Page 22 of Love Overboard
Fernando eyed the remaining ladies, and his mouth scrunched. “Do I have to carry someone too?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Emily sniffed.
Lacey laughed. “If you help us into the water, we can manage on our own.”
With Fernando’s assistance, the two exited the boat without incident and headed for the beach.
The waterlogged sand shifted, and Jon’s feet sank. He listed to the side. Gerry squealed. She wrapped her arms tighter around his throat.
“Have no fear,” Jon choked out. “They train us for this in school.”
“Cruise directors have a school?”
“I was talking about elementary school.” He lifted his foot in the unstable sand and carefully took another step. He arrived on dry land at the same time as the other women and lowered his knees to deposit Gerry on the soft white beach. Scanning the vicinity, Jon made note of the sparse buildings and deserted landscape—not a person or drug runner in sight. He’d tried to tell Collins. This trip was a waste of time.
“Look.” He pointed in the distance. “There’s the lighthouse.”
“Uh-huh.” Gerry curled over her knees and rested her head on top.
“Gerry?” Jon knelt beside her, but she waved him away.
“I’m fine. I just need to sit very still for a very long time.”
He saw a white stucco store next to the lighthouse. The dinky establishment boasted a plastic picnic table and mismatched chairs under an awning. “They have a place where you could get out of the sun and rest. Can I help you?”
She nodded without raising her head, and Jon took her by the arm. Lacey looped her hand under Gerry’s other elbow, and they lifted her up.
“Oh, Gerry.” Emily bit her lip as she hovered. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s nothing.” She took a deep breath. “All that rocking and rolling through the waves got to me. I’m doing better on terra firma.”
The group walked to the small store, and Gerry sank onto one of the battered chairs by the warped table. Jon sat beside her and patted her back.
“Don’t let me worry you.” She slipped the strap of her bag off her shoulder and took out a notebook and pen. “I’ll sit here and absorb the ambiance. I’m already getting a flood of ideas.”
“I’ll buy you a drink, dear.” Emily disappeared inside and exited a few minutes later with a glass bottle of mineral water. She handed it to her friend and motioned to the others. “Why don’t you two check out the lighthouse while I discuss lunch with Fernando?” Emily pointed at the tower beside them.
“Good idea.” Jon rose. “Come on, Lace.”
She looked at Emily. “Don’t you want to come?”
“The steep climb would be too much for these old legs of mine. You two go and enjoy yourselves.”
“Are you sure you’ll be all right—”
Jon took her elbow and steered her away from the table. “Humor them,” he whispered. “If they went to this trouble to set us up, might as well play along.”
“Don’t encourage their schemes.” Lacey knocked his hand away from her elbow as they walked. “An inch is a mile with that group.”
Jon laughed as they entered the lighthouse. A narrow stone staircase lay before them.
“Ladies first.” He motioned for her to lead the way.
The humidity hung on Lacey like a heavy, wet blanket. She climbed the cramped staircase—too aware of the man following behind. She had successfully limited their interactions to group settings on the giant MSBuckingham. How had they wound up in this tiny building? Alone?
Those Shippers.
They reached the top and exited onto the circular walkway surrounding the lantern room. Red columns supported the balustrade, and Lacey leaned on the stones. The Caribbean Sea grew darker by degrees. The shallows washed around in a friendly teal blue, but dusky indigo sat waiting a few hundred yards beyond.
