Sail Away Page 6
So why hadn’t she let him radio for help? What kind of game was she playing? Was she the kind of rich woman who needed thrills?
She’d always seemed so down-to-earth. Beautiful but never too flashy. Elegant but not extreme. So why the sudden boat trip in the middle of a storm? And why not call the Coast Guard?
Could Marnie Montgomery be a woman running from her past?
That particular thought intrigued him. He climbed the slippery steps to the bridge. Marnie barely glanced his way. “You’d better drop anchor,” he said, checking the charts again. “Any closer and you’re asking for trouble.” His gaze slid to hers, and for an insane moment he thought he read more than anger in her stare. But that was crazy. As far as he knew, she hated him, thought he was a traitor to Daddy’s precious company. She looked away, but not before he recognized female interest for what it was.
“Okay, let’s do it.” She released the anchor, and the boat settled, rolling with the tide but no longer listing.
Adam, still wondering about her reaction, worked on the inflatable life raft and loaded it with supplies.
“Get your things,” he ordered when the raft was pumped up.
While she climbed to the lower cabin, he hurried back to the bridge and made a quick call to the Coast Guard. She’d be furious with him, but so be it, he thought, as he loaded his pockets with matches, flares and a first-aid kit he found in a cupboard beneath the radio.
Within minutes they were both in the life raft. Leaning his back into the oars, Adam rowed for shore. Marnie reached for the second set of oars, but he shook his head. The air was still cold, the wind still gusting, and he felt an unlikely sense of chivalry. “I can handle this. Relax.”
“No reason,” she said, her back stiffening as she threw her weight into the task.
Adam didn’t argue with her. If she thought she was helping, fine. He wasn’t up to another argument. Rowing backward, he watched her arms strain, the muscles of her back move fluidly. She wasn’t a wimp by any stretch of the imagination, and he grudgingly admired her gameness. The Marnie Lee, lights blazing, was stark against the dark sky. They rowed without speaking; only the sound of the waves and the occasional burst of wind disturbed the silence as they approached the beach.
Adam dropped his oars, climbed over the side and slid into the chest-deep icy water. Towing the raft inland, he said, “I radioed the Coast Guard.”
She snapped her head around. “You did what?”
“I didn’t think you’d want your father to worry, and the Guard needs to know about the Marnie Lee.”
“You had no right!” she cried, outraged.
“Probably not. And it’s not that I care a lick about your dad. I just thought, from the looks of things, you wouldn’t want him sending the cavalry after you. Hey—stop—you don’t have to—”
But Marnie slid into the frigid sea and together they pulled the raft onto the beach.
“Anyone ever call you stubborn?”
She laughed a little, even though she was shivering.
Adam sized her up and realized he’d never really known her in the few years they’d worked together. “What is it with you, anyway, Montgomery? You’ve got a helluva chip on your shoulder.”
“Isn’t that a little like the pot calling the kettle black?” she threw back, her teeth chattering, as the two of them dragged the raft high onto the sand, away from the tide.
“Yeah, but I didn’t grow up in the lap of luxury.”
“Well, I did!” she replied, tossing her wet hair out of her eyes and reaching for her bags. “And that’s the problem. Look, I’m not going to argue with you anymore. There’s a lodge where I’m going to camp out for the night, and if you want to come along, fine. If not, I don’t really care. It’s about a two-or three-hour hike into town. That way—” She pointed the beam of her flashlight south. “Your choice.” With that she grabbed the bags and started, with the aid of a flashlight, north along the beach.
Adam didn’t ask any more questions. He didn’t really give a damn. He was only interested in Marnie to further his cause. Period. Whether Miss Montgomery knew it or not, she was going to help him find out what happened to the missing half million dollars.
