Liz stared at the return address for a full minute, her finger hovering over the delete key. Finally she mouthed a gruff what-the-hell and opened the e-mail. She skimmed the lines, her jaw dropping in the process.
He'd made a mistake.
He loved her.
He wanted her to jettison the job in Mexico and fly to Malaysia on the next flight out. They'd get married as soon as she arrived.
"Right!" she hooted. "Like that's going to happen."
Fingers flying, she zinged off a pithy, two-word reply. She was still feeling the satisfaction of that terse response when she shut down the computer. The photo in the printer's tray sobered her instantly. Gnawing on her lower lip, Liz stared down into The Shark's flat, black eyes.
"Now what the heck am I going to do about you?"
After a fierce internal debate, she dug out Adam Ridgeway's card. He answered on the third ring, sounding curt, almost impatient.
"Ridgeway."
"It's Liz." She hesitated a moment, thrown off by his tone. "Did I catch you at a bad time?"
"What can I do for you?"
He'd dodged the question, but the creak of bed-springs and faint rustle of sheets provided their own answer.
Liz fought a grin. It wasn't yet nine o'clock, and Maggie and Adam had already hit the sheets. She had a pretty good hunch they hadn't been snoozing.
"I may have something, some information."
Adam's tone altered significantly. "What kind of information?"
She thought about the sophisticated electronics in Alvarez's study. And remembered that he'd known to the penny how much she owed Citibank. She wouldn't put it past him to have bugged her phone. Or have one of his goons parked down the street, manning a high-powered listening device.
"Why don't I drive over to the resort? I can be there in a half hour."
"That works."
Liz just bet it did. Guessing that the bedsprings would get a hard, fast workout, she hung up.
A quick shower removed the grime from the afternoon flight and heat of the day. Her hair still damp, Liz tucked the folded picture of El Tiburon into the back pocket of her jeans and slid her feet into flip-flops.
Night wrapped the coast road in breezy darkness. The surf foamed against the rocks, spinning lacy collars in the moonlight. What looked like a billion stars studded the sky. No clouds or storms on the horizon tonight.
Too bad, Liz thought with a wry smile. She was scheduled to ferry a replacement crew out to AM-237 first thing in the morning. She wouldn't have the excuse of a storm to delay her return flight.
The Two Dolphins Resort was perched on a curve of high cliffs some eight miles from Piedras Rojas. A spotlighted fountain with two giant bronze bottle-noses splashing joyfully marked the entrance to the resort. Flickering torches outlined the drive. With fragrant hibiscus crowding the roadside and eucalyptus trees touching branches overhead, Liz felt as though she was driving through a perfumed tunnel.
The main lodge of the resort sat in floodlit splendor at the end of the drive. From her visit the previous evening, Liz knew to circle the lodge and branch off on the graveled drive that led to Maggie and Adam's casita. Like the other bungalows at this high-priced getaway, the bougainvillea-draped cottage boasted a private pool complete with blue-and-white-striped cabana and deck overlooking the moon-washed Pacific.
One of these days, Liz thought as she parked beside the Ridgeways' rental vehicle, she might just treat herself to a vacation at a place like this. After she paid off the loan for that damned nonrefundable deposit. And reconstructed her bank account. And figured out just what the heck she was going to do when her AmMex contract came up for renewal again.
Time enough to worry about all that later. Right now the folded photo of The Shark was so hot she half expected it to burn a brand on her butt.
Soft golden light spilled from the windows of the casita. Liz crunched up the gravel path to the front door and let the dolphin-shaped brass knocker clank against the door. Maggie opened it, her hair a tousled brown cloud. She'd belted on a peach silk robe trimmed in ecru lace. The edges swished against the matching gown as she stepped aside.
"Hi, Liz. Come in."
The interior of the bungalow was as luxurious as the exterior. Her flip-flops slapping the tiles, Liz followed Maggie down a foyer lined with feathery potted ferns.
"Sorry 'bout the interruption."
"No problem. Actually, you aren't our only visitor."
Maggie swept a hand toward the male standing beside Adam in the sitting room. Liz gaped at the unexpected sight.
"Devlin!"
"In the flesh, darlin'."
Flesh was right. Most of his was showing. Black Lyrca covered the little that wasn't. The short-sleeved muscle shirt clung to his chest and biceps like a thin coat of paint. The black shorts did the same on his muscular thighs. Both garments had obviously been designed to wear with the wet suit and scuba gear draped over a nearby chair.
"Don't tell me you swam all the way from the patch!"
"Only part of the way," he said, grinning. "I had a boat waiting."
"But...but..." Thrown for a loop by his unexpected appearance, Liz croaked like a tongue-tied macaw. "When did you get here?"
Adam answered that one. "About five minutes after you called," he said with just a hint of dryness in his aristocratic voice. "A little earlier than we expected."
He didn't look at his wife, but Maggie flushed and Devlin swallowed a snort of laughter. Still bewildered, Liz wanted more of an explanation.
"I don't understand. What are you doing here?"
"I wanted to be on hand to observe the crew rotating off the rig tomorrow morning. See where they go, who they talk to."
"So why didn't you just fly back with me when I picked them up?"
"Because we don't want them to know they're being observed," he explained. "Between us, Maggie, Adam and I are going to make sure the individuals who step oft" your helo are the same ones who continue into the States."
Liz was a little ticked they hadn't included her as part of the observation committee. She'd voice her opinion about that in a minute. Right now she was more curious about how the heck Devlin had orchestrated another disappearing act.
