Salvaging His Soul: Trident Security Book 8

by Samantha A. Cole

  “So . . .” Jacob cleared his throat. “. . . when are you going to make an honest woman of Brie, huh? You two are good for each other.”

  It wasn’t the first time he’d asked Jase that question. Despite the man’s curmudgeonly appearance and personality, he looked out for those he cared about. Brie’s father had been Jacob’s best friend on the island for many years, and he was like an uncle to Brie and Nadine. He’d also become a father figure of sorts to Jase, considering the younger man had never had one. His sperm donor had left his wife and two children for another woman when Jase was little, and he barely remembered the douchebag. “Neither of us want that. We’re just friends with a few fringe benefits. She’s free to date whomever she wants, when she wants. And when that time comes, I’ll find someone else too.”

  Jacob snorted and shook his head as he adjusted their course to accommodate the water current. “Sometimes people have a damn good thing staring them in the face, but they’re too bloody blind to see it.”

  He knew the old man meant well, however, Jase had nothing to offer Brie beyond friendship, the occasional date, and some intense orgasms. That wasn’t enough, though. She deserved more—hell, every woman did. He’d been in love only once in his life, and hadn’t been able to give his heart away even then. He’d waited too long to tell her, and she’d fallen for someone else. As for his soul, that was far too damaged to be salvaged—he’d seen and done too many ugly things in his life. Cynicism had become such a part of him he couldn’t trust anything not to blow up in his face at some point down the road. As a result, the relationships he’d had with women in the past had been short-lived. Both parties knew the score going in, and after they’d had fun, both moved on. In fact, his relationship with Brie was the longest he could ever remember having.

  Ten minutes later, he put all that out of his mind as they anchored near the shipwreck site. Heading below, he grabbed his wetsuit to change into and did what he could to avoid the cougar who was still drooling at him like he was a piece of meat. It’s going to be a long fucking day.

  Frowning, Brie disconnected the phone call after getting the message her sister’s voicemail was full. That wasn’t anything new. Twenty-six-year-old Nadine Hanson hated listening to the recorded messages and usually ignored them. Instead, she’d return the calls and get the story from the live person. That usually resulted in no room on her voicemail until she finally got around to deleting the messages. What was new was that Brie hadn’t heard from her since Monday and it was now Friday. It was rare for them to go more than two or three days without calling each other.

  Where Brie was a conscientious, hard worker, who efficiently ran the family business, Nadine was the complete opposite. On the few occasions she’d actually worked at the bar she’d spent more time socializing and filling her calendar with potential dates with the men she met there than actually working. She thought all she needed to do was stand there and look pretty while everyone else ran themselves ragged. She hated when Brie ordered her to get to work, so nowadays it was rare for her to even be at the bar. In fact, she was currently living on the Caribbean island of St. Lucia with a friend of hers, working at some other bar. Brie figured her sister was either sleeping with the owner or the place didn’t have a large clientele and there wasn’t much for her to do during a shift.

  Stuffing her cell phone in the pocket of her cutoff jean shorts, Brie left the women’s room and headed back to the bar. She was working with one of her bartenders Gil Matthews inside today, while Randy and Emma were busy out back with the beach bar, fifty yards from the ocean. Two waitresses and one busboy had the interior crowd and another trio took care of the hungry clients on the patio. Daddy-O’s was nestled between the end of a row of waterfront resorts and the beginning of an area filled with residential and vacation homes of the rich and famous, so it drew a happy mix of locals and tourists. They even had the occasional movie star or other celebrity stop in for drinks and food. Thanks to a color printer in bar’s office, many of them had autographed photos Brie had been allowed to take, which graced the walls around the bar.

  Brie’s father had chosen an excellent location for the establishment many years ago. While hurricanes were inevitable on Providenciales, the most populated of the Caicos Islands, located in the Lucayan Archipelago of the Atlantic Ocean, Daddy-O’s was situated on the northeastern shoreline. It was buffered by North Caicos and the larger, sparsely-inhabited Middle Caicos, and in the past, they’d survived direct hits to the islands with recoverable damage. Like most Caribbean bars, their motto was “It’s five o’clock somewhere,” so they opened at 9:00 a.m. on the weekends, serving breakfast with bloody Mary’s and mimosas, and 11:00 a.m. on weekdays.

