Читать книгу Navajo Echoes - Cassie Miles, Cassie Miles - Страница 6

When they were close to shore, Lily slid off the section of wing into a rolling surf. She staggered toward the deserted beach that wasn’t nearly as pretty as it had seemed from a distance. A thin strip of whitish-gray sand covered a jagged, rocky shoreline littered with bits of shell, rock and sharp coral from the nearby reefs. Untamed tropical forest reached almost to the edge of the water.

Not paradise, but she wasn’t complaining. She was thankful to be on dry land, to still be alive. The crusty sand crunched beneath her feet as she staggered toward a thick log that had washed ashore, and she sat on it. Holding her head in her hands, she closed her eyes and exhaled a deep breath. Apart from an ache in her left shoulder and a ringing in her ears, she was physically okay. Her mental state was a whole different matter.

Behind her eyelids, she replayed the terror of sinking into the ocean, helpless to react, trapped in death’s cold embrace. Never before had she felt so close to her own mortality. Shake it off.

She couldn’t appear devastated. And definitely couldn’t whine. Being chosen to accompany John to Cuerva represented a major upgrade in her work at PPS. She’d been given a chance to prove herself and didn’t want to mess it up.

Opening her eyes, she saw him striding toward her with a bottled water in each hand. His black knit shirt outlined his muscular chest and broad shoulders. His wet khaki trousers clung to his thighs. He usually wore a suit in the office. This water-logged outfit was a whole lot better…sexier. Without even trying, John Pinto was hot. When he’d kissed her on the mouth at the Kingston airport? Wow! Her fingers reached up to touch her lips. Not even a plane crash could erase the memory of that kiss.

He squatted in front of her and held out the bottled water. “You’re probably dehydrated.”

“I almost drowned.” But she knew what he meant, and the water tasted good going down. “Where did you get this?”

“I always have a couple bottles in my carry-on. Just in case.”

“Always thinking ahead.”

“Let’s check you out.” Holding her face in his large hands, he peered into her eyes. “Look to the right. Then the left.”

She glanced both ways. “Like this?”

“Very good. Now look directly at me.”

She focused on his deep-set dark brown eyes above high cheekbones and a strong, straight nose. God, he was handsome. Gratitude welled up inside her. This man—this incredibly brave, good-looking man—had saved her life. If he hadn’t pulled her out of the water when she was sinking, Lily wouldn’t have made it.

As she was about to thank him, his fingers probed the sore spot behind her temple and she reacted. “Ow. Am I bleeding? Will I need stitches?”

“The skin isn’t broken, but you’re going to have a hell of a lump.”

His low baritone struck exactly the right note of gentle concern. He had a bedside manner that her parents—both doctors—would have applauded. “You know, John, I wanted to tell you how much I appreciate—”

“Have you ever had a concussion before?”

“I’ve knocked my head a couple of times but never completely lost consciousness. I must have a thick skull.”

“Must have.” He sat back on his heels and grinned. “You’re tough for such a little thing.”

A little thing? She swallowed the “thank you” that poised on the tip of her tongue. Her size had always been an issue for her. When she was a cop, half the guys in her precinct had called her Tinkerbell behind her back.

He touched the tender spot again, and she pushed his hands away. “Stop it.”

“I know something about head injuries.”

“If it’s all the same to you, I’ll wait for a real doctor.”

She should have been kissing his feet and showering him with praise for rescuing her. Instead, she was irritated. Though he was great to look at, there was something about him that brought out the worst in her.

Masculine arrogance, she thought. In any given situation, he had to be the alpha dog, the leader of the pack. And she had never been a docile follower; she hated being told what to do.

However, if she was going to survive this assignment, she needed to start acting like a professional. Wrapping herself in poise, she said, “Thank you for saving my life.”

“Anytime, rookie.”

She glanced toward the tropical forest. “Shouldn’t we be hearing an ambulance siren?”

“It’s possible. Cuerva has a hospital and a few neighborhood clinics.”

“How do you know that?”

“I studied up on the island. Memorized the topography and the major landmarks.”

That was so like him. John was, by nature, a planner who prepared for every contingency. He’d probably made mental notes on what to do in case of a plane crash. “What’s our current location?”

“We’re on the far side of the island. Away from the hotels and the town. Cuerva is only about four miles wide, but there’s a high bluff running down the center like a backbone. I doubt anybody saw our plane go down.”

“So there probably won’t be an ambulance?”

He frowned. “Do you need a doctor?”

The clanging inside her head had already subsided to a small tinkling bell. The worst part of the crash had been the panic, the shattering certainty that she was going to die. But here she was, alive and kicking. “I’ll be all right.”

“Then let’s get moving.” He stood up straight and glanced over his shoulder toward Edgar. “We should assess the damage.”

