Chapter 7

"Excuse me, excuse me," Alexis chanted as she squeezed through the narrow spaces between the dancers, moving to the rhythm of the steel drums. The tightness in Alexis's chest increased.

It was like walking through a hedge maze that kept shifting. She'd stood on her toes, hoping to spot Seb. She'd caught a glimpse of him as she'd left the coffeehouse. But now, it was a futile effort. Even with the high spiked heels, everyone around her was taller than her.

When Alexis squinted, the crowd in their bright clothing blurred into a kaleidoscope of colors. She imagined she was underwater, surrounded by tropical reef fish. Her psychologist had suggested the technique. While it helped on short elevator rides, reality intruded each time someone in the crowd elbowed or jostled her.

She balled her fists, took a deep breath, and narrowed her eyes until the couple in front of her were blue and yellow blurs. Blue Chromis. Yellow Tang.

Alexis wove around the tightly packed dancers, concentrating on assigning reef fish labels to the swirling colors around her. A trickle of sweat ran down her back, making her shiver. Her stomach churned as she slipped through a gap in the crowd.

Reef fish. Not people.

A woman pushed past her. The end of the fine silk scarf she tossed over her shoulder brushed against Alexis's face and she inhaled a lungful of heavy perfume. The colorful fish disappeared. She closed her eyes, unable to move.

The sound of running footsteps and high-pitched laughter replaced the noise of the crowd and the melody of the steel drum.

Alexis was no longer caught in the middle of an ocean of people. She was a little girl locked in a closet, tangled in suffocating silky gowns, still wearing their owner's sickly sweet scent.

Open your eyes, Alexis. It's not real.

Alexis pressed her fingernails deep into the palm of her hands.

Focus on the pain. Open your eyes.

She couldn't breathe. Air. She needed air. The crack between the floor and the bottom of the closet door. If she laid on the floor and pressed her lips against the small space, she'd be able to breathe.

This isn't real, Alexis. Breathe.

Her stomach churned.

Don't throw up. This isn't real.

She'd thrown up back then, vomiting the junk food she'd gorged on with the other seven-year-olds at the sleepover.

That was twenty-five years ago. Open your eyes.

There'd been no escape from the closet. The girls she'd thought were her friends had locked the door. They'd thought it was funny to listen to her scream.

She'd laid on the floor. Lips pressed against the small crack, and she'd cried herself to sleep.

"Hey, are you okay?"

Alexis's eyes shot open, and she looked up at the man standing in front of her. His face was creased with concern.

"I thought it would be quicker to cut through the crowd to reach the other side of the road. People kept shoving me and I lost my bearings. I panicked." Alexis realized her cheeks were wet and swept her hands across her face. She wiped her hands on thighs. "I feel foolish."

The guy raised his voice over the crowd, now singing along with the band. "You're halfway there."

The guy was tall, much taller than those around him. About Alexis's age, he was dressed in a Hawaiian shirt and khaki shorts. His hand engulfed hers and he pulled her close. Before she could object, they were dancing.

They wove around people, bopping in time to the music and other couples, like them, treating the road like a crowded ballroom floor. He was a superb dancer.

Alexis hoped they didn't run into the guy chasing her. She was sure her dancing partner wouldn't back down if the guy threatened her. The thought sent another wave of panic through her.

"Almost there." The man shouted. He must have felt her stiffen.

The crowd hooted and clapped as a new song filled the air. He matched the energetic tempo, and a minute later, they were at the fringe of the mass of people.

"Thank you," Alexis said as they stepped onto the sidewalk. "I rarely panic like that."

"I'm guessing you experienced a moment of claustrophobia," the man said and smiled. "Nothing to be ashamed of. Can I buy you a drink or a cup of coffee?"

"As much as I'd like to, I'm leaving in the morning, and I haven't packed." Alexis wished she had the time to thank him properly because he seemed like a nice guy.

He pulled out a card from his shirt pocket and handed it to her. Alexis looked at the card.

The Snorkeling Shack. Owner: Thomas Elliott.

"I'm the owner. My friends call me Tom." He held out his hand and Alexis shook it. "If you're ever back in town, look me up. We'll snorkel. I know some places still hidden from tourists."

"I'll do that," she replied and put the card in her jeans back pocket. If she got out of this mess, she'd send him a signed photograph for his kindness. "Thanks again, Tom, for your help."

Two burly men at the edge of the crowd yelled his name and pointed down the street.

Tom laughed. "It looks like it's my turn to make a beer run. I hope we get the chance to spend some time together the next time you visit Key West."

"I won't lose the card," Alexis said, waving as he jogged down the sidewalk in the opposite direction she was headed.

Alexis walked to the end of the block, turned left, and kept walking. If she returned to Sunset Key, she could lead the men looking for her to Maxwell and Daphney's place. The men were dangerous and wouldn't hesitate to hurt Seb's friends if it served their purpose. She couldn't let that happen.

There was a naval air station on the island. They'd be able to help her, but it would mean handing over the algae sample and the USB drive. Any hope of her repairing her relationship with Dr. Butler would disappear.

