Читать книгу Deadly Engagement - Elle James - Страница 11

Chapter 2

When Creed had back-paddled out of the yacht’s cabin and turned to face his dive partner, he’d been happy to see Emma had shaken out of her panic. Although she still glanced around nervously.

Good girl.

When she’d indicated a shark in the area, he knew how dangerous it could be floating a dead man alongside them. With a brief glance at the body hovering like a specter in the underwater current, Emma kicked off, heading back the way they’d come, probably wanting to get out of the water before the shark returned.

Creed grasped the dead man’s arm and followed, carefully dragging the man through the narrow crevices until they cleared the maze and swam out into the open. All the while he looked over his shoulder for the shark.

A school of small shiny fish swarmed around him, pecking at the body. Creed waved a hand to shoo them away, then flipped his fins harder to catch up with Emma.

They had to get the dead man out of the ocean before the shark decided the dead man and the live one would make easy prey.

Barely skimming above the ocean floor, a starry skate floated over a patch of strawberry anemones, its wide winglike fins fluttering gracefully. Creed wished he was there for reasons other than investigating a potential terrorist plot. He’d take time to examine the flora and fauna of the Oregon sea life. The job and a looming shark had him kicking hard for the dive boat. Sightseeing was for tourists. He had a job to do.

Emma stayed ahead of him, the line linking her to the buoy above trailing upward and at an angle behind her.

She hadn’t been happy about his choice to bring the body up, but he had to determine without a doubt whether or not this was the boat Macias had made contact with and had arranged to meet. The GPS coordinates had been right on. Perhaps the identity of the dead man would help to shed more light on who Macias was involved with.

The captain had been a fool to hover close to shore in murky, foggy weather like it had been last night. The seas had been rough, a deadly combination with the fog. The hole in the yacht’s hull had probably been caused by running aground on one of the jagged rocks hiding just below the surface. If the occupants had been able to abandon ship, their rubber raft would have been slammed into the rocky coastline.

Creed made a mental note to check local police reports of bodies washing ashore over the next couple days. If they didn’t turn up soon, there wouldn’t be much left to identify. The creatures of the sea scavenged anything dead, picking the bones clean within minutes in an all-out feeding frenzy.

Had the cabin door been open, the dead man’s body quite possibly would not still be intact. Hopefully, they’d at least get a decent fingerprint off the victim.

When they’d traveled the same distance away from the reef as they’d come, Emma motioned for them to ascend. She moved with deliberate slowness, sure to make her rise to the top at the same or slower speed as the bubbles exiting her regulator.

She moved with grace, her slim legs flexing and bending, her fins gliding through the water with firm strokes.

Apparently she’d overcome her panic at finding a dead man and had restored her tight control over the dive.

Creed admired that control. He’d trained with the best as a navy SEAL. Being calm in stressful circumstances meant the difference between life and death when you were in an environment hostile to humans.

His navy days long past, he hadn’t been diving as often, but he retained everything from the thorough instruction. The importance of paying attention to details had been imprinted in his memory for life.

As he rose to the surface, the dark waters lightened until he broke through to the sunshine warming the air above. The body bobbed on the surface, bumping against him. This was the part that made Creed wary. Underwater, he could see what was coming. With his head above the surface, anything could swim up to him and he wouldn’t know until it hit him. Sharks normally didn’t skim the surface waving their dorsal fins for all to see. That was what Hollywood fiction was made of.

To a shark, humans appeared like sea lions, a tasty food source.

For several long minutes, Emma waved at the boat bobbing in the waves a hundred yards away. Captain Dave sat at the helm, his hat pulled down over his face, napping, for all intents and purposes.

Creed ducked his head below several times to make sure the shark hadn’t followed. So far so good.

Emma pulled a whistle from a strap around her neck and blew hard in short sharp bursts.

Dave’s head popped up, and he stumbled to his feet. In seconds, the boat’s engine revved and the craft made a large circle, heading directly toward them. He drifted to a stop a few yards away.

Emma was first to reach the dive boat, shaking out of her BCD.

While Emma readied to get out of the water, Creed kept a vigilant watch for the shark.

“Whatcha got there?” Dave squinted, then his eyes widened as he recognized what floated beside Creed. “Holy smokes.”

“Dave, could you focus here? There’s a shark lurking around here. I don’t plan on dying today.” Emma shoved her BCD toward him.

Dave leaned over the side and grabbed the gear and then her fins.

Creed ducked his mask into the water in time to see a large mass swirling below him in tighter and tighter circles, edging upward. “We got company.” He let go of the body long enough to give Emma’s fanny a shove, boosting her up the ladder faster than her hands and feet could keep up. “Go, go, go!”

