All familiar characters belong to Janet. The mistakes are mine alone.
Son of a bitch! I screamed inside my head as my lungs refused to pump air and my heart stopped. A surprise vacation to the Canary Islands sounded like the perfect escape for Stephanie and I ... no Morelli, no Burg, and no business except our own. But as I dove into the water, I cursed myself and my selfishness for wanting time alone with her, terrified that she's taking too long to resurface after doing just a shallow dive.
She was already pushing herself upwards when I wrapped my arms around her to propel her back up to the surface.
"Don't you ever do that again, Stephanie," I ordered her, after we were both back on our feet only feet from shore.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. I got distracted," she said, pushing her wet curls out of her face with one hand.
"You were under water … aside from spotting a shark about to make a meal out of you, what could be more distracting than your lungs needing oxygen?"
I will admit, the deep breaths she's taking to make up for the extra seconds she lacked air are distracting in of themselves, with the way her breasts are thrusting up and out against her laced-up green bikini top. The bright blue sky above us and the warm, equally blue water surrounding us, paled in comparison to the woman standing in front of me wearing little more than sunshine, ocean water, and skin.
"This," she stated, holding out her hand. "I had to do a little digging to completely free it, but I got it!"
The silver is tarnished, but the bracelet still caught and held sunlight. It's about a half-inch wide with delicate filigree flowers circling it. It's not the most remarkable piece of jewelry I've seen, but I'm not surprised it'd catch her eye.
"I saw something shiny ..."
"And you had to investigate," I finished for her.
"You know me. With my luck, it may have been a murder weapon and I could've solved a decades-old crime while we were relaxing here."
I know she's kidding, but serious at the same time. The likelihood of her finding herself involved in a mystery wouldn't be shocking to anyone except the local police department. This being just a piece of jewelry is a welcome relief.
I picked up the bracelet to give it a closer inspection. I rubbed a little of the ocean sludge off with my thumb and rinsed it with another plunge into the ocean. That led me to discover that there's an inscription running the length of the inside. I read the words out loud for Stephanie's benefit, fully aware of what I just signed myself up for.
"'My dearest, Genevieve ... Every time you look at this ... think of me and know that I've never once stopped thinking about you from the moment we first met. Yours always, Aimery Lucient III,'" I finished.
"Crap. And here I was thinking you're the king of all things romantic," Steph replied. "Especially after you dropped this trip-bomb on me."
I reached out and pulled her wet body to mine, kissing her in a way that was far more passionate than romantic.
"What did that have you thinking?" I said against her lips, when I ended the kiss a minute later.
"That we should call the control room and see if we can track down this Genevieve person. I don't know how valuable the actual bracelet is, but if you gave me something like this, I'd be upset about losing it and pissed if someone found it and didn't give it back."
"Babe."
"Don't worry, you still have the market cornered on all things sexy and romantic, which I'll prove when we hit the shower back at the hotel. That kiss warmed me up faster than the sun. But about the bracelet, let me put it this way ... if I wrote down everything I feel for you and what you mean to me, and confessed my undying love for you in writing in something as permanent as metal ... you wouldn't be annoyed if it landed in someone's hands that aren't yours?"
I'd kill anybody who touched her or something that personal of ours, but she knows she made her point so I don't have to cop to anything.
"I know you warned Tank that you won't be in touch until we land back at JFK, but this isn't work/work. We can call this something like a vacation adventure."
She knows I'll promise her anything when that spark of excitement enters her blue eyes. The color of the Atlantic is less blue than they currently are. I considered myself still a hardass by waiting until we got back to the hotel to make a call to five, something I promised Stephanie and myself I wouldn't do for the two weeks we'd be here.
"Do you want me to sweet talk him so he won't complain about us calling and bugging him?" Steph asked me.
"Tank responds to orders or silence," I reminded her. "He doesn't do sweet talk."
"Guess it's up to you then," she said, handing me my cell and then wrapping her arms around me.
I took pride in the fact that we've only been away from each other for the time it took us to dry off from our shower and get redressed in dry clothes, before she was curling herself around me again. For a woman scared of any type of commitment or personal tie to someone beyond Rex, she continues to surprise me with how little distance she wants between us.
"Everybody knows I can't keep quiet," she continued. "And all Tank will do is grin or just stare at me when I try to boss him around."
"Would you like me to order him to listen to your orders?"
"Yes ... no! He shouldn't have to listen to me just because we're together now."
"He is required to listen if it involves something life-threatening."
"That's good to know. Now call him. I have a bracelet burning a hole in my pocket."
