Third Chapter Thursday – Stealing Gran’s Booty Returns!

Ahoy, ye romance-loving land-lubbers! Today I return with another installment of Stealing Gran’s Booty, in which we watch West see Raina in a new light, with my normal disclaimer that the story was begun when I was but a wee writer girl having fun with a crazy story in my head.

Haven’t read the first two chapters yet? You’ll find chapter one here, and chapter two here! Happy reading!

 

Chapter Three

It was the mahogany brown puppy dog eyes. Clear, bright, devious, and fully focused. No hangover, no lingering drug-induced haziness. Whatever this chick’s issues yesterday, she was stone cold sober today. So why the hell didn’t she make a bit of sense? West could’ve kicked himself for being suckered by those pretty eyes. He should’ve made her take care of the damn spider herself. Better yet, he should’ve held it over her head and demanded she get the hell off this island. Instead, he was grabbing at crumbs to piece together this crazy situation while he did his best to ignore the glimpses of pale skin peeking out between her gaping buttons. How the hell did she know him, and who the hell was Xena? “Who?”

The princess sent him another one of those prissy you’re not funny looks. “The dog.”

Finally, something made sense. “You named that pipsqueak of a dog Xena?”

She snorted at him and her brown Medusa ‘do jiggled. Medusa. Now there was a costume for Sheila next Halloween. Montana had already told him she wanted to be a mermaid. They could dress Jerrod up like Neptune. Kid was too young to be picky. But the brunette was talking again. “I didn’t name her anything. She’s not mine. But there’s gonna be a lot more peace interrupted if we don’t find her before Heidi gets here.”

He tucked away the name for later. For now, there’d been too much we already today without any of the pay-off he hoped for. If some chick named Heidi was coming over, he wasn’t too optimistic they’d be leaving. “Get the spider, turn around so you can look at my ass, fetch the dog. Anything else, your highness?”

Her back snapped straight, causing her shirt to gape open more. Delicate blue veins crossed her upper chest and disappeared beneath the white cloth. “You should leave the superhero complex to the superheroes. I can find the dog myself.”

She spun around, treating him to a view of a perfect, curvy ass covered in butt-ugly khaki. He would’ve liked to see her swing her hips like that in a sarong and bikini top, with all that pretty skin exposed and her mouth taped shut so he could enjoy the views in paradise for a while. Not that she had a bad voice. He liked the huskiness to it. If she’d use it to tell him something good, like that she was leaving, he might’ve played along with whatever she was up to. But Charlie’s memory wouldn’t let him enjoy it. Bastard’s voice had been cropping up in his head all night. Don’t never trust a woman with the family jewels.

Trusting and playing were different. As she reached the edge of the clearing, he whistled softly. He should’ve let her add to those bloody scrapes on her legs, but the opportunity to get the better of this stuck-up princess was too much to resist.

The mutt barreled into the clearing, a brown lizard clenched in its jaw. It scampered past the brunette without a glance. Its tail wagged so fast that its entire body swayed as it skittered to a halt and dropped the lizard at West’s feet. He slid a glance at her. “Don’t look too hard for the dog. Wouldn’t want you to strain yourself.”

She glared at the mutt. “Traitor. Save yourself from Pirate Pete next time.”

A gnawing feeling slithered up his backbone to rest between his shoulder blades. Pirate Pete. Didn’t like the sound of that either. “Awful charitable of you.”

She lifted a finger in his direction. “You-”

“Buttercup?” The radio at her hip squawked to life. “Come in, Buttercup.”

Jesus, did rich people ever use normal names? West pinched the bridge of his nose as the brunette fumbled for the radio, pink rising in her cheeks, her thumb flicking over her fingernail. She turned to the side, pointedly ignoring him. “Yes, Governor?”

A chipper voice answered. “Hope you ain’t upchucking again today. Me and the girls be coming over.”

The pink turned red. “I’m fine, thank you.”

“Pirate Pete says he ain’t never seen nobody that sick on his ship.” Definitely an older woman. Uneducated, and until recently, he hadn’t been one to talk. “He done says if you be such a landlubber that you ain’t got the constitution for the trip back, he be gonna maroon us with a radio and done let the Coast Guard clean up after you.”

Her cheeks flamed so high West could almost feel the heat off them. He found himself feeling not too much better himself. She hadn’t been drunk or high yesterday. Just seasick. He should’ve known. It didn’t explain all of her problems this morning, but it made it a lot harder to write her off. Especially when he couldn’t stop mentally tracing those veins beneath the gap in her shirt. Chica needed to get the hell off his island.

The princess planted her fist on her hip and glared at the radio. “Did his parrot tell him to say that?”

One more thing West wouldn’t be asking about.

After a bit of static, the radio came back to life. “Uh-oh. Sounds like someone done woke up with sand up her unmentionables.”