Chapter Four
Swearing under his breath, Victor Montgomery slammed down the phone in his suite. Damn Marnie and her stupid independence! His hands were shaking so badly, he stuffed them into his pockets. What was wrong with that girl? Downstairs in the lobby, two hundred of the most important people in the Northwest were milling through the hotel, sipping his champagne, toasting Montgomery Inns while Marnie could have lost her fool life! If she were here now, he’d wring her neck! Instead, he had to act as if nothing were wrong. As if his wayward daughter hadn’t walked out of his life. As if he weren’t worried sick about her.
“Problems?” Kate asked, smoothing his lapel with her long fingers and offering him an encouraging smile. Kate was a good woman, he thought, trying to get a handle on his emotions. At least she had enough sense to do what she was told!
“Marnie.”
Kate raised an interested eyebrow and sighed. “She’s almost twenty-five.”
“And therefore can do anything she damned well pleases, is that it?”
“She’s not a baby, Vic. You can’t tie her down forever.”
“I can try, damn it!” He shoved a hand through his hair and wondered when he’d lost Marnie. And why? Hadn’t he given her everything money could buy? Hadn’t he put her through the best schools, hired the best nannies, spent as much time with her as he possibly could have? If only Vanessa were still alive. Maybe then…
“Senator Mann’s waiting for you,” Kate reminded him gently. She refilled his glass and handed him the fresh drink.
“I know, I know, probably hoping for a campaign contribution,” Victor grumbled.
Kate chuckled deep in her throat. “Probably.”
Still worried about Marnie, Victor took a swallow of the whiskey and waited for the fiery warmth to settle in his stomach. Maybe then he’d calm down. He thought about confiding in Kate but didn’t. He’d never confided in a woman except his wife. Even Marnie hadn’t heard his worries or dreams, not really. God, he missed Vanessa. She’d been gone so long…
Pulling himself back to the present, he touched Kate affectionately on the shoulder. “Tell the senator I’ll be down in a minute and send in Kent, will you?”
“Of course.” With another smile, she swept out of the room in a billow of familiar perfume and white silk. A beautiful woman, he thought. A gracious woman. A woman he could live with. If it weren’t for the memory of Vanessa.
Adjusting his cuffs, he glanced in the mirror and frowned at his reflection. He was getting old. Not that fifty-seven was near the end of the line, but more than a few crow’s-feet were carved near his eyes and his hair was thinner and whiter than it once had been. His weight was starting to become a problem, and sometimes, damn it, he just felt tired.
As he grew older, he wanted more from life than a string of hotels, not that the business wasn’t important. It was. But he wanted, needed, a daughter who worked with him, a daughter who was happily married, a daughter who would become the mother of the grandchildren he intended to spoil rotten.
A quick rap on the door and Kent, not one hair out of place, strode into the suite. Shutting the door behind him, he turned back to Victor. “Kate said you wanted to see me.” He flashed his easygoing smile.
Victor liked Kent. The boy was so eager. He reminded Victor of himself twenty-five years before. Waving the younger man into a chair, he said, “It’s about Marnie.”
The all-American smile faded as Kent sat down. “I thought she left.”
“She did. And apparently she took the Marnie Lee with her.”
“What!” Kent blanched and leaped back to his feet. Then he sank back into his chair. “But she couldn’t have,” he said, one hand rubbing the opposite forearm.
“I just got a call from the Coast Guard—”
“Marnie’s fine,” Victor assured the younger man, though Kent didn’t seem relieved. In fact he appeared more agitated than ever. Well, he’d just had a helluva shock. Hadn’t they all? Victor poured Kent a stiff shot and handed him the glass. The drink shook in the boy’s hands.
“What happened?” Kent asked, tossing back most of the bourbon.
“As I said, Marnie took off in the Marnie Lee. She thinks she owns half of it, you know. And really she does. I did give it to the both of you as an engagement present.”
“So that gives her the right to take off and leave me stranded?” Kent asked, dumbfounded. “God, what’s gotten into her?”
“She wants to be independent.”
“But it’s like a damned hurricane out there.” Kent strode to the windows and stared out at the gloomy night.
