He brushed his lips across hers. Her arms came around his neck and their kiss deepened. As her fingers played at the back of his neck, that urgent, almost panicked sense of need, of possession, swept through him again.
Fighting his instinct to give in to the desire, he gentled the kiss, then drew back. He still had an arm around her waist, and her hands were now resting on his chest.
“This resort is probably more what you’re used to. But I have a friend with an overwater bungalow in a protected lagoon in the British Virgin Islands. Maybe next time you have a few days off we could head over there. No phones, no interruptions. Yael can stay at the hotel on the other side of the island,” he added, making Alexis smile.
“Just us?”
“And the dogs if you like.”
She laughed at that. “For a few days, I think I like the idea of just us.”
“Excellent.” He dropped another kiss on her lips. “Now, go call your teammates because Rosen just stepped out of the shower.”
Chapter Twenty-One
“I know him,” Isiah said.
Alexis switched her attention from the man who’d just walked by the resort boutique to Isiah. His lips were tilted into a frown.
“Not one of your favorites?” she asked, as they both started toward the door. Two families and one couple had walked by in the ten minutes they’d been inside the store. The man they’d seen pass was the first single person.
“His name is Philip Mariston. He’s British by birth, was in the army for a while, but now works a charter business out of St. John. He’s been into The Shack a time or two, usually with a woman from one of his charters that ‘wants to go where locals go’,” he said, using air quotes.
Alexis pulled out her phone and sent his name to her team as she and Isiah approached the café. When they arrived, Mariston had his back to them, but she could see Rosen’s face clearly. The woman did not look happy that her buyer—if that’s what Mariston was—was ten minutes late.
“Table?” the hostess asked.
“Yes, could we have that one in the back, please?” Alexis asked, pointing to one that would let her keep an eye on the couple, but also keep Isiah’s back to the man who might recognize him. “We like the privacy,” she added with a smile when the hostess’s gaze went to the empty tables scattered around the café that had much better views.
“Oh, of course,” she said with a smile. Then grabbing two menus, she led them toward a table. Isiah’s hand fell to Alexis’s lower back as they navigated through the restaurant. His body stayed close, looking like any other couple enjoying a night out.
“I’ll have a sidecar, please,” Alexis said as soon as they were seated.
The hostess didn’t hesitate to take her drink order and turned to Isiah.
“A beer, please. Whatever you have on tap is fine.”
“I’ll let the bartender know, and your waiter will be right over with those,” she said then made her way to the bar.
Rosen had ordered a drink before her contact had arrived so when the waiter set Mariston’s drink on the table, she also set a plate in front of Rosen. It was a small thing but at least that meant she wasn’t planning on leaving in the next few minutes and Alexis would have a chance to observe the pair.
Her phone buzzed on the table and she glanced down; a message from Damian. Jake was already in position to follow Mariston when he left the resort, leaving her and Isiah to stay focused on Rosen.
“What are they doing?” Isiah asked.
She didn’t stop the laugh that escaped at his tone. He definitely didn’t like being forced to stay out of sight. He glared at her, then tried to turn his head subtly enough to see them, under the guise of checking out the restaurant. But he couldn’t quite get to that point without turning his whole body. Instead, he accepted defeat and looked at her expectantly.
“They aren’t doing much of anything.” She raised her phone and snapped a few pictures. Both Rosen and Mariston were in profile so the photos wouldn’t be the best, but they’d be better than nothing.
“Rosen is eating, but they aren’t talking much. A couple of words here and there,” she reported. “Mariston looks bored, genuinely bored. Not the affected kind of boredom of someone new to the game. Rosen looks like she’s choking down her food.”
“Funny how treason tastes,” Isiah said, drawing a smile from her.
A few more bites, a couple of more words, then Rosen slid a slip of paper across the table. Quickly, Alexis raised her phone and started the video as Mariston reached for the sheaf, read it, then folded it and slid it into his breast pocket. The angle was perfect, once they enhanced the video, it would be clear exactly what Rosen had just done.
“I suspect our little meeting has come to an end,” Alexis said, taking another sip of her drink. Sure enough, two minutes later, Mariston rose, nodded to Rosen, and walked away. “I give it another ten minutes before she heads back to her room.”
Isiah caught the waiter’s attention and made the universal sign for the check. Rosen hadn’t asked for hers yet, but she and Isiah wanted to be ready to leave whenever she did.
They didn’t have to wait long. For such a big thing that they’d witnessed, the evening ended rather suddenly. Twenty minutes after signing their bill, Alexis and Isiah were back in their room, listening to Angela Rosen climb into bed. And it wasn’t yet nine o’clock.
At just after eight the next morning, Isiah laid a hand on Alexis’s shoulder. They’d taken turns listening in on their neighbor throughout the night, but until now, nothing interesting had occurred. No calls, nothing.
“Hmm,” Alexis rolled over, swiping her bangs from her eyes.
“Rosen has a visitor,” He tapped the device in his ear. And if his hearing served him right, Rosen’s visitor was none other than Philip Mariston.
Alexis blinked at him, then in a flash, she had a device tucked into her ear as she texted a message to her teammates.
