The corner of his mouth lifted into a grin. “An ornithologist, huh? I can honestly say I’ve never met one.”
“Yep, I’m working on my first million. I figure by the time I’m forty, I’ll be set for life.”
His eyes lit with amusement. “Well, aren’t you a breath of fresh air?”
I shrugged and leaned forward, feigning a whisper. “I’m really just here for the sun and beer.”
He laughed. “You can’t be serious? Kalik?”
He had a nice laugh. “Ah, there’s something about the magic that comes with the sun and the waves and palm trees swaying in the wind. An ice cold, watered-down excuse for a beer can really hit the spot.”
He let loose a whole-hearted chuckle. The others at the table paused and turned to look our way. We looked at each other and laughed again.
“So, what brings you to this tiny island paradise?” I asked. Besides ogling young hard bodies in bikinis.
“Nothing,” he said, without a moment’s hesitation. “I’m a lost soul, wandering the ocean blue, looking for meaning in it all.”
“And have you found any?” Besides running drugs? If that’s what you’re doing.
“Nah.” He held up his bottle of Kalik, examined the contents. “I think it’s the beer. A stronger brew would help with the clarity, though. Kinda like peyote and a vision quest.” He nodded, satisfied with his analogy. “Yeah, maybe that’s what I need. Some peyote.”
He looked down at the bowl of conch in front of him and gathered some with the fork. “I’d be willing to bet that peyote burns all the way down, like this conch. Cleans your spirit, inside and out.” He shoved the forkful into his mouth, savoring the experience. Then he nodded toward my bowl. “Go ahead.”
I stared down at the rubbery meat, all slathered in sauce. The back of my throat seized and my stomach started to churn acid, round and round, like an angry vortex. My whole career flashed before my eyes, ruined because I blew my cover over a bite of food. I looked up at Jesse. “It, ah, looks really hot, that’s for sure.” I summoned some courage and poked around with my fork.
He watched me with steady eyes.
I stabbed a tiny piece with the plastic tines and raised it to my mouth. It’s not going to kill you. Once down the hatch, it’ll be okay. “Bottoms up,” I said and shoved it in before I could change my mind. The sauce was divine, I’d give him that, but when I felt the conch on my tongue, my lips pursed involuntarily. I couldn’t chew. I held it on my tongue, trying not to shake. Omigod. If I didn’t like conch, why else would I be at a conch shack?
I’m such an idiot. I should’ve sent Tom. That man was like Mikey, he’d eat anything.
Okay, man up, McVie. You’re a federal agent, for godssake.
With my hand wrapped around the bottle of Kalik, I forced myself to swallow, then gulped down half the bottle.
“Yep, that’s—” I rubbed my lips together “—that’s a little hot,” I lied.
He shook his head and grinned.
“I’m glad you’re amused,” I managed.
With three more bites, he’d emptied his bowl. “Well, it was nice talking to you, Poppy. Maybe I’ll see you around,” he said and rose from the table.
Dammit! Had I blown it? Crap! “Yes, thanks for lunch,” I said to his backside.
He tossed his trash in the nearby can and crossed the street.
I picked up my bowl, still full of conch, tossed it in the trash with a silent apology to the snail who’d given his life for the cause, and followed him.
He went around the building that housed an outfitter offering fishing tours. I waited for another ten minutes, but if I didn’t get back to the dock to head out with Dalton and Tom, we’d miss our window.
I called Mike and explained what I’d found. He agreed to take over the surveillance. In minutes, he arrived and I jogged back to the marina.
Chapter Nine
Dalton had managed to borrow the Zodiac. We rigged it to a tow line to the fishing vessel and set out toward Florida, Tom at the helm.
After I’d helped stow the lines, I sat on a bench at the stern, watching the Zodiac surf on our wake. If the line broke, I wanted to know right away. Without the Zodiac, this mission would be done.
