed Dad upstairs, where he packed the few things he had in a small suitcase. “You were the one who texted me when I was in California, right?”

  “To quote your sister,” Dad said, “‘duh.’”

  I nodded. “‘Kay. Just wanted to double check.”

  “And you ignored my warnings.” He frowned at me. “I can’t believe you stole a tiger from a celebrity. That wasn’t an assignment from Audrey, was it?”

  “It sure was.”

  Dad sighed. “I told her to keep all your assignments out of the United States. I’m gonna have to give her a call.”

  “That reminds me,” I said quietly, “I may be moving away from New York.”

  “I told you that city sucks,” he said as I followed him back downstairs. “So you finally got sick of the traffic and the tourists and the people and the hipsters and the cockroaches and the—”

  “No,” I cut in. “I still love New York. Ruby’s girlfriend is a cop who figured out I’m a thief.”

  Dad winced. “Oh. That’s not good. Wait, Ruby’s a lesbian?”

  “Bisexual, technically.”

  “That’s kinda sexy.”

  “Daaaad.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Dad and I drove from Lily’s house south of Orlando to his place in Key Largo. He scouted it out first, making sure The Muscle or one of Stan’s other goons weren’t hanging out there, waiting for us.

  We stepped lightly through the house, listening for movement, watching for any sign of forced entry. Everything was silent except for a slight breeze upstairs. Had someone left a window open?

  Meow.

  I shrieked and grabbed Dad by the arm as he tried to shield me from the invader—a small orange cat sitting on the coffee table.

  I grabbed my chest, feeling my heart pound in my palm while Dad swatted the cat off the table. It scurried behind my legs and rubbed the side of his body against me. I scratched under his chin as he purred affectionately.

  Dad sighed, glaring at the cat. “Can you please put it outside before it pees on something?”

  The cat rolled over on his back, showing me his fluffy tummy. It seemed cruel not to rub it for him.

  “Fine,” Dad grumbled, kneeling on the kitchen floor, feeling the floorboards before prying one of them up. He pulled out a pistol and popped the board back into place. Dad stood up and frowned at me. “I hope he doesn’t have fleas.”

  “Hm? Oh.” I looked down at the orange tabby, now cradled in my arms like a fluffy baby. “Nah, he’s cool.” I nodded to the gun in his hand. “What’s that for?”

  “Protection. They might be back here tonight. I’ll keep watch tonight while you get some rest,” he said.

  “Bullshit,” I said, putting Mr. McFlufferface down. “We’ll take turns.”

  Around two in the morning, it was my turn to sleep while Dad kept watch. The bed in the guest bedroom was stiff underneath me, and my head sank too deep into the pillows. Plus, I kept thinking about Rhys.

  Is he safe? Is he hurt? Is he being tortured? What if I neve
r see him again, what then?

  I turned over. And then I turned some more. Finally, I wrapped a blanket around myself and went downstairs to join Dad.

  Dad’s silhouette was only visible because of a flickering candle beside him. We kept the lights off to give the impression the house was still empty.

  I joined him on the couch. Mr. McFlufferface stretched and yawned in the nearby armchair.

  “You should be sleeping,” Dad said.

  “I was trying to.” I stared out into the darkness of the street in front of the house. “So, are you ever going to tell me what they want from you?”

  The candlelight flickered across Dad’s hesitant face. “It’s just a stupid thing I found. I told Stan about it one time.” He shrugged. “I could be wrong, though. They could just want to kill me.”

  “What if that is what they want?” I said. “I’m not just serving you up to them on a platter, am I?”

  Dad sighed. “I sure hope not.”

  I snuggled deeper into the couch, resting my head on the arm of the sofa. “You might have to take them out tomorrow. You know that, right?”

  He gave me the side-eye. “Yes, Molly. I’m well aware of that.”

  “So you don’t have to be here,” I said. “You could go back to Lily’s house or you could get out of North America entirely. You don’t have to meet with them for whatever reason.”

  “I can’t just let them kill your boyfriend. That doesn’t seem right.”