“Well, it’s not quite that bad,” Victor said, though he half-heartedly agreed with the man he’d hoped would become his son-in-law. “But Marnie has this…thing—ambition, if you will…to be her own woman. She tried to resign, but I talked her into taking a leave of absence instead, and she’s off to, quote, ‘find herself.’ Whatever the devil that means.”
“In the Marnie Lee.” Kent yanked hard on his tie, and his face became a mask.
“The boat’s in a little trouble,” Victor admitted. “At least that’s what the man said.”
“Trouble?” Kent said, alarm flashing in his eyes.
Victor was touched. Despite anything Marnie said to the contrary, Kent Simms loved her. “Nothing serious, but it could have been.”
“Wait a minute,” Kent said, his eyes narrowing. “What man are you talking about—someone from the Coast Guard?”
Victor sighed. “Well, no. I heard it from the Guard, of course, a Captain Spencer, but he was radioed by some man, a passenger Marnie had on board.”
“Passenger? This just gets better and better, doesn’t it? So now she’s with some man! Good God, Victor, what’s going on?” Kent finished his drink and wiped the back of his hand over his lips.
“I don’t know.” Victor tugged thoughtfully on his lower lip. Kent’s worries infected him again. He’d half calmed himself down, but now he felt a rush of concern as Kent poured himself another drink and paced from the windows to the door.
“I don’t like this, Victor. I don’t like it at all.” He tossed back his second bourbon in two swallows.
“Neither do I.”
“She’s been acting crazy lately.” Kent jammed his hand through his hair in frustration. “I wonder who the devil is with her.”
“I wish I knew.” Swirling his own drink, Victor asked, “Maybe this new independent streak has something to do with why you two broke up.”
Kent shook his head. “It’s been coming for a long time,” he said, effectively closing the subject. “Do you have any idea where she put into port?”
“That’s a problem. The boat is anchored off Orcas Island, the westerly side. My guess is that she plans to spend the night camping on the beach or…”
“Or what?” Then Kent appeared to understand. “You think she may be holed up in Deception Lodge.”
“Quite possibly.”
“Then let’s go get her.” Kent strode to the door, eager to charge off and retrieve his lost maiden.
Victor admired the boy’s spunk, but he motioned him back into the room. “It’s just not that easy. I promised Marnie I wouldn’t interfere.”
Kent’s mouth went slack with disbelief. “So you’re letting her—and this man—hang out alone in the lodge?”
“Yes.” Victor drained his glass as he remembered the determination in his daughter’s fine chin. And the man, whoever he was, had had the decency to call the Coast Guard. His curiosity was burning as to the man’s identity. Victor nevertheless decided that this time he had to trust Marnie. Though she hadn’t spoken of a male passenger on the boat, she was entitled to live her own life.
“You can’t just let Marnie and some guy shack up in Deception Lodge!”
“I don’t think I’ve got any other choice.”
“But you’re her father,” Kent protested, his face flushed, his lips thin and hard.
“That’s the problem.”
The lodge occupied a long stretch of the headlands, three rambling stories of sloping roofs and shingled gables. Most of the windows were still intact, Marnie noted, as she swung the beam of her flashlight over the weathered siding and covered porch. Only a few glass panes had been boarded over. The old structure had once been grand, a unique out-of-the-way retreat for those who spent their summers in the San Juan Islands.
Now the lodge’s grandeur was little more than a memory. One creaky shutter banged against the wall, and the porch sagged a bit at the northerly end. Dry leaves rustled as they blew against the door.
“Needs a little work,” Adam remarked, eyeing the rustic old building as he set his bags on the creaky floorboards of the porch.
“Nothing the Montgomery touch can’t fix.” She fit a key from her ring into the heavy lock chained across the double doors and twisted. The lock held firm for a second before springing open. Marnie let the chain fall to the porch and shoved open the doors.
Inside, she swung the beam of her flashlight over the lobby. Yellowed pine paneling dominated the room. There was a massive rock fireplace and all around the room, scattered like leaves in the wind, were tables with upside-down chairs stacked atop them. Furniture, draped in sheets, had been shoved into one corner of the cavernous lobby.