Emma scooted up the ladder and fell over onto the deck, stripping off her mask and hood. “Get out of the water, Creed. That shark might decide live bait is better than dead.”

“Not going without him.” Still treading water with as little movement as possible, Creed waited until Dave lowered a cable attached to a small crane mounted near the rear of the boat, the kind used to lift divers and rescue crafts in and out of the water, when necessary.

Creed hooked the straps around the dead man’s body and gave a thumbs-up, trying not to wonder where the shark was and if he had time to get himself out of the water.

The crank engaged, the metal-on-metal sound clanking in the still air as the body rose from the water.

Emma stood at the side of the boat, bending over the edge, staring into the water. “He’s circling. Creed, get out of there!”

His pulse thundering in his veins, Creed yanked off his fins, threw them over the side of the boat, then grabbed for the ladder, hauling himself, BCD, tank and all, out of the water.

Emma grabbed his arm and pulled as a large gray shape angled upward, breaking the surface with a gaping maw of razor-sharp teeth. He snapped at Creed’s heels, missing by inches, then fell back into the water, bumping his nose against the buoy marker still floating nearby.

Once topside, Creed dropped his gear to the deck and pulled his hood off, shaking water from his hair, sucking in a deep, shaky breath.

Emma faced him, mouth pinched tight, gray eyes flashing. “Damn, that was close.” She planted her fists on her hips, her lips pressing into a thin line. “What part of ‘I’m in charge’ didn’t you get?”

He backed a step, holding his hands up. “I wasn’t certain we’d be able to find our way back to the wreck. This guy’s family would probably want to know he didn’t make it and want something left to bury.”

She stared at him a long time with a narrowed gaze and finally huffed. “Fair enough. But that was way too close for my comfort level. Nothing like trailing bait for a shark behind you. Don’t ever do that again.” She shivered as she yanked her wet suit off her shoulders and tugged the sleeves off her damp arms, muttering, “Which shouldn’t be a problem, since you obviously found your boat and won’t be going down with me again.” Emma jerked the remainder of her suit down over her legs, only for them to get stuck around her dive boots. She grumbled a few choice expletives and pulled at the zippers on her boots.

Creed helped Dave tug the body to the side and slip a tarp over him to keep the gulls from sniffing him out. He shot a glance toward the cabin where Emma was pulling off her boots. “Is she always wound so tight?”

“Nah, she’s usually happy and gets along with everyone.” Dave chuckled. “Kinda nice to see her blow a fuse. But don’t worry about her. The lady’s fire blazes hot, but she burns out pretty quickly.”

“Nice to know I rub her the wrong way.” He didn’t know why, but it gave him a kick that he got under the pretty diver’s wet suit. Not that he wanted to get into her wet suit, but it had been a while since he’d been even moderately interested in a woman. They all seemed to be the same, going for the ring and commitment, something he couldn’t do. Not in his line of work.

Falling for someone would make him vulnerable and make the woman a target. Not to mention, it wouldn’t be fair to the woman left behind each time he was deployed to a new assignment.

His gaze slipped to Emma as she pulled the wet suit off her ankles and bent to pick it up from the floor. She had a great body, all lean muscle and nice curves where they counted.

Dave straightened beside him. “She dives every one of her days off, in case you’re interested.”

“Not really,” Creed lied. “Are you available for another dive tomorrow?”

“I can be, but if you’re not interested in diving with her...” Dave nodded toward Emma. “I can’t help you. She’s got me booked all week.”

Not exactly what he had planned. “I’ll check around for another boat.”

“Not many dive boats around willing to get close to the point. Most recreational divers just dive close to the shoreline.” Dave unhooked Emma’s regulator off the cylinder and stowed the cylinder in a rack. “Come to think of it, the only other dive boat is being serviced right now, getting ready for the full-on summer season. You could see if one of the fishing boats would be willing to take you, but it’s the beginning of tourist season and most of them are busy taking fishermen out who want to get a jump on the families. They’d want an entire group, and since there’s only you...” Dave shrugged. “You might be stuck with me and Emma.”

Creed nodded. “Sounds that way. Not that it’s a problem. Will she be going out near the same place?”

“I’d assume so. You guys weren’t down long enough to suit her.” Dave climbed the ladder to the helm. “Hang on, we’re headed in.”

“Dave, could you radio ahead?” Emma came out of the cabin, pulling the sundress down over her bikini, the fabric clinging to her wet skin and swimsuit. “Notify the police we’ll be bringing in a body.”

