by Lucy Quinn
“I can always jump overboard and swim back,” she replied. “And don’t think I won’t if you try anything.”
But would I really? She couldn’t help but wonder. Or would I go along with it? Just the thought made her feel like she was betraying Dylan. Not that they’d made any commitments to each other. She and Dylan had only just started…whatever it was they were doing. They hadn’t even managed a complete date yet, for heaven’s sake. And she’d known Hunter a lot longer, at least as a partner and friend.
This should not be this complicated, Cookie thought angrily. She made her way to the front seating area and flopped onto the forward-facing couch so that her back was to Hunter. She stared out over the water as he maneuvered the cigarette boat away from the dock and out toward the sea. Right now she would’ve loved to get another mysterious note, a second body part, anything that could distract her from the guy behind her and the other guy somewhere on the island they were rapidly leaving in their wake.
When it came to a choice between solving a crime or dealing with romantic troubles, Cookie would take a good old-fashioned murder and drug smuggling case any day.
17
“We should be coming up on it,” Hunter declared from the captain’s chair. They’d been on the water for almost an hour, and Cookie had enjoyed the time to herself, just watching the waves slide past beneath them. She roused herself, though, and abandoned the couch to join him under the canopy. He had his phone out and the GPS up, and was using that to track their position. Sure enough, it showed their current location as almost on top of the coordinates she’d been given.
She turned and scanned the sky and the ocean, glad that her big sunglasses and floppy hat protected her from the glare. “There,” she said after a few seconds, pointing. “What’s that?”
Hunter frowned as he stared where she’d indicated. “Looks like land,” he agreed. “That’s got to be it.”
Nudging the wheel just a little, he brought the boat around so its nose pointed straight at the dot Cookie had spotted. With all the engines running at full, the boat leaped across the waves, and the dot rapidly grew larger, resolving into a tiny island that was really little more than a large rock jutting up through the water. Its top looked like it had been leveled, however, and Cookie caught sight of something poking out from the other side. “Is that a dock?” she asked.
Hunter threw her a quick sideways smile. “You always did have better eyes than me.” She smiled back and tried not to let on how much the rare compliment flustered her.
When they swung around the tiny island, they found that a small portion had been chiseled or blasted out to create a small stone dock. The heavy iron mooring hooks sunk in along the edges left no doubt that its shape was intentional.
Hunter managed to nudge the boat up against the dock, kill the engines, and toss the rope around a hook with only a little fumbling and a few minor bumps that jolted the boat. Cookie decided it was best not to rib him about those. He’d done about as well as she had the last time she’d piloted a boat, and Dylan’s was a lot easier to manage than this beast. Instead she just stood there, waiting impatiently until they were securely tied and she could step out onto the dock.
“Clever design,” she commented as Hunter’s feet thumped on the wood beside her. “It’s got an overhang that keeps it out of the sun and out of sight from above.”
“What, you think this is some kind of old smuggler’s cove?” he asked her, looking around. She noticed that his hand strayed toward the back of his board shorts where his gun was holstered. She’d brought hers as well, and carried it in much the same place, though with the beach dress she wasn’t sure she could actually draw it quickly.
Fortunately, she didn’t think matters would come to that… at least not during the scouting mission. “Maybe at first,” she agreed with his assessment, “but that would’ve been a long time ago, and I doubt most of this was in place back then.” She patted the wall with one hand. It was old, and rough, but it had been hewn carefully, which just further confirmed what she’d already suspected once she’d seen the island’s top and this dock.
“What aren’t you telling me?” Hunter asked, impatience coloring his tone.
Cookie laughed at him. She’d forgotten how much he hated it when anyone knew something he didn’t. “Don’t get all bent out of shape,” she said. “It’s not some big dark secret. Come on, I’ll show you.” And she led the way up the dock.
The path actually cut right up through the rock in the form of a wide staircase, its steps still almost perfectly level and their edges sharp enough to cut. They could see bright sunlight at the top, and climbed the steps to before emerging on the island’s summit.
It was a semicircular space a dozen or so feet across where the stone had been cut, smoothed, and polished with time, with a deep hole at its center. Just in front of that rose a short wall, that had a circular curve to it. Past the wall’s upper lip, which dipped outward, the natural stone had been allowed to remain unchanged.
“I give up,” Hunter said after pacing out the entire space. “What the hell am I looking at here?”
“It’s an old naval battery,” Cookie answered. “This is where the big gun was placed. See? It was set into the ground right there.” She pointed at the hole. “And it rose up above this wall so it could fire out at anyone trying to attack the coastline.”
Hunter looked around, studying the place again, then gave her a penetrating stare. “How did you know that?” he asked, his eyes pinched. “Did Dylan tell you?”
“What, you think I need some guy to educate me on every little thing?” she shot back, annoyed at the implication. “No, Dylan didn’t tell me. There’s a naval museum on Secret Seal, for your information. When I was exploring during our first week there, I checked it out. There’re some pictures of naval batteries and a short explanation of their history and use. Most of them were decommissioned after World War II.” She waved at their surroundings. “This has to be one of those, it looks just like some of those pictures.”
