Dead Reckoning

by Stanalei Fletcher

  He watched her out of the corner of his eye while he finished dressing. She sat so still he wondered if she’d fallen asleep. She was breathtaking in her quietness. It took all his self-discipline to keep from walking over to her and skimming his hands along her sleek body. He wanted to feel her respond to his touch again. As he pulled on his shoes, he ruthlessly shut down his libido. She’d taken his sanity, and he’d have to wrestle the devil to get it back.

  “We’re really leaving?” she asked, watching him tie his laces.

  “Yes. Get dressed.” His foot dropped to the floor with a thud.

  “What if I don’t want to go?”

  “Then I’ll carry you to the car in your underwear.” God help him if he touched her. His steel proclamation would crumble to dust, and then they’d never get out of bed.

  Kellee’s eyes narrowed as if deciding to call his bluff. She must have believed him because she stood and gathered her clothes.

  He took in a silent breath of relief but couldn’t turn his gaze away, as he should have. She’d been damned tempting, even in her grimy shorts. After seeing what she looked like naked, she was a demon for his undoing.

  He forced himself to look away, retrieved his gun from under the pillow and secured it into the belt holster. Tossing the rest of his things into his rucksack, he opened the door with more force than necessary and carried their bags to the car.

  Kellee emerged from the room a moment later and climbed onto the passenger seat.

  Neither of them spoke. Egan poked at the radio button to prevent further discussion. The only sounds were the purr of the engine and an obnoxious late-night radio talk show.

  ****

  The phone on the bedside table rang. Nikolai groggily reached for it. “Da?”

  “It is me.”

  Nikolai bolted upright at the sound of Oleg’s voice, his heart pounding. “Do you have her?”

  “Nyet,” came the sharp reply. “The timing was off. I do not know why they must travel in the middle of the night, but they are on the move again.”

  “But you are still on their trail, yes?”

  “Yes.” Oleg sounded confident, sure of his objective.

  “Good.” Nikolai’s confidence grew. It wouldn’t be much longer before his daughter was with him. “That is good. Call me when you have her.”

  ****

  At one-thirty in the morning, the road to Little Landing Boat Yard, just south of Daytona was long and practically empty. Only a few eighteen-wheelers and an occasional car passed in either direction. Egan was grateful traffic wasn’t a distraction.

  For twenty minutes into the drive, Kellee kept her face averted, staring out the passenger window. Tension radiated off her like a glow from a lighthouse. As the talk-radio show wound down, Egan turned off the noise and she gradually started to relax. A few minutes later, she curled her arms into her chest and fell asleep.

  Egan hoped she’d find peace in her dreams because he was pretty sure when she woke, things would be different between them. She’d regret her impulsive advances. There was nothing he could do about it. He’d been the one to take from her. Now those regrets squeezed at his heart. What they’d shared hadn’t just been sex. He’d made love to her. Sweet, delicious love. And it complicated everything.

  Two hours later, the car’s headlamps picked up the entry to the boat yard. As he drove toward the harbor, a light came on in the dock house. Egan slowed and rolled down the window. The dockmaster, a wizened old man with wild graying hair, came down the steps and shuffled over as Egan brought the SUV to a stop.

  “‘Evening, Paul,” Egan said.

  “Egan.” The man greeted him with a nod. “I expected you earlier.”

  “Bad weather and construction,” Egan said. “Had to change plans.”

  “Hmmm.” Paul eyed Kellee asleep in the front seat. “Gonna need a hand?”

  “No, thanks. I can handle it.”

  Paul smiled knowingly. “Sure ya can.”

  Egan inwardly grimaced at the old man’s innuendo, but didn’t set him straight. “We’ll only be here a few days. Is everything ready?”

  Paul nodded. “Finished up yesterday afternoon. You’re connected to shore power. Let me know if ya need anything else.”

  “I will. Thanks.” Egan rolled up the window and parked near a dry docked sailing yacht.

