Covert Pursuit (2 page)

Slowly, as if to obey the no wake rule, Jason headed the Bayliner Bowrider, a boat designed for day cruising, in the direction the vacationing cop had indicted to Chief Decker. A breeze kicked up, churning the ocean and creating small swells. Indications of the storm to come.

“Angie—can I call you Angie?”

For a moment she pursed her lips before nodding.

Jason found himself fascinated with her full mouth and the little freckle at its corner. He tore his gaze away to focus on the water ahead. “You wouldn’t happen to know the coordinates of where you saw the guys in the boat drop the bag, would you?”

“I’m not a sailor.”

Amusement had him smiling. Of course she wasn’t. She was a pretty, hard-edged cop. “Thought I’d ask.”

“Veer more to the left,” she said as she came to stand beside him at the helm. “Slow down.”

“Where were you when you saw the boat?”

“Sitting on the deck of my aunt’s cottage.” She pointed toward a row of lights dotting the shoreline.

The shadowy night sky made discerning the outline of any individual house impossible. “It’s too dark now to see which one is Aunt Teresa’s, but I think we’re just about where I saw the boat stop.”

He cut the engine, letting the boat bobble with the current while he dug out his dive apparatus. He could only hope he’d find some evidence to link to Picard at the bottom of the ocean.

She moved to the side railing and looked overboard. “I see why the chief wanted to wait until morning,” she muttered.

“No worries. I’ve an underwater light,” he said.

The sound of another boat approaching grabbed Jason’s attention. A deck boat, illuminated by high-powered lights attached to the sides, sliced through the choppy water.

Jason abandoned the dive equipment to stand beside Angie. “Is that the same boat?”

“I don’t think so. The one I saw was bigger with a higher top deck,” she said. “Who do you think they are?”

Trepidation slithered over him as the boat closed in.
“Not sure. Help me put this stuff back into the cargo hold,” he said, not wanting to advertise their purpose in being out on the water.

Together they made short work of restoring the scuba equipment. “Let me do the talking,” Jason said as the boat slowed.

“They’re armed,” Angie said in a tight voice.

“Yeah,” he acknowledged as a hard knot formed in his chest.

Men carrying submachine guns stood at the fore and aft positions. Another man, flanked on either side by two more armed guards, called out instructions to the driver.

Apprehension tethered Jason’s feet to the deck. He swallowed back a prayer for help. No need to waste hope that God would come through for him. Jason would just have to make sure he and Angie got through this alive on his own.

The boat drew abreast of the
Regina Lee
.

F
orcing himself to relax, Jason worked his cover persona, deepening his Southern drawl. “Island Charters at your service.”

Two armed men wearing jeans and black T-shirts jumped aboard as the wake of the other boat rocked the
Regina Lee
.

“What in the world?” Angie said, reaching for her gun.

Jason caught her hand and held on tight even as she jerked to free herself from his hold. He pulled her slightly behind him to keep her out of the men’s line of vision. In a low voice meant for her ears only, he growled, “Stand down.”

She stilled. He didn’t have to see her glare; he felt it, but he stayed focused on the men with the guns.

“Hey, not cool to board a man’s boat without permission,” Jason said.

Ignoring him, the men scrutinized the interior of the boat, going so far as to open the cabin door and peer inside. What were they looking for?

The man who seemed to be in charge stepped closer to the railing. Jason didn’t recognize the tall, muscular Hispanic man. Could he be Picard?

No. Felix wouldn’t be so careless as to show himself. Still, Jason memorized the face. Angular jawline, dark eyes slightly rounded at the edges, wide bridge across the nose, scar over the right eye. Jason would have an ID on the guy in no time once he returned to his rented condo near the marina.

Were these Picard’s men? Or was there another illegal entity working out of Loribel?

“What are you doing out here?” the man asked in a thick Spanish accent.

“I’m taking the lady on a night cruise around the island.”

“Why’d you stop here?”

“She thought she saw a dolphin.” Jason shrugged. “You know tourists. Easily fascinated.”

“There’re no dolphins. Move along.”

“Sure, whatever you say.” Ignoring Angie’s low growl of disapproval, Jason turned to the two men who’d boarded his boat. “You coming with us?”

The two looked to their boss for direction. With a flick of his hand, the boss indicated for the men to return to the other boat.

Relieved not to have the unwanted guests, Jason practically dragged Angie to the helm with him, careful to keep her back to the men.

Thankfully, she remained silent, but the faint moonlight revealed the fiery expression that said she wanted
to confront the situation head-on. Not a good idea when they were outmanned and outgunned.

He started the engine and pushed the throttle forward, easing the boat away from the other craft before letting the throttle out and speeding back toward the marina.

He glanced back only once. The deck boat was now only a bright dot in the dark. He hadn’t seen dive equipment on board but that didn’t mean there hadn’t been any. In any case, he would return to the spot in the morning before Decker and dive down just in case the bag was still there.