“Rachel March?” Mariston said. “What the hell kind of game are you playing?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Rosen replied. “Who’s Rachel March?”
“Rachel March is also known as Amira Khan. It’s her identity you gave me. And I can assure you, my buyer was not amused,” Mariston answered.
Alexis shot Isiah a look. “Does it concern you that whoever is buying the information was able to hack into the CIA network fast enough to locate the file number Rosen gave him?”
“He either has someone who can hack in that fast or someone on the inside,” Isiah said. Both options raised the same question—who did the buyer know that was capable of accessing the information, but not finding it on their own? But that question would need to remain unanswered at the moment as they had more immediate concerns.
“Her identity?” Rosen parroted on the other side of the wall.
“Yes, her identity. Not only did you give me the wrong asset, because my buyer knows the person who killed his sister was a man, but you gave me the name of an agent that died two months before my client’s sister. So I’ll repeat the question, what kind of game are you playing?”
Alexis started typing another text into her phone. “This isn’t going to end well.”
Isiah’s eyebrow shot up and he almost laughed. Her comment was an understatement of epic proportions.
“He gave me that file number,” Rosen said.
“And it was a man you met?” Mariston asked.
“Of course it was,” Rosen answered, her voice exasperated, but also tinged with a hint of panic and undertones of confusion. “I know your client wants The Gentleman, and I assure you, that’s who I met.”
“Then he didn’t give you the right file number and he’s played you.”
Isiah glanced at Alexis. She wasn’t even trying to hide the grin that Serena’s ploy elicited.
“There was some talk that he wasn’t really one of ours. It’s possible that’s true and, as you say, he played us,” Rosen said.
“Or he was on to you and played you,” Mariston replied.
Silence filled the room, then Rosen spoke again. “I suppose it’s a possibility. So what now?” Rosen asked. “I assume your client wants the money back?”
Mariston chuckled. “If only it were that easy.”
“It is. I can have it wired back to the account it was sent from right now.” The panic in Rosen’s voice wasn’t so subtle now and a glance at Alexis told him she heard it, too.
“Sorry,” Mariston said, “It isn’t. It’s time for you and me to take a little boat ride.”
“Boat ride?” Angela repeated.
“Pack your bags,” Mariston ordered.
“I don’t need to pack them, I never unpacked them,” Rosen replied, sounding confused. “But why do you need me to go with you? I can just have the money wired back.”
Mariston never replied, but Rosen uttered a surprised, “What the hell?” which was followed by an ominous silence.
“We need to get over there,” Isiah said. “He’s going to kill her if he hasn’t already.”
“He hasn’t killed her and we need to get to that boat,” Alexis corrected, moving toward the sliding glass door. Opening it, she took a few steps outside then quickly reentered the room. “There’s a speed boat at the dock. That has to be his.”
“Alexis, we need to stop this now,” Isiah insisted.
She paused in her search for something. “Yes, it’s more than likely that he’s going to kill her, but not until after he gets her to where he’s been told to take her. You heard him. He’s been instructed to bring her to his client. She’s safe for now, but if we go barging in there? You can’t tell me that you think he’s unarmed.”
“And letting him take her away, or worse, getting on the boat ourselves, is the only way to save her? You can’t believe that?” he countered.
“I can and I do. If we go into the room now, I have no doubt he’ll kill her right away. But if we let get him get out onto the dock, he won’t want to do anything to call attention to himself. If we can keep him outside and off the boat, or, worst-case scenario, allow him on the boat but manage to get on ourselves, we have a chance. We have a chance of saving her and finding out who this client is and what, if any, connection the buyer might have to Calloway. Calloway’s name has been connected to criminal activity twice this year and I’m pretty sure this isn’t the last we’ll hear of him. We need to learn everything we can about him and that includes who his network is.” Alexis’s voice was strong and filled with conviction.
Isiah studied her, his heart beating a rapid—and distracting—rhythm. Finally, he sighed. He didn’t like it. But she was right. “Grab whatever you can that you think we might need. I want to keep listening as long as possible.” She started gathering a few items as he spoke—a small gun she tucked into a holster under her peasant blouse, a knife she slid into a sheath that lay against her hip under her shorts. Once she was kitted up, she started handing him a small armory, even as he continued to listen.
“We need to go now,” Alexis said.
“To the boat?” he asked, reluctant to leave before they knew as much of Mariston’s intentions as they could.
Alexis nodded. Then, without leaving him a chance to protest, she started out the door.
Alexis knew she owed Isiah an explanation, and she planned to give him one, but they needed to hurry. Once he closed the door behind them, she took his hand and walked as fast as she could, without appearing hurried, toward the boat dock.
“Whether or not we end up on the boat with Mariston, my team will be on the water themselves, so we’ll have him covered.”
“Is it worth it, Alexis?” Isiah asked. He was speaking about the risks they were taking, not just to obtain intel, but to save Rosen. And it was a legitimate question.
“Probably not,” she answered honestly. “But I can’t not try, not when it comes to Rosen. I have no sympathy for her, but I can’t let anyone get killed or tortured if I can stop it.”