  His own boat was moored in the last slip at the end of Dock A. After he turned off the engine, Egan studied his sleeping beauty. He didn’t want to wake her, but he didn’t want to carry her to his boat, either. Simply touching her again could escalate to another emotional disaster. Choosing his sanity over her comfort, he shook her gently. “Kellee. We’re here.”

  She stirred and opened her eyes. “Where?” she asked with a yawn.

  “We’re staying on my boat.”

  She frowned. “A boat?”

  “It was my uncle’s. When on leave, my brother and I used to go out with my uncle on her, until—” He stopped. Until Rory was killed. Egan was more tired than he realized if he couldn’t keep Rory from invading his thoughts. Thankfully, she didn’t ask more questions. He didn’t want to explain about his brother. He’d ridden the emotional roller coaster enough tonight.

  Kellee yawned again and grabbed her backpack off the backseat as she climbed out of the SUV. She looked around while Egan collected his rucksack and locked the car.

  He nodded at the boardwalk and railing that separated the dock from the parking lot and dry dock. “This way,” he said as he started walking.

  She followed.

  He walked slowly to make sure she stayed right next to him. It was torture having her so close, but he’d be damned if he’d let her wander off the dock and take a swim.

  Nothing was going to happen to her. Not on his watch.

  The clear night carried the sound of water lapping against the boats tied in their slips. The gentle rhythm soothed his tattered nerves. He loved the smell of the harbor with its mixture of saltwater, diesel fuel, and wet, rotting wood from the pier. Fond memories of a more carefree time stirred in his mind. This was his sanctuary. A place he always returned to when he needed a reprieve.

  “Which boat is yours?” Kellee asked.

  They reached the corner of the dock, and he pointed toward the far end.

  A renovated thirty-foot, World War II patrol boat from Holland floated gently in the water. His uncle Chuck had bought her at an auction and spent most of his retirement converting her to a full-time live-aboard. The exterior of the steel hull was painted white and blue. Inside, his uncle’s innovative use of space provided decent storage in the bedroom cabin. The wheelhouse doubled as a galley. The carpentry was some of the most skillfully crafted Egan had ever seen.

  After Uncle Chuck’s wife died, he’d sold his home and moved aboard. The finishing touches had just been added when Uncle Chuck died of a heart attack. Egan missed him. Almost as much as he missed Rory.

  ****

  Kellee’s gaze followed where Egan pointed at the last boat tied up on the dock. Compared to the sleek sailing yachts on the other docks, his boat didn’t even look seaworthy.

  As they approached, she noticed the small deck space at the back end. There was barely room to climb aboard and open the cabin door to get inside. The front of the boat was completely enclosed. No side railing, and a narrow place to stand on the bow. The only place for passengers was inside the cabin. Although she couldn’t see any rusted punctures near the waterline, the boat still looked old. Really old. Stepping closer to the edge of the dock, she saw the name Suzy G painted in large black letters on the stern. She wondered if Suzy was an old girlfriend of Egan’s.

  Unreasonable jealousy of the unknown Suzy stabbed through her. After their passionate lovemaking, she wanted to demand an explanation. Then she remembered what occurred afterward. Egan didn’t owe her anything. She had no claim on him.

  Before boarding, he walked along the dock and checked the ropes. Apparently satisfied, he tossed his duffel onto the
deck and motioned her to the edge. He took her hand—the mere touch sent shockwaves through her body. Kellee forced herself to concentrate on stepping onto the boat instead of into the water. The boat swayed with the shift in weight, then rocked even more when he joined her. The water slapped against the sides, and she wondered if she’d ever been seasick.

  “You’ll get used to the motion,” Egan said. “Besides, I don’t plan to take her out of the marina while we’re here.”

  “So this is your secret hideaway?”

  He nodded. “Until I hear from Byron.

  Regardless of the boat’s condition, a little glow settled inside her, knowing he’d brought her to his special place.

  “Come on,” he said with a hint of excitement in his voice. “I’ll show you around.” He opened a door and ushered her into a small cabin.

