Deep Waters (The Security Specialists)

by Jessica R. Patch

  “I know what he wants,” she croaked. “He’s after Mary...Beth’s...GoPro.”

  She’d just been thinking of big threatening sticks being poked at her. This one had been the biggest. Someone was willing to drown her in the depths of the ocean to get the GoPro. Goose bumps rose on her flesh. From terror. From the chilly wind.

  She shivered.

  Shep paused. “Now would be a good time for physical contact, right?”

  Yes, but it hurt too much accepting it from Shepherd. It might make her cling to false hope. “I just need to get dry.” She forced a smile, knowing it was far from confident. “Just want to get inside my house.”

  He searched her eyes, then frowned. “I understand.”

  Did he?

  They quietly walked up the beach to the bungalow.

  “Why did you go down to the beach without me?” he reprimanded, as they approached the patio.

  Caley cleared her scratchy throat. “I needed to think some things through. The beach is my place. My safe place...or...it was. How did he know I was out there?”

  Shep didn’t answer. Didn’t need to.

  The house was being watched.

  “I won’t do it again. You have my word.”

  He grabbed the quilt off the chair. “Dry yourself off some so you won’t drip.”

  Shep wrapped the quilt around her—water seeped into the material, but it added some warmth. Not the kind she wanted, though. Not the kind that came from Shepherd’s arms.

  “The new question is what did Mary Beth do with her GoPro and what’s on it? Pictures? Video? Both?”

  Shep’s sharp features hardened. “That’s what I plan to find out. The Purple Turtle drinks, the duffel bag Fines took to the club, that back room along with the photo of the club Mary Beth took—they’re connected.”

  “I agree.”

  “Wilder and I were talking and we think it’s a possibility they might be selling turtle eggs back there.”

  Caley shivered again. “Why? For what?”

  “Turtle eggs are sometimes used as an aphrodisiac and laced with drugs. Like ecstasy or PCP. It’s possible that’s going on at the Nest.”

  “You think Mary Beth discovered that? How? She wouldn’t be able to find egg discrepancies.”

  “Unless she checked a nest and all the eggs were missing.”

  That landed a punch to Caley’s gut. “You think Leo is poaching and selling eggs?”

  “Possibly. And Mary Beth has photos or footage. It would ruin his career.”

  It could also be the nail in the center’s coffin. All the donors would pull out. No grants. The program would fall to pieces. Nora Simms would have Caley blackballed.

  But she had no choice. The right thing to do was to find the GoPro and put these monsters in prison—even if the trail led to Leo. “We need to go back to the club and order that drink. And get it this time.”

  “We’ll worry about that later. You need to get into dry clothes and go to bed.”

  “I can do it.” She had to. For Mary Beth. For herself. For the turtles.

  He frowned. “Do what?”

  “Go back in. I can wear a wig or colored contacts. You can’t. Even if you changed your hair or eyes...”

  “I have this whopper that can’t be hidden.” He pointed to his scar. “Past leaves its mark.”

  “Past as in war? Military?”

  Cupping his neck, he broke eye contact. “I wish it had been forged with honor. But I’m afraid it was nothing more than a stupid brawl in my younger days.”

  “The past might leave marks, Shepherd, but it doesn’t define who you are now.” She half smiled and her teeth chattered. They might not be able to have a relationship with each other, but that didn’t mean Caley couldn’t help Shepherd see that he could move past his scars.

  He touched his split eyebrow. “You see the good in everything, Little Flynn. I admire that.” He opened the sliding glass doors and motioned her inside. “I’ll call Jody and see if she’s done with her escort detail in Washington.”

  “Wilder sent Jody to Washington?” Wow. Wilder could be insensitive sometimes.

  “She wasn’t happy about it.”

  Probably afraid of who she might run into while there. The man who wrecked her career. And her heart. “We don’t need to fly Jody all the way here to order a drink. Let me at least try.”

  “No. I promised to keep you safe and I’m failing.” He shut the patio door, locked it and closed the drapes.

  Why didn’t he see that he was far from failing? She was alive because of Shep. “You saved me out there. If you hadn’t shot at him... You put a bullet in him.”