  As she checked the bar patrons’ drink statuses, the front door swung open and in strode Jase and Jacob; the former was scowling while the latter was laughing loudly. Brie glanced at the parrot-shaped clock over the bottles of booze and saw it was a little after 5:30. She hadn’t expected Jase to be back again this afternoon—he tended to skip a day or two after they’d spent the night together. It was probably his way of confirming their non-romance relationship status.

  The men headed straight to their assigned seats at the end of the bar. Long ago, Brie’s father had roped off a seat for Jacob to have exclusive rights to any time he wanted. When the old-timer had befriended Jase last year, and the two had gotten into many lively debates on a multitude of topics, Jacob had moved the younger man’s stool into the “reserved” section next to him.

  Unhooking the braided rope from under the bar top, Jase hung it on the wall and pulled out his stool. Whatever had happened that Jacob was still teasing him about, it was clear the younger man was pissed about it. Her curiosity piqued, Brie grabbed a bottle of Corona from the cooler, popped the top, and added a lime wedge, before selecting a bottle of a dark, locally-brewed lager for Jacob. Placing the drinks in front of the two men, she smiled. “Okay, what happened? Judging by the looks on your faces, it has to be a doozy.”

  “Nothing,” Jase spat, his frown deepening as he settled into his seat.

  Jacob roared with laughter, drawing the attention of people around him, and actually wiped a few tears from his eyes. “Oh, it wasn’t nothing, my boy. It was bloody awesome!”

  “Do tell.” Brie was now dying to hear what had happened, her grin widening as Jase narrowed his eyes at her. “And make it quick.” The bar was almost full, so she couldn’t stand around and chat for long.

  “Jase, here, caught the attention of this cradle snatcher on today’s tour. She was hitting on him big-time, even with her husband there. The bloke couldn’t care less, obviously. Jase blew her off every chance he got, so no worries there, Brie.” She didn’t respond to his comment and let him continue. “Anyway, down they all go, and she’s sticking to him like white on rice. Thirty-five feet down at the wreck, she runs her hand up his thigh and grabs his junk!”

  Jacob was laughing so hard, his face was bright red, matching the color spreading across Jase’s cheeks. “I’m glad you find it so fucking funny, you old coot. I almost shot the regulator out of my mouth and drowned.”

  “Damn, I wish I’d been down there to see that!” Nowadays, Jacob stayed onboard the boat most of the time, while his younger employees went below the waves with his clients.

  Jase glared at the older man. “Laugh it up, my friend. Karma’s a real bitch, and I can’t wait ’til she bites your bloody British arse.”

  “Ha! Karma and I are old friends, and she knows better than to fuck with the likes of me.”

  Brie smirked at Jase as she made the sex-on-the-beach a patron had silently asked for by raising her near-empty glass. “Cradle snatcher, huh? You attract some real winners, don’t you?”

  “Seems like it . . . present company excluded, of course.”

  “Good answer. You boys hungry?”

  After she served the fruity drink to her customer, she quickly took their orders and entered them into the computer system that was hooked into
the kitchen. She’d grabbed her own dinner about an hour ago, when she’d had a few minutes to scarf it down. Friday nights, in the middle of the tourist season, were busy at Daddy-O’s, and they’d all be running until they closed at 10:00 p.m. In Turks and Caicos, that was actually considered late. Brie’s shift was usually with the evening staff from 3:00 p.m. until closing, while her daytime staff took care of the brunch and lunch customers. Occasionally they’d need her, or she’d go down to check on things, but she liked her quiet time so she could read, catch a movie on TV, or deal with the paperwork and inventory that went with owning a restaurant.

  As the evening wore on, the steel drum band that played every Friday night entertained everyone sitting out on the large patio, and the music floated in through the open sliding doors. A few times, Jase had gotten up and helped out by retrieving a new case of beer and refilling the ice needed for mixed drinks. The barback, Micah, was in charge of that and a lot of other stuff and had been running his ass off all night, so he’d appreciated the assistance. Jase even cleared a few tables so people walking in the door to eat didn’t have to wait long to sit down. By the time the last customers left, Brie’s staff had everything cleaned up, and she was exhausted. She blamed it on the fact Jase had kept her up late last night, and she could rarely sleep past 8:00 a.m. on any given morning—her internal clock didn’t seem to want to let her.