The hum of the engines and the constant motion of the boat cutting through the waves lulled me into a state of melancholy. What was I doing with this thing with Dalton? He was right. I didn’t know what I wanted. And this operation felt the same way. What the hell were we doing here? Chasing the wind.
These guys probably were running drugs. But with dolphins? It seemed too improbable. And that Jesse. He didn’t seem like the type. Or maybe he was. What did I know anymore? I’d lost my mojo. Usually I was pretty good at judging these things, but my own radar was on the fritz.
One night with Dalton and I can’t think straight. What’s happened to me?
I stared at the frothy sea, finding no answers.
Dalton sat down next to me. He took a hold of my hand and leaned in to whisper in my ear. “So, you were disappointed, that it?”
“What?” I spun to face him. “What are you talking about?”
“You know,” he said, his tone serious.
“No, no,” I said, shaking my head. “That’s not…no!” Are you kidding? I’m still on fire.
He leaned back to my ear. “So, you liked it then?”
“Well, I—well, yeah.” Liked isn’t the right word. More like delighted, relished, luxuriated in.
He leaned back. “Then what’s the problem?”
Good question? “There is no problem. That’s what I’ve been trying to say.”
“I don’t know what you want from me, Poppy.”
“Nothing. I don’t want anything.”
He stared at me for so long I had to look away.
The Zodiac bounced and surfed, bounced and surfed, until Tom hollered from the helm. Dalton got up and went to talk to him. I breathed again.
The boat slowed. “We’re up,” Dalton said, heading for the lines.
I donned my life vest and climbed into the Zodiac to start the engine before Dalton let the lines loose. Then he climbed aboard and took over at the helm.
My phone read, “no service.”
“Just keep an eye on us,” Dalton told Tom.
With a handheld GPS unit, Dalton found the coordinates which we’d decided would put us at the most likely crossroads and slowed. Lucky for us, I had three bars on my phone. At least we could connect with Mike back on the island.
“Now we wait,” he said, killing the engine.
The sudden silence felt comforting. The sea was surprisingly calm. The sun hovered on the horizon, casting a warm glow across miles of ocean. The air was the perfect temperature. Not hot. Not cool.
I said, “Seems like the perfect evening to go skinny-dipping.”
Why had I said that? I turned to see him grinning at me.
“I’m sure we have plenty of time,” he said, his voice husky. “If you’re in the mood.”
“It was merely an observation.” Now, why’d I say that?
“Right,” he said, giving me no hint of his thoughts. “There might be sharks.”
While I was trying to think of some clever retort, he closed the distance between us and had me in his arms. His lips on mine felt like the most natural thing in the world.
“I can’t keep my hands off of you,” he said between kisses.
“I can’t stop thinking about having your hands on me.”
The sky spun around. I gripped his shoulders and held on, giving in to the seductive power of his kiss. I should have resisted. Taken control. But it felt so damn good to be in his arms again, to let go, to be free.
When his phone rang, we startled apart, panting for air. The moon had risen—a gigantic glowing orb—its reflection sparkling across the water.
Dalton answered and put the phone on speaker mode. It was Mike. “Our guys took a skiff loaded with a pile of backpacks out to their boat.”
“You see what was in them?” Dalton asked.
“No, but they pulled anchor right after dark and headed out. As soon as they left the harbor, they killed their running lights. I tracked them on the radar as far as I could and have a trajectory.” He gave us the land coordinates. “Assuming he stays the course.”
“Roger that,” Dalton said.
“One more thing,” Mike added. “Be on the ready. I did some quick math, which was never my strong point, but it seems his boat speed is higher than spec for that model, just like you suspected. He’s really cruising.”
Dalton disconnected and looked at me. “When you walked down the beach earlier, did you see anything?”
“I talked with a man I believe swam to shore from the boat. Briefly. He bought me lunch at a conch shack. And a beer.”
His eyebrows shot up. “You ate conch?”
“I managed to skirt that one.”
“Why didn’t you mention this before?”
“Why didn’t you mention being married before?”
Damn. Why’d I say that?