  Shep touched his sidepiece. “I grazed his shoulder. That bullet’s in the water somewhere.” He switched off the living room lamp, signaling she was to go to bed. “I won’t willingly put you in danger.”

  “You can be with me every step of the way.” She clutched the quilt closer. “Shepherd, I can’t keep waiting for them to attack me again. I have to do something. Please, let me.”

  He shook his head. “I won’t be able to go back in. If they see me, they might sniff you out. We may have already been seen together. Can’t risk it.”

  “Then find a way. It’s our only lead and it’s slim, but we have to. I have to. I have to, Shepherd.”

  He blew out a heavy breath and licked his bottom lip. “Your brother won’t like it.”

  “My brother isn’t here. You are.”

  “I don’t like it either.”

  “If you don’t help me, I’ll go alone. I promise you I will.” She couldn’t stay in her shell. She had to come out and do something. It was risky, and it might end badly, but she was done hiding.

  Shep glared but she didn’t back down from it.

  Finally, he raked a hand through his hair. “Fine, Little Flynn. But you are to do everything I say, when I say it and exactly how I say to do it.”

  She grinned. “Roger that, solider.”

  EIGHT

  Now that it was down to the wire and go time, Caley wasn’t nearly as confident as she’d been last Saturday night when she’d put her foot down about going undercover at the Nest. She’d woken on Sunday morning and gone to church accompanied by Shep and Miss Whittle—who didn’t seem to have a single worry. Shepherd had tried to talk her out of going in undercover, but when he’d realized she was as stubborn as a mule, he’d agreed and made a call to Tom.

  Tom confirmed that the club was known for peddling drugs and that there had been a few busts in recent years, but nothing about selling turtle eggs. That didn’t mean they weren’t, though. He was still poking around unofficially, but he hadn’t been able to turn up anything more than what Shepherd and Caley had.

  She stood in front of her mirror and adjusted the honey-blond wig she was using for a cover, frowning at her overdone makeup. But she had a part to play. She couldn’t fail.

  Marching out of her bedroom, she splayed her hands at her side and looked at Shep. “Well?”

  “I like you better as a brunette.”

  She smirked. Shepherd had been quiet these past several days, but that wasn’t out of character for him. After he’d rejected her, she understood his need to keep an even wider distance between them. But she wasn’t going to approach him again. Maybe he needed to know that.

  “Hey,” she said as he laid a dark bag on the coffee table. “I want you to know that I’m sorry about last Saturday. Outside on the patio. It won’t happen again.”

  Pausing, Shep glanced at her. “Okay.”

  Okay? Seriously?

  No point pushing him to express anything more. “Okay,” she mumbled.

  He retrieved a small black button thingy from the bag. “If you have any doubts,” Shep said, “now is the time to tell me. I don’t like this to begin with, and if Wilder finds out, he’s going to come unhinged.”

  “Then he won’t find out.” Caley shrugged off the nerves. She had plenty of doubts, but they had to find out what was going on in th
at back room. It might be the only solid lead to finding Mary Beth’s killer and the man attacking her.

  “You aren’t ready for this.” He pinned her with a scowl.

  Well, she had to be. “I am. And with all this getup you’re about to put on me, it’ll be like you’re right beside me.”

  “I can’t go in. Can’t be seen with you. What choice did I have? Come here.”

  She stepped closer. “This is an earwig. You’ll be able to hear me.”

  She nodded. The feel of his hands in her hair, moving it aside to place the earwig in her ear, reminded her of the day they’d parked in the driveway, pretending to care about each other. He’d run his hands through her hair.

  “How does it feel?”

  His hand? Amazing. The earwig? “Tight.”

  “Good.” He locked his gaze on her, let her hair fall back over her ear. “Ready for the mic,” he said with a husky voice.

  She bit her bottom lip and nodded again.

  “I’m going to pin it to your scarf.”

  Caley had chosen a long fitted black T-shirt and a funky lightweight scarf as an accessory. Shep stepped even closer. He pinned the small microphone underneath her scarf. “You’ll be able to talk to me. But try not to. We don’t want anyone catching you.” He frowned. “I don’t like not being able to be in there physically.”

