by Elle James
The outline of Creed’s silhouette showed through the near-transparent shower curtain, making Emma’s mouth dry. She slid the curtain aside to find Creed facing her, naked and smiling, his member stiff and ready. For her.
Emma closed the shower curtain and joined him in a warm, wet dance that splashed water over the floor of the bathroom.
They made love against the shower wall, on the counter by the sink, and dripped across the floor to her bed and made love again until they were both spent.
As tired as she was, the nurse in Emma wouldn’t sleep until she’d replaced the wet bandages with dry ones over his stitches. She switched the load from the washer to the dryer, then returned to the bed and lay against Creed’s uninjured arm. Exhausted, she curled up to those thick, hard muscles, the sun shining in through the window, warming her naked body, and relaxed for what felt like the first time in a week.
Life didn’t get better than at that moment. She shoved aside thoughts of what came next, basking in Creed’s embrace.
If he left, which he would, at least she’d have this memory to keep her warm for a little while. Not that it would be nearly enough, but it was better than nothing.
She draped an arm over his taut abs and slept.
* * *
Creed lay with Emma in his arms, wishing he could extend the time like this into forever. The angel lying beside him fit him perfectly. She was smart, athletic, fearless and passionate. Everything a man could want in a woman and more.
He dared to dream of what it would be like to come home to Emma after each mission. She’d be waiting at the top of the steps, a smile on her face. Moby would leap off the porch and race to the gate of that danged white picket fence. And Creed would be happy to see them both. He could picture a miniature version of Emma, a little girl with sandy-blond hair and gray eyes like her mother’s.
A muted buzzing sound came from the living room where Creed had left his duffel bag, his smart phone tucked inside. Though he’d rather stay in bed with Emma tucked against his side, he knew he had to answer the call.
Tazer and Casanova were due in soon, and they needed to make a plan. The diamonds would draw Macias back until they were safely stored in a safe-deposit box in a bank vault or given back to Macias for the next phase of the operation. Until then, whoever had the diamonds was in danger of Macias’s hit men.
Careful not to wake Emma, Creed slipped out from under her, tucked a sheet over her naked body and left the room, closing the door between them.
The ringing stopped while he was digging for the phone. He checked the recent calls and noted Tazer’s cell number, hit Redial and waited. It didn’t even ring on his end.
“We’re finally here,” Tazer said without preamble.
“Good. Where?”
“At a diner.” Tazer’s voice faded as if she leaned away from the receiver. “What is this place called?”
“Seaside Café,” Casanova’s muffled voice came from the background.
“We can meet in fifteen minutes, but not there,” Creed said. “It’s too public.”
“Did you find the cargo?” Tazer asked.
“I did.”
“What was it?”
“Diamonds. Lots of diamonds.”
“Oooooh. Did you save some for me?”
“Sorry, sweetheart, we have to give them back to Macias.”
“So soon?” Tazer’s voice pouted over the phone. “Oh, sweetie, don’t call me sweetheart, or—”
“You’ll have to shoot me.” Creed chuckled. He liked that he could kid around with the other members of the SOS team, but when the crap hit the fan, he knew they had his back. “Got it, Nicole. See you in fifteen.” He gave them directions to their meeting point, hung up and retrieved slacks and a polo shirt from the dryer, slipping into them before returning to the bedroom where Emma still slept. He gathered the velvet bag of diamonds, feeling the loose stones tumbling within, and stuffed them into his pocket.
Emma barely stirred when he bent to kiss her lips one last time. “I’ll be back,” he whispered, and kissed her again.
Moby walked with him to the door and whined when Creed told him to stay.
After one last look around, he opened the door, twisted the lock and pulled the door closed behind him, listening for the lock to engage. He couldn’t go back in without knocking on the door. It was just as well; he’d been more than tempted to stay and tell his team he’d be off duty until the morning. But what he had in his possession negated that option.
