By Sea (8 page)

It shouldn’t be too difficult.

However, she had the feeling taking the trip would set her back in her work, but her father was right: when it came down to it, family was the only thing that mattered.

“Okay, Papa. I’m in.”

Chapter 18

Rayna and Margarita landed in St. Thomas, the private plane coming to a halt on the tarmac.

The company her father had hired arranged the jet, a new experience for Rayna, but Margarita was in her element, haughtily ordering the flight attendant around for food and drinks as she checked her email, responded to her Facebook page, and looked over her Twitter feed. She sent her Diet Coke back twice because she was certain it was regular. She demanded her food be heated up, but then complained it was too hot. Margarita acted liked a spoiled, entitled brat, which she was. The five-hour flight was long with only a brief respite as Margarita took a short nap.

Disembarking the plane, Rayna inhaled the warm air as it caressed her skin. She tensed as a bald, white man in his fifties dressed in a flowered shirt and kaki shorts approached. “Ms. Garcia?”

“I’m Margarita Garcia,” her sister said, stepping in front of Rayna.

“It’s my pleasure to meet you,” he said with a slight bow. “My name is Henry, and I’m to take you to the boat.”

Rayna relaxed, recalling her father saying they were supposed to meet a man named Henry.

“Excellent!” Margarita exclaimed. “Could you please grab my bags?”

Rayna noted she didn’t wait for an answer, but teetered toward the running SUV in her sky-high heels with her light blue, ankle-length sundress floating behind her, and slipped in the back seat.

Rayna followed, her flip-flops smacking against her feet and her duffel bag thrown over her shoulder.

“Oh, this air conditioning feels good. It seems so much more humid here than Mexico,” Margarita said in Spanish, once they were in the car.

Rayna leaned her head back, hopeful the drive to the boat wasn’t too long.

Henry lifted Margarita’s bags into the back and slammed the door. He took his place behind the driver’s seat and the sped off. A guard at the end of the tarmac opened the gate, and they bypassed the traffic clogging the airport, immediately merging on to the freeway.

St. Thomas was on the U.S. Virgin Island side, so they were able to bypass customs, which made Rayna happy. Right now, she just wanted to get to the yacht, get settled in and embark on their journey. Two days ago, Margarita had received another note reading,
I will always love you. If I can’t have you, then no one will. I bled for you, and you will bleed for me.

It was frightening to consider someone thought of her sister in that way.

They drove in blessed silence as Rayna watched the island whiz by, wishing she could experience it. Perhaps she would come down to the islands at another time for vacation.

Busy shops gave way to even busier outdoor market places as locals tried to sell their goods while tourists tried to talk down their pricing. It reminded her a lot of the markets she’d seen in Mexico—somewhere in the middle of the negotiation everyone would find a fair price.

A few minutes later, they pulled into a gated area with signage reading,
St. Thomas Marina
. Glancing around at all the brand name shops—Gucci, Dolce, and Saks Fifth Avenue to name a few— Rayna wondered if Margarita would want to shop. She would have to make sure to put a stop to that as her job was to get Margarita on the boat, not let her run up her Am-Ex card.

They exited the car, and Rayna took in the hustle and bustle of the marina. People swarmed about, and she heard English being spoken with American, British and Irish accents. She even thought she detected a Canadian. As Henry unloaded their bags, a couple to her right conversed in Chinese, while another family argued in Spanish about where to eat lunch. It seemed people from across the globe traveled to visit the beauty of the Virgin Islands.

Just as a golf cart pulled up to take them down to the boat, Rayna heard, “Margarita Garcia?”

She turned to see a young woman in her early twenties approaching her sister.

“Yes!” Margarita said, her smile giving away that she was thrilled she had been recognized.

“Oh, my God! I love you!” the woman gushed in Spanish.

Rayna stepped up to put some space between Margarita and her fan, but Margarita gently pushed her out of the way.

“Can I get a picture with you?” the woman asked.

“Of course!” Margarita said, bringing her long ponytail over her shoulder so it rested on her breast. “Let’s take the picture this way so our beautiful faces are properly lit.”

Rayna rolled her eyes as her sister arranged her mouth in a pouty, yet sultry grin, and the woman snapped the picture with her phone. It would be a great shot with the boats in the far background.

“What are you doing here?” the woman asked, continuing their conversation in Spanish.

The man driving the golf cart pushed between them. “We need to go, Ms. Garcia.”

“Just another minute,” Margarita said, stepping around him.

“No. Now,” he ordered, grabbing her arm.