  “It’s going to be fine.” She’d been telling herself that for hours. “Let’s go.”

  They climbed in Shepherd’s rental car and made their way to the Nest. Shep dug into the bag again and pulled out a purse. “Camera built in.”

  “How did you get all this?”

  “Favor from Tom.”

  “I’m surprised you didn’t have him put an undercover officer on this.” She snorted, but Shepherd didn’t laugh.

  “I tried. But since they aren’t investigating officially, he couldn’t. And he’s done some busts in there, so they’d recognize him.”

  “Oh.” She chewed on her bottom lip. “Okay. I’m going to order the drink and pray that it works and gets me into the back room to see what’s going on. Hopefully, if you’re right about the turtle eggs, I’ll spot some and get it on camera.” She placed the purse’s strap on her shoulder.

  “You may get proof that they’re selling illegal turtle eggs and drugs without getting proof that anyone at the center is connected. Maybe we’ll catch a break and Leo Fines or one of your interns will be in there and we can get them dead to rights.”

  That was a souring thought. More than ever they needed to find Mary Beth’s GoPro. She had some kind of proof or she wouldn’t have ended up dead. They’d called Mrs. Whaling and inquired about it, but she said they hadn’t found it even though they’d specifically hunted for it. They wanted to see all the things Mary Beth had seen. Caley was pretty sure they didn’t. Something she’d seen had gotten her killed.

  They’d searched everywhere. It was like it had disappeared, just like her phone. Wheezer hadn’t been able to locate it. Shep thought it was probably in the ocean, corrupted by the salt water. The GoPro wouldn’t be, though. Mary Beth might have hidden it. But why? Why hadn’t she come to Caley?

  Frustration knotted her muscles.

  “It’s Thursday Ladies’ Night. Go in and go straight to the bar. Flirt a little with the bartender, then order the Purple Turtle.” Shep expelled a breath and adjusted his earwig. “I’ll drop you at the end of Tourist Row and you can walk from there. If you get into trouble and need me just say, ‘Is it me or is it hot in here?’ and I’ll come for you.”

  Caley felt like she’d swallowed a jar of jumping beans. Her hands turned clammy. God, help me do this. “Got it. Is it me or is it hot in here?”

  Shep drove his rental to the end of the Tourist Row. It was after nine. The sun had dipped and the clubs were in full swing. She gripped the side of the passenger door when Shep edged near the curb.

  “You’re brave, Caley. You can do it. I don’t like it but not because I don’t think you can handle it. I just don’t want anything to go sideways.”

  Not helping.

  “See you on the flip side.” She opened the car door and ambled down the sidewalk in between people milling about or sitting at outdoor tables enjoying the summer night with friends. She neared the Nest.

  God, help me.

  Showtime.

  Inside cigarette smoke and deafening music blasted her senses, but she pasted on a smile that hopefully let people know she was here for a good time. Women had packed the place. She squeezed through them, whispered without minimal mouth movement, “I’m heading to the bar.”

  “I see it.” Shep’s voice filled her ears. “Don’t talk to me unless you have to, and don’t fidget with your scarf.”

  “Where are you?”

  “I’m in the alley behind the Dumpsters. And what did I just say?”

  Nerves. Okay, she was shutting up now, but knowing he was nearby helped. She waited until a bar stool opened and slithered onto it, catching the eye of the bartender from the other night. Nice-looking. Dark hair. Scruff. A little John Stamos-ish. He made his way to her, a flirty grin meeting her first. He leaned on the bar, close to her.

  “Give me a break,” Shep muttered.

  Caley ignored him.

  “Now, I’d know if I’d seen you before,” the bartender said. He pointed to himself. “Rob.”

  “Meghan.” First name that popped into her head. “My friends call me Meg.” Her sister had never liked being called that.

  Dimples creased his cheeks. “What about me? Can I be a friend?”

  “You can call me Meg.” She winked and tried not to vomit. This guy was a total letch.

  “You come alone?” he asked.