Creed’s gaze skimmed her lithe, graceful figure, the gentle curve of her waist and the swell of her breasts where the dress fit tightest.

His groin tightened, and he had to turn away to avoid embarrassing the dive master as he stripped out of his wet suit.

“Don’t get your bikini in a wad, Emma,” Dave called out. “I’ve got ya covered. I’ll have them meet us with transportation for our additional passenger.”

“You do that. I’d rather have left him down there and let someone else bring him up.” Emma rolled her eyes at Creed. “But someone had other plans.”

His wet suit off and shoved into the waterproof duffel, Creed faced Emma. “Sorry, didn’t know it would upset you. Are you sure you could have found your way back to the wreck?”

“Absolutely. I know these waters. Besides, I have the GPS coordinate of the place we went down.”

Creed shrugged. “My mistake.”

Emma sighed and padded to the railing in flip-flops. “No. I just wasn’t expecting a body to float out in my face. I guess I lost it.” She shivered. “Thanks for forcing me to focus. If you hadn’t intervened, at the rate I was breathing, I’d have run out of air in no time.”

Creed patted her shoulder. “You’re a good diver. You’d have kicked it soon enough.”

She nodded, casting a sideways glance at him. “Yeah, but sooner was better. Thanks.” Then she smiled, and her entire face lit. The sun chose that time to skitter from beneath a puff of clouds and shine down on her smooth, soft skin, igniting the highlights in her drying sandy-blond hair. The soft yellow, floral sundress made her look all feminine and girlie.

It made him want to reach out and pull her into his arms, to crush her to his naked chest and feel her gentle curves against him. Whoa.

“Uh, excuse me, I need to stow my gear.” Creed dropped his hand and backed away, grabbing his duffel. He shoved it under a bench to keep it from getting wetter. Then he disconnected his regulator from the air tank, setting the cylinder in the rack beside Emma’s. With nothing left to do but wait, he walked around to the front of the boat to watch as Dave deftly guided the craft into the dock, effectively avoiding further contact with his dive buddy.

As soon as he could, he needed to touch base with his boss, Royce Fontaine, at the Stealth Operations Specialists headquarters in D.C. Royce had promised he’d send backup as soon as Creed found anything of significance on the case that had started out as a rumor. All the SOS agents were tied up. Steel was wrapping up an operation in St. Thomas. She could arrive in Cape Churn within the next twenty-four hours. But that might not be soon enough.

Macias could beat her there with his contingent of hired thugs and stir up a whole lot of trouble for the tiny vacation community.

The dive boat bumped against the dock, shaking Creed out of his musings.

In the parking lot, lights flashed on top of a Cape Churn police vehicle. Gabe McGregor climbed out and strode across the dock to meet them.

Turning into the parking area surrounding the dock, an ambulance, lights off, bumped across potholes and came to a stop beside the police car. The driver and his partner climbed out. Together, they pulled a gurney from the rear of the wagon and rolled it across the pavement toward the marina.

When Dave brought the dive boat to rest against the dock, Creed jumped out and secured a rope to the bow, then climbed back aboard. Emma tied off at the stern.

Emma hefted her equipment bag from the floor of the cabin, slipped her feet into sandals and stepped over the side onto the dock.

Grabbing his duffel bag, Creed stepped out behind her.

“You guys are back sooner than I expected.” Gabe met Emma halfway across the dock. “Dave tells me you found something out there.” He tipped his hat as Creed neared him. “Was it what you were looking for?”

Creed dropped his duffel on the dock. “Found my yacht off the cape, probably sunk last night in the fog. It had a big gash in the starboard bow.”

Officer McGregor nodded. “It happens. Any other unfortunate souls still down there?”

Creed shook his head. “No. I checked all the cabins to make sure.”

“I’ll contact the state crime lab and see how they want to handle this investigation. Appreciate you bringing him up. Saves us a little time.”

Creed risked a glance at Emma’s face. “I didn’t know how long he’d last in the sea.”

“Unless they wash up quickly, we usually don’t get much back, if anything.” McGregor’s brows furrowed as he glanced at Emma. “You look a little pale. You okay?”

She nodded. “I’m fine. I’ve located bodies before. It was just that I wasn’t expecting it to float out at me.”

“Did you find the Anna Maria?” McGregor asked. “Kayla said you were pretty excited about this dive.”

Emma shook her head. “Not this time. Too busy bringing up a dead body to get too far into the rocks.” She shrugged. “I have a few more days off. If the weather holds, I’ll find her.”