Margarita shot him a nasty look, but then smiled at the woman. “I do need to go, love, but thank you so much for coming to speak with me!”

“I love you, Margarita!” the woman called as the driver ushered Margarita into the back seat of the golf cart.

Rayna slid in beside her.

“I can’t believe I was recognized in the Virgin Islands!” Margarita proclaimed. “I’m telling you, Rayna, soon I will be a worldwide sensation!”

The idea of being recognized wherever she went did not appeal to Rayna in the slightest bit. She preferred her
anonymity
, and couldn’t imagine living her life in the spotlight her sister craved so desperately.

“I would have liked to go shopping, Ray-Ray. I don’t know why I can’t. Papa sent you here to protect me. I could shop and you could do what Papa wants you to do.”

Rayna’s last nerve was about to come unraveled. Her day had started out at 5 a.m. when she met Margarita at the Richmond International Airport. From there, they had boarded a private jet to Charlotte, North Carolina. They immediately were transported to another plane to take them to St. Thomas. Exhaustion had set in, and she’d had just about enough of Margarita. Rayna tuned her out as she prattled on about how unfair it was that she wasn’t allowed to visit the exquisite shops lined up at the entrance to the marina.

The golf cart bounced along the dock planks as Rayna looked at the boats. Some were monstrous yachts; others were smaller day vessels. Their white hulls gleamed in the sun as the squawk of the sea birds floating above met her ears. A cool, light breeze wafted from the water and she smiled as it caressed her skin. She always forgot how much she truly loved the ocean.

“You seem so uptight today, Rayna,” Margarita said.

“No, I’m fine.”

“No, your not. That’s the first time I’ve seen you smile all day long, and I see you rolling your eyes at me. I’m sorry you don’t think I’m wonderful, but there are millions of people in this world who do.”

“I never said that, or gave you any indication I don’t think you’re wonderful, Margarita,” Rayna said with a sigh. The cart came to a stop, and Rayna stepped out, reaching for her bag.

In Spanish, Margarita said, “I think your problem is you just need to get laid, little sister.”

That was it—her nerve unraveled. “Shut up, Margarita!” she yelled turning toward her sister. The fact of the matter was she probably did need some sex, but Margarita didn’t need to be broadcasting that to everyone on the dock.

Ignoring her, Margarita slipped her sunglasses down her nose and said in her native tongue, “And there are two very fine men who I’m sure would be happy to oblige.”

Rayna spun around, praying the two men didn’t speak Spanish. Her breath caught as she immediately recognized one of the men.

“Holy shit,” she whispered.

“My thoughts exactly,” Brody grumbled.

Chapter 19

Rayna stared at Brody, almost unable to comprehend what she was seeing and momentarily forgetting she was angry at Margarita. Yes, it was the same tall, dark, extremely rude and ruggedly good-looking man she had seen three months ago. What was he doing greeting her as she boarded the yacht with her damn sister?

Confusion tore through her as she tried to put the pieces together. Brody stood before her dressed in a white shirt, the emblem indicating he was Captain of the yacht.

It didn’t make any sense. Her father had assured her the company he hired for protection was private, not a government agency. As far as she knew, Brody belonged to the government.

Margarita announced that the cruise wouldn’t be too bad with two good-looking guys on it, and she swept over to Brody and extended her hand. “I’m Margarita Garcia,” she purred.

“It’s nice to meet you Margarita,” he said, giving her a small smile. “My name is Brody. I’m the Captain of the yacht, and this is my right-hand man, Jason.”

“Hello, Jason,” she said, her gaze raking over him, “You’re absolutely darling. Please, grab my bags and help me get settled.”

Jason’s cheeks flamed, and Margarita laughed as he walked over to the golf cart, picked up two Louis Vuitton suitcases and followed her into the yacht, leaving Rayna and Brody alone.

“What are you doing here?” he hissed. “Did they send you?”

Rayna shook her head and dropped her red duffel bag at her feet. “That’s my sister,” Rayna whispered, pointing at the doorway where Margarita had disappeared. “What are
you
doing here?”

“Bullshit,” he said, ignoring her question. “There’s no way you being here is a coincidence like that.”

Rayna crossed her arms over her chest. “Then call it divine intervention, Brody. I’m not here in an official government capacity. I’m here because my sister’s life is in danger.”

“You’re lying, and you aren’t getting on my fucking boat,” he growled.

“And I see your disposition hasn’t improved one iota since our last meeting.”

Brody looked as though he was going to say something, but Margarita’s shrill voice interrupted him.

“Rayna!” Margarita called, “Come see this lovely boat!”