  Jase was the only one still sitting at the bar as her staff locked up on their way out. Despite wanting to head upstairs and pass out in her bed, she grabbed two Coronas from the cooler, added limes, then joined him on the other side of the bar. Taking a long pull from her bottle, she savored the taste and let her body unwind. Brie rarely drank, and never while working, but occasionally the two of them would sit like this and just talk about random stuff over a few beers. “So, what’s on your agenda for next week?” she asked him. “Local business or are you traveling again?”

  “I actually have a few days off, so I told Jacob I’d do some more tours with him.”

  “Good. Hopefully you’ll be free of cradle snatchers grabbing your junk,” she teased.

  Snorting, he shook his head. “Hopefully, it’ll never happen again. I mean, seriously? It’s a fucked up thing to do on dry land to someone who obviously has no interest in you, but thirty-five feet underwater? Give me a break.”

  “Face it, you have irresistible junk.”

  He raised an eyebrow at her, but whatever he was about to say was interrupted by her cell phone ringing from where it sat on the bar. Wondering who was calling her so late, she picked it up and checked the screen as Jase took another swig of his Corona. Nadine. About damn time. Brie connected the call. “Hey, sis, where’ve you been.”

  “Brie? It’s not Nadine; it’s me, Amy.”

  Amy Fairbanks was Nadine’s best friend and current roommate in St. Lucia. A jolt of fear shot through Brie. “Amy? What’s wrong? Where’s Nadine? Why do you have her phone?” Beside her, Jase went still and his full attention was on her. He reached over and squeezed her unoccupied hand in silent support.

  “I don’t know.” The other woman sounded scared over the phone which increased Brie’s anxiety. “The last time I saw her was Wednesday. I—I thought we just kept missing each other, but I don’t think she’s been here since then. Her phone and purse are here, but I don’t know where she is. I was hoping she was with you somehow. Laron called and said she was fired for missing work last night.”

  Brie’s eyes narrowed. “Laron? I thought her boss’s name was Rudy or something like that.” Pulling her hand from Jase’s and the phone from her ear, she hit the speaker button so he could hear the conversation, too.

  “Um . . . Rudy was her old boss . . . she left there after they had a fight about him flirting with other women.” Brie had been right about Nadine sleeping with her boss.

  “So she’s bartending at another place?”

  “Um . . . not exactly.”

  Jase leaned forward. He knew both Amy and Nadine from before they left Caicos a few months ago for St. Lucia. “Amy, this is Jase. You’re on speaker. What do you mean not exactly? Where’s she working?”

  “Hi, Jase . . . um . . . a b-bar called Sandy Bottoms.”

  “If she’s not bartending, what’s she doing? Waitressing?” Brie asked. If that was the case, it shocked her because Nadine hated waiting on tables, even if it was to help out for a little while at Daddy-O’s.

  “Um . . .”

  With a hint of suspicion that caught Brie’s attention, Jase ordered, “Spit it out, Amy. What kind of place is Sandy Bottoms and what job does Nadine have there?”

  “It’s . . . um . . . a strip club. She’s . . . shit, she’s going to kill me for telling you, but she’s dancing there. Actually, we both are. I work the day shift and she’s on nights.”

  “What?” Brie yelled into the phone. “She’s fucking stripping? I’ll kill her! And you, too, Amy! Are you two crazy?”

  Jase held up a hand to stop her rant, and it was then that she remembered her sister was missing. Oh, God, Nadine, where are you?

  “Amy, did you contact the police to report her missing?” Jase asked.

  “No. I called Brie first . . . I didn’t want to call them if she knew where Nadine was . . . should I call them?”

  Brie wanted to scream, “Yes, you twit,” but Jase was taking charge and answered first. “Yes. In the meantime, we’ll be on the next available flight to St. Lucia. You call us if you find out anything before we get there.”