Creed glanced at Emma. “I didn’t realize you were looking for anything in particular. I thought you were just diving.”

“I have tomorrow.” Emma slipped the strap of her bag over her shoulder and glanced up into Creed’s eyes. “The important thing was to do what you did and bring the body ashore.”

Creed found it interesting that she didn’t volunteer any further information on what she was looking for.

McGregor watched as the EMTs bagged the body and hefted it over the side of the boat and onto a gurney. “As it is, we had a report of a body found washed ashore a couple miles down from here. The current must have carried the others away from the boat.”

Creed’s head jerked up. “Have you had a chance to identify the body yet?”

“No. The coroner has him now. He’ll have his work cut out for him. He was pretty pecked over.” The officer turned to the woman. “Emma, any identification on the boat? That would help a great deal.”

She nodded. “The boat’s name was Pelageya. I don’t know if it means anything. Might be someone’s name.”

“It’s Russian for ‘of the sea,’” Creed offered.

Emma’s brows rose. “You’re a master diver and you speak Russian?”

Creed shrugged. “A little.” Fluently when necessary, as it had been just days earlier.

“Mr. Thomas, are you staying in Cape Churn?” Officer McGregor asked.

“Call me Creed.” He nodded. “I’ll be staying for a couple days, filing paperwork for the insurance company.”

“Good.” McGregor smiled briefly. “Where can I find you if we have any questions about the yacht?”

“I don’t know yet.” Creed hefted his bag, settling the strap over his shoulder. “Do you have any suggestions?”

Emma’s lips twitched. “Officer McGregor’s sister runs a B and B. You could stay there. She makes a mean clam chowder.”

Officer McGregor grinned. “That she does. Mom’s recipe. I’m not sure how full she is, with it being the start of summer season, but I could make a call and find out.”

Creed nodded. “I’d appreciate that.” On second thought, he almost changed his mind. If Phillip Macias arrived and discovered Creed had found the yacht first, he might come after him. The B and B could be the recipient of Phillip’s brand of collateral damage.

Before Creed could stop Officer McGregor and tell him never mind, the man had walked back to his cruiser. Emma met with the EMT crew, exchanging pleasantries like they were old friends.

Creed shouldn’t be surprised at how much each member of the community knew about the others. Small towns were like that. One of the main reasons he hadn’t stayed long in one of them. As usual, he was here on a mission, and once it was done, he’d be gone.

Frankly, he hadn’t expected to find what he was looking for as quickly as he had. When he’d been at the police station and asked who had a boat that could take divers out to the cape, he’d fully expected to run into difficulties. But like all small town police forces, they knew everyone and every place a person could go to get the services he needed.

Now that he’d located the Pelageya, he needed to move fast, before Macias learned of their find.

When the anonymous tip that Macias was dealing in large amounts of cash had reached SOS headquarters a week ago, Creed had been dispatched to Moscow, his assignment to follow Macias.

The high-powered businessman had met with Vladimir Zakharov, a Russian heavy in international trade of legal as well as black-market commodities, some stolen from the Russian government.

After the meeting, Macias stayed an additional week in Moscow enjoying Zakharov’s hospitality.

Creed had taken the opportunity to ask questions of some of Zakharov’s staff, discovering the purpose of the meeting between the two businessmen had more to do with terrorism than trade. Macias was awaiting the finalization of a shipment that would leave from the resort town of Vladivostok, off the east coast of Russia, carrying special cargo. Macias would take possession of the cargo off the western coast of the United States in four days.

Creed had met with one of the undercover CIA operatives he knew in Moscow. Royce had tagged him with the responsibility of reporting Macias’s movements to SOS headquarters. Then Creed had pulled in several markers to find swift transportation to Vladivostok, and crossed the vast expanse of Russia. The trip took two days.

There, his grasp of the Russian language had stood him well. The locals at the marinas had been more than willing to share what they knew, pointing to the empty berth where a yacht with English lettering was preparing for a trip to the American west coast.

Fortunately, the man had spoken to the yacht captain, who’d bragged about his upcoming trip to the American continent, to a place called Oregon.

Creed paid a midnight visit to the dock and stuck a waterproof GPS tracking device on the hull of the Pelageya.

Creed notified Royce of the shipment and caught the next flight out, landing in Anchorage, exhausted and jet-lagged. He found a hotel and slept for ten hours, conserving his energy while the gurus back in Washington pulled twenty-four-hour shifts scanning satellite feeds until they spotted a possible yacht approaching the western United States. Based on the boat’s vector, the shipment would have arrived on the Oregon coast the next night.