Angie brought out her cell phone. “I don’t have a signal yet. Not even roaming.”

Jason took the phone from her hands, noticing again the strength in her long tapered fingers. “You don’t want to call this in. Just let it go. You’re on vacation. You should act like it.”

“I can’t let it go.” Her voice held an incredulous note. “I can’t let those men get away with intimidation. Not to mention those weapons. They were there to get the body. I have to tell Chief Decker.”

Jason shook his head. “I don’t think you saw a body being dumped.”

“You don’t believe me?”

The hurt in her tone unexpectedly twisted inside Jason’s chest. “I believe you saw something. Something worth sending out armed men to retrieve. And the less people who know you saw anything the better. Believe me—you don’t want to mess with those men.”

“If it wasn’t a body, then what? Drugs? Weapons?”

“Hard to say,” he said in a dismissive tone. The woman wasn’t going to relent, was she? “The Colombian drug cartel has a pipeline to the U.S. through the Keys. Arms dealers are a dime a dozen, especially around the Gulf of Mexico.”

“But wouldn’t the salt water ruin drugs or weapons?”

“Not necessarily, if they were secured in airtight, waterproof packaging.”

She peered at him with suspicion in her eyes. “You’re not a simple boat captain. Who are you?”

Her hand rested on her hip, where her holstered weapon was concealed beneath her waistband. There was no doubt in his mind she wouldn’t hesitate to draw on him if she thought he was a criminal. But for her own good, he couldn’t reveal his identity.

“You don’t think I’m simple?” He placed a hand over his heart. “That warms me. It really does.”

She rolled her eyes and pushed a stray curl out of her face. “Be serious. Who are you?”

“I’m always serious.”

Irritation gleamed in the swirling depths of her eyes. “I want an answer.”

“Bossy, much?”

She stared him down, hard. A look meant to intimidate. He’d bet she’d used that look on suspects and witnesses. Probably got people talking. He enjoyed baiting her. But he really needed her to take the situa
tion seriously. If she kept pushing, she’d find out how dangerous things could get.

The image of Garrett, dying in his arms, shuddered through his consciousness. He banked the memory and sobered. “Look, I’ve been at this a long time. These waters are infested with sharks. The human kind. Trust me, you’ll be safer if you pretend you didn’t see anything.”

“No can do.” She relaxed her stance slightly. “I’ve sworn an oath to uphold the law.”

He let up on the throttle and slowed to the minimum speed as the boat entered the marina limits. “Honorable. But down here, you don’t have jurisdiction. Besides, once Chief Decker searches and finds nothing, you’ll have lost credibility.”

“Exactly why I am going tell him about the men now,” she argued. She held out her hand. “My phone.”

Easing the
Regina Lee
into her slip, he cut the engine before handing over her phone. “Your funeral.”

She made a face, which he found charming, as she swiped the phone, and then hopped off the boat onto the dock. Jason shook his head with exasperation and admiration. The woman was a spitfire determined to do the right thing. He couldn’t blame her. But she had no idea what kind of hornets’ nest she’d stumbled into.

Whether Picard or some other lowlife, those men on the boat meant business. A lone lady cop out of her element and her jurisdiction wasn’t a match.

That meant it was up to Jason to keep Detective Carlucci safe.

He gritted his teeth to keep from swearing, a habit he’d been trying to break for years. Why did foul words rise so easily when he was frustrated?

Out of the mouths of men came the issues of the heart.

Jason could just hear Garrett’s voice piping into his mind. Even from the grave his friend was trying to save him. Anger and frustration were things Jason and God were working on. Some days there were small victories. Other days, not so much.

After quickly tying off the boat, Jason went after the pretty detective. He found her opening the door of her rental convertible.

“Nice ride,” he commented. “You know how to vacation in style.”

Frowning, she asked, “What do you want now?”

He chose not to take offense at her annoyed tone. “I take it your call to the chief didn’t go well?”

Turning away, she closed her eyes for a moment. “He said I could come in and make a report.”

Not the response she’d obviously been hoping for. “Are you going to?”

Her lips twisted. “Would it do any good?”

“I don’t think so.” He hoped she wouldn’t push this. For her safety. And for his mission. “You did your duty. You informed the local law enforcement. Nothing else can be done.”

“I guess.”

She stared out at the dark ocean. “How long has Decker been Chief?”

“A while now.” Decker had been elected a few months prior to Jason’s arrival. The guy had checked out.

“You think he’s competent?”

“I think this is a small island with a low crime rate.”

“And I’m just a hassle.”

He hated how deflated she sounded. He rather liked her spunk. “Hey, forget about him. How about I buy you a late dinner.”

Peering at him with speculation, she said, “No, thanks. Shouldn’t I be paying you for taking me out?”

“Naw.” He waved a hand.

“Not a very smart business move, don’t you think?”

Oh, but she was quick. And he needed to remember to maintain his cover. “I can afford it.”