  “O-Okay . . . I’m sorry, Brie.”

  Not as sorry as Nadine is going to be when I get my hands on her.

  C

  HAPTER 3

  J ase held Brie’s hand as the small, nearly empty, twenty-seat, prop engine plane descended toward George F.L. Charles Airport in St. Lucia. Located near the northwest corner of the island, it was the smaller of the country’s two airports and rarely had larger jets or commercial flights landing there. Those flew into Hewanorra International Airport on the southern tip of the island.

  It was just after 4:00 a.m., and neither of them had slept a wink. He could’ve caught a power nap, having gotten used to sleeping when he could on missions, but Brie was too nervous to sleep and he’d stayed awake for her. Amy had called them back after the police had come, taken a report, and left again. From what she’d told Jase, he got the impression the local law was not going to expend much time or energy on a missing stripper. Thankfully, he’d been the one to talk to Amy, so he’d been able to gloss things over a bit for Brie while she threw a few things into an overnight bag and found her passport. Since he’d ridden his motorcycle to the bar, he left it there and they’d taken Brie’s Jeep instead. As he’d driven them to his apartment, a few miles up the road, she’d called and found them a red-eye flight. It hadn’t taken him long to grab his go bag, then head to the airport. Unfortunately, he’d had to leave all his weapons behind since they were flying the puddle-jumper flight since the two islands had different laws concerning firearms, and he didn’t have time to get the approval needed.

  Once they stopped by Amy and Nadine’s apartment to get the full story and take a look around, Jase would check them into a hotel. After that, he’d call a few contacts who might know someone on the island who could provide him with the weapons he needed, since he had no idea what they were walking into. He already felt naked without his Glock 9mm at the small of his back and his Smith & Wesson M&P Bodyguard .380 strapped to his ankle, under the leg of the cargo pants he’d changed into. Like most former and current military men, he preferred the shorts and pants with multiple pockets to carry things that could come in handy at any given time—mainly weapons.

  The plane jolted as the wheels made contact with the runway, and then roared at the rapid deceleration when the brakes were applied. While they taxied to the terminal, Jase brought Brie’s hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. She’d been awfully quiet for the past half hour and her usually tanned face had paled. “Hey. We’ll find her.”
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  She bit her bottom lip as she turned from the tiny window to face him. “But in what condition? We don’t even know how long she’s been missing or where she might be. She could be dead for―”

  “Stop, sweetheart. One step at a time. We’re not leaving here until we have the answers we need.”

  Taking a deep breath, she nodded. “Right. No sense thinking the worst until we have more information. She could’ve run off with a guy she met; she’s done that before.”

  He didn’t doubt it. Nadine was a bit flighty, to say the least, content not to have any major responsibilities in her life.

  When the plane came to a full stop, a ding sounded and the seven passengers on board released their seat belts and stood, gathering their items. After a set of rolling stairs was pulled up to the cabin door, everyone disembarked and headed toward the door to the terminal. Since they hadn’t checked any luggage, only bringing carry-on bags, Jase eyed the overhead signage, then led her toward the car rental agencies. Taking advantage of Brie’s inattention as she stood a few feet away, checking her email on her phone, he used one of his false identities to rent the vehicle. Thanks to his contacts, he had several of them to choose from.

  After talking with Amy last night, Brie had called and asked her assistant manager to run things for the next day or so until they had a chance to figure out what was going on. Thankfully, most of the staff had been with her for a long time and knew their jobs well enough so Brie could take a few days off if needed, though she rarely did.

  A short time later, they were loaded into the nondescript, dark SUV Jase had requested, and he plugged in the address for Amy and Nadine’s apartment into the provided GPS unit. According to the route calculations, it was only fifteen minutes from the airport. Putting the vehicle in drive, Jase headed for the airport exit. The island was mostly quiet in the early moments before dawn, but in a few hours, the tourists would be out in full force as the local businesses opened their doors for the day. At least, since it was a Saturday, most cruise lines wouldn’t be in this particular port of call, as they’d either be in their home ports or on their way there. That meant far fewer Americans and other tourists in Jeeps and SUVs, or on mopeds, who forgot to stay on the left side of the road.