Gone Tropical (23 page)

Jake glanced over at Meg and grimaced.

“Mum and Dad won’t leave,” she said. “I’ll stay with them.”

“Are you crazy? Of course you’ll leave. How can you stay here? These buildings could be flattened.”

“The mountain range protects us. It always has. We’ll lose some trees, maybe a roof or two.” She shrugged. “I grew up here, we never evacuate. We have a cellar, a shelter. We mostly store the wine down there, but it’s big enough for about six people. Trust me. I know my folks. They won’t leave, and I won’t leave them alone.”

Jake stared at her and ran a hand over his head. What the hell was wrong with these women? They put themselves in danger and for what? Meg was like Amy. She was as stubborn as hell. “What about Firth?”

“He left a message. He’s on Braxton Island. He’s calling as planned, today, at ten.”

Jake stood and grabbed his notes. After the confessions from last night he needed to add a few more details on Firth. He’d given Amy his word there would be no more secrets, but in light of this new event, knowing for sure where Firth was, and for everyone’s protection they’d have to move fast and keep things quiet. He could be on the island before Firth made the call to Meg. He didn’t want the Thompson family, or Amy, knowing the plans.

Meg, because she might slip up and tell Firth when he called, and Amy, because she’d insist on going along. He couldn’t risk that. Something had changed last night and he’d known in an instant he was protecting her not because of her father, or a job, or any deep-seated baggage, or money, but for something deeper. Something he feared looking at…at least at the moment. Maybe later, when this was all over he could revisit those feelings. Get a better understanding.

“See you later, Meg,” he said softly, and walked to the door. He glanced back at her. “You’ll have a lot of arrangements to make. You’ll need to get the guests packed up and into Cairns as soon as possible.”

Meg nodded but said nothing.

“I have a half day trip to make…business…but then I’ll be back, and I’ll assist you with anything you need. I know Sarge will, too. If we can’t get across the flooded creek, we’ll get the women…um, the guests, all of the guests, out by helicopter.”

Meg stood and pushed the chair back against the wall. Then she tidied the desk like this was a normal day in the office.

“I’ll let you know the state of the roads. Should be back by noon.”

“Thanks, Jake,” Meg said, and gave him a quick smile.

“Did your dad hear from the authorities in Laura, yet?”

Meg shook her head.

“Fine. I’ll talk to Sarge. You guys don’t need the added problem of guarding a felon.”

He walked down the corridor to the kitchen and stuck his head inside. Mr. Thompson sat with the man who was neatly strapped into a kitchen chair, like he was in a straitjacket. He had one hand tied to the wooden armrest, the other free to drink his coffee.

“I’m going to wake up Sarge, give him the weather report. Watch that bloke with utensils,” he said. “We’ll be back to talk with him.”

Mr. Thompson laughed. “Yeah, finger food only.”

The man scowled.

Things were finally looking up. If he and Sarge could get in touch with Cairns AFP, they’d be on a helicopter to the island before Firth had breakfast.

****

Jake met Sarge on the walkway outside his room. He was fully dressed and a huge frown furrowed his brow. “What the hell’s up?” he asked, and looked across the clearing. “We got a bloody cyclone going on or something?”

Jake nodded, and fished for the notes in his pocket. “Two of them.”

Light patches of blue and streaks of sun pierced the dark gray clouds. The wind was still high and the clouds were moving fast toward western Queensland and probably upward toward the Northern Territory. The pages of notes fluttered in his hand, and he gripped them tight. They needed to talk, privately. He didn’t want to go inside and wake Amy, or go back to Sarge’s room and discuss this in front of Kirstie. He pulled Sarge along to where the walkway turned. They were sheltered there, in the far corner, away from the howling winds.

“Here’s the report,” he said, and shoved the notes into Sarge’s hand. Then he pulled out the pen he’d used back in the small office in the lodge and leaned the blank paper on the wooden guard rail. He scribbled a couple more comments on Firth’s updated appearance that had suddenly occurred to him, things the ladies had mentioned last night. He’d catch the guy. He was confident. He quickly updated Sarge on his plan.

“Shit,” Sarge said, and ran a hand across his recently shaven head as he handed back the weather and news report. “We’d better get movin’.”

“You think it’s safe?”

He frowned. “Ya’ think they’ve evacuated the island?”