Following him, she marched clumsily across the beach. The wet soles of her sandals slapped with each step. Even with the ankle straps, it was amazing that they’d stayed on her feet.

He pointed to two soggy pieces of luggage. “I could only save our carry-on bags.”

Swell. Things just kept getting worse. “Most of my clothes were in the bigger bag.”

“They’re gone.”

She was going to miss that yellow sundress she’d bought especially for this trip. And her favorite running shoes. “It’s a good thing that you grabbed the carry-on. My wallet and passport are in there.”

“And the Glock.”

She remembered tucking the weapon into her bag before the crash. “Do you still have your gun?”

He tapped his ankle holster. “It got in the way when I was swimming, but I’m glad to be armed.”

As soon as they got to the hotel, she needed to check and clean their weapons. A dip in salt water couldn’t be good for the firing mechanism. “We can always buy new clothes. It doesn’t seem like anything important was lost.”

He shot her a dark, disbelieving glare. “We’ve lost the computer, the satellite phone and all the other electronics I brought along.”

Lily shrugged. She had little use for gadgetry. “I guess we’ll have to rely on our natural instincts.”

“Instinct won’t provide a secure phone line for contacting Evangeline.”

And, of course, the computer would have been handy for researching the island and doing background checks on potential suspects. “Maybe Edgar can help us out.”

She looked toward the surf where Edgar stood watching as the tail section disappeared under the waves. All that was left of Martina the Cessna was the chunk of wing they used to get to shore.

He straightened his shoulders, made a sharp pivot and walked back toward them. “Rather an inauspicious start to your assignment. Have you reconsidered your plans?”

“For now,” John said, “we’ll proceed to the hotel and act as if nothing unusual happened. We won’t report the plane crash.”

“What?” she questioned. Not tell anybody? “That isn’t even legal.”

“I don’t want to attract undue attention. We’ll stick to the original plan, go to the hotel and check in.”

“Very well,” Edgar said as he gestured toward the forest. “Shall we locate transportation?”

“Wait a minute.” Lily wasn’t sure that she liked this plan. At the very least, John should have discussed it with her. “Somebody tried to kill us.”

“And failed,” John said.

“Well, it doesn’t seem smart to pretend it didn’t happen. Even if we don’t report the sabotage, maybe we should go into hiding. Did you think of that?”

“I did,” John said. “And I rejected the idea.”

“Why?”

“Number one,” he said as he held up a forefinger.

Lily groaned. “It’s really annoying when you do the logic thing. The number one and two. Part A and Part B.”

“Number one,” he repeated, “this is a small island and we’re obviously outsiders. We can’t blend in.”

“Speak for yourself. I’m good at disguises.”

“Number two, if we’re a visible presence, we might smoke out our attacker. Next time, we’ll be ready for him.”

That made a certain amount of sense. She and John were both well-trained and able to defend themselves. Still, she said, “If the bad guys think we’re dead, we could use that to our advantage.”

“Until we’re discovered,” he said. “Then what? We have no authority on this island. We can’t arrest anybody.”

“All right,” she conceded. “We’ll do it your way.”

“Number three, we meet with Robert tonight. Then we can get this assignment planned down to the last detail.”

Of course, that was what he really wanted. A detailed plan. Very rational. Very logical. She hated when John made sense.

BY THE TIME THEY REACHED THE Grand Cuerva Hotel, night had fallen. John tipped the bellman with a damp five-dollar bill and escorted Lily into the elevator, then headed to their prebooked suite on the top floor—the sixth. The Grand Cuerva wasn’t the biggest hotel on the island nor the best. Obviously.

The “honeymoon” decor looked like Valentine’s Day gone terribly wrong. The king-sized, canopy bed was draped in filmy red sheers that matched the curtains across the sliding doors to the balcony. Hearts loomed everywhere. A heart-shaped mirror over the dresser. Little heart vases. A red glass candy dish filled with—of course—hearts. There was even a red, heart-shaped Jacuzzi tub in the corner by the windows.

Lily stood in the center of the room, glaring. “There’s only one bed.”

“Honeymoon suite.”

“We’re not sleeping together. I want my own room.”

Though the thought of seducing her had crossed his mind a few thousand times, he had no intention of acting on that desire. Still, he couldn’t help teasing, “But we’re supposed to be lovers.”

“That was before somebody sabotaged our plane. The bad guys know who we are. There’s no need to maintain undercover roles.”

“Stop right there, rookie. It’s dangerous to make assumptions without all the facts.”

“The sabotaged plane is a fact.”

“But we don’t know the motivation. It’s possible that we weren’t the target. Somebody might have been after Edgar. I’ll bet he’s got a few enemies.”