  I sat up. “But maybe they won’t. Maybe they will send us on another assignment instead. I could just tell them I couldn’t find you—”

  “Or they’ll put a bullet in Rhys’s brain,” he snapped.

  I sank back down into the edge of the sofa. “I feel guilty.”

  Dad sighed again. “I’m sorry. I know you feel guilty. I know you’re just trying to protect me at the same time you’re trying to get Rhys back. I get it. But I’ve been around these people for a lot longer than you. They requested we meet them in Key Largo, so I believe they have found something that is worth more to them than me dead.” He smirked. “Besides, I want grandchildren someday.”

  I snickered. “You better talk to Haylee about that, not me.”

  I woke up several hours later still on the sofa, the early morning sunrise splashing in through the front windows of Dad’s home. Dad was snoring beside me, his chin resting on his chest.

  I went upstairs to take a shower. I checked my phone. There were three text messages on it from an unknown number—the first was an address. The second was a photo of Rhys, gagged and blindfolded, a purple bruise around one eye, crusted blood framing his nostrils.

  Unknown: Meet us at 10 a.m.

  I took a deep breath and threw my phone back on the bed. I squeezed my fists so tightly, my palms ached.

  If Dad doesn’t murder Ezra Lamond, I might.

  * * *

  We arrived at the marina at 10:00 a.m. sharp. A few people were already out and about, but the marina was fairly quiet, and most of the boats were still tied to their moorings. One fifty-foot yacht, Wet Dream, caught my attention because a man was stretched out on the deck smoking a cigar, wearing sunglasses, a polo shirt, pink Bermuda shorts and a sea captain’s hat.

  It was Ezra. Because of course it was Ezra.

  Dad and I exchanged glances. Ugh. This guy.

  He sat up when he saw us, smiling from ear to ear. “Ahoy, mateys!” Ezra stood and raised his hand in a mock-salute. “All aboard, me hearties!”

  The Muscle stepped into view, his arms barely looking like they fit the sleeves of his T-shirt. It was sweet that he and Ezra bought matching douchebag sunglasses.

  “Morning, Kenneth,” Dad said with a nod.

  The Muscle, his face permanently like a frowning stone, nodded back.

  “I want to see Rhys,” I said.

  “He’s downstairs,” Ezra said, making his way to the dock. “Why don’t you come aboard and see for yourself.”

  “She said she wants to see Rhys first,” Dad said, staring Ezra down.

  Ezra, several inches shorter than my father, stood directly in front of my father and looked straight up at him, their chests almost touching. “And I said, ‘All aboard.’” His voice was dark and threatening.

  I watched for Dad’s response.

  Dad’s eyes narrowed. “You can forget about that treasure if you don’t show us that Rhys is alive and well.”

  Expardon me? Did you just say treasure?

  Ezra’s face tightened. He turned his head and gave a slight nod to The Muscle. He went down to the lower deck for a moment before returning with his arm tightly around Rhys, obviously still bound at the wrists.

  “See?” Ezra said, beaming. “Rhys, tell Molly and Dean you’re fine.”

  Rhys hesitated and then winced as The Muscle pushed some kind of weapon into his back, just out of view.

  He grunted and winced. “I’m fine,” he said quietly. His fear-filled eyes told me a different story, but The Muscle shoved him back out of sight before he could say anything more.

  Ezra gestured toward the boat again, and I followed Dad on board. I looked around the marina, spotting a few cameras.

  If we die on this boat, at least there will be some evidence that points at who murdered us.

  Kenneth nodded at Dad. “Arms out.”

  After checking both of us for guns—Dad knew they’d do that, so he didn’t bothering bringing his pistol—we stepped down into a small but luxurious lounge below deck, leather sofas lining the two opposite walls. On one side of the lounge was a kitchen area with a bar, a bedroom at the other end. Ezra closed the door behind us while The Muscle stayed on deck to drive the boat. Rhys, looking tired and sore, smiled up at me from his spot in the corner. His eye looked more swollen up close.