A new voice cut in on the radio. “For God’s sake, Eleanor, quit taunting her.   Raina, we’re on our way over. Do you need anything?”

Princess Medusa brushed a lock of hair back over her shoulder. Who was she, Buttercup or Raina?   “A leash for the dog. And breakfast would be good.”

“Pirate Pete doesn’t stock oatmeal. Hope donuts are okay for your stomach today.”

“They’ll be fine.”

“You sure? I could trade you for a tofu-seaweed shake your grandmother was evil enough to arrange for me. Wouldn’t want you getting sick again if you eat too much sugar.”

An evil grin lit her face as she slid a glance at West. “Donuts sound positively orgasmic.”

“Well then.” The other woman coughed. “We’ll see you soon.”

So maybe Buttercup didn’t dabble in recreational drugs. The damn woman liked oatmeal. She probably didn’t even know what drugs were. But it was obvious she had an agenda for West. An agenda he wouldn’t have any part in. He had a treasure to find.

Buttercup stuck the radio back onto the clip at her belt, then snapped her fingers. “Xena, come.”

The dog whimpered and lay down on West’s left foot. He checked himself before a grin slipped out. “It wants oatmeal too.”

She scowled at him. “Xena.”

There was something endearing about her when she was pissed at him. It was almost like being at home. “You wear white granny panties too?”

“I’ll let you know when my panties are your business.”

“Can’t get in the mood when you’re not in the back seat of that late model sedan to get you to the nine-to-five, huh?”

Her eyes flashed a warning. “I’m a lot pickier than the dog.”

Huh. So this was what fun felt like. “I know what you mean. I’m more of a satin and cinnamon rolls type guy myself.”

She stalked across the clearing and snatched the dog off his foot, giving him a whiff of sun-kissed pineapple. “That’s a relief. I’d hate to have to beat you off if you were a ’67 Mustang convertible type.”

She probably didn’t even drive it. She looked the type to be afraid of the kind of guys it would attract. “Had a lot less prissy girls than you beat me off.”

His satisfaction in watching her cheeks redden again was short-lived. Despite the blush, she smiled sweetly at him. “Then I’m sure you wouldn’t mind if my grandmother wants a test drive.”

She swung her hips out of the clearing and into the woods, dog tucked under her arm. Sheila always had to have the last word too. He’d let Buttercup get away with it this time. No doubt she was headed down to tell her Pirate Pete all about the strange man in the forest.

Too bad for her she wouldn’t be able to prove it. But now instead of simply looking for the treasure, he had to avoid detection by Buttercup and company while doing it since he’d failed miserably at convincing her to leave. Piece of cake.

The hair stood up on the back of his neck. If he believed in that sort of thing, he would’ve sworn the island was laughing at him. Fun and games all around.

Charlie’s voice echoed in his head. World ain’t gonna bend over for you, boy. Just make sure you don’t bend over for it. No worries West would forget that one. He’d wasted enough of his life wishing for more than he had instead of doing the work it took to get what he wanted. Today he was going to get everything he’d ever wanted and give the rest of the world a stiff middle finger in the process.

* * *

West settled between a limestone formation and a dense firebrush on the south side of the hill. The trees were thinner here, the pine and palm foliage scant atop stunted white trunks. Looked like this part of the island hadn’t yet recovered from a hurricane. Suited West fine, since he was able to use this as a good lookout spot without being easily seen himself.

He pulled his backpack between his knees and unzipped it. His other gear was hidden in a small cove near the pond. If his gut was right, Buttercup and company didn’t have any use for that side of the island.

His backpack carried only the basic essentials: water, food, a fancy pocketknife, binoculars, a shirt and hat, a short-handled shovel, and the satellite phone. The map was tucked in his back pocket. Not that he needed it. He’d memorized every square inch of it already. The part he didn’t know was how much the island had changed in the decades since the map was drawn.

The ground didn’t move, but he could’ve sworn the island laughed at him again, this time a deep rumbling belly laugh from its very core. He wasn’t usually so in tune with nature. It was hard to ignore here though, where the roots of his underprivileged existence lay buried. He didn’t know if Charlie was right, if they could have had the world if that woman hadn’t stolen the map before Charlie could recover the treasure. But he did know it was still here. He could feel it as clearly as he felt the sun on his face and the dirt beneath him.

Sitting here being the butt of the island’s joke wouldn’t get him any closer to his goal. The island could laugh all it wanted. West wouldn’t leave without what he came for.

He pulled the sat phone out of the bag, powered it up, and set it on the rock. The island wasn’t his only problem with the treasure. He reached back into his bag for the binoculars. After making a few little adjustments, he scanned the scene down on the beach.

A light ocean breeze rustled through the trees, carrying with it a murmur of steel drums and banjos somewhere behind him. West paused and tuned in to the music. Was someone else here? Or was the damn island was screwing with him again, distorting the noise as it bounced through the trees? He twisted to inspect the situation. All was still, nothing but nature as far as he could see. Didn’t mean he was alone though.