"You mean burning my pocket," I corrected, since it's now in my possession.
"Yep. This one right here."
Her hand moved to the front of my pants and she slid her fingers inside my front pocket.
My palms conformed to her hips that are encased in coral-colored silk for the evening. "You have the right pocket, but you definitely aren't grabbing the bracelet."
She gently squeezed. "Are you complaining?"
"Not ever."
I was fighting a smile when I called my second-in-command.
"What do you need?" Tank asked, answering on the first ring.
"I need you to run a name or two and get me an address for at least one of them."
"Did Steph kill someone or find a body?"
Just a quick glance down at her had her responding. She's been around him long enough to know what his first thought would be.
"I didn't kill anyone!" She said loud enough for Tank to hear.
"I wasn't accusing," he told me. "Only wondering if a clean-up crew or some backup are needed."
"They aren't. Just an address."
"You want to hang on the line while I get Vince on this?"
"No. We have dinner plans. Text me what you find."
"Guess the time away hasn't sucked if you're still trying to avoid interruptions."
My arm tightened around Stephanie. "You could say that."
I gave him the names Genevieve and Aimery Lucient the Third, asked that he check out if she became a Lucient herself, and then I hung up. Steph and I hadn't even made it to the restaurant before I received the information I was after. Aimery's dead, Genevieve did marry him, and she's currently living on the island of Santa Cruz in the Galapagos Islands.
Steph put her menu aside while I read what Tank sent. "So we can get the bracelet back to her?"
"Unless she dies before it reaches her island." That earned me a kick under the table from the toe of her nude stiletto. "How would you like to deliver it in person?" I asked her.
"You mean extend our initial vacation time and visit more islands? Or end our stay here early to go there?"
"Your choice."
"You probably shouldn't give me one," she admitted, 'toasting' me with her glass of champagne. "If I have the option of getting to keep you all to myself for an extra couple of days, I'm going to take it."
"Then consider it done."
I used my cell only long enough to get Tank on the line to arrange our flight to Santa Cruz and book a place for us to stay while we're there. I refocused my attention on my woman and didn't give the bracelet another thought until we were on a plane headed towards Genevieve Lucient.
We got ourselves checked in, but Steph's curiosity wouldn't let her relax enough to take a tour of the island. She wanted to deliver the goods as soon as we could. I didn't argue. I had rescheduled a few meetings and appointments just so I can have another week with her, so using an hour or so of that time for someone else is a manageable sacrifice.
"Why am I suddenly nervous?" Steph asked me.
"You shouldn't be. In the file Vince put together on her, she's listed as Lucient's wife up until he died. If there had been a divorce, this trip would've been a bad idea and would explain a case of nerves, but we're here to deliver a gift from the dead so to speak."
"You have a point. I'd beam the delivery person with the very object they brought, if it was anything belonging to the Dick."
"I'd shoot them, and then Orr himself, before that could happen, Babe. My goal has been to thoroughly eradicate him from your mind and memories. I wouldn't tolerate a reminder."
"You've succeeded in blocking out all of the bad stuff, before and after that. I only remember that I hate him."
I leaned inside the rental to kiss her, and she was smiling at me as I closed the car door for her. I drove us to a small, peach-colored, stucco bungalow located seconds from the ocean, while Steph dug around her bag for the velvet box she'd bought to keep the bracelet in. Despite my always trying to get doors for her like my mother taught my brother and I, she met me as I rounded the hood.
"I really hope we're making someone's day here," she whispered to me, as if the woman is lurking in the bushes, trying to hear our conversation, "not ruining it."
"We're about to find out," I said, curling my hand around hers.
If I hadn't had the life I do, it'd be hard to believe that yesterday we were standing in the Atlantic ocean and today we're driving along the Pacific. Although there is a continent between La Palma and Santa Cruz, the scenery is similar ... with steep cliffs, enough blue bookending them to seal a postcard deal, and plenty of sunshine that's made Steph less cranky when I kiss and stroke her awake in the morning.
I knocked while she took a deep breath … a by-product of having a job where people tend to shoot at you through the very door you just knocked on. We aren't in any danger or Tank would've had backup waiting for us at the airport.
The woman who opened the door is in her sixties, but appeared younger. Mrs. Lucient's honey-colored hair is free of the gray my mother playfully accuses my siblings and I of causing her. The only sign of age are the tiny lines at the corners of her eyes and mouth, which could just as easily be caused by a life she loves rather than time. Like Mama Manoso, Genevieve Lucient has a glow about her that began inside and emanated outwards. The welcoming smile on her face lent credibility to my thoughts on her being content with herself and her life here.
