by Dana Marton
He pulled away from shore abruptly, with a laugh, and the boat rattled on top of the waves. She grabbed the side and looked toward the sand they were rapidly leaving behind, not wanting to get fixated on all that open water ahead.
Once he’d made a point of admiring the electronics, Reese stood close beside her. “You okay?” He had to lean close to be heard over the noise of the motor.
His skin smelled coconutty from the suntan lotion he’d put on earlier. The look he gave her was neutral. Friendly.
What was that supposed to mean?
She was still confused by his reaction to their kiss the night before and hurt by his withdrawal afterward. Had she done something wrong? Granted, with her lack of experience she probably wasn’t the world’s best kisser. But this was it? He wasn’t going to give her a second chance?
All that after she had given him the biggest compliment she had ever given, telling him that she felt safer with him than she had ever felt with a man. What more did he want?
“Yeah. I’m fine,” she said and when her gaze dropped to his lips, she looked away. “I’m not a very strong swimmer. That’s all.”
“The water is calm.”
“Can someone snorkel in a life vest?”
“I don’t see why not.”
“I’d better go and find one.”
“Good idea.” He was watching her as if he was trying to puzzle something out. “I’ll stick close by once we go into the water. If you need to, just grab on to me.”
She nodded her thanks, then wobbled toward the front of the boat in the hopes of spotting a vest. Although the ocean was smooth, Cavanaugh was driving fast enough to make the ride interesting.
She found a seat nobody was using and lifted the top. Sure enough, there were three orange vests tucked in the box compartment. She grabbed the smallest just as Cavanaugh cut the motor and announced, “We are here.”
She pulled the vest over her bikini and made sure the fastener was tight. Not that it made her feel any better. She glanced at Reese. He’d be close by. At least there was that.
“The ocean floor rises up here, so the water is not too deep. There’s an old freight ship about twenty feet down. It sunk in a storm a good fifty years ago. You’ll see lots of tropical fish around it. The goggles and snorkels are here.” He pushed a large plastic crate forward with his feet. “Have fun, everyone.”
Reese pulled out a mask and held it to her face. “Press on, then let go.”
The mask fell off, and she grabbed for it.
“Not a good fit,” he said. “When you press it to your face like that, it sticks if you have a good seal.”
She tried another one, then another. The fourth seemed perfect.
The guests divvied up the equipment, but Cavanaugh made no move to take anything.
“You’re not coming?” she asked him. How were they going to get the phone away from him if he didn’t let go of it?
“Somebody should probably stay with the boat,” he said.
She thought for a moment then gave “the look” to Reese.
He ignored her.
She glared.
He shook his head slightly.
“Please,” she mouthed when another guest said something to Cavanaugh and he turned his back to them.
Reese set his mouth in a thin line, but nodded after a second. “I could stay,” he said. “Truth be told, I love boats, but I’m not that keen on being in the water.”
Cavanaugh tilted his head, looking amused. “Is that so?”
“Since I’ve never done this before, I wouldn’t mind having an expert’s guidance.” Sam tried to look lost and a little worried. It wasn’t hard.
“Of course.” Philippe pulled his shirt over his head and draped it on the back of the captain’s chair. He had a body that clearly saw regular exercise, but it was still a far cry from Reese’s. He reached into his swim shorts and pulled out the cell, then fiddled with something on the dashboard. A small compartment opened, into which he tossed the phone. After he’d closed the door, Sam noticed a tiny keypad.
He had a safe.
She was going to drown for nothing.
She shot a desperate look to Reese. He had a dark expression on his face and he looked as if he was about to step in and save her from Philippe and the water, but she shook her head slightly, pleading with him to stay put. Even if they couldn’t get the phone, she might be able to get information out of Philippe while they were alone. She didn’t have to like this. She just had to do it.
“Ready?” Philippe dug through the equipment and picked a green mask and flippers, put the latter on, then reached out a hand to help her to the edge of the boat from where she would have to jump.
Too late to change her mind now.
Here we go. She forced a smile, put on the goggles and splashed into the water. The glass fogged up almost immediately. She bobbed on the small waves, unable to see anything, grabbing for the strap.
“You didn’t—” Philippe was right next to her. “Here. Take it off.”
The vest kept her buoyant enough so she felt semisafe, despite the fact that even in the short minute or so they had already drifted away from the boat.
“This is what you have to do.” Philippe spit into his mask. “Now rub it all over the optical surface then rinse it in the water. That should do.”
Gross. She did it anyway.
“Let me help you with the mouthpiece.”
Since he was reaching for it, she handed it over, thinking that it required a special trick, as well. But all he did was place it in her mouth while holding her gaze.
He probably meant it as a suggestive gesture. It felt plain creepy.
“Now put your head in the water and I’ll adjust it for you.”
She smiled as if she were having fun and did what he said.
Wow.
The water was clear enough to see the wreck below, covered with sea moss and shells. The small schools of colorful tropical fish that inhabited it were startling. Blue, green, yellow and silver scales flashed in the sunshine that filtered through the water. Mesmerizing.