Still on edge, West returned his attention to the beach. Two other women sat with Buttercup on bright picnic blankets. A CD player was propped up on a rock nearby. Music mystery solved.

One of the women with Buttercup was old enough to be pushing up daisies without even dying first. The other was somewhere around late middle-age, dressed for a day of playing tourist in Miami complete with flowery straw hat, white pants, tropical print shirt and yuppy sandals. He passed over Buttercup to watch a fourth woman walk up the beach toward the others. This one was a blond who looked a decade too old to still be pulling that high school cheerleader routine. Her belly button ring glinted in the sun beneath a short black tank top. Her ass was barely covered by itty bitty pink cotton shorts that probably had something obscene written on the back side. As the dog rushed her, she bent over and gave him a great view of her cleavage. Heidi, he guessed. Montana would’ve skipped through the sand to ask if her name was Barbie. Probably wouldn’t be the last time he was glad the little stinker wasn’t here.

So this was what he was up against. No question, he liked the dog the best. He wouldn’t have wasted much time on these women except for one little detail. Everything about Buttercup’s demeanor this morning indicated she expected him. He hadn’t planned to be here this time yesterday, so how the hell did she know him?

Somebody else on the pirate ship must’ve warned her. But then why leave her alone on the island with him, especially in the shape she was in last night? What the hell was going on?

Maybe the crew knew something. West shifted his attention to a dumb-looking barrel of a guy tagging along behind the blond. He was probably in his mid-thirties, though the way his tongue hung out at the view of her backside indicated he hadn’t gotten there mentally yet. He’d only be a problem if West needed to have an intellectual conversation with him, or maybe if they had to arm wrestle. The sailor who’d gotten Buttercup situated on the beach last night was there, too, carting a tray of drinks to the women on the blanket. Was he Pirate Pete?

West couldn’t see anyone else on the narrow beach, so turned his focus on the ship. Through the binoculars, the damn thing was uglier. The paint along the hull was peeling and grimy dirt blackened the portholes. Looked like the engines were leaking oil. If this was a luxury cruise for the women, those donuts better be as orgasmic as Buttercup hoped.

The door to the pilot room opened. Now that was Pirate Pete. West had to remind himself to breathe.

Goddamn Sheila. If she knew that double-crossing asshat would be here, she should’ve had the decency to say so. But then, Sheila never had much decency. She was a Bellamy after all. Like Charlie used to say, trust your friends less than your enemies, and your family less than your friends.

West pounded her number into the sat phone, the numbers obscured by the red haze blurring his vision. After five rings, Montana answered. “Hew-wo?”

Her little four-year-old voice was almost enough to cool West’s temper. But not quite. “Sweetheart, put your mama on the phone.”

“Hi, Unka West. Hows comes you’re not home? I don’t got my Dora ‘toons.”

If he were home right now, he would’ve pulled her onto his lap and watched Dora with her all day long. But he had a few fish to fry before he could put her life back to normal. And she’d never know it.

“I got some things to do, baby. Where’s your mama?” West peered through the binoculars again as Montana dropped the phone with a plunk. Pirate Pete was better known to West as Patrick Flaherty, former smuggling partner to Charlie and his brother, Joey. Charlie always suspected Flaherty had something to do with Joey’s disappearance. Flaherty had never given anyone reason to believe otherwise. Even if Charlie was wrong about that, though, Flaherty wasn’t an angel. He was the reason Joey had to hide the treasure and send the map to Charlie, thus starting a 60-year spiral of gloom and doom for the Bellamy family.

The old bastard stopped at the railing of the ship and scratched his balding head as he surveyed the island. The sun was to West’s back, so it wouldn’t cast any reflection off the lenses of the binoculars, but West still scooted back. Of everyone he’d identified, Flaherty was the last person he wanted to face. West had just gotten his driver’s license the last time he’d seen the man, but fifteen years wasn’t long enough to erase the memory of the wiry little bastard who’d sent Charlie into a three-week drunken stupor after a tense five-minute visit.

Muffled sounds came over the phone, then Montana spoke again. “Mama don’t want to buy nothin’, Unka West.”

Funny. West didn’t have any intention of buying anything Sheila was selling either.

His niece let out a high-pitched cry a split second before Sheila came on the phone. “West! Little shit didn’t tell me it was you. Did you find it already?”

He shoved his anger back into the same mental closet he reserved for his resentment of Charlie. It was too early in the morning to give Sheila the satisfaction of knowing she’d gotten to him. “Which one are the condoms for?”

“Condoms? What are you talking about?” The innocence oozing from her voice set his teeth on edge. Sheila did naïve as well as her roof kept water out.