“Safe bet,” she said. “But why would they choose this moment to attack him? When we were in the plane?”

“Coincidence.”

She scoffed. “I don’t believe in coincidence.”

With one hand fisted on her hip, her sharp little chin lifted, and her glare intensified. Clearly, she was moving into a confrontational posture.

And he didn’t have patience to deal with an argument. In the crash, he’d been tossed around like a sock in a washing machine. His body ached, and his muscles were stiffening up.

Ignoring her, he strolled toward the Jacuzzi. Steaming jets of water seemed like good therapy.

“When I was a cop,” she said, “I learned one important thing. The most obvious solution is usually the correct solution. Because we were in the plane, the sabotage was meant for us.”

“You’re not a cop anymore. The work we do is more subtle. There aren’t as many hard-and-fast rules.”

“I know. That’s one of the reasons I wanted to work at PPS.”

“Keep your mind open to the possibilities. All the possibilities. You’re smart enough to figure things out, and I want to hear what you’re thinking. But I have one hard-and-fast rule.”

“What’s that?”

“I’m in charge.”

“Yes, sir.”

Her tone was clipped, and he could tell that he was making her angry. Too bad. He was too worn out to be subtle with his explanations. “Here’s what’s going to happen. We make no assumptions until we talk to Robert and find out what his plan is. Tonight, we will parade around like a couple of dewy-eyed newlyweds. At midnight, we go to Pirate’s Cove and meet Robert. Is that clear?”

Her full lips pinched together. A pink flush crept up her throat. “Perfectly clear.”

John leaned across the Jacuzzi and turned on the faucets. The gush of water into the red, heart-shaped tub looked like a giant mouth gargling. “And now, I’m going to take a soak.”

“Here?”

“Right here. Right now.”

He pulled his knit shirt over his head, revealing the waterproof money belt fastened around his waist. She’d teased him when he’d first put it on, called him a nerd. But this handy belt had kept his passport, his company credit card and his money relatively dry. He peeled it off and glanced in her direction.

The pink in her cheeks had deepened to a bright scarlet. Through tight lips, she said, “You know, this might count as sexual harassment.”

“Sue me.” He tossed his shirt into a puddle on the floor. “I’m tired and sore. And the dried salt water on my skin itches like hell. If you don’t want to watch, turn your head.”

She darted forward and grabbed the money belt. “I need your credit card. I’m going downstairs to the lobby and, um, getting something.”

He unfastened the top button on his trousers. “If it’s food you’re looking for, we can call room service.”

“Clothes,” she said. “I need something to wear. There was a shop downstairs.”

“Good thinking, rookie.”

As she fled from the room, he dropped his trousers, kicked them aside and stepped into the hot water. He positioned himself so the pulsating jets massaged his left hip, where a large bruise was already turning black and blue. The heat penetrated his body, easing the stiffness. Oh yeah, this was good. The only thing better would be if Lily agreed to give him a rubdown, which he assumed, from her rapid retreat, wasn’t likely to happen.

His gaze flicked around the room, resting on one heart-shaped object to another. This sure as hell wasn’t the way he’d pictured an idyllic island weekend with a lover.

AFTER SHOPPING AND DOING SOME serious damage on the company credit card, Lily returned to the ridiculous honeymoon suite to find that John had ordered room service. She took her own quick shower and changed before joining him at the table. Still irritated, she was giving him the silent treatment.

As the senior agent, he had the right to issue orders and decide the agenda, but his striptease went far outside the boundaries of acceptable behavior. And the worst part? He wasn’t even trying to turn her on. All he wanted was a soak in the Jacuzzi.

To be honest, she was angrier at herself than at him. She was the one who’d gotten all hot and bothered. When he’d taken off his shirt, her pulse had raced to a hundred miles an hour. Though she’d tried to avert her gaze, she couldn’t help staring at his bronzed skin and the defined muscles in his arms and chest. To see him naked? Oh, lord, she didn’t think she could stand it. And yet, she’d felt the urge to stand and watch, to climb into the Jacuzzi with him, to rake her fingers through his thick, black hair.

Primly eating the room service burger and fries, she retreated behind her familiar boundaries of self-restraint. Not that Lily was a prude. Far from it. But sex hadn’t been an issue during her college rebellion when she was mostly traveling and didn’t want to be tied down with a relationship. Then, she’d been a cop and spent most of her time hanging around with other cops. Any hint of vulnerability would have made her life a living hell. It was safer not to get involved.

And now? Maybe it was time to lose her virginity, to wave the white flag of surrender and succumb. But not with John Pinto. He was her coworker—a senior agent who probably wasn’t attracted to her the way she was to him.

