Surrender at Dawn

Cover by Rae Monet, Inc. Designs

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All characters in this book are fiction and figments of the author's imagination.

www.lauragriffin.com

Phuket, Thailand

2200 hours

Jack’s senses went on alert, and it only took a glimpse at the mirror behind the bar for him to know why. The woman making her way through the scattered rattan tables and chairs was American, clueless, and on a mission, and the combination tripped an alarm in Jack’s brain.

He eyed her from beneath the brim of his Dodgers cap as she approached the counter. She claimed the empty stool three down from his and tucked one of those yellow corkscrew curls behind her ear. Then she flashed the bartender a smile.

“I’m looking for John Brenner, of Brenner Aviation.”

Kai responded with a blank look, and she leaned closer to him.

“Do you speak English?”

Kai nodded.

“I’m looking for John Brenner,” she repeated, and Jack caught the Southern drawl in her voice. “He’s a pilot. American. I was told he hangs out here?”

Jack savored one last swill of beer. He plunked the bottle on the bar, and the noise caught her attention. She cast a glance in his direction, did a double-take, then slowly turned to face him.

“Mr. Brenner?” She slid off the barstool and walked over.

“Who’s asking?”

She held out a hand, and he glanced down at the French manicure. It went well with her loose-fitting white shirt and snug designer jeans. Heeled sandals, too. Jack would bet his Cessna she’d stepped off a plane from the States just this afternoon.

When it became clear he wasn’t going to shake her hand, she rested it on her hip. “I’m Charlotte Whiteside. I need your services.”

He looked her up and down, hoping she’d read the intention behind his gaze.

She cleared her throat. “You fly seaplanes, is that right?”

“I fly lots of things.”

“I need you to fly me to an island not far from here.”

“Whereabouts?”

“Ko Aroon.”

Kai’s hand stilled on the tap. Every pair of shoulders at the bar tensed.

“I’m sure you’ve heard of it,” she went on. “It’s supposed to be one of the best dive spots in Thailand.”

Jack slid his empty Singha across the counter and stood up. “It’s not on my route,” he said.

“I’d like you to put it on your route.”

He gazed down at her, and she didn’t act the least bit intimidated by his size, although he knew she was. Despite the ballsy attitude, he could tell Charlotte Whiteside wasn’t comfortable in this seedy watering hole surrounded by leering men.

“Sorry, sweetheart. No can do.”

“I’m prepared to pay you well.”

Jack traded looks with Kai as he took out his wallet and left some baht on the bar.

He put a hand on her shoulder and felt her muscles stiffen. He leaned close, but kept his voice just loud enough for the barflies on either side of them to hear.

“How ‘bout we go back to your place,” he said, “and I’ll show you exactly where I
can
take you?”

Confusion filled her brown eyes. He squeezed her shoulder--much too hard--and understanding seemed to dawn.

“All right.” She smiled up at him, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Lead the way.”

John Brenner was tall and muscular, and looked exactly like Charlotte had expected, except for the meanness. She hadn’t expected a decorated veteran and a former Navy SEAL to have that meanness about him. And despite his warm hand at the small of her back, she knew as he steered her out of the bar that he couldn’t stand her.

Three paces onto the busy sidewalk, he turned to face her.

“What’s a nice girl like you doing in a shithole like that?”

She gazed up at him as taxis and motorcycles and rickshaws rushed by. She hadn’t imagined it. He really, truly disliked her, and they’d only just met.

This was going to be much tougher than she’d thought.

“Listen, Mr. Brenner--”

“It’s Jack,” he snapped. “And if you have a brain in that pretty head of yours, you’ll get your butt back to the Two Palms, where you belong.”

She glanced up and down the street. Bars, strip clubs, and massage parlors, as far as the eye could see. She looked up at him again. “How’d you know I was staying at the Two Palms?”

“Lucky guess.” He slung a leg over the nearest motorcycle and gave her a hard look. “Get on. I’ll take you.”

She stared at him, all broad shoulders and Levis and bad attitude. He was a dangerous man; she knew that for a fact. It was crazy to trust him. But almost everything she’d done in the past forty-eight hours--starting with leaving her job in the middle of a workday and catching a flight to Thailand--was just as crazy.

Charlotte looked at the motorcycle. She glanced at a nearby doorway, where a man she recognized from the bar now stood smoking a cigarette and watching her from the shadows.

“Get on,” Jack repeated.

She met his gaze. Then she threw her leg over the back of his bike and settled in.

The engine growled, and they lunged into traffic. He sped through streets and alleys and black puffs of car exhaust. Charlotte’s hair whipped into her eyes, but she didn’t dare let go to push it aside. Instead, she tucked her forehead against his back and clutched his waist, trying not to cling too tightly as he dodged in and out of cars. She was close enough to smell him over all the exotic smells of the city--male heat and sweat and that vague, indefinable scent she hadn’t smelled in a long time.

He took a corner, and her hands and thighs clutched tighter. She peeked up as they sped through a narrow alley, then turned onto another congested street. Moments later, they were on a two-lane highway flanked on either side by coconut trees. She closed her eyes as he leaned into the curves--left, then right again, then suddenly a sharp left. Her eyes popped open and they were on a familiar driveway lined with bougainvillea. He glided up to the beveled glass doors of her hotel and cut the motor.

She unclenched her hands from his T-shirt and realized they were trembling. Her knees were trembling, too, and she didn’t know whether it was the place or the man or the thing she was about to do, but Charlotte felt rattled, right down to her bones.