“Could have,” Jake said with a shrug. “My guess is they’d head to Cairns. Cooktown airport is closed.”

“Yeah, but that bastard, Braxton, he’s got connections everywhere. Owns copters.”

“So, what do you think?”

“I’ll call for back-up. AFP will provide a helicopter. They’ve got Black Hawks. Good copters in bad weather, a lot of them will be tied up with rescue but let’s go see. If there’s one in the area, it’ll be a short hop over the mountain range for them to get to Bungumby.

“And we can stop in Cooktown, too. We’ll get a better idea of the damage. Disaster Rescue Services will make a call to the island. They’d have a two-way radio, or some kind of disaster set-up, over on Braxton. No use going over there, if they’ve already evacuated.”

“I’d have liked the surprise element of landing on the north shore by boat,” Jake said.

“Still might be able to, if the water’s calm enough.”

“The second cyclone is more than a thousand K out to sea,” Jake said. “Let’s go.”

“What about the women?” Sarge asked.

“We’ll be back by noon.” Jake cringed. “Ugh, I hate to do this. I’ll tell Amy, you tell Helen. They’ll need to prepare for a mandatory evacuation order. It’s still emergency warning status, only. We have time. I told Meg we’d check out the roads.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Sarge said. “I’ll get AFP in Cairns on the lodge’s two-way radio. We’ll chat with our Malaysian buddy, and then wake the women. We’re gonna have to haul ass, as you Yanks say.”

Chapter Nineteen

Amy awoke to a dark room, and the sound of a helicopter.
What the heck is going on?

She rolled over, reaching for Jake. The bed was empty, the sheet was cold. She sat up and stretched her eyes, remembering the night before.
Maybe he’s gone to get coffee?

She smiled. They were a team now. She pulled on a robe and walked out onto the back verandah. A helicopter sat, blades turning, in the middle of the parking lot. Jake and Sarge stood to one side talking with Mr. Thompson.

The sky was still angry and the wind blew, but Amy had the distinct feeling she’d slept through something awesome. She wasn’t sure, but those black clouds were like something she’d never experienced before. Not in California. A cyclone must have touched down.

Jake’s stance was relaxed. She sighed.
My guy, I already know him well.
Sarge paced up and down. Mr. Thompson and Jake went inside and brought the man who had attacked her out in some kind of straitjacket.

A warning bell went off somewhere deep in the recesses of her mind. “Oh, no, oh no,” she said out loud. “He wouldn’t leave, would he?”

Her heart pounded and she felt sick to her stomach. She’d trusted him, and had believed him when he’d said they would work together to find Firth. She narrowed her eyes. Sarge still paced around. Something wasn’t right. About to hurry inside to dress and go investigate, she saw Jake turn and jog back toward the cabin.
Maybe he isn’t going?

Amy tried to still her racing pulse, tried to think positive thoughts. She walked back to the railing. Beyond Jake’s approaching figure, Sarge pushed the creepy man ahead of him, forcing his head down to duck under the rotors, then he shoved him up into the helicopter.

Jake stopped below the verandah of the cabin. “Amy, some stuff came up, we’re taking off right now, no time to explain. Another cyclone headed this way, we’re gonna check roads. There’s a mandatory evacuation order. You’ll be taken to Cairns and I’ll meet you there later.”

She leaned over the railing. “Jake, I’m coming with you. You promised.”

“No time, sorry,” he said.

Sarge was yelling something and waving him forward.

Jake started to jog backwards. “Gotta go. Mr. Thompson will fill you in.” He waved once and took off at a sprint.

She wouldn’t cry. Those macho bastards, they were just like every guy she’d ever known. The two men climbed into the helicopter. The blades turned faster, and faster, and then it lifted off and disappeared like an angry hornet over the rise of the low lying range, across to the coast.

She knew what lay beyond the coastline, the Great Barrier Reef and a certain private island by the name of Braxton.

On that island was the man she’d hunted for years. The man she had finally discovered was in Australia. The man she had vowed she would find and bring to justice. The captive she could then display to her father and say, “See, I am as smart and strong and brave and responsible as my brothers. And I’m so very sorry for having convinced you he was a decent man.”

Now her chance was stolen, right from underneath her nose by a conniving P.I. and an Australian federal agent.