Though she’d had enough time to calm down, she still couldn’t look at him without drooling. Not even the garish flamingo-patterned Hawaiian shirt she’d bought for him in the hotel shop dampened his outrageous sex appeal.

She forced herself to concentrate on revenge. Oh, yes, she was going to get even. She didn’t know how or when, but sometime—sooner or later—she’d get him all hot and bothered and then walk away. A dangerous game of sexual one-upsmanship. But he’d made the first move.

Apparently unconcerned by her silence, he took the last bite of his hamburger and checked his wristwatch, which was, miraculously, still ticking after the crash. “Nine-thirty,” he said.

Which was two-and-a-half hours before they were scheduled to meet Robert at Pirate Cove. She chose her words carefully; John had already warned her that their room might be bugged. “How long will it take to get there?”

“It’s about three miles from here. A forty-five-minute to an hour walk. Less if we jog.”

She groaned. Though she regularly ran a five-mile workout in the morning, today had been strenuous. Surviving a plane crash wasn’t part of her daily regimen.

She stood and stretched. “I need to keep moving around. If I sit too long, I’m going to stiffen up.”

“I recommend the Jacuzzi.”

“I’ll bet you do.”

She stepped through the sliding glass doors onto the balcony. The sound of calypso music rose from the beach where the hotel was sponsoring a party. A sea-scented breeze teased her senses. Though misty clouds drifted across the night sky, she could still see the shimmer of moonlight on the rolling waves.

John stepped up to the wrought-iron railing beside her. He had designated the balcony as a bug-free area where they could talk more freely. Still, he kept his voice low. “Have you checked the guns?”

“They’ll work.” The Glock automatic tucked into an ankle holster under her loose-fitting beige linen slacks was a reassuring weight. On top she wore a gauzy orange halter—a scrap of material that cost a fortune in the hotel shop.

“You look good,” he said.

Despite her vows of revenge, she responded to his sexy baritone with a shiver of excitement. “Thank you.”

“I hardly notice the bump on your head. You look almost normal.”

“So glad that I’m not too freakishly grotesque.”

Saying she looked “good” wasn’t a compliment on her appearance; he was merely assessing her condition.

“We should join the beach party,” he suggested. “Do some mingling. See if we can pick up any leads.”

“Like finding out who wants to kill us?”

“Could be useful information.”

Though she wasn’t in a party mood, mingling sounded better than spending the next two-and-a-half hours alone with John, imagining what he’d look like in that cheesy red-curtained bed. “I’m ready if you are.”

When they got off the elevator in the hotel lobby, her senses went on high alert. In her prior bodyguard assignments, she’d learned observation techniques, which meant keeping her gaze mobile and watching for anything out of the ordinary. She linked her arm with John’s and turned her head toward the right. The hotel shop where she’d bought their clothing was closed, but the drugstore was still open. A bored-looking clerk rang up a sale and handed a pack of chewing gum to a husky tourist in baggy shorts and a Hawaiian-print shirt. He ran a hand through his short-cropped brown hair. The back of his thick neck was sunburned a dark red.

Even from the back, Lily noticed something familiar about that guy. His posture? The gesture of massaging his scalp? He reminded her of someone she knew in Denver, but she couldn’t quite place him.

She heard a crash from the opposite direction and turned to see a waiter scrambling to pick up the scattered remnants from a room service tray. The reservation clerk at the front desk snapped angrily at the clumsy young man, and he responded with an insult about the clerk’s mother.

When she looked back toward the shop, the husky tourist was gone.

TED HAWLEY PEEKED OUT FROM behind the rack of magazines in the hotel drugstore where he’d taken cover when Lily had glanced in his direction. He was pretty sure that she hadn’t recognized him.

As she strolled out the door, arm-in-arm with that tall Navajo, she made some comment and laughed. If he hadn’t known better, he would have believed that they were lovers on vacation instead of interfering agents of PPS.

It was his job to make sure they didn’t hook up with Robert Prescott—his real target. Prescott needed to die here on Cuerva. The killing of Lily and her boyfriend was a bonus. When he saw them with the Rasta pilot, he came up with a quick way to handle this assignment. Sabotage the plane. It was easy—too easy. They’d survived.

Cute, spunky little Lily Clark led a charmed life, always came out on top. Sure, she was a pretty little thing with her high breasts and her round ass. She’d even looked good in a cop uniform. Not many women could pull that off.

But he knew she wasn’t so sweet and innocent. She’d humiliated him, made him a laughingstock at the precinct. He knew her for the gold-plated bitch she really was.

He was almost glad she’d gotten out of the plane crash alive. He wanted her death to be more personal. He smiled as he adjusted the collar on his black-and-yellow patterned shirt. There were so many slow, painful ways she could die.