“Of course they are.”
Isiah sighed. “I’ll get the food orders then hit the kitchen. You good handling the house?”
Marty gave him the side-eye and handed Isiah a stack of menus as the party started ambling in. “Yeah, I’m good.”
Isiah took in the tourists with their sunburned faces, shorts, and smiles. A stab of disappointment lanced through him when he saw Alexis’s chair empty, but the chatter and laughter of the large family filled The Shack and it was hard not to absorb a little bit of their happiness.
Forcing a smile he didn’t entirely feel, he stepped from behind the bar and started greeting his guests.
Three hours and thirty very satisfied customers later, Isiah locked the door to The Shack. He typically closed early on Sundays, but today, he was earlier than usual. He needed to figure out what the hell to do with the information Huck had dropped in his lap.
“Hey, Marty,” he called. Marty emerged from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a dishtowel.
“Yeah?”
“Why don’t you head home for the day? I can get the rest here.”
Marty eyed the room. Most of the dishes were already done, but the tables needed to be cleaned, the seats put up, and the floor swept and mopped.
“I can make my way through everything. I don’t have anything else to do this afternoon, but I seem to recall there might be a lady from your church you were thinking of inviting out to coffee and cake?”
“I can invite Ms. Alice out tomorrow night when we’re closed. You should leave all this to me and go do something fun. You don’t do enough fun,” Marty said.
Isiah couldn’t argue with that last statement, but it wasn’t like he didn’t ever have fun. He did, just not as much as the average thirty-eight-year-old bachelor. He’d had enough fun in his early twenties and valued the stability these last few years on Tildas Island had given him—very little had been stable in his life until settling on Tildas and it wasn’t something he took for granted.
Isiah shrugged. “You can stay, but I have to stay anyway. I have the books and bills to go through and then a few other things to take care of. At least if you go, one of us will be having fun.”
Marty narrowed his eyes. “That’s a piss poor argument.”
“Ms. Alice going to like language like that?” Isiah teased.
“Ms. Alice has raised four boys who show nothing but respect for their mama. I suspect Ms. Alice could swear you and me under the table in a match.”
Isiah laughed. He’d seen Alice Fasher, she was five foot nothing and looked like she’d blow over in a good wind, but Marty was right, she was tough as nails and would have no compunction about putting either of the men in their place.
“Go,” Isiah said, still chuckling even as he waved his friend toward the back door. “And don’t let me see your face until Tuesday afternoon. I got some shit to do and don’t want to be disturbed by your constant chatter.”
Marty sniffed, but started toward the door as Isiah followed. “You like my chatter. If it weren’t for my chatter, The Shack would be silent as a tomb. You know, you should try it more often, that talking thing. They say it’s good for your heart and mind. Better than locking everything inside…”
Isiah shut the backdoor behind Marty and his voice faded away. For a moment, he stood in the hallway, drawing strength—and calm—from the silence. The family that had descended on The Shack had tipped well, been polite and fun. But even so, he’d found it hard to focus and remain the host while Huck’s phone sat in the safe in his office and questions kept bouncing into his mind.
Taking a breath and girding himself for whatever came next, he reached for the handle of his office door. Just as a shadow moved across the bar.
His heart kicked up and his blood vessels expanded as adrenaline shot through his system. Was it possible that Angela Rosen, and whoever Huck had overheard in the office with her, already knew that Isiah had the information?
“Don’t fucking move,” he barked out the command as his body tensed for confrontation. A second ticked by then another. He assessed his options and was considering slipping into his office, where he kept his one and only firearm, when the figure appeared in the doorway.
Alexis leaned against the frame, crossing her arms over her chest. “You’ve been jumpy as a cat in a dog pound since you opened that envelope today. Care to tell me what it’s all about?”
“What the hell are you doing here?” he snapped, striding toward her. Truth be told, he was more annoyed at being taken by surprise than at her still being at the bar, but she didn’t need to know that.
She smiled at him as he approached. He stalked toward her but drew to a halt two feet away. She didn’t bother to move or back away. Her fucking confidence was going to drive him crazy. He’d seen it that very first time she’d set foot in his bar and not a thing had changed since then, only now he was well aware that she had the physical ability to back it up.
“Someone’s a little cranky at being taken by surprise.”
“You’re trespassing,” he replied.
She lifted a shoulder. “Not really. I’ve been here the whole time, just out on the veranda and mostly out of sight. You locked up the bar with me in it. Arguably, I’m being held hostage here by you.”
He glared down at her, though not that much down since she was only four inches shorter than he. She stared back. His gaze dropped from her light blue eyes to the freckles that dotted her nose and cheeks. He’d noticed them before, of course, but he’d never been this close to her and though she was all woman now, he could almost see the little girl she’d once been.
She smiled again as his attention drifted to her lips and the perfect rows of perfect white teeth. Who was this woman? Other than a woman standing before him, smiling and not the least bit intimidated.
His mind stumbled over that thought. Why the hell would he want her to be intimidated by him? It was a good thing she wasn’t, right? But then what was his problem?