If she hadn’t had sex with Jake, she’d have woken up on time. Damn it. She clamped her jaw tight and walked back into the cabin letting the sliding door slide behind her like a slap, the edge of the slider bouncing against the wall and dropping back open by a few inches. She walked over and shut it firmly, cussing like it was at fault.

She turned on the lights and sat on the side of the bed, her hands gripping her upper arms. She rocked back and forth, her eyes dry and burning, allowing the cruel deceit to wash over her.

You did it again. You trusted a man. Worse, you damn well trusted yourself. But you forgot to look for signs. And there were signs. There were tons of signs. The man is a loner. He lives alone. He works alone.

She’d find Mr. Thompson and interrogate him. She thought again of the psychic’s words, “Your journey this time around is to learn about relationships. The only way you’ll grow, the only way you’ll ever taste what true love is, is to venture out there, and risk falling in love again.” Obviously, her “true love” was not Jake Turner, P.I.

Amy pulled on clothes, not bothering to shower, although the masculine scent of Jake still lingered on her skin. She hurriedly cleaned her teeth and washed her face. No time for make-up or even a swipe of lipstick. She slipped on a pair of flip-flops and grabbed the cabin key.

For Jake last night had meant nothing personal, it was just a quick roll in the hay. He hadn’t even said a word about it before leaving. He could have said something personal. Even a simple “Last night was wonderful.” She tried to still the anger rising in her throat, and the excessive sound of the pounding of her heart. This time her adrenaline rush was all about fight, not flight. The more she thought about it, the angrier she became.

He hadn’t mentioned Braxton Island and Firth, but she could read between the lines. Hell, he didn’t need that big official-looking helicopter to check out roads, or to transport her abductor. He and Sarge could have driven up the hill and taken a look.

She’d find Mr. Thompson, or Meg. Get a weather report and then take off in Sarge’s jeep. She needed people on her team; she needed Diana and Brian. But first, if she was going straight to Cairns, she’d shower and dress a little better. Diana’s plane was due in around noon. If Jake didn’t find Firth, or if Firth was on his way to Meg, which she felt almost certain he would be, then she’d drive back here. If by the time she got to Cairns, and Jake had captured Firth, then game over.

It was a back-up plan. Jake had said everyone needs a back-up plan.

****

Amy pulled the phone across the desk and punched in Brian’s number. First call was to him, second would be to Daddy. She flinched. Why the hell a thirty-five year old professional woman still needed to call her father Daddy, she had no idea. The telephone rang startling her. Should she pick it up, or wait for one of the Thompson family?

Meg hurried into the tiny office. “Excuse me, Amy.” She grabbed the handset. “Hello. Bungumby Lodge.” Flickers of annoyance, or worry, flitted over Meg’s face. “She’s right here.” Meg shoved the handset toward her. “Jake.”

She hurried out of the room, pulling the door shut behind her.

Amy glared at the handset then let out a puff of air. “Where are you?”

“Cairns police station,” Jake said.

She heard him splutter through the static. Her line was clear and she wondered why it didn’t sound like any police station, more like a helicopter. “You promised me there’d be no more hiding information, and we’d work together. I believed you. You lied to me, Jake.”

“Yeah, well—” the line snapped and sputtered. “It was for the best…protecting everyone and—”

“What? I lost you.”

“I said, I’m sorry. I’m not good at this stuff.”

“Tell me about it. After our night together, if it had meant anything, a little comment, a little show of affection might have been nice. But then again, I misjudged.”

“Amy…stop it,” Jake said sharply.

She felt confused, vulnerable. Part of her wanted to believe him and the other part still throbbed with anger.

“There are more important things to deal with,” Jake said. “You’ll have to trust me.”

Trust him? Hah. That was a good one. Had she ever told him what her issues were? Come to think of it, no, she hadn’t. What was he talking about? The line went static for a while. She concentrated, couldn’t make it out, something about the premier’s orders.

“I’m losing you, Jake,” she yelled.

“Mandatory evacuation for Bungumby, except for the Thompson family.”

“And me,” Amy said. “I’m staying. There’s room for me.”

“For chrissakes, Amy, listen to me,” Jake yelled. “There’s no time for this bullshit. It’s a mess over here and getting worse. The cyclone will hit tomorrow morning, and you’re in the direct path.”