He stared at me for a long time. Too long.
Finally, he said, “So, in this meeting, what information did you get?”
“He was nice. Too nice.”
“You probably scrambled his brains with your smile.”
A smile spontaneously spread across my face. “I can’t picture him as a drug smuggler. But, then again, I don’t know. One thing, though, he had an interesting tattoo.” I described it the best I could remember.
Dalton nodded. He knew the tattoo. “Marine Force Recon.”
“What’s that mean?”
“It means he’s a badass.” But his expression made him seem more concerned than fearful.
“What are you thinking?”
“I’m not sure yet,” was all he’d say.
Dalton fired up the engine and put the throttle down, heading to the coordinates Mike had given us.
My hair whipped in my face as I scanned the horizon through binoculars. After about twenty minutes passed, I finally saw something. “I can see a white line of froth.” I held up my hand and pointed in that direction. The wake left by a boat.
Dalton acknowledged with a nod. He’d set a course where we’d intersect within territorial waters.
Soon, I could make out the shape of a white boat without the binoculars. “I thought we weren’t going to get too close.”
“I doubt they’d be suspicious. They can’t expect we followed all the way from Bimini in this vessel.”
“Makes sense,” I said.
At that moment, the boat we were following turned to starboard, made a full one-eighty, and headed right for us.
“What are they doing?”
Dalton shook his head.
They bore down on us.
“Coming to see who’s following them?”
Dalton looked concerned.
The boat came closer and closer, straight for us.
“He’s coming to us,” I said. “What should we say?”
Dalton never took his attention from the boat.
Within one hundred feet, the boat showed no sign of slowing. It came closer. Coming fast. He wasn’t stopping. Dalton turned the wheel, but it was too late. The boat came so close, its wave lifted the Zodiac, and I was airborne. The engine whirred in my ears as I plunged underwater. My coastal life vest inflated with a pop when it hit the water, squeezing me tight, and I bobbed up like a cork.
Dalton must have been behind me. In the water with me, somewhere.
The boat spun around and came back at us again. Were they trying to kill us? They’d already disabled us. The Zodiac was upside down. I was a sitting duck. There was no way to get out of their way now.
The engine on our vessel sputtered and shut off.
The boat slowed and came alongside the Zodiac. A man standing on the flybridge shouted at me. “Who are you? What do you want?”
“What the hell, man,” I shouted back. “I was just trying to get to shore.” I needed a good story, and fast. Once Jesse recognized me, I’d need my story to make sense. Why didn’t I think of this before?
“Right.” This guy was a confident smart ass. “You feds? DEA?”
“What? No.” Where was Dalton? “Didn’t you see me? You’ve flipped my boat. I’m going to need your help getting it flipped back upright.”
“Where’s your partner?”
“I don’t know what you mean. Please. Throw me a line. You can’t leave me out here like this.”
If I could get him to toss a line, or even reach out to me, I could pull him into the water, get a jump on him.
Where was Dalton? Under the Zodiac? Waiting for his moment?
The man climbed down the ladder as the boat came around. “Why were you following us?”
“I told you. I wasn’t.”
“Let me make some things clear, little lady. I have the high ground and you’re in the water. Know how to tell if there’s sharks in the water? Taste it. If it tastes salty, there’s sharks in the water. So, you really need to start being a bit more forthright.”
“Okay. Whatever you say. Just help me out of the water,” I said.
The man leaned over the side to have a look. It was Jesse.
“What the hell?” he said, recognizing me. “What are you doing way out here?”
He stepped onto the swim platform at the stern. “It’s all right, Deuce, I know her.”
Something wasn’t right. A glance between them. The tone of voice. Something.
Jesse reached down to haul me out. When he took my hand, I latched onto his wrist, braced both feet on the edge of the platform, shoved with my legs, and yanked him off his feet, into the water with me.
With a quick kick, I was up on the platform and rushing the other guy.
A yellow lab came at me, teeth bared.