“Fuck, I’m a mess.” Taking a step away, he leaned his back against the wall. “Sorry about that. You’re right, I’m a little on edge.”
She studied him before speaking. “Let’s pour ourselves a drink and you can tell me all about it.”
He rolled his head to look at her. “Tell you?” She might be FBI, but that didn’t mean he trusted her.
He studied her. She met his scrutiny with an unflinching stare of her own. He didn’t trust her like he’d trusted his team, but there was a lot of wiggle room between having no trust at all and the kind of relationship he’d had with his team. He couldn’t expect to feel the latter with someone he barely knew, but his instinct—and yes, maybe even something more primal than that—was telling him that on the spectrum of trustworthiness, she landed closer to his team than to the other side. A lot closer.
“Who better than your friendly, neighborhood FBI agent?” she asked, flashing him another smile as she pushed away from the door frame and made her way into the bar area. “What can I get you?” she asked as she spun back toward him and held her arms akimbo, taking in all his bar had to offer.
He didn’t bother to suppress the chuckle that emerged from his chest. It was a little rusty and grumbly, but it was definitely a chuckle. “So what’s the deal? You pour me a beer and I spill my secrets?”
“Beer it is.” Then with a wink, she grabbed a pint glass and made her way to the taps. She poured the draft like a professional, even wiping the nozzle clean before handing him his drink.
After she’d helped herself to a gin and tonic, they made their way to the porch. Choosing a chair opposite her, he sank into the seat. For a few minutes, they said nothing, each sipping their drink and enjoying the view. The blue sky stretched as far as the eye could see, boats dotted the Caribbean ocean, and not-so-distant islands beckoned his imagination.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve sat out here in the daylight.” In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken the time to enjoy his own p
lace. Maybe the last time his sister had visited?
“It is pretty special, isn’t it?”
The wistfulness in her voice caught his attention. No doubt she sensed he’d now shifted his attention to her, but she kept her face turned toward the view.
“You seem different,” he said.
Her eyes flickered to him. “Than last night? I would hope so.”
He shook his head. “No, different from when you first started coming in here last fall.” If he hadn’t been watching so closely, he would have missed the way her shoulders tensed a hair, before they relaxed again. He hated that she might be remembering that night in December and his behavior toward her, but before he could open his mouth to apologize, she spoke.
“It takes me a while to warm up to people and new situations. I’d just moved here and recently met my new colleagues that first time I stopped by. I know my team—and the job—better now, and it’s become easier to let my guard down a little bit. I suppose it’s that comfort level you’re seeing.”
Interesting that her words hinted at the thoughts he’d had earlier about trust. But her answer hadn’t answered what he’d wanted to know. “That explains your more frequent smiles and the laughter I overheard yesterday when you were here with your team, but it doesn’t explain why you’re suddenly different with me. Especially, after the way I treated you.”
He didn’t need to elaborate and the corners of her mouth tipped down. For a moment, he thought she was going to reach for her drink and down the whole thing. But after a beat, she let out a long breath and gave him a rueful smile.
“I have an idea of why you did what you did in December and while I’m not excusing the behavior, I can respect that you needed distance. But then you followed me home last night. And more to the point, you had my back out in the parking lot. How you went about it gave me some insight into who you are as a person and, regardless of what happened in December, I liked what I saw.”
“You saw me?” he asked, “I mean actually saw me, not metaphorically ‘saw me’,” he clarified. She nodded. He might be a little out of practice, but he wasn’t that out of practice. That she’d seen him gave him another glimpse into her skills—not only was she confident, but she was competent, too and damn if that wasn’t sexy as hell.
He shifted in his seat. The need to reach for her, to feel her body against his, hit him with the subtlety of a sledgehammer. The craving was so intense that it threw him mentally off balance. Unsure what to do or say, he forced himself to turn away from her and he fixed his gaze on the horizon. His fingers twitched on his glass, itching to touch her, and he forced a few breaths in and out.
“And it didn’t bother you that I didn’t step in?” he managed to say.
“I actually appreciated that.” She graced him with a wry smile. “I had the situation under control and you knew that. I don’t really know you at all, but even so, I could see you ready to intervene. You had my back if I needed it but didn’t force your way in and that’s what’s important.”
He pulled his gaze from the Caribbean to her. “So now I’m on team Alexis?”
She laughed at that and he smiled. “You’re hardly that, Clarke. But you’re proving yourself worthy of consideration. Now, why don’t you tell me about that phone? I already know it’s not good,” she added.
He took a sip of his beer and stared off into the distance. Did he have a choice but to tell her? She’d have access to a secure internet connection, and more to the point, she—and her team—might be the only people he knew with such access. Unless he traveled back stateside and looked up a couple of his former teammates. But he wasn’t in a position to be gone that long, not with the bar and his other responsibilities.
So, no, he didn’t really have a choice if he wanted help. But that logic wasn’t what drove him to do what he did next.
