Covert Pursuit (3 page)

Posing as a charter-boat captain allowed Jason to explore the coastline all the way around the island. He had narrowed down three possible places Picard could be working from, since the arms dealer would need ocean access. All were being monitored by satellite surveillance. Which hadn’t yielded much so far.

But now that Jason had identified the man from last night as Hector Ramirez, a name linked with Picard in Interpol files, Jason was sure it would only be a matter of time before he found Ramirez again. Jason prayed the man would lead him to Picard.

Up ahead, a small craft, maybe a kayak, bobbed in the waves. Jason slowed the
Regina Lee,
his gaze sweeping the area. About fifty yards from the kayak, a dark head popped up, breaking through the waves. Water spurted out of a snorkel.

Jason stared as disbelief and frustration built in his chest. There was no mistaking the face staring at him from behind a clear mask.

“Women,” he muttered, making the word sound like an epithet.

Putting down anchor helped calm his ire. Moving to the side of the boat, he called out, “What are you doing?”

With graceful, broad strokes, Angie swam closer. She had on a short-sleeved black dive suit similar to his own. When she reached the
Regina Lee,
she lifted the mask to rest on her forehead and blinked up at him. “Enjoying the water. You?”

His mouth quirked. “The same.”

She smiled, clearly not believing him any more than he believed her. “Did you see anything of note?”

She shook her head. “No.” She held up the snorkel. “I was hoping I’d be able to see the bottom but it’s too murky.”

He reached behind him to where his scuba gear sat on the floor of the boat and held it up for inspection. “I can take care of that.”

“I’d appreciate it.”

“You might want to grab your kayak before it floats away,” he pointed out, watching the drifting craft move farther out to sea.

“Ugh, I had it tied to my wrist,” she exclaimed and swam away, powerful and lithe in the water.

Jason couldn’t deny he liked the lady cop. She was determined and persistent. Good qualities, but ones that could get her hurt. Not something he was going to let happen.

Slipping the tank onto his back, he donned the dive mask and breathing apparatus, readying himself for the dive.

Glancing around to make sure no boats were approaching, he slipped over the side and into the water. He swam down to the ocean floor, careful to check the depth meter on his watch so as not to go beyond the limit and risk nitrogen poisoning.

At fifty feet he could see the ocean floor. Sediment and sand swirled with the current, seaweed danced in clumps and fish scattered. He searched for several minutes. Nothing. He rose slowly, letting his body adjust to avoid decompression sickness.

At the surface, he found Angie treading water while using one hand to hold the kayak in place.

“Anything?” she asked, her voice eager.

“Nope. Didn’t really expect to see anything.”

“Right.” She stripped off the snorkel gear and tossed it into the seat of the kayak. “Thanks for trying.”

Did she think he’d done this for her? Interesting. And useful for hiding his true motivations. “You’re welcome. I figured you’d be itching until you knew for sure. I just hadn’t expected to find you out here already.”

“Tenacious as a bulldog, or so my father likes to tell me,” she said with a self-effacing grimace.

“A good quality in a detective,” he replied as he kicked his legs to remain upright, the weight of the tank heavy on his back. “Hey, why don’t we finish this conversation on my boat.”

For a moment indecision warred in her lovely brown eyes. “Don’t you have some tourists to motor around the island?”

Oh, man. His cover.
Dude, you’re slipping.
“Not today. The weatherman predicts a storm.” He hoped she bought the flimsy excuse. “I’m all yours.”

She blinked and turned away. “Right, a storm.”

He studied her profile, liking the straight line of her nose, the high cheekbones and long-lashed eyes, so natural in the morning light. “So can I give you a lift?”

Slowly, she nodded.

“Great.” He moved closer to help her with the kayak.

Together they towed the kayak to the
Regina Lee.
Jason was acutely aware of her beside him. When their legs brushed against each other beneath the surface of the water, a wave of shock jolted his system. Not good. Not good at all.

The last thing he needed was to let attraction derail his mission. He needed to stay focused and professional. Romance and undercover work didn’t mix well. A painful lesson he’d already learned.