Macias had been willing to kill for the diamonds. He wouldn’t stop now, until he got them. He must be on a deadline and desperate. Which could play right into Creed’s plan.
If it didn’t get him killed first.
Chapter 11
Creed had given Tazer and Casanova directions to meet him at the point. The fewer people who saw them together, the better his plan would go. And from there, they could keep an eye out for the yacht in the bay as long as the fog didn’t roll in.
Tazer met him with a handshake and her cool, blue-eyed stare, wearing a tailored gray pantsuit that could have come straight out of the pages of Vogue magazine. She wore her pale blond hair swept up in a neat twist in the back.
“Hola!” Casanova hugged Creed tight, with his typical, exuberant backslapping. To Nova, everyone was familia on the SOS team—though he toned down his hugs with Tazer to avoid being dropped with a knee to the groin.
As they gathered around the hood of his SUV with a map of the coastline, they laid out the plan. Royce was on the satellite phone listening throughout.
Creed had briefed the boss on what had happened when they found the diamonds and when they’d been attacked on the road back to town. He finished by expressing his concerns over deep-sixing the diamonds and missing the chance to find Macias’s contact for enriched uranium.
“Since they attacked, we can assume they know I found the diamonds,” Creed concluded.
“Which could play in our favor,” Royce said.
“Exactly.” Creed drummed his fingers against the hood. “I’m going to play the part of a mercenary opportunist looking to make some quick cash. How much should I ask him for these diamonds? What are they worth on the black market, Royce?”
“If you’re looking for quick cash, you can’t go too high. Hang on, let me get Geek on it.” Royce went silent for a couple minutes and came back with, “Ask for three hundred thousand in twenties. It’s not too much he can’t pull it off pretty quickly, but it’s not too little he’d get suspicious.”
“Agreed.”
Creed would venture out to the yacht in the harbor, arrange a meeting on land where Tazer and Casanova would be hiding close by in case the plan went south. He’d have the diamonds in a safe place until Phillip produced the cash, at which time he’d make the trade.
“What about the girl?” Royce asked.
Tazer and Casanova both glanced across at Creed, Tazer voicing what was in their expressions. “Creed’s got a girl? I thought you were the loner of the group.”
Creed’s lip curled up on one side. “About as much of a loner as you are, Nicole.” As new as his relationship was, he didn’t feel like discussing it with anyone else. He wasn’t even sure it would go any further than it had, though he found himself wanting it to.
Tazer crossed her arms over her chest, her brows hitching upward. “Since I’m a big-time loner, that means you are, too. So how does the girl fit into this picture?”
“She was with me on the dives,” he said, his gaze returning to the map of the coastline. “I wouldn’t have found the diamonds without her help.”
“You involved a civilian?” Tazer tsked. “That’s breaking a few rules, isn’t it, Royce?”
“Only when necessary,” their boss responded. “However, since she’s involved, what
are you doing to protect her?”
“Nothing, yet. She lives in town, and it’s still daylight. I planned on having her stay at the B and B or with friends until Phillip leaves the area.”
“Good. Make sure that happens. She’s a loose end Phillip might take advantage of.”
“Will do.” Creed wasn’t sorry he’d have to see Emma again. He did regret the circumstances. If Phillip thought he could manipulate them by threatening Emma, he would.
“Did you get a lead on the license plate of the car that was sitting in front of Emma’s place the night before last?”
“I had Geek working on it. It was a rental, but the name listed on it didn’t ring any bells.”
“Who was it?”
“Randall Wells. He shows up as an executive for an oil company out of Houston, Texas. We’re running his driver’s license photo through the FBI’s facial recognition software to see if he comes up anywhere else. Geek’s still working it.”
What was an oil exec doing hanging out on Emma’s street? Another puzzle Creed couldn’t piece together. “Send me a copy of his driver’s license photo.”
“Will do,” Royce acknowledged.