Hunter nodded. “Right,” he said after a second. “I didn’t mean to imply anything. I was just surprised, you being a city girl and all. You don’t find many of these in Philly.”
She knew exactly what he’d been implying, but she decided to let it go and smirked at him. “Yeah, well, the sooner you realize I’m smarter than you, the easier this’ll be.”
It wasn’t the first time she’d said those exact same words to him, or even the second. And their partnership had definitely improved, as had their success rate, when he’d accepted that Cookie wasn’t some dumb bunny he needed to protect, but a smart, resourceful partner who brought plenty of her own strengths to the table.
“Okay, okay, point taken,” he told her with a chuckle, raising his hands in surrender. Then he scanned the top of the island again. “It’s a smart place for a meet,” he conceded. “Isolated, easy to control, great sight lines. You set up shop up here, and there’s no way anybody’s sneaking up on you unless they’ve got a stealth sub.”
“If they did, it’d have to be the James Bond variety,” Cookie added. “It’s too shallow here for a real sub to get through.” The look Hunter shot her said he was impressed, and she had to admit that she was, too. When had she become such an expert on water and islands and ships? Evidently, she’d absorbed a lot more in her time here than she’d realized.
“They set the meet for two p.m.,” she recalled, getting back on track. “We could come out here at noon, set up, and turn the tables, catching them on the way in.” It was only a little past seven-thirty now, which meant they still had time to run back, get any gear they needed, and then return.
But Hunter shook his head. “We have no idea how early they’ll decide to settle in,” he pointed out. “They could be on their way right now.” He frowned. “Or even holed up somewhere nearby, watching this place.” Both of them scanned the surrounding water, but this was the only island in sight. If the drug smugglers were watching, they
were doing so from a long distance away with some mighty high-powered binoculars. Still, Cookie ducked down a little, just in case.
“So what’re we thinking, then?” she asked. “They want me to come alone, and there’s no place for you to hide that’s not at least twenty minutes away.”
“I know.” He rubbed his jaw. “I could borrow a high-powered rifle from the sheriff, maybe, but I’d still need to be close enough for it to do any good. And there isn’t any cover anywhere.” He growled and pounded a fist on the short wall. “They really did pick the perfect spot.”
Cookie sighed. “Maybe we’ll think of something on the way back.” Pulling out her phone, she snapped photos of the island so they could refer to them later. Then she led the way back toward the stairs and down to the boat. “Home, Jeeves,” she ordered as she stepped aboard again and settled back onto the front couch.
“As you command,” Hunter joked, casting off the ropes and pushing them away from the dock. Once the boat was free from the island and floating on the waves, he switched on the engines and turned them back toward home. Cookie’s home, at least.
Neither of them said anything for a few minutes. Cookie was studying the ocean again, but she was barely paying attention. Instead, her mind was still back on the island, examining it from every angle, looking for a place they could hide. And she kept coming up empty.
It was Hunter’s cursing that drew her back to the present first. Then she noticed they seemed to be slowing down. And finally she realized that she could no longer hear the deep, powerful thrum of the boat’s many motors all working together to propel the craft forward.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, standing and glancing back at him. When she saw him scowling and pounding on the console, she hurried over. “Hunter, what’s wrong?”
The face he lifted toward her was half-angry, half-chagrined, like he was both pissed about not having planned better and embarrassed at having to own up to his mistake. “We’re out of gas,” he finally muttered, not meeting her eyes.
“What? Are you kidding me?” Cookie shoved him out of the way and studied the console. It was fairly straightforward, designed for a rich kid with more money than sense, and the fuel gauge was nice and prominent. As was the needle on it, which was all the way at the E. “How the hell did that happen?” she demanded, rounding on him. “Didn’t you check the fuel before we left?”
“Obviously not,” he replied, still not looking up. “Sorry.”
“Sorry? Sorry? We’re stuck in the middle of the bloody ocean because you didn’t get gas, and all you can say is sorry?” She smacked him on the shoulder. “What the hell, Hunter? What are we, amateurs?”
“I might’ve been a little distracted,” he admitted, just the hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “I couldn’t stop wondering what you had on under that cover-up.” He reached out to tug on one of her sleeves, but she slapped his hand away. Trying to be all adorable and sexy was definitely not going to save him now.
“Whatever it is, you’re sure as hell not going to find out,” she said, and he slumped, looking like a little boy who’d just been told he wasn’t getting dessert. She refused to acknowledge how appealing that type of vulnerability was on the man who was normally so cocksure.
With a sigh, Cookie pulled out her phone and searched her contacts. “You know who I have to call now, right?” she said as she hit Send.
“Don’t rub it in.” Hunter groaned, turning away from her completely.
“Hey, Dylan,” she said when he answered. “Listen, I hate to ask this, but is there any way you can come out and give us a lift back in your boat? We went out to check on something, and big, brave Hunter forgot to see if there was enough gas for the voyage home.”
“Sure,” Dylan replied, and she could tell from the hitch in his voice that he was trying to keep from laughing. It was kind of him, especially considering how well he and Hunter got along, which was not at all. “Text me your coordinates. I’ll head out right now.”