“I am getting on your fucking boat, Brody. Our father has paid handsomely for your services, and I expect you to do exactly what you were hired to do: protect my sister.”

Brody’s nostrils flared, and his lip twitched. “I’ll need to call my boss before we set sail and tell him exactly who his client is.”

“You do that,” Rayna said, bending down to pick up her bag, but Brody beat her to it. She caught the scent of a light aftershave mixed with ocean and just a tinge of sweat and inhaled deeply.

“I’ll get your bag, but we aren’t done talking about this,” Brody grumbled. “Once you two get settled in and I talk to my boss, I’m going to want more information out of you.”

Rayna followed him. “I’ve told you everything there is to know. What are you going to do? Take me downstairs, tie me up and interrogate me?”

He threw her a nasty look over his shoulder. “Don’t tempt, me, Ms. CIA. Don’t tempt me.”

Chapter 20

As Brody carried in the red duffel bag, he realized Rayna’s presence had him very rattled and very angry. As the boat rocked from the waves, he took a few deep breaths. Walking down the stairs to the lower staterooms, he tried to focus and figure things out, and the rock of the boat subsided.

If Rayna was here truly for her sister, it was definitely an amazing coincidence. The trouble with that line of thinking was that Brody didn’t believe in coincidence. He relied on hard facts.

Fact one: Rayna was a CIA agent who had been tasked just over three months ago to check up on him, and now he heard her footsteps behind him on the stairs.

Fact two: From the first time he laid eyes on her, he’d been attracted to her. He longed to run his fingers through her messy hair and to feel that long, thin body against his. She looked hot as hell in her green sundress that sat at mid-thigh with a very low neckline.

He reminded himself he knew very little about her. He didn’t know if she was married or had a boyfriend at home. She was still hot as hell, and if weren’t for her being a CIA agent, he’d try to bed her in an instant as long as there wasn’t a husband at home, of course.

He glanced down at her hand. No ring.

Fact three: Trying to bed her would be a very, very bad idea.

“Here’s your room,” he said, his voice sounding lethal even to his own ears.

“Thanks,” she muttered, their arms brushing up against each other as she moved past him into the room sending a wave of energy throughout his body.

She looked around briefly at the queen-sized bed covered in a brown and white comforter, the shiny wooden built-in dresser on the opposite wall and the expensive art hanging on the walls.

“This is nice,” she said crossing her arms over her chest and gazing at him.

“Glad you like it. I need you upstairs for a safety meeting before we set sail. First, I need to make that phone call,” he said, trying not to glimpse at the hint of cleavage as he turned to head up to the Main Salon.

“Wait a minute,” Rayna said, walking over to him. “I have a few questions myself, Brody.”

“Like what?”

“I want to know about this yacht. It doesn’t look like a place where someone would go for protection. What about the windows? The boat itself? The crew? Can they be trusted?”

He gazed down at her, just a foot of space between their bodies. He found it interesting that she wasn’t asking questions about his escape from his previous life, but about how exactly the boat was going to protect her sister. Her grey gaze bore into him, questioning, yet expecting answers.

He debated whether to tell her anything. What if it was some ploy for her to get the specs on the boat so that the government could swoop in and nail him? It seemed far-fetched. If the government truly wanted him, they would have come in full steam at the dock.

“And what do you want with the information?” he asked, just testing the waters.

She stared at him a beat, and then sighed. “Brody, this isn’t about you. This is about my sister who has received death threats. I could care less about your life, the accident that gave you whatever supernatural power you think you have, or the government. Right now, this is all about my sister. She’s in trouble and I’m here to help her.”

Brody smiled, feeling confident in his initial assessment. Ms. super-hot CIA wasn’t here for him, but he still wanted to talk to Joe.

“The crew is trained in martial arts and weaponry, and most have some sort of military training,” he murmured. “As for the specs on the boat, that’s none of your goddamn business. Your sister’s safe here.”

Rayna licked her lips and nodded her head. “Are you going to be this rude the whole time I’m here?” she asked.

He sighed. It would be a long trip if he didn’t cut her some slack. “You showing up here is a pretty big coincidence,” he said.

“It is, and that’s all it is, Brody. I’m not here in any official capacity. So it would be great if we could play nice while I’m on the ship.”

And what about after the trip? Would she go running back to the CIA with his whereabouts?

“We’ll see,” Brody said, stepping out of the doorway. “We need to get under way after I make my phone call, so please, come upstairs for the safety meeting.”

Rayna brushed by him again, and Brody followed her up the stairs, trying to ignore the sway of her slender hips and the muscles rippling through her long legs.