“Anything on the captain of the sunken boat?”
“Our contacts in Russia confirmed his was a boat for hire for anything from tourism to drug running.”
“What about the tattoos on his arm and that of the man who washed ashore?” Creed asked.
“Apparently they belonged to the same black-market organization in Russia. It’s a pretty nasty crowd Macias is hanging out with.”
Creed didn’t like that Macias had led the Russian mafia to Cape Churn. “And what have you learned about enriched uranium?”
“We have a contact that confirmed the uranium that went missing from Iran in 2012 is now in the United States. And only recently. It was moved from Russia to the west coast less than a month ago, but we still don’t have names.”
“You think Macias is moving it?” Tazer asked.
“We think he’s in the market to purchase it.”
“So we’re still operating in the dark.” Creed’s gut knotted. “And someone’s holding on to a stash of uranium sufficient to blow a city-size hole in the landscape.” He didn’t like it. Too little to go on, and the stakes were so damned high.
“We’re working on it on our end,” Royce said. “When we get a name, you’ll get that name.”
“Got it.” Creed folded the map. “I’m tagging the diamond bag with a GPS tracking device. If Phillip chooses to buy back the diamonds, hopefully he’ll arrange to make his other purchase quickly. We can track him to his trade location.”
“Good. Keep me informed,” Royce said. “If you need more help, get the local police involved. Sean McNeal and I are on our way using the SOS jet. Where should we meet you when we get in?”
“Follow the tracking device in the diamond bag. If we don’t have the bag, we’re either dead or following it.”
Royce laughed without mirth. “I choose to think you’ll be following it.”
“Thanks.” Creed hoped that would be the case. “Glad you’re coming. This could be bigger than any of us want it to be. As it is, I involved the local police on a limited basis—the chief and one of his trusted officers.”
“Don’t let it go any further than necessary. We can’t have a local spilling the good news to the press.”
“Got it.” He figured they’d need all the help they could get if the crap hit the fan. “Should we wait to proceed until you two arrive?”
“No, I have faith you all can handle this. We’re just coming in for backup.”
The boss rang off, and silence fell over the three.
“Are we all clear on our mission?” Creed glanced across at Tazer and Casanova.
“Sounds like you have it all covered,” Nova said. “When do we start?”
“As soon as I can get a ride out to that little boat in the bay.” He pointed to the gleaming white luxury yacht anchored in the cape.
“Don’t get yourself killed doing it,” Tazer said. “I hate the paperwork involved with a dead agent.”
“Thanks, Tazer. I feel the love.” Creed shook his head, knowing Tazer would be after his killer in a heartbeat. He also knew she’d take a bullet for any one of the team, including Casanova. “Macias won’t kill me if he knows I’ve stashed the diamonds on land.”
“Good, because we don’t have enough people on the SOS team to handle the caseload as it is,” Tazer commented. “We can’t afford to lose even one.”
“In the meantime—” Creed grinned “—you and Casanova will be the loving tourist couple exploring Cape Churn.”
“Not too loving, Nova. Got it?” Tazer elbowed Casanova in the gut.
Casanova bent at the waist, clutching his gut. “Got it.”
“How long do we have to be tourists? My feet already hurt in these heels.”
Casanova rolled his eyes. “Let’s not take too long to find this dude. I don’t know how long I’ll be able to stand a whiny wife.”
“Lose the heels, Tazer,” Creed said. “You’re in a small vacation town. You can wear flip-flops.”
“Thank God.” She slipped out of the heels and stood on bare feet in the sandy soil. “Much better.”
“Set your watches for 2100. We’ll reconvene here and wait for Macias to come sniffing out the bait.”
“Do you need backup for the trip out to Phillip’s yacht?” Casanova asked. “I could pretend to be a celebrity rapster. Tazer can be my bitch, and we can stop by to check out the yacht’s digs.”
Tazer pinched her thumb and forefinger together. “You’re this close to dead, Nova.”
