checked out his bottles. He had the usual meds for a man his age – things to deal with blood pressure, cholesterol, hair loss, and a bottle of little blue pills. Ick… sperm germs. I placed the bottle back in the drawer and pumped a fistful of liquid soap in my hands. I did two washes and a rinse before drying my hands on my shorts.
Finding nothing incriminating in his medicine collection, I rifled his desk. Most of the drawers were locked. I found a business card clipped to his lampshade. It read Island Insta Bank International , Nevisland, Nevis Island and a telephone number. The only decoration on the card was a large old-growth oak tree in an unusual shape – no limbs on the left of its thick trunk and a full trailing cluster of branches on the right. I replaced the card, did a quick check of Hook’s closet and then… damn!
The suite door opened and the newly minted widower walked in.
I jumped back into the closet and huddled in a ball under Marni’s long dinner dresses that hung from padded hangers. What could I say if he found me? I could claim my grief had driven me to wallow in Marni’s closet… sounded weak.
His footsteps echoed on the teak floors. Ice cubes clunked in a glass and liquid gurgled from a bottle. Hook swallowed with a loud gulp.
I counted to one hundred to let the alcohol get into his system. My choices were three… I could wait until he fell asleep, which might be days, or I could crawl out on my hands and knees and hope he didn’t notice me, or I could bluff. In for a penny, in for a pound, I stepped out of the closet.
Hook was looking out at the gray-blue sea and away from where I stood.
I cleared my throat… let the gaslighting begin. “What did you want?” I asked the back of his head.
“Huh?” He turned to face me… befuddled.
“You asked me to follow you. What do you want?”
Hook squinted his reptilian eyes, looked confused and frowned at me. “Get out of here!”
“Gladly!” I stomped my foot and turned on my heel exiting his suite. Knucklehead.
It was time for a drink. A rather large drink. I scooted to the salon bar and made myself a large pitcher of screwdrivers. Once back in my room I shed my mourning clothes, threw on my bikini, and drank till I passed out.
Chapter Eleven
After awaking in my suite to the advances of the UpUGo-engorged Hook and escaping to the sun deck with Tink, I started to take a hard look at our situation. Hook refused to let us leave the Predator , and it was my responsibility to find a way to get Kit, Roger, and me off this tub. I wiped the tears and manned-up.
The sun warmed my face. The breeze took my mind to Miami, a couple of hundred miles away. Maybe I could swim for it? Or fly away? I could get Jaxbee to teach me to pilot the helicopter, but that was a joke. I could barely drive a stick shift.
My eyes watered from the glare of the sun on the brilliant turquoise sea. I put my hand up to shade my face and spotted a silver object filled with ants flying over the waves headed in our direction. A second object appeared in the wake of the first. As they closed on us, the objects became Zodiac-like inflatable speedboats and the ants became people. No planes overhead… it wasn’t the feds.
Hook’s worst fears were bearing down on us as if they could see right through the Predator’s high-tech camouflage. Somebody had found Hook and was coming at him, Terminator -style. I didn’t care about Hook, but we could be collateral damage.
Tinkerbelle’s internal alarm was sounding, and she scurried away as my panic kicked in. I scooped her up and raced for the bridge nearly losing both of us down the stairs and over the side. Cutting through the white-on-white main salon I slid on the marble floor and crashed into one of the Roman arches. I scrambled to my feet and continued my mad dash.
“We’re under attack!” I yelled as I burst onto the bridge. I grabbed the giant ornamental brass bell and pulled the rope causing it to make an