Someone tapped her shoulder. She lifted her face out of the water and looked at Philippe, who was giving her the thumbs-up with a questioning expression.
He removed his mouthpiece. “How do you like it?”
“It’s amazing,” she said around hers and went back to watching.
Several minutes passed before her senses became filled enough with the enchantment to think of the phone. Could Reese pry the compartment open to get to it?
Not likely. She looked up just in time to see Eva climb back on board.
The woman was forever finagling a way to be near Reese. She was the most annoying of the guests. Just because she had the perfect body, it didn’t mean she had to flash it every chance she got.
“Come on. I want to show you something else,” Philippe said next to her.
Sam smiled at him and followed. She couldn’t afford to look anything but enthusiastic about whatever he had to offer.
He went under, propelled by the fins he wore on his feet. She hadn’t bothered to grab a pair of those since she wasn’t going to take the vest off. He swam deeper, circled, then came up, blew the water out of his mouthpiece next to her.
She glanced back at the boat. Eva was practically sitting on Reese’s lap. Maybe she should go back.
“This way,” Philippe said.
She hesitated a second, then followed the man.
They swam the length of the ship and came to an odd rocklike formation, hard-looking but lacy at the same time, as if made from petrified tree branches.
“What is it?” she asked when both of their faces were out of the water.
“The beginnings of a coral reef.”
She swam closer until she was on top of it and watched the fishes play. Philippe named a few and added some interesting tidbits about the wildlife down below, never missing an opportunity to brush against her when he went down to swim around and un
der her. She fixed an interested smile on her face and kept it there. They spent a good hour in the water before heading back.
“Anybody want to try another spot?” Philippe asked his guests once they were drinking cocktails on board. He had a minifridge under the console. The boat was a wonder.
“I want more,” Eva said, looking straight at Reese.
More of what? Sam watched her. Eva had barely spent ten minutes in the water. So far, she’d spent most of her time with Reese.
If Eva kept getting in the way, she could mess things up. Sam needed to keep track of things that might have a bearing on their mission. It had nothing to do with jealousy.
“I’d love to go,” she said. “But do you mind if I don’t go in again?” She needed to stay on board and have a go at that keypad. Reese had no success with it, as he had indicated with a slight shake of his head when she had climbed back on board.
“Of course not.” Philippe smiled. “It’s your first time.” He said the words with emphasis. “You need to get used to this. You can keep me company.”
Her hopes wilted. Great.
The next good spot, according to Philippe, was just half a mile away. This time Eva did want to go in and insisted that Reese go with her. Sam and Philippe were the only two left on board.
“So how long is David staying on the island?” he asked. “I assume an important lawyer like him can’t ignore work indefinitely.”
“He’s flying out next week. Probably.” And that was the truth, something she didn’t want to dwell on right now. She wouldn’t have minded if Reese became a permanent member of the operation. Not because she enjoyed hanging out with him. He was good at what he did, that was all. He would have been an asset to any team.
Philippe seemed pleased with her response.
“You think—” The chirping of the cell phone interrupted him. He punched the code and retrieved the phone, looked at the display and decided to ignore the call, tossing the cell next to them on the seat—right on Sam’s towel.
“Anyway, so back to David. He should check out the Pirate Festival tomorrow. Some of the men are going out on a little tasting tour. There is usually a substantial display of Caribbean rum. I believe the ladies are staying on the beach. The festival has a tendency to get rowdy as the day wears on.”
Was that an attempt to get rid of Reese for a while? “Sounds like fun. He’ll probably want to check that out,” she said, playing along.
Philippe leaned closer. “Perhaps—”
Once again, he didn’t get to finish. Gretchen LaSalle, a leggy blonde, was coming up from the water, her hand bleeding. “Moray eel bit me,” she said much more calmly than Sam would have.
Cavanaugh moved for the first-aid kit. Gretchen’s attention was on the hand that dripped blood down her leg. Sam grabbed the cell phone and flipped it over.
Come on, come on, come on. She stuck a fingernail under the release and popped off the back, keeping an eye on the other two in the boat. Don’t look, don’t look, don’t look.
Philippe was turning just as she finally got the chip out. She shoved it in the waistband of her bikini, pretending to adjust it with one hand while grabbing for her towel with the other. She hadn’t had a chance to put the back of the phone in place. It lay there in pieces. Cavanaugh hadn’t seen it yet.
“What can I do to help?” She snapped the towel off the seat so the movement tossed the phone over the side of the boat. It entered the water with a splash.
Philippe glanced back at the sound.
She did her best to look stricken. “Your phone!” She rushed to bend over the side. The silver gadget was sinking. “I’m so sorry. Can we get it back?”
She turned around and held her breath, waiting for his reaction, watching for any hint that he was on to her. Had he seen, maybe in his peripheral vision, what she had done? Or was he buying the act?
He watched her for a long second.
What if he had seen her? Did he have a gun on board? Knowing the kind of things he was involved in, he probably had ten. If she screamed, would Reese hear her? Could he get to the boat in time? If he did, what could he do?