"Well good afternoon," she said to us, more friendly than just polite. "How may I help you two?"
Steph stepped up to the plate. "You don't know us, but we have something that may belong to you. Are you Genevieve Lucient?"
"Why yes I am. And now I'm Genevieve Lucient who is also curious what this mystery item is and where you may have found something of mine. I've been fortunate to have traveled extensively thanks to the career I was lucky enough to have, but I'm one who tries to always leave less behind than I find … no matter where I've lived at the time. I'm hoping that whatever carbon footprint I leave will be no bigger than a baby-sized one."
"I believe this is actually an accidental 'leave behind'," Steph responded. "If I were in your shoes, I'd want it back. We just got back from a vacation on La Palma, you know in the Canary Islands ..."
She had stopped talking because Mrs. Lucient instantly froze. Steph cut her eyes to me, worried about the uncomfortable stillness.
I took the box from her and removed the bracelet from it. "Stephanie," I said, as an introduction as well as an explanation, "believed this should be returned to you."
I handed the silver bangle to Mrs. Lucient and waited along with Steph for whatever reaction we got. Genevieve's wasn't the one Stephanie wanted. Aimery the Third's love stared at the reminder of it and of him for a total of ten seconds. And then her face and shoulders fell, followed quickly with tears that bypassed a trickle and shot straight to full waterfall.
"Ummm," Steph tried. "Are you alright? I'm so sorry if we upset you, but like I told Ranger, if he'd given me something like that ... I would've hated to lose it."
Still getting no response, only more sobbing, Steph sighed, grabbed my hand, and started slowly backing us away.
"We'll just be going now. We're sorry to have bothered you," she told the woman in lieu of a goodbye.
We'd cleared the short white picket fence that acted as a front porch, when Genevieve yelled "Wait!" Her hands are now busy using her short sleeves, and then the collar, of her T-shirt to wipe her face and attempt to dry her eyes.
Steph put the brakes on her retreat to the car, but she wasn't moving closer until she knew what we were dealing with. Not only does she have difficulty sharing her feelings, she isn't comfortable when other people's emotions are on full display.
"Don't go," we were told. "You just caught me off guard ... and as much as I hate admitting this, grief still gives me a wallop to the heart whenever it feels like it. If you have a few minutes, I can whip us up some espumillas and tell you why this knocked me off my rocker."
"We have as long as you need," I assured the woman.
Though Steph looked concerned about what we're being treated to, I already know she'll enjoy what I'd guess will be the traditional Ecuadorian dessert that uses guava to top the meringue cream. I also know she won't be happy until this woman is back to being the cheerful one we ambushed. When Steph's upset, it's my job to fix it. And a short visit today to allow Genevieve a chance to relive the time she spent with her husband, should be all that's required in order to accomplish it.
She gestured us into the small, one-story home and we listened to the tale of Genevieve and Aimery, two marine biologists hellbent on saving island habitats while finding a lifelong love in the process.
"My beloved Aimery succumbed to cancer five years ago," Genevieve shared through a round of fresh, but less aggressive, tears. "As I held him during his last hour on this beautiful earth of ours, looking out our bedroom window at the ocean we both love, we reminisced about this very bracelet, and how he had given it to me in hopes of buttering me up into accepting his marriage proposal ... a proposal he made twenty-four hours to the second after I received this."
"He sounds like a much better version of a Disney Prince," Steph said to her.
"He was indeed, but you still wouldn't want to cross him. I've seen him make alligators run scared."
"I know a guy just like that," Steph said, sliding her hand along my leg in acknowledgment. "One heck of a lover, but scary as hell as a fighter."
Genevieve smiled. "You hold onto him with both hands then," she advised, bouncing her gaze back-and-forth between Steph and I, recognizing a similar devotion between us as she had with Aimery. "I married mine at twenty-five and had the pleasure of being his wife for thirty-four glorious years."
"That's how old we are now," Steph told her. "Thirty-four. We've already lost nine years by yours and Aimery's romance-count, though Ranger and I didn't even meet until we were both thirty."
Mrs. Lucient twirled the bracelet around with her fingers, like she still can't believe she has it back all these years after losing it, which we learned was during an expedition to tag loggerhead turtles in hopes of learning their migration patterns.
Genevieve's hazel eyes turned determined. "Make no mistake about it, life ends when you least expect it to, whether it's your life or the one who makes yours worth living," she warned us, as she slid her bracelet back onto her wrist where we all know it'll stay until it's time for her to join her husband. "Don't waste what you could have by waiting around for what you don't."