Overboard (A Crow's Nest Novel Book 2)

by Natasha Raulerson

  “Isn’t that illegal?” Her fingers tightened on the arm grips as her anxiety flared again.

  “As opposed to helping you escape from the hospital, knowing your remanded into your parents care to transport you to a mental health care facility?”

  “…Point taken.”

  Miguel chuckled. “Don’t worry, Sirena. This will be fun.”

  She glanced up at him. “You and I have very different definitions of fun.”

  Miguel noted the way Cassidy’s eyes bulged at the many firearms waiting for them in the SUV. Each one felt familiar against his body. He never went anywhere unarmed. He had a piece in the waistband of his jeans even at the hospital. Some people might call it paranoia.

  It wasn’t.

  Miguel knew the difference. He also knew that no matter where people were—off at war, or on their own home soil—evil men laid in wait. Didn’t have to be a soldier or a tyrant. There would always be people out to hurt other people. Going around without a weapon seemed senseless to him—especially considering the type of work the Crows did. They didn’t go out of their way to make enemies, but they existed—and right now, Cassidy had an enemy that was out to kill her. Miguel didn’t know much about him, yet. That would change, but until then, Miguel had to be ready for anything.

  They arrived at the Nest without any incident. Ivanov probably wanted to keep a low profile, sweep this incident under the rug. As far as Miguel could tell, it hadn’t even been reported on social media. That was a hard feat to pull off—he imagined someone paid the hospital staff a good sum to keep it quiet. He didn’t have Cassidy’s full version of events, but that would also change when he got to her safety.

  Hunter parked the SUV and Miguel got out, holding his hand out to Cassidy. She took it and stepped down, wincing a bit and leaning her weight onto him.

  “How’s the leg?” he asked.

  “Sore,” she said. “I can walk on it though.”

  Sure, she could. Until she stumbled and fell on her face. He loved a tough woman, and Cassidy had to be damn tough to survive the sea. Right now, she didn’t need to be. He tightened his arm around her waist. “Well, Sirena,” he grinned. “Lean on me…” He half sang it.

  She rolled her eyes. “You’re not seriously about to do that are you?”

  “What’s wrong with serenading a woman?”

  The lit parking lot let him see the soft blush that ran through her tanned cheeks. She bit her lip and that bashful look nearly did him in.

  “Miguel, Ms. Fletcher.” Cap approached them and nodded.

  Saved by the Captain.

  Thank God. Miguel didn’t think he could handle the pressure in his dick. The woman didn’t even have to try. Miguel just wanted her.

  “Hey, Cap.” He walked over, Cassidy limping against him. “The boat ready?”

  “Boat?” Cassidy asked.

  “The second part of the plan,” Miguel said. “Is to get you somewhere off the grid. Safe. Too many ways that Ivanov, your parents, or the police can find you on land.”

  Her plush lips parted in an ‘o’. “So, what? We’re going to camp out on a boat?”

  “Sort of,” Cap said. “The speed boat is just for transportation.”

  “Oh geeze,” Honey said walking up behind him. “Stop being so vague.”

  Cap’s girlfriend. They’d gotten together not long after the stalker incident with Hunter and Sin. Honey was a firecracker. Her dark skin was covered in tattoos, and her braided hair was shaved on one side. She had blue and pink colors weaving throughout, bright enough to be seen in the dark. Honey was absolutely gorgeous, hard for any guy to miss, and the fact that she had brains and a vivacious attitude only made her better. If she and Cap hadn’t gotten together, Miguel wasn’t sure he wouldn’t have tried to sleep with her at some point. He didn’t go for women in relationships though. Cardinal rule.

  Honey looked at Cassidy and grinned. “They know their own code words and gestures, but it takes us newbies a little while to figure it out.”

  Cap went to say something, but Honey cut him off. “The guys here are just worried we might be listened in on. Which,” she said pointedly. “We’re not. This place is bug proof and the only eyes on it are mine.”

  “Cassidy,” Miguel said. “This is Honey. She’s a tech expert.”

  “I’m an expert on a whole lot of things.” She winked.