Only someone who had worked closely with him would recognize the meticulousness of his data collection process, which set his work apart from others. She couldn't believe he was responsible. He didn't deserve the unfavorable spotlight that Alexis would cast upon him.

Dr. Butler had taken her under his wing during her undergraduate work. Her mother had insisted Alexis spend time with teens her own age and had refused to enroll her full-time at the university. Alexis had divided her day between the high school and the university. Her mother still referred to her undergraduate years as the challenge program the high school had arranged.

Alexis had been grateful for his guidance, but it had taken little persuasion for her to accept a graduate research position with another professor. At eighteen, sharks were a sexier research subject than crustaceans.

She hadn't understood the devastating blow she'd caused to his research funding until the university asked her to attend a fundraising event. The CEO of a major corporation was impressed when he discovered a teenage genius contributed to the research funded by their generous grant. He'd increased the grant by twenty percent.

Unlike Dr. Butler, his colleague had never been interested in her academic growth. It was the grant money she'd brought in for his research. Alexis had transferred universities at the end of the year. She hadn't had the courage to apologize.

Alexis waited until she was two blocks away from Duval Street before pulling out the map she'd stuffed in her back pocket. She walked over to a lamppost. The grid-like streets would make it easy for her to reach the naval air station.

"Ms. Hayes!"

Alexis looked up from the map. Special Agent Lane walked toward her. She shoved the map in her back pocket.

"I'm Special Agent Lane from the FBI." He reached into his suit jacket pocket, pulled out his credentials, and handed them to her. "I'm sure you recognize me, but please reassure yourself I'm who I say I am."

Alexis studied them. They looked legit and she should be relieved, but something didn't feel right. Maybe it was simple surprise that Seb had given up her hiding place in the coffeehouse away without warning her. He may have not had time to warn her.

Agent Lane was there to help her. He was a federal agent, so she should be safe.

"Where's Seb?" she asked as she handed him back the business card sized folder.

"The men following me were sent to locate the two of you. He's drawing them away. I was crossing the street to the coffeehouse when I saw you leave." His explanation felt rehearsed, like he'd practiced it when he caught sight of her. "I took care of the man following you. He's no longer a problem."

A short text message to Seb would verify Agent Lane's story. Alexis swiped her cell phone screen.

"I'm afraid you'll need to ditch the phone," Lane said and reached for it.

Alexis stepped back.

"Come now, Ms. Hayes. It doesn't take a genius to track your whereabouts using your cell phone." He laughed at his joke.

Alexis didn't.

She wasn't handing over her phone. It couldn't be easily tracked. Joe had done something to it. Special Agent Lane didn't need to know that.

Instead, she pressed the speed dial key for Seb's cell phone and lowered the volume to zero. Seb could hear them, but they wouldn't hear him.

"I made certain demands, Agent Lane, which Agent Auclair had agreed to, and I expect you to uphold," she lied, giving Seb time to pick up the call before she fished for information. "Keeping my cell phone was one of them."

"I'm sorry, Ms. Hayes, but I'm just following orders. I'll need your cell phone." He held out his hand.

"Where are we meeting Seb?" Alexis asked, clutching her phone.

"At the safe house. It's on Fleming Street, near here." Agent Lane pointed east.

Fleming Street was west. They'd passed it on their way down Duval Street.

"I'd feel more comfortable waiting for Seb in Nightshade." Alexis waved her hand at the lounge across the street. It was a desperate attempt to let Seb know where she was. He'd said he'd partied in Key West. She hoped he recognized the place.

Agent Lane, or whoever he was, sighed and shook his head as if he was reluctantly giving into her. "There's a small bar around the corner. I'll text Seb and let him know we'll be waiting for him there."

He walked down the block as he sent a text message, expecting Alexis to follow him. She was certain the recipient wasn't Seb. She was equally certain there was no bar around the corner.

Only a handful of people stood on the sidewalk in front of the three places that were still open. The shops farther along the block were dark, the sidewalk in front of them empty. Agent Lane didn't want anyone to notice him pull out his gun and force her to the safe house. Alexis slipped her cell phone into her jeans pocket, hoping Seb could still hear.

If she hadn't been wearing the ridiculous high heels, she would have stood a chance of outrunning the man.

Alexis couldn't help but grin. The stiletto heels she'd silently cursed, but oohed and aahed over as Daphney handed them to her, were capable of doing more than pinching her toes.

Agent Lane would predict a kick to the groin the minute she swung her foot back, but there was no way he'd be prepared for what she had in mind.

"Ow!" She stopped, and he turned toward her. She teetered on one foot and waved him closer. She clutched his sleeve to steady herself. "I've got a rock in my shoe."

He shook his head. The guy was tiring of her and didn't consider her a threat. Good.

Alexis bent down and slipped off the shoe, gripping the toe like the handle of a hammer, and swung, aiming for his groin.

Agent Lane gasped for breath as he dropped his hands and instinctively covered his groin, but remained standing. Alexis stared as blood soaked the front of his pants.

She dropped the shoe, cupped her hands and struck both his ears. He teetered, then dropped to the ground like she'd seen in the movies.