Purposefully, he distanced himself from her as they worked together to maneuver the kayak onto the back of the boat.

Once Jason was on board, he grabbed towels from a cupboard in the cabin and handed one to Angie.

She took the towel with a grateful smile. “Thanks.”

Keeping his gaze from following the towel’s progress over her limbs, Jason started the engine but let the boat idle. “So now will you let this situation go?”

She sat on the padded bench near the helm. “I’ve not much choice now, do I?”

Relieved to hear she had come to that conclusion on her own, he relaxed. “How long are you planning on staying on Loribel?”

She lifted her shoulder in a negligent shrug. “Supposed to be a week, but…”

“But?”

“I don’t vacation well.”

That made him chuckle. “Yeah, so I’ve seen.” He really liked her. What would it hurt to spend a little time with her before she left? “I’m starved. How about I treat you to breakfast?”

Tilting her head to the side slightly, she regarded him intently. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

“I shouldn’t be?”

“What’s in it for you?”

“You’re never off duty, are you?”

She raised a nicely arched, dark eyebrow in reply.

He conceded the point with a laugh. “Can’t a guy ask a pretty lady to breakfast, especially after what we’ve shared?”

The corners of her mouth tipped up but her eyes
showed doubt. “I suppose. Though I’d be more comfortable if I could put on some dry clothes.”

“Ah. Tell you what, we’ll moor the boat at the marina and I’ll drive you in my Jeep to your place. You can freshen up and then we’ll head into Old Town Loribel. I know the best place to get fresh seafood omelets.”

She contemplated him a moment before answering.

“Deal.” She sat back, letting her head rest against the side of the boat, her eyes drifting closed.

Jason smiled with satisfaction. Today would be a nice, calm day. A day where he could just be a guy enjoying a lady’s company. He had to admit the prospect was tantalizing since he couldn’t remember the last time he’d allowed himself a day off. That was one of the many things his ex-fiancée had complained about.

After mooring the boat, Jason went into the cabin to change into a pair of khaki cargo shorts, a button-up printed shirt and rugged Teva sandals.

They made the short drive to her place, where he waited in the Jeep while she ran inside the cottage to change. She came out wearing cropped, powder-blue cotton pants with a matching short-sleeved zipped-up jacket. Her dark hair was still pulled back from her face, the ends twisted up and captured by a gold clip. He detected the telltale bulge of her holster at her waist.

Did she ever really relax?

He silently snorted. Like he ever really did. They made quite a pair.

Twenty minutes later, dry and seated at a corner booth in Celeste’s Café, Jason watched Angie over the top of his mug of steaming coffee.

He noticed the small cross dangling from a gold chain around her neck. An ache started in his chest. It had been a while since he’d really thought about God. Not since the night Garrett died. Distrust and anger separated them. Jason didn’t know how to breach the barrier and frankly, wasn’t sure he wanted to try.

Forcing himself to stay in the moment, he asked Angie, “So tell me how you got into law enforcement.”

Toying with the rim of her glass of orange juice, she said, “Family business. Grandfather, father, brothers.”

Impressive. “All Boston P.D.?”

“Grandfather and father both retired from the force.” She smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Eldest brother is Secret Service, and the other ATF.”

Ah, he’d thought the name
Carlucci
sounded familiar. Special Agent Joseph Carlucci had been part of the joint task force that had tracked Picard in New Mexico. Jason was sure Joseph was still working the southwest corridor. He’d liked the guy. And now felt doubly responsible to make sure Angie left the island in one piece. Preferably sooner rather than later.

“Here comes trouble,” Angie said, ducking her head slightly as she stared over his shoulder to the front of the restaurant.

Trepidation curled low in his belly. “What?”

“Don’t turn around, but one of the armed men from last night just walked in.”

Jason grimaced. So much for time off.

I
n a swift movement that startled Angie, Jason’s hand closed over her wrist, the pressure pinning her hand to the table. “Don’t even think about it.”