  There was enough room for the two of them to stand shoulder-to-shoulder, but not much more. He walked to a console and turned a knob. Taking a step, he flipped a switch on the wall. A light from the ceiling illuminated the room.

  “This is the wheelhouse and galley.” He pointed to various parts of the interior. “A fold-out bunk can be made up from the bench seats. Through that door is the head.”

  She frowned. What did he just say?

  “The bathroom,” he explained. “It’s got a shower, sink, and commode.”

  “Oh.” Kellee turned a tight circle, admiring the gleaming woodwork on the walls. She ran her palm down a panel. “This is beautiful.”

  He nodded. “The bulkhead was the hardest to finish. My uncle had a hard time finding just the right wood. It took weeks to cut, polish, and install.”

  “Bulkhead. Galley,” she whispered. “It’s another language on a boat, isn’t it?”

  She hadn’t expected an answer, and Egan just nodded in reply. He stepped toward a door leading to the front of the boat.

  “Through here is the cuddy and rack.”

  Kellee took three steps and was in the doorway. With a step down, she was in the lower forward. “A queen-sized bed!” she exclaimed.

  The bed took up most of the space and appeared to be built right into the walls. It tapered near the top to fit the narrow point at the front of the boat. Drawn curtains partially covered the portholes on either side. “It’s unbelievable,” she said. “From the outside, I would have never guessed the boat was so amazing.”

  Egan seemed pleased with the compliment. “It’ll be a tight squeeze, but hopefully only for a day or two.”

  She nodded. A couple of days. Then what? Back to a life she couldn’t fully remember? A life without Egan? Right at this moment, Egan was the only person she knew, and he didn’t seem to want any part in her life. She mentally backed away from the depressing thought.

  As she looked around, she realized the bed was large enough to hold them both. Would he share it with her? Could she change his mind about their relationship, or would she be wasting her time like when they’d made love? No. She couldn’t go there. She’d never regret making love with Egan.

  “Go ahead and get ready for bed. You still need to rest,” he said. “I’m going topside to check her out and make sure she’s secure.”

  “Secure?” she asked.

  “A pilot always checks out his craft.”

  “But you said we weren’t leaving the harbor.” Was he planning to venture out into the Atlantic tonight?

  “We’re not.” Egan stepped through the door and reached for the handle. “Go to sleep,” he said, then closed the door.

  Kellee was exhausted and emotionally drained. The short nap while driving here left her feeling more tired. After stripping down to her underwear, she climbed on the bed. The mattress was firm, but not too hard. She was too tired to find more suitable clothing to sleep in. Grabbing one of the pillows, she bunched it under her head. The cool breeze off the water eliminated the need for air-conditioning, yet it was still warm enough she didn’t crawl under the covers. The boat’s gentle rocking motion joined the rhythmic slosh of water against the hull in a seaside lullaby. She closed her eyes.

  ****

  Egan took a flashlight out of a drawer in the galley and walked aft. He examined the engine first, checking the fuel lines and oil reserve. After securing the cabin door, he climbed over the gunwale and onto the dock. Shining the beam around, he rechecked the moorings. All appeared secure. He had counted on Paul to have everything shipshape and ready for him, and the dockmaster hadn’t disappointed.

  As a precaution, Egan headed back to the parking lot. A brief inspection of the SUV assured him nothing seemed out of place here, either. He didn’t expect to find a problem, but after what he’d learned tonight from Kellee, he needed to remain alert.

  He couldn’t rely on her memory of the attack in her apartment to be one hundred percent accurate, but if she was right, someone had tried to kidnap her. Since they hadn’t succeeded, there could be other attempts. At least O’Neal’s comments were starting to make a little more sense. The old man must have really pissed off someone during his CIA days. Egan wasn’t taking any unnecessary chances.

  After a quick walk to stretch his muscles, he made his way back to the Suzy G. He hoped when he returned Kellee would be asleep.

  He was careful not to rock the boat as he climbed aboard. He unlocked the cabin door and entered. Kellee’s backpack was still on the counter next to his bag. She must have been tired if she hadn’t bothered to get it.

