Miss Stake Page 2

  Cold air hit my face seconds after Tango flipped the A/C switch on the wildebeest. He raised his brows and nodded his head. “Remy got one of the mechanics from his dad’s shop to look at it last night. It was only a cold solder joint on one of the relays, so he didn’t charge me.”

  “Thank God.” I leaned forward and let the cold air blow down the front of my sweaty shirt. Changing the boats around on the hitch proved to be more of a workout than I’d anticipated.

  When had I become such a wimp? We used to spend the entire summer outside in the heat without complaint. I guess when you start to spend more time at the mall and less time in the swamp beating snakes with sticks, it takes its toll.

  Soon as we pulled out of the driveway, I fell asleep. Bits and pieces of last night’s warning drifted through my consciousness before complete darkness took over.

  Once at the marina, next to my pawpaw’s house, Tango woke me. After we launched the boat, I made a stop at Pawpaw’s to let him know I was there.

  Walking into his house was like entering a time machine. Ugly dark wood paneling covered every wall. The orange shag carpet matched the gold, orange, and brown flowered couch in the living room. And the matching avocado colored appliances took the seventies look to an entirely new level.

  There was a bit of irony to this whole decorating disaster—all of it was new, having been replaced shortly after Hurricane Katrina. My father and uncle must have gone through great lengths and expense to pull off this nightmare.

  In the living room, parked in a brown leather recliner, Pawpaw watched Wheel of Fortune on a sixty-five inch flat screen television—yeah, more irony. I quickly walked to him before he could put the footrest down and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “I’ve missed you.”

  “How are you, my cher? I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”

  “I’m good. I just wanted to say hi before I go crabbing with Tango. I promise to stop by later and talk.” I bent over and kissed the top of his head before turning to leave.

  “I’m serious. I need to tell you about your grandma. It’s important that you know—”

  I cut him off, before I got roped into a long drawn out conversation that would keep Tango waiting. “I have to go. We’ll talk later,” I yelled from the door. I felt bad about my abrupt departure, but I would spend time with him later.

  The traps were stacked neatly in the back of the boat. Tango sat behind the wheel and waited for me. “Let’s go get some dinner.” He smiled.

  I took a large step onto the passenger’s seat then plopped down as Tango started the boat. Fifteen minutes into the ride we dropped the traps one by one into the water, leaving a trail of florescent orange milk jugs behind us. Once done, we drove out a bit further and fished.

  “How’s your pawpaw doing?” Tango threw his line to the middle of the water and began to reel slowly.

  “He looks like he’s doing well. I was worried about him after Mawmaw died, and he moved out here to the camp. My dad and uncle hired someone to make sure he was eating and taking care of himself. So at least he is not alone every day.”

  “I got a summer job at my dad’s work, but I would be more than happy to bring you out here to visit on the weeks I’m in.”

  “Two weeks in, two weeks out on a pipe laying barge? I think I’d pass. But won’t turn down a chance to spend more time with pawpaw.”

  “I wish I could pass, but I need the money for college and it pays well.” Tango jerked his line hard and the rod bent over as he reeled in his catch. “I might need the net for this one.” His reel began to grind, so he let a little line out then began his fight again.

  I grabbed the net and stood next to him, waiting to see what was on the line. As the fish got closer, I could see glimpses of its gray body before a fin popped out of the water.

  “Crap,” Tango said. “I’ve hooked a bull shark. Forget the net, get the gun.”

  I took the keys from the ignition and unlocked the glove box. In a bottom compartment sat a .22 and a box of bullets. In these parts, no one left the dock without a gun, so Dad kept one locked up on the boat.

  I carefully loaded the magazine then joined Tango at the edge of the boat. Line pulled tight, Tango waited for me to take my shot. I aimed at its head, toggled the safety, and slowly pulled the trigger. The shark made one last splash as I shot, then went limp.

  Tango reached behind the driver’s seat and grabbed a large hand hook. He hooked the shark in the side of its mouth and pulled it out of the water and into the boat. It landed on the floor of the boat with a slosh, blood running from the wound on his head.

  I unloaded the gun and locked it back in the glove box. Eyeing his catch, I put one hand on my hip and pointed at the shark with the other. “I guess we’re done crabbing. There’s no way you are going to get a five foot shark in a three foot ice chest.”

  “Let’s go to the marina and I’ll filet it there, then we can come back for the traps.” Tango rinsed his hands in the water, dried them on his shirt then started the boat.

  It was late afternoon by the time we were done with the shark and picking up the crab traps. Just as we approached the dock, Remy’s Land Rover pulled into the camp. He walked over to where we were tying up the boat and helped Tango break down the traps. John and Minette unloaded their stuff from Remy’s SUV then joined us on the dock.

  “I hear you landed a shark.” John grinned before giving Tango a high-five.

  “Yeah, a five foot, four inch bull shark, but I sold the meat to the marina and saved a little for Ronnie’s pawpaw.”

  John helped Tango heave the ice chest full of crabs out of the boat, while Remy and I loaded the crab traps into Tango’s truck.

  “Tango didn’t tell you the best part. He caught it on thirty-five pound test.” I beamed with pride as if to challenge John to do better.

  “Well, I’m just thankful that Ronnie’s such a good shot,” Tango added.

  “That’s awesome.” Remy winked at me, causing the blood to rush to my cheeks. What the hell was wrong with me?

  I grabbed the gun from the boat, so I could clean it, and locked up the truck before followed the guys into the camp. The word camp was very misleading when it came to the Dubois home away from home. At 5000 square feet, it was far from what I would call little. The inside was an extension of the ex-Mrs. Dubois’ decorating style. Dark hardwood floors ran from one end of the house to the other. Each and every room had some sort of beach theme—it looked like someone barfed-up Pottery Barn.