His hard, knowing expression bathed in a shaft of morning light streaming through the café’s window stilled her breath. How could he read her so well? She didn’t even try to play innocent. “I’m not going to just let the guy walk around free. We need to detain him and call Chief Decker.”

Jason’s sooty blue-gray eyes narrowed. “You really want to start something in here? The guy’s probably not alone.”

Snapping to attention, she scanned the restaurant, searching for a threat. The other patrons seemed innocuous enough. A family of four sat at a middle table, the children both still half-asleep.

An older couple sat by the window. The man read the paper while the wife stared out at the beach. At the counter, two men and a woman ate breakfast while joking with the waitress.

Angie didn’t see anyone who looked to be in cahoots with the gunman. “I can handle him and anyone else,” she replied.

“And risk other people’s lives?”

Jason’s question brought her gaze back to him and the censure in his expression. Indignation rose to settle in her chest. How could he even suggest she’d put innocent lives in jeopardy? She’d sworn an oath to protect and serve. She took her vow seriously.

Frowning, she settled back against the booth’s cushioned seat, while keeping an alert eye on the male subject in question as he walked toward a table on the other side of the room. Thankfully, he’d sat with his back to them. There was a chance the man could ID her and Jason. They’d have to be careful.

Mentally she cataloged the suspicious man’s description—five foot ten, two hundred pounds, dark hair, jeans, work boots and plain green T-shirt. Just below the hem of the right sleeve, the edges of a tattoo winked at her. The guy didn’t appear to be carrying, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t.

Feeling Jason’s stare pressing on her, she said, “Then what do you suggest?”

He glanced over his shoulder. “He doesn’t seem to be going anywhere at the moment.” Turning back around, he said, “We watch him. See where he goes. Maybe he’ll lead us to the others.”

Was that a note of veiled excitement in his voice? “What are you, a thrill junkie?”

A brief, amused smile flashed before he said, “I
believe in making the most of opportunities presented.”

Sounded like something her brothers would say. But they were in the business of seeking opportunities to take down bad guys. What was Jason’s motivation? She needed more background info on the amiable boat captain. A lot more. Looked like she’d be calling Gabe, her Boston P.D. partner, to do a background check.

She hoped Jason didn’t have a record or a warrant anywhere. She was beginning to really like the guy.

And maybe he was right. Maybe they should be patient and sit tight. But she never did watch and wait well. Patience wasn’t one of her virtues. Probably one of the many character flaws that had sent men running in the other direction. That and her career. Would Jason run from her? Did she care?

“Tell me about yourself,” she said.

“Not much to tell,” he responded and studied the menu.

She arched a brow. They’d already ordered their meal.

“Come on. Talk to me.” She reached across the table to put her hand over the menu to gain his attention. “Who is Jason Bodewell? Are you ex-military?”

Setting the menu to the side, he gave her his attention. “Yeah, I’ve served my country.”

“Which branch?”

“Army.”

From the guarded tone of his voice, she guessed his service had left scars. “Did you grow up here on the island?”

“No. Born and bred in a small town outside Jackson, Mississippi.”

Now she understood why his accent was so much thicker than any she’d heard so far while on vacation. “You’re a long way from home.”

His expression dimmed as sadness deepened the blue of his eyes. “Nothing there for me anymore. My parents passed on. I don’t have siblings.”

Her stomach clenched with remembered panic and dread of her father’s heart attack last year. Sympathy for Jason infused her. She wanted to reach out and hold him, to soothe away his pain. “I’m sorry. How old were you when they died?”

“My dad passed on when I was a kid. Emphysema. He was a chain smoker for as long as I can remember. My mom—” His voice hitched. “She died of breast cancer about eight years ago.”

Compassion twisted in her chest. She couldn’t imagine having both parents die so young. “You don’t have any other family?”

He paused, his expression turning distant. Hard. “Not anymore.”

Their food arrived, preventing further questioning but not alleviating the curiosity churning in her mind. What was Jason’s story? Was his military background his only reason for getting involved with her and this situation?