“You planned on staying here?” Adam asked, scanning the dusty interior with a grimace.
“Just for a few days.” The beam of light dancing ahead of her, she walked to the wall behind the desk and found a bank of light switches. She flipped each switch in turn, but nothing happened. The room was still dark except for the pale lights from their flashlights.
“You’re staying until…”
“Until I figure out my next destination.”
“Another Montgomery Inn?”
She threw him a dubious smile over her shoulder. “No.”
Adam rubbed the crick from his neck, and Marnie could feel his eyes following her. She couldn’t quite figure him out. Sometimes she felt as if there were a hidden side to him, as if he were, as her father claimed, evil. Victor had told her often enough in the past year that Adam Drake was a predator, always on the move, ready to stalk his next prey.
She wasn’t anxious to believe her father’s opinion that Adam was such a lowlife. From her own dealings with him, she’d found Adam Drake to be honest and hardworking. He’d been tough, but Adam’s toughness, mixed with pure cunning, had worked many deals in her father’s favor. In those days Victor had praised Adam Drake for his ruthlessness, for his sense of knowing “when to make the kill.”
So was he really a wolf in sheep’s clothing? Or a man who’d been turned into a scapegoat? Marnie wondered if she’d ever know the answer. Not that it mattered. Adam was an inconvenience for one night. Nothing more.
“So this is Victor’s next project,” he mused, running the beam of his flashlight over the staircase and upper balcony. Cobwebs caught in the light, and dust swirled in the illumination.
“One of many.” Spying a short hallway that separated the bar from the kitchen, Marnie headed toward the back of the lodge. She remembered seeing blueprints of this place in her father’s office and had listened with interest as Victor had expounded on the “renovation and rejuvenation” of the old lodge where he’d spent many happy summers as a boy.
Following the bobbing trail of the flashlight, she walked briskly down the hallway and found the door she was looking for, a door, according to the aged drawings of Deception Lodge, where a narrow flight of steps led to the wine cellar. She pulled on the knob, but the door wouldn’t budge. “Great,” she muttered, setting her flashlight down and grabbing the old knob in both hands. The door wasn’t locked, she thought, just swollen in its frame. S
he tugged hard, throwing her weight backward. Finally the old wood gave and she nearly fell as the door popped open. The dank smell of water seeping through cement permeated the air, but she found what she was looking for: an electrical panel.
Crossing her fingers, she threw the switch and immediately the old lodge was awash with light. “Bingo,” she whispered, before trying to find a thermostat for the furnace. Certainly there was one somewhere. She walked through the back halls until she discovered not one thermostat, but three, one for each floor of the old building. She flipped the switch, and heard a clang and rumble as the furnace for the first floor kicked on. “Two for two,” she told herself, smiling with satisfaction as she dusted her hands on her jeans. Now, if only her father didn’t rush out here in a panic when he received a call from the Coast Guard. Facing Victor again tonight wasn’t in her plan.
Nor was Adam Drake, for that matter. What in the world was she going to do with him? He didn’t seem inclined to leave her, and she experienced ambivalent feelings about his being here. Sure, she could use the company and he’d helped her save the Marnie Lee, she thought guiltily, but he cramped her style as far as her independence was concerned. She could hardly claim to be a self-reliant woman when a man had linked up with her.
“But only for one night,” she reminded herself again. “Tomorrow he’s history.” If the Marnie Lee could limp into harbor, she’d take Mr. Drake back to civilization, put the boat up for repairs, then wait until the Marnie Lee and the weather cooperated.
And where will you go? she asked herself for what seemed to be the ten thousandth time. Alaska? Hawaii? L.A.? Mexico? “Wherever I want to,” she muttered as she made her way back to the lobby.
Adam hadn’t been idle. He’d stacked yellowed newspapers in the grate, and with the help of a few dry leaves and a chunk of fir, attempted to light a fire. He struck a match and held it to the tinder-dry fuel. The leaves and paper caught instantly, and flames crackled over the dry logs.