Flaherty leaned over the side of the ship and spit brown juice into the water. West scowled at both of them. “Condoms. The ones you hid in the gear you gave me yesterday. Rubbers. Birth control. You know- ah, nevermind. Sorry. Forgot who I was talking to.”

He didn’t have any trouble imagining her eyes hardening into sapphires. “You better have a damn good reason for calling to attack me over my children if you ever want to see them again. I should’ve kicked your ass out before you ever moved in here.”

He should’ve kicked his own ass for ever needing to move in with her. But waking up to baby drool and questions about which outfit would make Barbie prettier made it worthwhile to deal with obnoxious customers at the lumberyard and tough professors at school. He leaned into the rock and trained the binoculars back on the women. Those donuts looked more gross than orgasmic. He briefly wondered if Buttercup would still eat them if she knew where Flaherty’s hands had been. “Yeah? Who’d feed your kids then?”

“Screw you.”

“You screwed me pretty good, sending me to this hell hole. How many more surprises you got planned for me this week?”

“You’re an ungrateful shithead, you know that? You know what it costs to make a call on that thing?” Her tone was hot enough to melt his ear wax.

But he’d lived with her long enough to not care. “You know what it’s going to cost if you don’t level with me?”

A thick wall of silence was his answer.

“The brunette was awful nice this morning.” He trained the binoculars on the old woman. Couldn’t say he’d ever seen anyone wearing a stuffed parrot before. “Would’ve preferred a redhead, but if she knows the right tricks, I’m thinking a little bonus might be in order. Some gold coins maybe. Or jewels. That sounds like something Charlie would’ve stolen.”

Sheila sucked in an audible breath. “You bastard. You wouldn’t dare.”

He’d do a lot of things if it would make Sheila mad. “Why not? It’s what you sent her here for. Now the blond, she’s not my speed, but I don’t think I could turn down a threesome. Guy like me doesn’t get that chance every day.”

She paused for half a second. “You called me to talk about your sex life? Eddie is going to kick my ass when he gets the bill. You want that on your conscience? I got you to the goddamn island, you take care of the rest. And don’t you dare call again until you’ve got that treasure in your hands, you hear me?”

“Half the hemisphere heard you.” So Sheila’s rotten-ass boyfriend helped Sheila set up this mess. West’d had enough of her piss-poor taste in men interfering with his life. Two kids, two fathers who had every excuse not to be there. West would’ve given his right arm for either one of the kids, but he shouldn’t have had to.

“You find that treasure-”

“No.”

“What did you say?”

“Don’t think I’m going to be looking for a treasure for you when you can’t tell me the real situation.” Felt damn good to be in charge for once.

“God, West, don’t do this.” Panic. Now that was a new tactic for Sheila. “Eddie found out about the treasure, and he wants it any way he can get it. If you don’t bring it back, I don’t know what he’ll do. To me, to the kids. You have to find it, West.”

West bit back a string of obscenities. It was classic Sheila. Hit him where it hurt the most. And he fell for it every time, because he wouldn’t risk it finally being the truth the one time he refused to help. “He threatened the kids?”

Sheila’s voice dropped. “Not in so many words, but I could see it in his eyes. I think he’ll do it, West.”

Of course she did. “And he’s got friends to help him out and people you owe money to for extra pressure to get his hands on Charlie’s treasure, doesn’t he?”

“Do you even care if they get hurt?” She’d be standing in the kitchen, one hand fisted on a hip, eyes shooting fireballs at him for being an insensitive asshole.

How he ended up the bad guy was one of those mysteries women cooked up to keep men in line. He hated those games. “So what’s he going to do to them when we find out Charlie’s goddamn treasure is a bag of marbles and a fake love potion?”

“Oh, I get it. Now that you got some fancy schoolin’, you’re too damn good for your past.”

West balled his own hand into a fist. She could hold the world responsible for their situation as much as she wanted, but she shouldn’t have belittled his efforts to rise above it. “Didn’t need fancy schoolin’ to learn you’re a manipulative bitch.”

“You want that treasure,” she spat. “You know you do. Don’t be stupid. Don’t make my kids suffer for Charlie’s mistakes.”

She was right. He wanted the treasure. He wanted stop suffering for Charlie’s mistakes too. “One condition.”

“Are you kidding? Don’t you care about them at all?”

No, he’d sacrificed any opportunity to have a life of his own to take care of Sheila’s kids because it sounded like a fun time. “I want to talk to Eddie.”

“You can’t-”

“I’m calling back at seven tonight. You make sure Eddie’s there, or I’m gonna spend the week drinking mojitos and making good use of those condoms you packed me with the lovely ladies on the pirate ship.”

“How am I-”

“You got your problems, I got mine. Seven o’clock. Understood?” Without waiting for an answer, he severed the connection.

Paradise would’ve been nice if family hadn’t gotten involved.

* * *

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