As she contemplated the questions, she ate her pancakes quickly. Sweet maple syrup exploded on her taste buds with each bite. She wanted to be ready to
move the moment the gunman from last night decided to leave the café.

“Guess you were hungry,” Jason commented. His amused gaze flicked to her empty plate.

She shrugged. “Need to be ready.”

“Ah, I see,” he said.

Taking her cue, his seafood omelet disappeared rapidly. She appreciated how in tune he was with the situation. But really she shouldn’t expect him to put his job and life at risk to help her. Even though he was ex-army, he was now a civilian. Or was he? The question lingered in her mind, trying to take shape. But nothing beyond his mannerism suggested he was on active status. She shrugged the notion off.

“Let’s go. We can position ourselves outside,” he said as he laid down cash to pay the bill.

Careful to keep her face turned away from the gunman, Angie followed Jason out of the café. The morning’s air had grown thick, making her cotton jacket stick to her skin. Ominous clouds darkened the sky. A gust of wind ruffled the trees and bushes along the landscaped main street of Old Loribel. Jason led her to a park bench beneath the cover of a red maple tree. Though the branches offered some protection from the storm, it did nothing to relieve the humidity that she was becoming used to.

She sat on the edge of the bench. Awareness of his presence pulsed through her. He had a ruggedness and a vital power that drew her in, making her wish he’d sit beside her and wrap his arm around her shoulders
for an embrace. Her face flushed hot with embarrassment. “You don’t have to stay. I can handle this alone. I’m sure you have somewhere to be.”

“There isn’t anyplace on earth I’d rather be.” His intense gaze hinted at some deeper meaning, despite the playful curve of his mouth.

Taken aback by his words, her heart fluttered uncharacteristically beneath her breastbone. The man was charming to be sure, but there was something else, something in his steel gaze that made her believe his words. Trills of excitement raced up her spine, but self-doubt trampled after, warning, “Don’t get your hopes up.”

Needing to bring the conversation to a more benign topic, she asked, “What brought you to Loribel Island?”

Jason stretched his long legs out in front of him as he settled next to her and rested an arm along the back of the bench. “Many things. The ocean, the sun. It’s usually a peaceful place.” He slanted a mischievous glance at her. “But then you arrived.”

“Wow,” she said with a playful tone. “Thanks.”

Attraction arced. She forced her gaze from his teasing grin and focused on the café. He was gorgeous. Fine. But just because she was acutely responsive to him didn’t mean she had to be interested. Did it? And if she was—where could a romance possibly lead? Her life was in Boston, his here on Loribel.

The door to the café had opened, and the man they were waiting for walked out.

Jason stiffened, his whole body seeming to vibrate with energy. “Here we go.”

Senses jumping to alert, she smothered her romantic musings and concentrated on their quarry. They followed him, careful to keep a reasonable distance.

The man led them through Old Loribel, past quaint boutiques and art galleries that might tempt distraction for others, but to her were potential places where the suspicious man or his accomplices could hide.

Pausing occasionally beside the tall, graceful palms lining the street, Angie found Jason an easy surveillance partner. It had taken her and her currant homicide detective partner, Gabe Burke, at least a month before they’d synced.

Not once did she have to pull Jason back or explain the subtlety of feigning interest in anything other than the subject. Obviously he hadn’t forgotten his army training. Still, she had to wonder why he was going along with her. What was in it for him?

When they reached the parking lot at the end of town and the man climbed into a beat-up, red, single-cab truck, Angie figured they’d lose the guy. Jason’s Jeep was back near the café. But Jason surprised her by procuring two touring bikes from a nearby rental stand.

“Seriously?” She stared at the bright pink helmet he handed her.

“What better way to blend in than to stick out.” He grinned and secured a neon green helmet on his head.

Knowing precious seconds were ticking by, Angie didn’t argue. She quickly let down her hair to don the helmet and hopped on the bike. Keeping the truck in sight, she started down the road, her legs pumping the pedals and her heart rate kicking up with the effort. The invigorating sense of action and adrenaline propelling Angie forward made her smile. Jason rode beside her, falling back when traffic demanded.