The evening had brought with it a fog so heavy, the locals called it the Devil’s Shroud. According to Royce, the last satellite image before the fog engulfed the yacht placed the boat at the tip of Cape Churn.

The ship had disappeared. Creed had come to find it before Macias, to discover what cargo the Russian and the American had arranged to be delivered.

Creed dragged in a deep breath of the salty air and let it out slowly. Thank God they’d found the boat on his first dive. It might buy him a little time to get back down there and locate the cargo.

With a dead man in tow, Creed doubted the discovery would fly below Phillip’s seemingly endless radar. An autopsy would be performed, the wreck becoming public record.

When Macias went looking for his yacht, he’d find it fairly easily.

If not for Emma, Creed could have spent days searching.

The woman foremost on his mind followed the emergency personnel to the ambulance and met with Officer McGregor.

Creed turned to Dave.

The dive boat captain had his head down in the engine compartment. Creed waited until Dave stood and dropped the door in place.

“Dave, since it looks as though I’ll be going out with you tomorrow, do I need to unload my gear?”

Dave wiped a streak of grease onto his cargo shorts. “Leave it. I’ll be sure to lock it up.”

“Thanks.” Creed jumped on board and stowed his duffel in the cabin. When he turned to leave, he thought better of it and faced Dave again. “One other thing.”

The dive boat pilot straightened. “What’s that?”

Creed inhaled and let out the breath slowly. How did he tell the guy to keep his mouth shut without divulging everything about his operation? “I wouldn’t give the coordinate for our dive to anyone.”

The other man’s brows dipped. “Why?”

How much information could he reveal and not put the guy in danger? Not much. “Look, Dave, you don’t know me, and you have no reason to trust me, but I have a bad feeling about that wreck. If anyone comes asking, I’d keep it to myself.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Dave’s eyes narrowed. “Besides, the coordinate belongs to Emma. She’s the one who directed me there. You think the yacht sank for other reasons besides running up on the rocks?”

“No, I think the yacht hit the rocks. I’m just concerned over why they were out there in the first place in such bad weather.”

“We have some yacht owners who don’t have the brains God gave a gnat. I’ve seen stupider things happen.”

“Still...”

Dave waved. “Gotcha.” He twisted his fingers next to his lips like he was locking them.

Creed waved at the dive boat captain and strode toward the parking lot.

Emma met him at the end of the dock.

The police officer had climbed into his vehicle and was leaving the parking lot.

“If you’re done here, you can follow me to the B and B. Molly’s expecting you.” She motioned toward a bright red Jeep Cherokee sitting in the parking lot, its ragtop down, the roll bar and leather seats warming in the sun.

“I can find my way, with a few directions.”

“Yeah, I figured you could, but Molly insisted on feeding me lunch for bringing her a new customer.” Emma’s lips quirked. “As a single woman with odd shifts and no time to cook, I’m not turning down a free meal.”

“By all means, lead the way.” Creed waved a hand in front of Emma.

She started toward her Jeep. “What were you talking to Dave about?”

“Just making arrangements for tomorrow’s dive.”

She stopped so abruptly, Creed bumped into her.

His hands came up around her waist to steady her.

“Tomorrow’s dive?” she asked, her brows rising high.

Creed couldn’t help grinning at her surprise and chagrin at the news. “That’s right. Looks like we’ll be dive buddies tomorrow, after all.”

“Really?” Emma shot a glance toward Dave and the boat, then down at the hands on her waist. If Creed wasn’t mistaken, her body trembled just a little beneath his fingertips.

He wanted to pull her back against him, but thought better of it, releasing her as he replied, “Really.”

She smoothed a hand over her dress where his fingers had been, the color high in her cheeks. “Just so you know, I had plans of my own.”

Creed smiled. “So noted.”

Her brows dipped. “Good. Then follow me. Molly will be waiting.”

As Creed slipped behind the wheel of his rented SUV, he was still smiling. He shifted into Reverse and was about to back out of the parking space when he looked out at the bay.

A large yacht rounded Cape Churn’s rocky point, its gleaming white hull cutting through the water, headed directly for the little marina.

His foot left the accelerator, and Creed braked to a stop.

The yacht came to a halt in the middle of the bay.

A honk dragged his attention back to the red Jeep with the impatient driver pulling out of the parking lot.

Creed backed out and fell in behind Emma.

In his rearview mirror, he could see a smaller boat leaving the yacht and heading into the marina.

His bet was Phillip Macias had just arrived in Cape Churn.

Damn. Things were about to get a lot more interesting...and dangerous.