He didn’t mention the excursion was on the government’s dime.

“Business that good, huh? Even in this economy?”

“What can I say? Tourism may be down elsewhere in the world, but not here on Loribel.”

“Right.” She slid into the car and turned the key. “I’m sure I’ll see you around.”

He stepped back so she could pull the convertible out of the parking space. As the red glow of the car’s taillights disappeared into the night, he said aloud, “Count on it.”

He’d be keeping an eye on the pretty detective for as long as she was on the island.

And he hoped that wasn’t going to be very long. He really didn’t want the distraction. Forming any sort of
attachment wasn’t part of Jason’s game plan. Work and women didn’t mix. Even ones as pretty and spirited as Angie Carlucci.

Angie entered the darkened cottage and paused to listen before turning on the lights. Her internal warning system stayed quiet. No discernible threat waited in the shadows. Still, she kept her hand on the weapon at her waist as she flipped on the light, locked the door and searched the premises, to assure herself all was as she’d left it.

She let out a relieved breath.

Going to the kitchen to fix herself a tuna sandwich, she scoffed at her own silly paranoia. The armed men on the boat had rattled her more than she’d expected or cared to admit. For several heart-throbbing moments she’d been afraid. Only the silent prayers she’d sent heavenward had allowed her to keep her composure.

Fear was not something that could be allowed. Fear could mean death. Hers or others’.

But Jason had hardly seemed unnerved by the boat of armed men.

Except when he was barking orders at her to stand down. He’d sounded exactly like her academy instructors. What was up with that?

Ex-military? That would explain how nonplussed he’d been. And how autocratic.

At first she’d chafed against the obvious he-man tactic he’d employed by pulling her behind him as if
she were some damsel in distress. Okay, maybe a bit of distress, but still—

If those men had wanted them dead, Jason’s body would hardly have been an effective defense. Though in retrospect, she realized he’d been trying to protect her, not as a fragile flower but rather to shield her identity from the men on the boat.

So they wouldn’t come after her because of what she’d seen? She shuddered at the thought.

She hadn’t expected gallantry from a total stranger, but there it was. Tenderness welled up. The man might be a bit irritating, but he’d shown a streak of honor she couldn’t deny. Definitely military material. And good-looking. Very good-looking. Muscular but not overly. Strong, capable hands. And a slow, killer smile that knocked the wind out of her lungs.

Forcing Jason from her thoughts, she took her food out to the back deck. A gust of wind threatened to rip the plate from her hand. She tightened her grip and stared out at the ocean to the spot where she’d seen the black bag go into the water. She burned with curiosity and the need to prove to Chief Decker and Jason that what she’d seen was worth investigating.

What if those men who’d chased them away hadn’t been able to find the bag? It could still be at the bottom of the ocean.

Angie sure could use a boat of her own. And scuba gear. She’d have to wait until morning to rent either one. But would she be early enough to get out on the ocean before Chief Decker? Doubtful.

She sliced a look to her left where there was a storage door underneath the cottage’s eaves. Maybe her aunt had something she could use.

Setting her plate on the small round table beside the Adirondack chair, she tried the knob. Locked.

She ran inside for the keys Aunt Teresa had sent her. There were two keys. One fit the front and back doors. The other had to open the storage closet.

Sure enough, the key slid easily into the lock. With the door open, she felt around the inside wall until she found a light switch. Score.

A single-person sit-on-top kayak was fastened to the wall by bungee cords. Several shelves lined the wall filled with beach gear.

The kayak wasn’t ideal. She’d only ever kayaked down the Charles River, which was a far cry from the agitated water of the ocean. But she wasn’t going to let a little thing like inexperience stop her.

She held a paddle in one hand and snorkel gear in the other and made a decision. As soon as the sun rose she’d paddle out. Obviously, she wouldn’t be able to go very deep with a snorkel but she wasn’t planning on dredging the bag up. She’d leave that to Decker and his men. All she wanted to do was confirm what she’d seen.

She’d show Mr. Jason Bodewell that a Carlucci never gave up on an investigation.

Beneath a sky streaked with gold and safety-cone orange, Jason eased the
Regina Lee
away from the dock. He searched the horizon for the impending
tropical storm predicted on the news. Other than the wind gusting over the Gulf water, he didn’t see any signs. But that didn’t mean one wasn’t brewing. Sometimes they came on fast and left a trail of destruction in their wake. But not yet.

Once clear of the marina, he sped toward the apex of the coordinates he’d memorized last night, while keeping a sharp eye out for any unwanted attention. Especially a boat full of armed men.

He doubted he’d find anything at the bottom of the ocean; the men in the boat wouldn’t have left anything of value behind. But one never knew.

And it gave him something to do. He was so tired of waiting. Waiting for Picard to slip up and show his hand. Chatter through the intricate intel channels monitored by both ICE—U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement—and ATF—Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives—solidified the belief that Picard was on Loribel Island.