  Cassidy shifted next to him. Maybe from the weight on her leg, maybe from all the attention. Miguel didn’t know, but they needed to get out of dodge before the cops came sniffing around asking to see the surveillance footage. Honey looped it already, so as far as the feeds were concerned, the parking lot was empty, and everyone had their alibi in place. Except Miguel. No one was going to buy he wasn’t a part of this, but Honey had already hacked into the security system at the hospital and erased the footage. Not because of Miguel and Cassidy, but because it could implicate Hunter. Not the way they did things at the Nest.

  “All right,” Miguel said. “We need to get going while the going’s good.”

  Honey handed him a new phone. “It’s a burner phone. Untraceable. I need your phone so they can’t track you. I’m doing some digging on Ivanov. As soon as I have anything I’ll be in touch. If you have a computer don’t hook it up to satellite. Stay off the grid.”

  He laughed. “Chica, staying off the grid is what I do best.”

  Hunter came over with the keys to the boat. “Then stop talkin’ and get out of here.”

  Miguel nodded and led Cassidy to the boat. It’d been filled with provisions. Some extra groceries, water, and other things they might need depending on how long they had to hide out. He didn’t think it would be long. Once there was more information he could act on, Miguel would figure out their next move. Right now, he was in the dark, Cassidy was injured, and she had a hit man after her. The best thing he could do was take her somewhere safe—somewhere he could see what was coming.

  He hopped off the dock. The boat swayed in the water under his feet. “Take it easy,” he told her, holding his arms up.

  She rolled her eyes. “I’ve been on plenty of boats before.”

  Still, when he gripped her waist and lowered her down, she didn’t say anything—just rested her hands on his shoulders and looked down at her shoes. He didn’t know if she was really that bashful, but he couldn’t help but find it so damn sexy.

  When her feet touched the baseboard, she eased into the passenger seat.

  “Where are we going anyway?” she asked.

  “Casa De Cortez.” He flashed her a grin.

  “We need a boat to get there?”

  “It’s off the beaten path.” He stood behind the wheel and started the engine. This one belonged to The Crow’s Nest—so if it got shot up, they wouldn’t have to worry about losing a customer over it.

  Chapter Seven

  Cassidy woke up in a warm, soft bed. At some point during the journey she’d fallen asleep while Miguel cruised through the dark waterways. She’d been hypnotized by the lapping water and his silhouette speeding through shadows in the dark. Even at night she could see the contour of his muscles, the swell of his butt in his cargo shorts. He made her heart race—it’d been a long time since any man had been able to do that—or maybe she hadn’t been paying enough attention. For a long time, she’d only focused on finding Meredith’s killer. She sat up, gently swinging her legs over the side of the bed. A sharp pain rushed through her thigh, and then dissipated. She’d never been shot before.

  It sucked. A lot.

  On the bedside table a pill bottle sat along with a note.

  “Take two.”

  She felt like Alice with the bottle that said, ‘drink me’. Except she knew Miguel wouldn’t hurt her. It was just really strong ibuprofen. She took two, downing the horse pills with the water he left. Courteous of him.

  For a moment, it felt like the floor moved. She frowned, and pulled back the tan curtain over the window, looking out. Nothing but swamp and marsh for as
far as she could see. There was a small deck right outside the window, and then dark, murky water she would not want to swim in. A moment later she realized she wasn’t in a cabin or place built in the sticks. It was a houseboat.

  Somehow, she wasn’t surprised.

  Carefully, she stood up and walked to the bathroom to freshen up a bit. It felt good to be out of the hospital—but she knew the danger was far from over. When she was done, Cassidy went out onto the deck. From the second level she saw Miguel standing near the bow deck, sun glinting off his brown skin and taut muscles as he set up a few fishing lines off the edge. She bit her lip and tried to avert her gaze, but then she noticed the thick scars on his back. Corded and raised, like he’d been whipped. She furrowed her brows. Other scars peppered his skin in sharp. jagged divots—she couldn’t quite tell what had caused them.