He was silent as they navigated their way along the grass, avoiding the beach and the early sunbathing guests. When the dock was less than twenty feet away, he sighed.
“You’re right. We can’t. But even so. Her life is not worth yours. She took the same oaths you did, she’s not an innocent bystander. Promise me that you will not trade your life for hers.”
Intellectually, she knew his request wasn’t unreasonable—yes, it was an emotional plea, but it was also a logical one. Of the two agents sworn to protect the United States and its people, only one of them had betrayed that oath and it wasn’t Alexis. But when the chips were down, she didn’t know if her instinct would allow someone else to die when she could stop it, even at the cost of her own life. Her training, which had started long before she’d joined the FBI, might kick in and she’d be diving in front of that bullet before there was any conscious thought about what she was doing.
“I have no intention of doing that.” Because at least that much was true. “But let’s do our best to not get into that situation at all. And if you could, please just play along.”
“Play along with—”
“Oh my god!” Alexis exclaimed loudly, dragging him out on the dock toward the waiting boat. “Is that a Ducati Cigarette boat?”
The man at the wheel startled at her exclamation and jerked his attention from the resort to them. His eyes swept up and down her body, then he nodded.
“Oh,” she said, pulling Isiah to her side and hugging his arm tight against her as she ‘admired’ the boat. “This is the boat I was telling you about, Baby.” She sounded so un-Alexis-like that it took him a second—and a little pinch on his side—to catch on.
“The one that you just got that you’re so excited about?”
She bobbed her head. “They’re pretty hard to get and ours is a newer model, of course, but this one’s not bad. How do you like it? How’s it handle on the ocean?” she asked the pilot.
His eyes darted behind them but she hadn’t heard or felt anyone step onto the dock, so Mariston wasn’t close yet.
“It’s good. On days like this. We don’t take it out when there’s any weather to speak of.” The man’s accent was pure Southern. South Georgia if she had to guess.
“It is a perfect day isn’t it?” Alexis said. “Do you charter her? I’d love to take her over to Jost Van Dyke,” she continued without waiting for an answer. “Our boat was just delivered to our house on St. Barts, but our captain has been on the mainland visiting his family so we haven’t been able to try her out.”
She was babbling to pass the time and to keep Isiah from having to talk. She had a very specific image she wanted to portray and it wouldn’t do to have Isiah butting in to make her sound like anything other than a spoiled princess.
“Uh, yeah, sometimes,” the man said as a small vibration shook the dock under her feet and a board squeaked behind her.
“Do you have a card or something? I’m not here for very long, but if we have the time I’d love to take her for a ride,” she said.
“Sorry, she’s not available.”
Alexis spun toward the voice behind him, ‘gasping’ in surprise. “Oh, you startled me. Is she yours? Is she okay?” she asked. The first question was about the boat but with her second question, she pointed to Angela Rosen who walked limply beside Mariston. Clearly, Mariston had drugged her, but with what, Alexis couldn’t tell. The agent’s body seemed able—if a little lethargic—but her eyes were completely vacant.
“Clarke. What are you doing here?” Mariston asked, ignoring her question and turning to Isiah.
“Uh.” He let his gaze drift down, then slowly he looked back up and nodded toward Alexis. “This is Zoe. We met at The Shack last night.”
Alexis flashed a big smile at Mariston.
Like his colleague, Mariston’s eyes raked over her before turning back to Isiah. “You didn’t strike me as the type.” The type to go home with a woman from his bar was the unspoken end of that sentence.
“So you don’t charter?” she asked again, pressing against Isiah so hard she was pretty sure the side of her breast was going to have a permanent indent from his arm.
“We don’t and if you don’t mind, we need to get going.” Mariston moved to pass them.
“But your friend said you chartered,” she whined.
“He lied,” Mariston said, as he handed Rosen over to his colleague who helped her into the boat. Alexis had to work hard to keep from staring at the agent. She had no idea what kind of drug Mariston could have given her that more or less left her physically capable but almost entirely mentally incapacitated.
“Baby,” she whined to Isiah.
She was grateful that the look Isiah flashed her could just as easily passed for one of a slightly annoyed but indulgent boyfriend when, in reality, what was probably going through his head was more along the lines of “what the hell are you thinking?”
She plastered on a fake smile, went onto her toes, and kissed him. “Please.”
He sighed. “Mariston, any chance you can take Zoe out? If not today, then some other day? Some other day in the next day or two because after that, she flies home to Los Angeles,” he added after another pinch in his side.
“Sorry, I don’t have time for this,” Mariston said as he started to step into the boat.
Isiah stepped away from her and grabbed Mariston’s arm. “Seriously, can you do a dude a favor and take her out?”
“You need to let go of me, Clarke. Trust me on this one.”
Isiah’s eyes narrowed on Mariston and Alexis knew this was the make it or break it point. They could back away and let him go or they could finagle a way on to the boat themselves.
Rather than step away, Isiah asked, “Something going on, Mariston?” Apparently Isiah had fully embraced her plan to stick close to Mariston and they were going for door number two.
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