What now? Was she supposed to invite him up to her room and
persuade
him to take her to Ko Aroon? Just two days ago, such an idea would have been unthinkable.

At this moment, she was thinking about it.

Her throat went dry as she pictured herself taking her clothes off for this man. That’s what he’d insinuated… wasn’t it? That if she’d sleep with him, he’d take her where she wanted to go? It was, and yet… as she looked into his face now, she saw nothing but loathing.

“Stay away from Aroon Island,” he said.

“But--”

“Yeah, it’s one of the best dive spots around. It’s also been taken over by dirtbags who would like nothing better than to get their hands on a blond American traveling alone. Get out your travel guide and find someplace else to play.”

“But I need to--”

“Stay away,” he said, and roared off.

Charlotte awoke with the sun in her eyes and the unmistakable feeling that she wasn’t alone. She sat up and blinked across the ocean of her king-size bed.

She jerked the sheet up. “How did you get in here?”

 Jack Brenner stared at her from across the room, arms folded over his chest. “You didn’t tell me you knew Mark Colter.”

She pressed back against the headboard as he came to stand at the foot of the bed. “Would it have made a difference if I had?”

“Mark and I went through BUD/S training together,” he said, as if that answered her question.

“How…” She shook off the grogginess and glanced at the clock on the nightstand. Eight fifteen. It must be the jet lag. She’d never felt so out of it.

Jack just stood there, watching her.

“How did you find out about Mark?”

“Simple background search,” he said. “You’re from Lazy Springs, Texas. It’s a small town. You two graduated high school a year apart.”

She brushed her hair out of her eyes and looked at him. Something had changed since last night. The hostility was still there, but he’d come back, which could only mean one thing.

“So… will you help me?”

His gaze drifted down, and she adjusted the sheet again. Then his gray eyes met hers, and they were hard as stones. She wondered how many men had looked into those eyes and hadn’t lived to see another day.

“What’s on Ko Aroon?” he asked. “And don’t give me some bullshit about the coral.”

Charlotte paused a moment, trying to remember how she’d planned to explain herself. Jack was a straightforward man, so she decided to go with simplicity.

“I’m looking for my brother.”

“How’d your brother get mixed in with a bunch of two-bit mercenaries?”

“I don’t know. He’s a reporter. I can only assume he’s following a story.”

He let out a stream of curses. But with every word that spewed from his mouth, Charlotte relaxed a little because she knew it meant he was going to help her.

He grabbed the terrycloth robe off the chair beside him and tossed it at her. “Get dressed,” he said. “Meet me at the marina across from the hotel in ten minutes.”

He moved for the door.

“But where are we--”

“Pack light,” he added, as he jerked shut the door.

She stared after him in shock. They were going somewhere in his plane. He was taking her to Ko Aroon.

Charlotte scrambled out of bed and pulled on the robe. She went to the safe in the closet and, with shaky fingers, entered the code. It was her brother’s birthday. Tears stung her eyes as she punched the numbers.

Hang in there, Davey. I’m on my way.

She grabbed the stacks of bills--all the money she’d been able to withdraw on a Wednesday afternoon on short notice--and shoved them into the small black backpack she’d bought at DFW Airport. She’d chosen the bag because it was sturdy and came with a padlock.

Charlotte glanced around her room, feeling the adrenaline coursing through her system now. They were going. Finally. She was
doing
something, and action was always better than inaction.

She spent about five seconds in the bathroom, barely taking time to splash water on her face. She dressed quickly in khaki shorts and the white button-down she’d worn yesterday. It was wrinkled, but it was made of linen and she needed an airy fabric in the stifling tropical heat. She shoved her feet into sandals, dropped a change of clothes and a few toiletry items into the backpack, and rushed across the street to the marina. There, she saw fishing boats and dive boats and tour operators milling about, but no six-foot-three former SEALs.

She
did
, however, see a seaplane. It was a small and silver, and as she neared it, she discerned the words BRENNER AVIATION stenciled across the side.

“You’re late.”

She jumped at the voice and turned around. Jack brushed past her on the dock, his arms loaded down with wooden crates. She trailed him down a rickety pier to his plane. He wore cargo shorts, sport sandals, and a drab olive T-shirt that stretched taut across the muscles of his back. He ducked through the doorway of the tiny aircraft, and Charlotte stood on the dock as he loaded the crates. He reappeared and held a hand out for her backpack.

“That can go in with the cargo.”

Her fingers tightened on the shoulder straps. “I’ll hang onto it, thanks.”

His expression darkened, but he didn’t comment. She moved closer to the plane and took a tentative step up the ladder. Jack clamped a hand around her elbow and practically lifted her aboard. Charlotte glanced around. There were several jump seats in back, but they were folded up to make room for crates of produce and cases of wine from New Zealand.

Charlotte lowered herself into the only available seat, which was up in the cockpit. Defying the laws of physics, Jack squeezed his immense body into the seat beside her. He reached over to fasten her harness. His knuckles brushed the tops of her thighs as he yanked the strap, and she flinched. When he met her gaze again, his cool gray eyes looked amused.

She turned to face the window. “Where, exactly, are we going?”

He ignored the question as he began flipping switches and jabbing at the controls. Then he put on a headset and started talking with someone over the radio.

Conversation time had ended, apparently. Charlotte busied herself taking in scenery as they maneuvered away from the pier and across the lagoon. The engine changed pitch as Jack turned the plane to face the mouth of the harbor and the western horizon stretched out before him.