  The kitchen was decked out with the latest and greatest appliances. A six burner Viking stove, large commercial refrigerator freezer with glass doors, a wine cellar—everything a person could dream of right down to the pot filler and warming drawer. Remy’s mom had good taste and a checkbook to accommodate.

  Before I could even get through the door, Minette threw her arms around my neck and gave me a big hug. She backed off, wrinkled her nose and waved her hand in front of her face.

  “Phew, you stink.” She backed into the living room and coughed.

  “Good to see you too.” I sneered, then walked to the back of the camp where the bedrooms were. Minette followed behind me, but not too closely. This wasn’t my first trip to their camp, so I already knew what room Minette had picked for us.

  I opened the door and gagged before throwing my bag on the bed by the window. The aqua walls and white trim were more than I could handle and every corner of the room was decorated with seashells, sand dollars, or aqua colored glass. Sheer white curtains waved with the motion of the ceiling fan, resembling a breeze coming through the windows. The room reminded me of a sugar-coated honeymoon resort.

  There was only one thing worse than this overly beachy room, and that was the pink fairy princess room my parents surprised me with on my seventh birthday—I cried for days.

  “Are you going to take a shower?” Minette frowned from the doorway, like she was afraid I might impregn
ate the room with my stench.

  “No,” I replied curtly.

  With her hands on her hips, Minette let out a huff.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll take one after dinner. I just wanted to take my bag to the room before I helped Tango cook the crabs.”

  She let down her arms and replaced her scowl with a one of her Stepford Wives smiles, before she turned on her heels and left.

  When I got back to the kitchen, the guys were gathered all around the table looking at a map of the area. Brent was sitting next to John. He looked up with a sadistic grin as I approached.

  “I didn’t know you were going to be here.” I could tell by the way his nostrils flared he was lying.

  “Well, I knew you were coming, so let’s make nice and not ruin it for everyone else.” I walked past the kitchen and joined Minette in the living room.

  “That went better than I expected. Want me to help you with those crabs while Tango’s busy?” I couldn’t tell if Minette’s overly eager offer to help with dinner was a way to keep me from Brent, or if she was trying to keep me off the furniture. Either way, the crabs were not going to cook themselves and I could use the help.

  Okay, help was a loose term when it came to Minette and getting dirty. At least she was good company and kept my mind off of Brent which was proving to be more difficult than I thought it would be.

  What was it about the jerk that made me want him? I’d gone a whole month hating his guts, and it only took five seconds to undo all of it. It was like being under a spell—a really bent up, slap-in-the-face kind of spell. This trip was turning out to be a bad idea.

  At the conclusion of dinner the guys started the task of finding their poachers, and I was left to entertain Minette—after I showered, that is. We were half-way through our second romantic comedy when Remy came barging through the front door.

  He stood in the doorway soaked from head to toe. The smell that emanated from him was one of sulfur laden mud and something that had been long dead. I wrinkled my nose as my eyes watered. If this was the same smell I was wearing earlier, I could see why Minette was worried about me sitting on anything.

  “Back so soon? What happened?” I watched Remy remove his socks then his shirt. I gulped before looking away, the heat rising to my face. Good lord, that boy is cut. The splat of wet clothes hitting the wood floor made my heart race. By now he must be down to his briefs. I listened for one more splat, my back turned to him. I didn’t even notice that Minette had gone to the bathroom and retrieved a towel until she rolled her eyes at me on her way to Remy.

  “We stopped to help a shrimper who had his nets tangled on a sunken barge. It took Tango and me three hours of diving to undo the nets.”

  “Where’s Tango?” Confident he at least had a towel on, I turned to face him.

  “The boat was covered in mud, so he’s at the marina rinsing it off.” Remy padded his way to the bathroom and shut the door behind him.

  I let out a deep breath as the uncomfortable feeling left me and sat back down on the couch. Minette restarted the movie, but the sight of Remy’s bare chest left me inattentive. I sat on the couch in my own little zoned-out stupor until the faint sound of my cell phone ringing in the bedroom snapped me out it. I jumped off the couch and dashed towards the room only to meet with something hard half way down the hall.

  Air left my lungs before my head hit the floor in a solid thud. Remy was half on top of me, soaking wet and wearing only a towel.

  “You’re so hard,” I slurred, struggling to keep the gray haze in my vision from turning solid black.

  “You have no idea,” he murmured then propped himself up on one arm. He kneeled beside me, gently feeling the back of my head.

  “Minette,” he shouted. “I need your help.”

  “What the hell is going on here?” Tango’s voice boomed from the doorway.

  “Chill out, Puss in Boots. Veronica just had a little accident with the floor.” Remy moved the hair from my face as he relocated his hand from the back of my head and softly thumbed my cheek.

  “Shush yourself, Remy, before you let the cat out of the bag.” Minette giggled.

  “Good one.” Remy removed his hand from my face and gave Minette a high-five.

  I struggled to stay awake, my eyelids so heavy they closed despite my will to keep them open. Darkness finally overcame my vision. Remy picked me up; his heart beat wildly against my body as if to lull me to sleep.

  He placed me on the bed and yelled for Tango to bring a bag of ice. Remy sat next to me on the bed, and Minette sat on the other side touching the point of impact—the pain slowly subsided. I reached up and placed my hand on Remy’s bare chest.

  “Remy,” I groggily whispered.

  He quickly stood. “I’ve got to get out of here.” There was no mistaking the panic in his voice. What did I do?

  “I got things under control. Go before you get caught.” Minette’s sternness could not hide the rattle of worry that edged her voice.

  My mind tried to make sense of things, but I couldn’t fight the nothingness that finally engulfed me. By the time I woke, Brent and John had returned, and Remy was still missing.