  Oh boy. Where was this going? “I did, but...I’m hoping I don’t stay that way.”

  His laugh oozed down her spine like slime, but she had to play the part. How did undercover cops and agents do this day in and day out?

  “You’re flirting too well, Little Flynn, which begs the question...how do you know how to flirt that well?” Shep’s grit and gravel traveled straight to her middle. She loved that voice.

  “I don’t see you staying alone for long, Meg. What can I get ya?” Rob asked.

  “For now?” she cooed, leaning close to him, close enough to smell expensive cologne. “Just a Purple Turtle,” she whispered, hoping it sounded seductive and finishing it off with a wink and a suggestive smile.

  “You are waaaaay too good at this, Flynn,” Shep groused.

  But no Little. That sent a thrill through her. She shoved it aside, focused on the task.

  Rob raised his eyebrows. “A Purple Turtle. Well now. And how would you know about those drinks?”

  “I know a lot of things I shouldn’t.” She held his gaze. Her stomach was a rage of nerves, the back of her neck breaking out in a sweat.

  Shep coughed, cleared his throat, then she heard the sound of a fist beating against his chest as if he had something lodged there.

  Too many beats passed as Rob sized her up. Was she busted?

  Finally, he grinned. “I’m sure you do. I’m here till close. I’ll come find you after.”

  “Do that, Rob.” She’d be long gone. He grabbed a few bottles and mixed the drink, then shook it before pouring it into a martini glass and adding a green umbrella. He sat it in front of her.

  “On the house, Meg. Since we’re friends, and hopefully better friends later.” He winked again.

  She raised her glass and slid of the stool. “BFFs. See you at closing.”

  “You definitely will.”

  Without spilling the drink, which she had no intention of drinking, she slipped through the crowd. “I did it. I can’t believe it.”

  “I can’t believe you didn’t walk out with the drink and his bank account number and password. Way to work it, woman.”

  “Don’t tell my brother!” she begged.

  He chuckled.

  “I’m heading to the back room door. That same bouncer is there
again. What do I do?” she whispered.

  “Be cool. Hand him the umbrella. That’s what they did Saturday night. Raise your glass but say nothing.”

  “Then what?”

  “Let’s take it one step at a time.”

  She followed his order and the door was opened to a large back room. Decorated just like the front but on a smaller scale. Some of the things she saw going on... She wanted to bolt. But a guard stood at the door on this side too. “Do you see this?” she whispered again.

  “Yeah. And I don’t like it. At all. Set your drink down at that bar and excuse yourself to the bathroom. Get out of there.”

  “I have to see if I can get us some proof. Of something.”

  “Caley,” Shep warned. “You said you’d do what I told you to and when I told you to. I’m telling you to abort the mission. These people are drunk, high and looking for the kind of time you aren’t willing to give.”

  “Five minutes.”

  He growled over the mic.

  She made her way to the bar, bobbing her head to the electronic beat. Trying to fake being comfortable. That’s when she spotted a tray and two bouncers guarding it. She shifted on her stool, for the camera to pick up.

  “I see it, Caley. Now abort.”

  A tray full of turtle eggs cracked open like oysters. People paying their money and slurping them down.

  Her stomach roiled.

  She set her drink on the bar. Time to go. A blond guy approached her with an egg. “Hey, gorgeous. Shall we?”

  “Tell him yes, but you need to hit the bathroom first,” Shep said, his tone stern. Forceful.

  “Oh, we shall. But I need to go to the ladies’ room. Wait for me?” She smiled.

  “I’ll be right here.”

  She checked out her surroundings. Debauchery in full swing. And she’d be required to participate if she hung around. Fear raced through her blood. The burly guy at the door frowned as she approached him. He’d seen her just come in. People in here planned to stay awhile. “I need to go out and use the restroom.”

  “Bathroom’s up there.” He pointed to a wrought iron staircase leading upstairs.

  “Oh, it’s my first time.” She laughed, but heard the anxiety in it.

  Shep piped up in her ear. “Relax. There has to be an exit somewhere on this side of the building. Go up to the bathroom. Pull it together.”