  Once the cabin door was secured, he pulled out the spare bunk from around the table and sat. The thin mattress was uncomfortable as he removed his shirt and shoes. Standing up, he padded over to the lower forward and opened the cuddy door.

  Moonlight beamed through the porthole, bathing Kellee in a delicate glow. She was curled on her side, sound asleep. Careful not to disturb her, he gently slid the other pillow off the bed and retrieved a blanket from the storage under a bookshelf.

  He lingered to both enjoy and torture himself with the sight she made, her features peaceful and relaxed. Their lovemaking had brought a slew of emotions to the surface. For both of them. He would have to tread cautiously going forward. Kellee was in a fragile state. She needed him disciplined and cool.

  Ah hell, who was he kidding? If she came to him again, he didn’t think he could resist those legs, her body, her amazing spirit. He’d surrender without a fight. He had to keep all their communications neutral, touching when absolutely necessary. Anything more would send mixed signals he couldn’t afford for her to misinterpret. It wouldn’t be easy to stay physically apart on a boat this size, but he could do it if he stayed vigilant and strong. For both their sakes.

  Closing the door, he crossed to the spare bunk and removed his Glock, placing it next to where his head would lie. The bunk was hard and exactly what he needed to keep his mind off the temptation in the next room. As he closed his eyes, he expected the years of SEAL training to kick in. He’d learned to fall asleep instantly. But it took some time before he could rid himself of Kellee’s sweet influence and let sleep claim him.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Kellee woke to a gentle sway and rhythmic creaking she couldn’t identify. The unfamiliar surroundings made her stomach clench with tension. Where was she?

  A faint, pungent smell of damp wood and sea air triggered a recollection of last night’s events. She was on Egan’s boat. They’d driven here from the motel. Relaxing a little, she rubbed her hand over her face.

  What a horrible night. First the nightmare…remembering the Russian, Petre, and his attack…his death. She shivered from the memory. Then Egan had comforted her. She’d begged him to make love to her, and he did. His gentle, yet passionate ministrations pushed away the horrible images and she’d found love—followed by the pain of rejection. A hurt she wasn’t sure how to handle.

  She looked at the other side of the bed. Egan must have slept on the bunk in the other compartment. Being alone felt strange, unsettling even. Other than a few minutes in the bathroom, this was the first time she�
�d been by herself since Egan had found her. She’d grown used to his constant presence, his watchful vigilance. Although she hated all the rules, part of her enjoyed his attention. The foolish part that couldn’t seem to let go of her youthful fantasies. She was falling for him all over again. Except this time, she wasn’t suffering from an immature crush, but something more permanent—more life changing.

  She had wanted her memory to return, not realizing how many of her memories might be painful. Recalling those moments in her apartment had been horrible. She’d killed a man. But then to remember Egan’s anger on that awful day at her father’s company…

  The emotional ups and downs in the last couple of days seemed to never end.

  Like a dam breaking free, memories of other events in her life flitted disjointedly through her mind. A flare of embarrassment heated her cheeks as she remembered her first attempt to seduce Egan not long after he came to work for her father. How young she’d been—how naïve.

  He’d rented the apartment over the garage next to their home in Maryland. It hadn’t taken long for him to play the leading man in all of her fantasies. The night her father had asked her to accompany him to a social gathering in Washington, she’d worn her first black cocktail dress. From the empress waistline down, the skirt floated like a mist around her legs. Barely eighteen, she’d seen herself as all grown-up. The dress left her shoulders and back bare, and she’d felt incredibly sexy.

  In a heady moment of feminine power, she had rushed out of the house, eager to show Egan she was no longer a gangly teenager in a judo gi. While crossing the yard, she’d glanced up at his entryway, anticipating the moment he saw her. Then she’d spotted him on the balcony near his front door. He looked devastatingly handsome in a black tuxedo. But he wasn’t alone. With him was a blonde in a slinky, form-fitting gown that plunged low in the front and even lower in back.