“Thanks.” She hung up and copied their current location from Hunter’s GPS into her text. Dylan confirmed he’d gotten it a second later.
“So, Dylan to the rescue, then?” Hunter asked over his shoulder. “Great.”
“It’s your own damn fault,” Cookie reminded him.
“I know, I know.” He turned back around slowly, a smile beginning to spread across his face. Evidently, he was over his shame already. “So, what should we do while we wait?”
“I am going to go sit back down and enjoy the sun and the waves and try to forget about how you stranded us out here,” she told him. “You should probably sit here by yourself and think about what a dumbass you were, and how you can try not being one in future.”
“We could do that,” he replied slowly, taking a step toward her. His hands drifted toward the waistband of his shorts. “Or I could show you my bow.”
Cookie let loose a smirk of her own as she sank into a combat crouch and raised her hands. “You could try it,” she said. “And I’ll show you my Krav Maga. How’s that for a fair trade?”
“You take all the fun out of life, you know that?” Hunter groused. But his hands fell to his sides, and his shorts stayed on. After a second, Cookie straightened and stalked away. She wasn’t actually one-hundred-percent sure she’d have attacked him if he’d stripped in front of her, but she was irritated enough that she might have, and no matter what, it would have complicated things.
It was safer to just sit separately and both fume, if for different reasons.
Safer, but incredibly frustrating. In more ways than one.
18
Half an hour later, the steady thrum of a motor alerted Cookie that they were about to have company. She’d been half-dozing on the couch, and now she sat up and peered toward the approaching noise to discover it was Dylan.
And he wasn’t alone.
“Scarlet?” Cookie called out as the little motorboat pulled up beside them, Dylan expertly maneuvering so the two boats barely nudged one another. Her best friend waved, and then stepped across to the larger boat. As always, Scarlet looked like a model, perfectly put together in a bikini, cheerful shorts, and a beach cover-up of the more standard—and more attractive—variety. Even her hat and sunglasses were like more refined versions of Cookie’s, and not for the first time, Cookie felt slightly awkward and unattractive beside her stylish friend.
Fortunately, Scarlet’s easy manner and obvious affection put her at ease again, like always. “Hey, CJ!” she declared, giving Cookie a tight hug. “I thought I’d pop up for a quick visit, see how the other half lived and all that.”
Cookie grinned at her friend. “I love your impromptu trips. But how did you end up out here?”
“Well, I got in late last night and was sleeping when you left this morning. I’d been hanging out at the inn waiting for you to return, enjoying the view.” She cast a sly smile in Dylan’s direction. “He was working on the roof. And since you were taking forever, I convinced him to take a break and come be sociable.” She waggled her eyebrows, because of course she wouldn’t pass up the chance to flirt with a guy as hot as Dylan, even if it was completely harmless. “Then he got your call, and I thought I’d tag along.” She held out her arms, a huge grin on her face. “Surprise!”
Cookie couldn’t help but laugh. “It’s always great to see you, Scar,” she said, and meant every word of it. “And thank you for coming to get us,” she added to Dylan, who’d tied the two boats together and joined them on the larger boat’s deck.
“No problem,” he replied with that same warm smile that sent a flutter through her every time. He glanced around the cigarette boat again, even though he’d seen it before when he and Cookie had found Dickie dead on the deck. “Still a nice boat,” he commented. “Overpowered, though. Like maybe somebody’s compensating for something.” Then he nodded at Hunter, as if noticing him for the first time. “Hunter.”
“Dylan.” Hunter’s jaw was set, and he was scowling hard enough t
o split rocks as he stomped over to them. “Thanks for coming to get us.” He spit each word out like it hurt him, which it probably did, at least as far as his ego was concerned.
For his part, Dylan made a big show of being unconcerned. “No big deal,” he said with a shrug and then winked at Cookie. “I always make sure my boat’s gassed up and ready to go. You never know when you’re going to have to be the knight in shining armor for a damsel in distress.”
Ouch, Cookie thought. Talk about a blow to Hunter’s ego. As much as she agreed that Hunter deserved a little comeuppance for his mistake, she didn’t actually want to see the two guys in her life come to blows so she stepped in between them, both literally and figuratively. “I’m guessing those are for us?” she asked, indicating the gas cans tucked neatly in the front of Dylan’s boat, wedged securely between the hull and the forward bench.
“They are,” he agreed. “Should be more than enough to get you back safely.”
“Get him back, you mean,” Cookie corrected. “I’m riding with you. If that’s okay.” She flushed, realizing she’d just invited herself into his boat.
Dylan didn’t seem to mind, however. “Always,” he told her warmly. Then he laughed. “Don’t want to get stuck again, huh?”
“Something like that.” In truth, it was partially because she was still irritated at Hunter but also because Cookie was annoyed at herself and her uncontrollable hormones. The thoughts and feelings she’d had earlier had unsettled her. Right now, she didn’t entirely trust herself to ride back with Hunter. Better to go with Dylan, who she liked and who she knew liked her back. Nice and simple, the way it was supposed to be.
“What, you’re going to leave me out here all on my own?” Hunter asked. His eyes had shaded to black, a sure sign that his emotions were on overload. “Thanks a lot.”