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It appeared the time had come to wait. Henry put the traveling bag down and opened and closed his hand several times, allowing his palm to stretch. He hated waiting. He turned about, but the beach still appeared empty. While he had men hiding in unknown spots across the beach, it was quite possible Spade would as well.
The darkness of night stretched out toward him. Where was he? Henry’s stomach rolled as the sun sank fully beneath the waves.
Henry may not have done a good job at being Dinah’s husband, he may not have been built for love or affection. But if Henry had determined one thing during these past few days, it was that hehadbeen built to protect the woman he loved. If nothing else happened tonight, he would see her free and safe once more.
There was a splash, and Henry spun around. A small boat, carrying no fewer than four men, came around the bend. Henry picked up the portmanteau yet again. Spade was on that boat. He had to be. Henry strained to make out any of the faces. But only one thing was clear. Dinah wasn’t among the men. His grip tightened around the handle of the bag.
The boat reached the beach and one man turned around and leapt easily out. His red hair was familiar. Henry’s stomach rolled.
“Soyou’reSpade,” he said as the man drew near.
The man bowed low. “If I’d known you were looking for me all those weeks ago, I could have saved you a lot of heartache.”
“We were instructed to bring that shipment of stolen goods to you—yet you were among us all the time.”
Spade listed his head and smiled. “I like to keep an eye on my investments.”
Sothiswas the man who’d shot Steven. Henry ground his teeth. More than ever, Henry wanted to plant his fist in the man’s face and then cart him off to jail. But it was like Mr. Harding had said. He had to leave Spade’s fate in the hands of the heavens. He was here for one thing only.
“Where is Dinah?” Henry asked.
“Safe, for now. I left her tied to a particularly large rock, deep inside one of the many caves that run along this stretch of beach.”
“Take me to her, and then you can have the money.”
Spade tsked. “You aren’t the one calling the shots, remember? This is how it’ll work.” He pulled a folded sheet of paper from his pocket. “I have here directions on where to find her. You give me the money. I give you this.”
“You had better not be lying—”
“Why would I lie? For once, our objectives align. I want your money, and you want your fiery wife back. You know, strange thing.” He tapped the folded bit of paper against his lower lip. “I asked her if she believed you loved her enough to give up so much money and, judging by the expression on her face, I’d say she wasn’t so sure.” Spade eyed Henry up and down. “I half expected you not to show after that.” He shrugged, standing up straight once more. “I suppose she’ll be happy to learn you do care. That is, if you get to her in time.”
Henry’s back went cold. “What do you mean, in time?”
Spade’s smile widened and turned sickening. “Did I tell you? The small cave she’s in fills completely at high tide. Which is”—he glanced toward the ocean, the waves lapping close to his feet—“in only three-quarters of an hour. I would guess.”
Henry rushed forward. He would get that blasted paper and find Dinah if it was the last—
A gunshot sounded, and a wave of sand sprayed up between Henry and Spade. When it settled, there was a small divot in the beach where Henry had no doubt the bullet was planted.
Spade laughed. “You’ll never find her that way.” Then his smile fell, and his eyes turned cold. “Show me the money.”
Henry, breathing heavily, yanked open the portmanteau, almost spilling several of the bills. “Now show me the instructions.”
Spade shook the paper open. Though Henry couldn’t make out all the words from here, he could see it clearly enough to know that there were directions written thereon.
“Walk toward me. Slowly,” Spade commanded.
Henry closed the clasp on the bag and started forward. He reached Spade in only a few steps and held out the bag. Spade took hold of the handle, but Henry didn’t let go.
“The directions,” Henry insisted.
Spade held up the little sheet of paper. Henry wrapped his fingers around it, but Spade didn’t let go either. For a moment, they stood there, both holding the bag and the paper, staring at one another. Then Spade smiled and let go of the paper.
Henry relinquished the bag, closing his hand even tighter around the paper.
A gun fired.
Henry dove for the sand. Bullets flew over his head. Had the men in the boat fired first? Or had one of his friends? Henry had no idea who had started it and who was simply returning fire. He scrambled across the beach on arms and legs. He reached a bit of shrubbery and ducked behind it. If anyone were aiming directly for him, the seagrass wouldn’t stop a bullet, but hopefully, everyone was too worried about the other gunmen to worry about him.