A roar of laughter rumbled behind me. “Poppy! Stop! Stand down!”
It was Dalton.
I spun around.
He was in the water next to the Zodiac, grinning. “Deuce! What the hell, man? What are you doing in the middle of the Atlantic?”
“Dalton?” The other man said. “You gotta be kidding me.” He stood with fists on his hips, an amused grin on his face.
Jesse hauled out of the water onto the swim platform with Dalton right behind him. Dalton and Deuce performed some kind of man hug, water dripping everywhere.
“What’s going on?” I said.
The dog had a better clue than I did. He yipped and wagged his tail.
“Poppy,” Dalton said. “This is Deuce. Formerly Lieutenant Commander Russel Livingston, Junior. He was the outgoing Team Leader when I first reported to Dam Neck.”
“Commander,” Deuce corrected him. “I was promoted after I left DEVGRU.” He slapped Dalton on the back and gestured toward Jesse. “You might have heard of my partner Jesse McDermitt, former Marine Recon sniper. This is his boat.”
“I’ve heard of you,” Dalton said, extending his hand. “You’re the Jarhead who took down a warlord in the Mog with a thousand meter shot. An honor to meet you, sir.”
“Just Jesse,” he said, shaking his hand. “And who is this little spark plug?” he asked, his eyes on me. “Poppy your real name?”
“My partner, Special Agent Poppy McVie.”
“Special Agent, indeed,” Jesse said, one corner of his mouth turned up.
“She’s the brains of the operation. I’m the brawn.”
Jesse smirked. “What operation would that be that you’re following us?”
“Well,”—Dalton tried to hide a sheepish grin—“we thought you might be running drugs.”
Jesse smirked again. His dog came to stand beside him. “This is Finn.”
I knelt and scratched the loose fur around his neck and ears. “Hiya, Finn.”
Dalton turned back to Deuce. “Hey, if you’ve got a beer, we’ll fill you in.”
“That we can do,” Deuce said, opening a small refrigerator. “We migh
t feel up to flipping your boat back over for you, too.”
“That’d be much appreciated,” Dalton said as he accepted a stubby brown Red Stripe bottle.
I took a cold one as well and we sat down on the gunwale and told them what we were investigating.
After letting his dog inside the boat and closing the hatch, Jesse leaned on the back of a chair and said, “So, you’re flying blind.”
“Yep, that pretty much sums it up.” Dalton drained the beer and handed him the empty bottle.
These men might have been old buddies of Dalton’s, but they still had acted with suspicious behavior. “Where were you headed, anyway?” I asked. “In the middle of the night, without your running lights on?”
Jesse turned to Dalton. “You were right. The brains.” He turned back to me. “Picking up a friend.”
“And the lights?” I pressed.
“We were watching for dinoflagellates stirred up in this area. They’re bioluminescent. It’s really quite something to see.”
“Right, I’ve heard of that,” I said. But not here. And running lights wouldn’t ruin your night vision or ability to see bioluminescence in the water.
“Hey, let’s get that boat flipped back over and get you on your way,” he said, moving up to the helm, his dog on his heels. The Zodiac had drifted a good fifty feet away.
“You might want to hold up a minute,” Dalton said. “I, ah, I wrapped a line around your prop.”
Jesse grinned with respect.
In a few minutes, Dalton had the line safely removed from the prop and our new friends had the Zodiac upright and running again.
Dalton and I boarded the vessel and waved farewell.
Jesse waved back. “We’ll be back in Bimini for a few days. If we see anything, we’ll let you know.”
“Appreciate it,” Dalton said as he pushed the throttle into gear.
Chapter Ten
My elbow was the color of an eggplant—from what, I had no idea. Probably whacked it on the windshield when I ejected from the Zodiac. My dad always seemed to have weird bruises. He’d laugh and say they were clues about what his body was doing while he was in the trance of shooting. His pictures were magnificent. Seeing animals through his lens was an experience. What were you shooting, Dad, in your last moments in Africa?
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