  The scars told her one thing though—she really didn’t know anything about the man who had rescued her. Miguel could be just as dangerous as Ivanov, but unlike the Russian diplomat, Cassidy knew in her bones Miguel wouldn’t hurt her.

  She went back inside and noticed a stack of clothes on the chair. All womens. All new. They had the tags on them. Miguel had prepared better than she thought. With the medicine kicking in, Cassidy opted for a shower. It felt like ages since she had one. She grabbed the clothes and went into the bathroom, turning the water on to practically scalding. She stripped down and got under the hot spray, letting it relax her muscles. The steady stream of water felt good against her skin, washing away the grime and oils. She pushed her long hair back and leaned her face against the tiles, just taking a moment to recoup.

  Or maybe twenty. When the water cooled, she shut it off and eased out. Her leg felt better. She kept the plastic covered bandage over the stitches while showering, so she’d need to change it after she got dressed. She dried off and slid on clean panties and jean shorts, as well as a bra and blue tank top. They fit well, just like before. Sitting down on the toilet she peeled the bandage back, huffing at the crescent moon shaped stitches in her skin. Then she frowned, thinking herself petty for worrying about something so small. Miguel had so many scars—not small ones either.

  A knock on the door made her jump.

  “Hey Sirena, you okay? I heard the shower turn off.”

  “Um…yeah. You can come in.”

  The door opened and he walked in. He’d put on a tank top. It made her wonder if he had scars on his chest as well—but mostly, it nipped at her curiosity to find out what happened to him. Scars like that didn’t come without a lot of pain. Child abuse maybe, or something else she wasn’t sure about. She didn’t want to ask, didn’t want him to know she’d been spying. Her cheeks warmed as she thought about his physique again. No doubt about it, scars, or no scars, from the top of his head to the tips of his toes, Miguel was hot. She hadn’t been with a man in a very long time. She’d never had a one-night stand and Cassidy doubted she was as experienced as the type of women Miguel was used to.

  “Feel better after your shower?” He opened a drawer pulling out fresh bandages.

  “Yeah,” she said in a shy tone. “Thanks.”

  As much as she hated the way she sounded, Cassidy couldn’t seem to do anything to change it. She counted the twelve stitches on her thigh over and over. It gave her something to do instead of thinking about what an idiot she sounded like.

  Miguel knelt in front of her and dipped his head, trying to catch her gaze. “Hey, Sirena. You’re safe here. No one knows how to find this place but me.”

  “Where are we anyway?” she asked.

  That’s it. Focus on the facts.

  “In the Everglades.” He tended to her wound, making sure it was clean and dry before applying the new bandages. “You fell asleep not long after we were on the boat.”

  “Boats are sort of my favorite thing.”

  He grinned. “Yeah? One of mine too.”

  She smirked. “I gathered, considering the fact you live on one.”

  “When I need to.”

  Goosebumps flourished over her smooth thigh in the wake of his touch. His fingers lingered, and he watched her intensely. Those dark eyes burned into her, and Cassidy had an undeniable urge to kiss him—to know what his lips would feel like on her body. Her cheeks warmed again, and she looked away.

  “Thanks.” Her stomach growled adding to her embarrassment. “I don’t suppose there’s any food is there?”

  His hand lingered for a moment more before he stood up. “Just caught breakfast.”

  “Wait…caught?”

  Standing up, he smirked. “What’d you think I was doing when you were watching me from the balcony? Fishing for leisure?”

  “Well…” She flushed again. At this point her cheeks were going to be permanently blushed. She couldn’t believe he’d known she was there. He hadn’t turned around or done anything to indicate he’d seen her. “Yeah?”

  “If I went fishing for leisure, you wouldn’t be able to find me.” He held out a hand to her.

  She took it and stood up, testing her weight on her leg. The ache had dulled to tolerable, but it was definitely still there.

  “Like anyone could find us now,” she said.

  “That’s the point, Sirena.”

  Maybe so, but she wasn’t too keen on sitting on the sidelines and waiting for others to handle Ivanov. Especially when she knew that other women could be in danger. “But I have to—”

  “Heal.” He led her from the bathroom, through the bedroom, and downstairs to the main deck. “Ivanov isn’t going to do anything right now. Too many eyes are watching him.”