  I winced and sat beside him. “What did they do to you?”

  “Hey! You sit over there,” Ezra yelled from the bar, gesturing to the opposite sofa and then at a bar stool nearby. “Dean, you sit here.”

  I glared at Ezra and crossed to the opposite sofa, while Dad took his seat at the bar. Ezra busied himself with a cocktail, even though it was only a few minutes after ten in the morning. I heard the dull roar of the engines starting up. I watched through the small windows just beyond the bar as we moved away from the dock.

  Ezra poured his drink and took a sip. “Oh, that’s good.”

  I looked at Rhys, his hands bound tight with a cable tie. I mouthed, “Are you okay?”

  He smiled weakly and gave a subtle shrug. After a moment he mouthed, “I love you.”

  I narrowed my head at him and tightened my lips, shaking my head. “No,” I mouthed. “We’re not doing that. We’ll be fine—”

  “If you’re going to try to talk to one another, can you just talk?” Ezra rolled his eyes. “Better yet.” He leaned against the bar and smirked at my dad, putting a notebook and pen in front of him. “You’re going to write down a set of coordinates. Then you’re going to tell us a story.”

  Dad picked up the pen and stared at the notebook. “What coordinates?”

  Ezra snickered and looked at my father for a moment before backhanding him across the face. Hard.

  “Hey!” I jumped to my feet and started toward Ezra.

  Dad stepped in front of me, a few specks of blood speckled across the collar of his shirt and a trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth. “Molly, don’t. Sit down.”

  Ezra giggled to himself. “Oh, Dean. You raised such a feisty little girl.”

  I returned to the sofa and stared at that bastard, my heart pounding hard in my chest. Dad clicked the pen, put the tip to the paper but hesitated again.

  “We’re waiting, Dean,” Ezra said quietly. “We haven’t got all day.”

  Dad let out a sigh and jotted something on the notebook. He slid it toward Ezra and tossed the pen down on the bar counter.

  Ezra picked up the notebook, opened the door and yelled to The Muscle. He left the notebook with him and closed the door a
gain.

  “I really appreciate the cooperation, Dean,” Ezra said. “It’ll make this whole thing go a lot smoother. Now, I want you to tell us the story we’re all dying to hear.”

  Dad glared at Ezra. “What story?”

  Ezra flopped down on the sofa beside me, a drink still in his hand, and wrapped his arm around my shoulder. Dad and Rhys both looked like they wanted to murder Ezra right there, but they wisely didn’t move. All I could do was recoil from his touch.

  “Tell us about The Nell,” Ezra suggested playfully. “It’s one of my favorites.”

  I looked at Dad, my eyebrows raised. I’d never heard that name before.

  “The Nell was a pirate ship that got caught in a hurricane in the summer of 1733,” Dad said slowly. “Captain James Copper loved treasure more than anything else in the world, and he hoarded it. The ship was actually so heavy with loot that it slowed them down. During the storm, visibility was low and they crashed onto one of the Keys, a little rough jagged rock called Shy Key. It’s barely even there, but it tore the hull to pieces. The men that didn’t drown immediately tried to cling to the rock on Shy Key but were swept into the rough waves during the storm.”

  I stared at my father and then exchanged looks with Rhys.

  “Only one man survived,” Dad continued. “The first mate. He couldn’t save the captain or any of the other men on board.”

  “Or he just chose not to,” Ezra added snidely.

  Dad face stiffened at that comment but kept on. “He was a strong swimmer and could hold his breath for a long time. While looking for men pinned under the wreckage, he found an underwater cave underneath Shy Key. He stayed there for two days while the storm raged on, trapped inside this little cave with no food or water, just stale air to breathe. After the storm was over, he started hauling treasure from the ship and the sea floor into the cave, one piece at a time. Eventually, he made himself a raft using chunks of wood from the ship and took a few choice items with him to Florida. He bought some land, took a wife, settled down and didn’t speak about his pirate past until hours before his death.”

  Ezra tilted his head, beaming. “Say, what was the pirate’s name?”