Swimsuit - James Patterson [72]
Then Mandy warned me — and she was serious.
“If you mention what’ s-his-name, even once, the bill goes on your credit card, not mine. Okay?”
“Deal,” I said, pulling her in for a hug.
Our room had a fireplace, and when Mandy started tossing her clothes onto the chair, I pictured us rolling around in the king-size bed for the rest of the afternoon.
She read the look in my eyes, laughed, and said, “Oh, I see. Wait, okay? I’ve got another idea.”
I was becoming a big fan of Mandy’s ideas. She stepped into her leopard-print bikini, and I put on my trunks, and we went out to a pool in the center of the main garden. I followed Mandy’s lead, diving in, and heard — I couldn’t quite believe it — music playing underwater.
Back in our room, I untied the strings of Mandy’s swimsuit, pushed down the bikini bottoms, and she climbed up on me, her legs around my waist. I walked her into the shower and not too many minutes later we tumbled onto the bed, where goofiness became heart-pounding lovemaking.
Later we napped, Mandy falling asleep while lying on my chest with her knees tucked up along my sides. For the first time in weeks, I slept deeply without my eyes flying open at some bloody nightmare.
At sundown, Mandy slipped into a small black dress and twisted up her hair, making me think of Audrey Hepburn. We took the winding stairs down to the Bella Vista and were shown to a table near the fire. There was marble underfoot, mahogany-paneled walls, a billion-dollar view of whitecaps below, and a glass-paned ceiling showing cobalt twilight over our heads.
I glanced at the menu, put it down when the waiter came over. Mandy ordered for us both.
I was grinning again. Amanda Diaz knew how to take a day out of the dumper and light up memories that could take the two of us into old age.
We started our five-star dinner with sautéed jumbo scallops and continued with scrumptious honey-cilantro-glazed sea bass with mushrooms and snow peas. Then the waiter brought dessert menus and chilled champagne.
I turned the bottle so I could read the label: Dom Pérignon.
“You didn’t order this, did you, Mandy? This is about three hundred dollars.”
“Wasn’t me. We must’ve got somebody else’s bubbly.”
I reached for the card the waiter had left on a small silver tray. It read, “The Dom is on me. It’s the good stuff. Best regards, H.B.”
Henri Benoit.
Fear shot right up my spine. How had that fucker known where we were when I hadn’t known where we were going myself?
I got to my feet, knocking over my chair. I pivoted around, a full 360 and then back again in the other direction to be sure. I scanned every face in the room: the old man with soup on his whiskers, the bald tourist with his fork poised over his plate, the honeymooners standing in the entrance-way, and every one of the waitstaff.
Where was he? Where?
I stood so that I blocked Mandy with my body, and I felt the scream tearing out of my throat.
“Henri, you bastard. Show yourself.”
Chapter 96
AFTER THE SCENE in the dining room, I locked and chained the door to our suite, checked the latches on the windows, closed the drapes. I hadn’t brought my gun, a gross mistake I wouldn’t make again.
Mandy was pale and shaking as I sat her down next to me on the bed.
“Who knew we were coming here?” I asked her.
“I made the reservation when I went home to pack this morning. That’s all.”
“You’re sure?”
“Except for calling Henri on his private line, you mean?”
“Seriously. You talk to anyone on your way out this morning? Think about it, Mandy. He knew we’d be here.”
“I just told you, Ben, really. I didn’t tell anyone. I just called in my credit card to the reservation clerk. That’s all I did. That’s all.”
“Okay, okay,” I said. “I’m sorry.”
I had been thorough. I was sure of it. I revisited that night