“I’ll be right back,” he said, rising from his seat. Grabbing her empty glass, he dropped it behind the bar on the way to his office. Two minutes later, he was back, Huck’s phone and a headset in hand. Setting both on the bar, he made Alexis a quick refill, then picked up all three items and rejoined her on the porch. What he was going to do might not be his best idea, but his instinct told him it was the right thing, even if his judgment of Alexis was mired in his attraction to her.
He set her gin and tonic on the table, unlocked the phone, and handed it to her along with the headset. “Listen to the first recording in the app.”
Without a word, she plugged the headset in and did as she was told. Her gaze flickered to him a few times during the message, but for the most part, she kept her attention fixed on nothing in particular as she listened. When the message ended, she removed the headset and handed it, and the phone, back to him.
“Is your friend who sent you that reliable?” she asked.
His loyalty to Huck had Isiah opening his mouth to say “yes” before she’d even finished the question, but he forced himself to take a step back. Yes, Huck was reliable. Damn reliable. But it had been three years since Isiah had seen him, was it possible he could have changed? Was it possible this was some elaborate hoax? But if so, to what end?
“He was my teammate for seven years,” Isiah answered. “One of the best there was. He left the year after I did and went to work for the CIA. I don’t know exactly what he does for them. His message seems to indicate he’s an analyst, but I’m pretty sure that’s what they call people who do things the CIA doesn’t want to have to explain.”
“How long has it been since you’ve seen him?”
“He got out seven years ago. Traveled around for a couple of months. Stopped by here for a few weeks. Helped me build this porch, actually. Three years ago, he came to visit for a week, but I haven’t seen him since.”
“And you can’t exactly call him now, can you.” She nodded to the phone.
“Even if I could, I’m not sure I’d want to. I know I have to consider the possibility that the message might not be legit, but if it is, and I believe it is, I don’t want to do anything that would call attention to him. Or to the fact that I now have the information that made him fear for his life,” he said.
Alexis picked up her drink and took a sip, returning her gaze to the ocean. The silence stretched and though he’d been itching to do something all day, he found he didn’t mind the quiet contemplation now.
His beer was nearly gone when he spoke again. “I have a friend in a security company in DC. I can have him discreetly look into Huck.”
“And you need a secure internet connection that’s protected to the nines to check out what he might have left you on that cloud drive,” she said.
He downed the rest of his drink and set his glass on the table. “I know. But I don’t live in that world anymore and the only person I know who might have access to such a connection is sitting next to me.”
Alexis shifted her gaze and stared at him. A beat passed, then she blinked and looked away. “The FBI office?”
He nodded.
“No,” she said. “Not a good idea.”
“I know it’s not a good idea, but it’s the only one I have unless you have one?”
She stared out toward the ocean for so long that Isiah wondered if she’d even heard him. But then she closed her eyes for a second, as if girding herself for something. When she opened them, she focused those baby blues on him.
“As a matter of fact, I do have another idea.”
Chapter Three
Alexis led the way as she and Isiah left The Shack. The sun was on its downward slide toward the horizon and shadows had already consumed the lower parts of the dense foliage that lined the road.
Her feet didn’t falter but her mind definitely did. She was about to bring a man she barely knew, one whom she wasn’t even sure liked her, into a deeply private part of her life. With each step closer to where she was taking Isiah, the voice in her head telling that this was a bad idea—maybe not the worst idea she’d ever had, but a bad one nonetheless—got louder and lo
uder. There was no way she’d be able to silence it—it was too demanding and too logical—and so halfway to their destination, she gave up trying to reason with herself and just accepted that she was acting so out of character that there was no making any sense of it. It just was.
“We headed to your house?” Isiah asked.
She shook her head. She wasn’t that far gone so as to invite him to her home. “A friend’s.”
His steps slowed behind her. “Friend?”
She stopped and faced him. “Look, I know you don’t trust me like you trusted your team back when you had one and I wouldn’t expect that from you. But I don’t want to take you to my office because, while there is a secure connection there, the Bureau also has the ability to track traffic into and out of the network.”
“But where you’re taking me doesn’t?”
“It doesn’t, but it will require that you trust me—and my friends. At least in this.”
He eyed her. “Who are these people?”
“I could tell you or you could form your own opinions when you meet them.”
“I’ll form my own opinions whether you tell me about them or not, but there is no way I’m walking into something blind. Who are they?”
Alexis sighed and looked toward the shadows as she thought about how to describe Eric and Yael. She could sugar coat things, but if Isiah found out later that she hadn’t told him the complete truth, it might rattle the little trust he had in her, and protecting that kernel of trust between them felt important. But there was more at stake, of course. Yes, she wanted his trust on a personal level, but professionally, she needed it. She needed to find out what, if anything, Rosen’s activities had to do with the Summit. Not to mention, if Rosen intended to compromise the identity of a CIA spy, that wasn’t something Alexis or her team could overlook.
“Eric and Yael Goodman,” she said. “I’ve known Eric my entire life and Yael is his wife.”
“And they just happen to live here on Tildas Island?”
She almost smiled at the doubt that colored his tone. “No, they moved here because I’m here. Eric is my cook and my dog trainer—”
Night Deception Page 4