  “You don’t understand.” She tightened her grip on his warm, calloused hand. “I have to stop him. You already saw that the cops aren’t going to do anything.”

  “Maybe.” He let go of her hand, and she missed the comforting feeling of it. “Maybe not,” he said. “It depends on what we can get on him, but first, I need you to tell me everything. Beginning to end.”

  She frowned, her heart stopping for a brief moment. No one believed her theories. Granted some of them in the beginning had been wrong, but if she told Miguel the whole thing, he might think she was crazy too.

  And it was already such a delicate balance. This was the most anyone had ever trust her in regard to the situation—and she thought that might only be because of the circumstances Miguel had been a part of. If he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, he might not have believed her as much as he did. Then again, if he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, Cassidy might not be alive to tell him the truth.

  Whether he believed her or not, Cassidy owed him that much.

  The leather cushion of the breakfast table squeaked as she sat down. The table was a small booth tucked against the side in the far corner across from a gas stove. A gutted and filleted catfish sat on a plate on the small counter next to it. She wrapped her arms around her belly and looked at the linoleum table top, seeing a partial reflection of herself in the light material.

  Miguel didn’t push as he seasoned the fish and put a pan on the burner. He waited patiently, just moving about as if they were a couple enjoying a morning in the Everglades.

  Cassidy really wished that were true.

  Vulnerability rolled off her like an alluring perfume. It drew Miguel to her in more ways than one. When he’d put his hand on her thigh, the surprise on her face, the bashfulness—he was starting to think it wasn’t an act. Definitely not a party girl like Miguel was used to. He wanted to protect her, but he also wanted to take her into the room and make love to her until all of that vulnerability disappeared. The fact that he wanted to ‘make love’ instead of just fuck her surprised him. That’s generally what Miguel did. Fuck.

  Yet, with Cassidy, it felt different. He didn’t even mind that she’d seen his scars—most people knew he had them, but the only time Miguel went shirtless was when he was on the houseboat. But with Cassidy, for some reason, he wanted her to see all of him.

  He would unpack that later. Right
now, he needed Cassidy’s version of what happened. Without all the information he wouldn’t be able to separate fact from fiction. Ivanov was a son of a bitch, no doubt about that, but Miguel needed to get into his head if he was going to take him down. Getting into the twisted, psychotic minds of killers was one thing Miguel was very good at. It’s how he survived his imprisonment—becoming a monster to save himself from the monsters.

  After seasoning and breading the catfish, he put it in the frying pan. The oil sizzled against the meat. He let the quiet stretch between them. One thing he’d learned after coming home from Afghanistan—trying to force someone to talk before they were ready never ended well. He’d been on the silence end of it once, replaying nightmares over and over in his head. Several therapists tried to get him to talk, tried to push him to tell his story. He hadn’t been ready then. When he found the right therapist, she knew how to listen, how to wait for him to open up on his own time and that helped more than anything.

  “My little sister Meredith,” Cassidy said in a low voice. “Was a drug addict.”

  He twisted, resting his hip against the counter, waiting to flip the fish. He still didn’t say anything but wanted to let Cassidy know she had his attention.

  “We tried to help her.” She traced her thumb along the edge of the tabletop. “Counseling, rehab, and everything we could possibly think of. None of it worked. She always fell back onto bad habits.”

  “So, what happened?” He flipped the catfish and went to the fridge, pulling out two potatoes to dice up.

  Her gaze flicked to him for a moment, before she looked back down. “Mom and dad wanted to cut her off—and I thought they were right.”

  Something in her tone wavered. He knew that sound all too well. Guilt. Pure and simple. Wasn’t hard to connect the dots. If Cassidy cut off Meredith and she died not long after, he could imagine that the ‘what-if’ game played in her head. What if Cassidy hadn’t cut her off? What if she’d found another way to help her? What if she’d had her forcibly committed to rehab? A lot of what-ifs. None of which might have made any difference. People don’t change unless they want to.