An annoyed expression flashed across Philippe’s face, but it was gone in a second. “Never mind. The phone is nothing.” He was bringing the kit over the next second.
Was he letting this go in front of Gretchen and planning to get her later? Sam kept an eye on him, desperate to gauge his mood and possible intentions. He seemed completely focused on the task at hand. How good an actor was he? Had to be pretty good to be as successful as he was in business.
She wrapped the towel around Gretchen’s shoulders then grabbed a bottle of mineral water. “Let’s rinse.” She did that while looking to Philippe again. “I’m really sorry. I just panicked from the blood.” She didn’t have any trouble making her voice sound like she was all shook up.
He considered her for a second. “I have other phones. No big deal. Let’s take care of Gretchen.” He really seemed pretty nice about it, considering that it had been an expensive-looking model. He got out the disinfectant and poured it over the wound then dabbed it with a piece of gauze.
“It’s not that bad now that I’m looking at it.” Gretchen inspected the wound. “In the water, I couldn’t tell how serious it was.”
“Could you hold this?” Philippe handed Sam a pair of scissors. He wrapped the wound up tight, using a whole roll of bandage. “I’ll blow the horn and get everyone to come in, then we can head back to shore.”
Gretchen flexed her hand. “I don’t think that’s necessary.”
But another guest was already pulling himself over the edge of the boat. He took in the first-aid kit. BrianWallace. Sam made a point to memorize every guest’s name so she could pass them on to Brant Law.
“What happened? I saw her swimming in like there was trouble.”
Gretchen explained. One more reason to stay out of the water.
Sam glanced at Philippe, who was being a very solicitous host to Gretchen, making her a drink. The other guests were coming in, as well. They’d probably seen that some had made it to the boat already. Eva and Reese returned last—a good fifteen minutes after the others—laughing. Had a good time out there, did they?
And why was that surprising? Reese was a normal guy; he deserved a normal, emotionally healthy woman who wasn’t bound by the filth of her past.
Reese will leave soon.
It didn’t matter, Sam told herself. He had already given her so much, and for that she would be forever grateful. He had made her realize that not all men were cruel, that she wasn’t doomed to be bound by her fears and memories, that there was a chance to move on. He had watched her back and helped her to do her part in the operation. With his assistance, the week at Cavanaugh’s mansion might end up a success instead of a disaster. And she had enjoyed that kiss.
But she was going to ignore all the weird things he made her feel. The mission was the important thing.
And she had Cavanaugh’s cell chip with a call record that might finally point them to Tsernyakov.
Uploaded by Coral
Chapter Six
Reese stared at the ceiling, listening to Sam’s soft breathing next to him, watching her outline in the dark. She was so far over, if she leaned a smidgen, she would fall to the floor. He made a point to always keep the distance she set, not wanting to make her feel any more uncomfortable than she already was.
They’d decided against taking the WaveRunner out in the night, as Philippe’s men had seemed to set up night surveillance. Did they think the kid might still be hiding somewhere on the property? Sam had suggested that they could hook up with Brant at the festival the next day. He’d agreed. The few hours they would have gained by making the drop-off tonight weren’t worth the risk.
He closed his eyes, willing sleep to come. That seemed unlikely, just as it had since they’d been sharing a bed. And when he did sleep, it was the usual nightmares, fighting bad guys, searching the darkness for the people he w
as supposed to save. Natalie.
A small sound coming from Sam made his eyes pop open again. She moved her head a fraction, and he could see in the moonlight that her eyes were moving rapidly under the lids. She was dreaming. Her face scrunched up. Dreaming something bad?
He watched her, wanting to put a soothing arm around her, but not wanting to scare her even more. She would likely think it a restraint instead of a soothing gesture, turning her nightmare worse still.
Then she opened her mouth and a single hoarse cry broke loose. “No!” she said in a child’s voice, so poignant it gripped his heart and wouldn’t let go.
He swore under his breath, moved closer and pulled her into his arms. “Shh. You’re safe. Nobody is going to hurt you now,” he whispered.
For a split second she bowed her body, resisting, then her face fell against his bicep and she inhaled deeply and the next moment, without warning, snuggled into him. He held still. Did she recognize his scent? Did she, after the last couple of days with him, associate him with safety as she had claimed? As much as he hadn’t been able to appreciate her declaration after their mind-blowing kiss, now the thought caused his heart to thump in an odd rhythm.
If this was what she needed, he would happily hold her all night. He wasn’t going to sleep, anyway.
But after a few moments, his eyes did drift closed and, comforted by her even breathing, he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep, the kind he rarely experienced.
In the morning, waking before she did, he pulled away reluctantly, knowing that waking in his arms would make her feel instantly uncomfortable by the light of day. He was in the shower by the time he heard her move around, making coffee in the kitchen.
THE PIRATE FESTIVAL WAS about as chaotic as a pirate attack must have been back in the day—too many jostling people who smelled like rum, and constant screaming, in this case coming from the rides.
“I should have stayed on the beach,” Sam said, and paused in front of a cotton-candy stand. Her eyes rounded and her tongue darted out to lick the corners of her lips.