The clouds let loose with a smattering of rain. Her excitement wasn’t dampened even as wetness soaked her clothes.

A bike chase was definitely a first—one her brothers would get a kick out of.

She glanced at Jason. He winked. Exhilaration bubbled over into a laugh.

Two miles later, the red truck turned off the main street onto a paved private road, then disappeared from view behind thick, lush foliage lining the road.

Frustrated, Angie pulled over to the muddy shoulder and stopped. A second later Jason halted beside her.

“Do you know where that road leads?” she asked.

His expression grew pensive. “Oh, yeah. There’s an estate at the end that belongs to the Corrinda family. They’ve been here since the founding of the island.” His gaze narrowed in speculation. “There’s a private cove attached to the property.”

Anticipation revved in her veins. “Let’s go.”

“No.” He grabbed the handlebar of her bike. “It’s private property.”

She opened her mouth to say the restrictions didn’t matter, she had probable cause. Those men last night had illegal weapons. Only, she didn’t have jurisdiction. Here she’d be nothing more than a trespasser. She yanked her cell phone out of her jacket pocket. “I’ll call the chief.”

“Definitely one option. But really, what’s the chief going to do? You didn’t file a report. He’s not going to raid a private residence without probable cause. And the way he dismissed you before, I doubt he’d take your word alone.”

Her gut twisted with frustration and unease. He was right. Chief Decker hadn’t exactly been very receptive last night. But with Jason’s collaboration the chief would have to take her seriously. “You can back me up.”

He shook his head, his stormy eyes troubled. “Sorry. No way do I want to get involved with the authorities.”

Disbelief and anger rushed to batter at her temples just as the rain beat against the helmet and soaked her clothes. “Why?”

“Hey, I’m just a boat captain trying to make a living while having a little fun in the sun.”

So that’s what all of his help was about—him having some fun. At her expense.

Disappointment clawed at her insides. He wasn’t the man she thought he was. “Fine. You don’t need to be involved. I’ll go see Chief Decker by myself.”

She yanked the bike from his grasp and pedaled back toward town, not bothering to see if Jason followed.

Jason’s insides coiled with guilt as he watched Angie ride away. For the first time in his life he regretted having to play the part his undercover work demanded. Boy, was he having a hard time keeping up the pretense with Angie.

He’d been apologetic to Serena when he’d had to leave and couldn’t tell her anything about the assignment.

But why did he regret keeping his cover with a woman he’d just met and barely knew?

He could only guess it was because she was a fellow law-enforcement officer. If he could take her into his confidence, he would in a heartbeat. But he’d worked too hard and too long to build this cover. Even one person knowing his true identity could jeopardize the whole mission. No way would he risk blowing everything because he liked the pretty cop.

The faster she left the island the better. She was proving to be a distraction he really couldn’t afford. He could never forget his purpose. And with Angie around he might.

He rode back to town, letting Angie stay well ahead of him but maintaining a visual on her. He still had an obligation to protect her. At the bike rental hut, he stopped her from walking away. “Let me drive you back to your place.”

She shook off his hand. “That’s okay. I’ll manage. Just steer me in the direction of the police department.”

There was no point in refusing her request. He gestured to the brick building off the main street with the American flag flying out front. “There.”

She walked away without another word.

Jason might not want to tip his hand to the local LEOs—law-enforcement officers—but he wasn’t going to just let Angie run around the island unprotected. He waited beneath the cover of an ancient Banyan tree, its curving branches and wide leaves giving some relief from the rain.

Taking his iPhone from his shirt pocket, he typed out a message to his SAC—Special Agent in Charge of the ICE Office of Investigations field office in D.C.—telling him about the lead and asking for more info on the Corrinda family. Were they connected to Picard? Or had they started some kind of illegal operation of their own?

When Angie came out of the station ten minutes later, he could tell by the angry set of her shoulders and the red in her cheeks that her talk with the chief hadn’t been productive. A good thing for him but he felt bad for her. He fell into step with her.