Casanova smiled. “Knew that would piss you off.”
Creed shook his head. “No, I’ve got it covered. I’ll report in when I get back to shore.”
Tazer frowned. “And if you don’t get back to shore?”
“Meet Royce at the airport and turn the diamonds over to him. At least that way Macias won’t have them to trade for a bomb.”
Casanova saluted. “Got it.”
“In the meantime, you’re on vacation as a couple. Start acting like it. Roam around town looking for any of Macias’s eyes and ears. It would be good to know how many we’re up against.”
“I might just get to play the rapster after all.” Casanova rubbed his hands together.
“Only if you get to be my bitch.” Tazer climbed into the driver’s seat of their rental and plunked a wide-brimmed beach hat on her head. Then, in a really bad Southern accent, she called out, “Come on, Leon, we have some sightseein’ to do.”
Casanova grimaced. “Really? That’s the best you can do? Comin’, Eunice!” He hurried to climb into the passenger seat. Before he could buckle his seat belt, Tazer spun out in a one-eighty, kicking up a tail of dust as she headed for pavement.
Creed waited several minutes, giving them time to get way ahead of him, remembering the last time he’d been out on the road and the trouble he’d run into. He drove into town, his guard up, watching the side roads for any sign of the car with the trigger-happy gunmen. Instead of heading for Emma’s house, he made use of the remaining daylight to rent a small fishing boat.
Sal and Olie were happy to let him use what amounted to a dinghy. Nothing he considered seaworthy. Thankfully, he was only headed out into the sheltered bay, not the open sea. He bought a fishing hat and a new T-shirt with a picture of a lingcod on the front and Cape Churn written across the bottom. He added fishing poles, a small tackle box and some tackle to go in it.
“You’ll need a fishing license, as well,” Sal said.
She rang up his purchases and had him fill out a fishing license form. Olie helped him load it all into the fishing boat, along with fresh bait. He showed him how to start the boa
t, what to do if it didn’t crank while out in the water, and handed him a couple oars and a life vest. “Don’t stay out past dark. My knee joints are predicting another bout of the Devil’s Shroud. You’ll want to be on dry land when it hits.”
Creed pulled the fishing hat down over his forehead, cranked the dinghy’s engine and set sail out into Cape Churn. Clouds had built in the western sky, blocking the majority of the sun’s rays. A few shot heavenward, the edges of the clouds tinged a brilliant orange.
As he neared the yacht, he killed the engine, pulled out the fishing pole, set bait on the hook and dropped the line into the water. The little boat drifted toward the yacht while Creed pretended not to notice.
Men with guns stood on the deck, watching as he approached. He counted two positioned on the bow of the boat, one stationed on top in the lookout nest and two more at the stern. All carried what appeared to be AK-47, Soviet-made rifles with thirty-round clips.
One of the men limped to the edge and glared down at him. “Hey!” he yelled.
Creed glanced up at the man who’d probably been the one he’d stabbed in the leg during the underwater fight. Thank goodness, he hadn’t recognized him yet. “Hey, who?” He pointed to his chest. “Me?”
“Yeah, you.” The man pointed his rifle at him. “Find somewhere else to fish.”
“It’s a free country. I can fish here if I want,” Creed argued. He reeled in his line and cast out again.
The limping man conferred with another sentry. That one left. A few minutes later, a man with dark hair, a dark mustache and goatee leaned over the side of the boat. “Hey, you!”
“Can you keep it down?” Creed called out. “You’re scaring the fish away.”
“Get away from the boat,” Goatee demanded.
About that time, Creed’s little dinghy bumped into the yacht. “How about you make me.”
Four rifles pointed over the side.
“Not satisfied scaring fish with all your yelling?” Creed didn’t break a sweat. “You trying to scare me now?” He stood in the boat and shook his fist. “Let me talk to your boss and tell him how rude you are.”