"Won't they miss you out on the patch?"
"Not unless there's an emergency. I worked a double shift yesterday. Twenty-four hours straight, with the next twenty-four off. I posted a sign in four languages on my cabin door. Anyone who knocks risks severe maiming or death. Maggie told me about your call," he said, shifting gears. "What's up?"
"This."
Reaching into her hip pocket, she extracted the printed photo and passed it to Devlin. When he unfolded the paper and recognized Alvarez's image, his brows snapped together.
"Has The Shark come after you again?"
"No. Although a couple of his resident thugs did aim Uzis my way yesterday."
Before Liz could explain about the low-level pass over Alvarez's compound, Devlin threw Ridgeway a swift glance.
"I thought you had her on a leash."
"We do."
"What leash?" Liz asked, frowning.
"Are the signals faulty? Did you lose her?"
"Hey! What leash?"
"The signals work perfectly," Adam said calmly. "Maggie and I were with her when it happened."
"What's this business about Uzis? How did...?"
Liz put her first and fourth fingers to her mouth. Her ear-shattering whistle spun Devlin around and had the other two wincing.
"What leash, dammit?"
Seven
Devlin had once strayed into a patch of quicksand. He'd been working a rig in a backwater Louisiana bayou at the time. The swamp was wet and boggy, crowded with marsh grasses, palmettos and moss-laden cypress trees. After stepping off a skiff onto what he thought was solid ground, he'd sunk to his kneecaps. As the echoes of Liz's shrill whistle hammered against his eardrums, he experienced the same sinking sensation.
"I wa
s worried about you. I asked Maggie and Adam to tag you."
"Tag me how?"
Her voice was low and lethal. Bravely, Adam attempted to draw her fire.
"There's a microchip embedded in the business card I gave you. It tracks your every movement. If you'd strayed into unfamiliar or dangerous territory, one of us would have been there within minutes."
She didn't waste her fury on Adam. Turning her attention back to Devlin, she shot off so many sparks he could feel their white hot bite.
"Bastard. I actually—almost—trusted you."
Bristling, she dug a hand into the left front pocket of her jeans. Devlin kept his mouth shut when she produced a flat plastic case. Said nothing when she pulled out an embossed business card. But he almost blew it when she ripped it into halves, then quarters, and let the pieces flutter to the carpet.
Just in time he bit back the comment that she'd conducted a similar ritual the night they'd met. He didn't think Liz was in any mood to appreciate the irony.
"I want the truth this time," she demanded. "Were you three keeping tabs on me because you think I'm part of this stolen passport scheme?"
That one Devlin could answer unequivocally and without hesitation.
"No. I told you we considered the possibility. We also dedicated considerable resources to vetting you. Everything came back clean."
Her eyes narrowed to slits. "Was that what our little session in your cabin out on the rig was all about? You were 'vetting' me?"
The quicksand was up around Devlin's waist now. He could feel it sucking him deeper into the bog, but didn't look to either Maggie or Adam for help. They couldn't throw him a rope on this one.
"There's only so much I'll do for my country." That wasn't completely true, but the next statement was. "That particular session was for me and me alone."
He could see she wasn't buying it. He figured he had one last shot before he went under.
"You're smart, sexy and one hell of a pilot, Liz, but you're not in The Shark's league. I told you I was sending in some backup. You didn't object."
"Backup is one thing! Putting me under electronic surveillance without my knowledge or consent is another."
"I was worried about you," he repeated. It was his only real defense.
"Want to know what you can do with your worry?"
She hadn't given up the battle, but her voice had lost some of its steam. Relief rippled through Devlin. He might yet make it out of the swamp.
"How about we discuss that privately? After you tell us about this photograph of Alvarez."
The diversion worked, thank God. With a look that promised him some uncomfortable moments later, she stabbed a finger at the photo.
"See the necklace he's wearing?"
Maggie and Adam crowded around the picture. They made quite a trio, Liz thought as she struggled to get a grip on her temper. Adam as sleek as a panther with his black hair and half-buttoned white shirt. Maggie trim and elegant in peach silk. Devlin—the rat!—looking unrepentant and testosterone charged in that damned Lycra.
"That's a shark's tooth dangling from the chain," Liz pointed out.
"Apropos," Maggie commented as they passed the photo from hand to hand.
"You can't see the details, but a magnifying glass would show the tooth has gold filigree crown with a hook to loop a chain through. The filigree pattern is very intricate and very distinctive."
"We'll take your word for it," Devlin said. "So?"
"So I saw that same necklace tonight. On Jorge's cousin Emilio."
She speared a quick look at Maggie and Adam. Surprise and quick interest flared in their eyes. Devlin couldn't make the connection.
"Who are Emilio and Jorge?"
"Let's sit down," Adam suggested, gesturing to the love seat and easy chairs grouped around a hammered brass coffee table. "Liz can fill you in on the details."
Maggie dropped into one of the overstuffed chairs. Adam took a seat on the broad arm. Liz chose the love seat, then had to scoot over a few inches when Devlin crowded in beside her. The man tended to occupy more than his fair share of space, she thought wryly. In bed and out.
Sternly banishing the thought, she launched into an explanation. "Jorge Garcia is Aero Baja's chief mechanic. You saw him at the terminal the morning I flew you out to the patch."
He wrinkled his brow. "Short? Handlebar mustache? Grease under his fingernails?"
Amazed he could recall such detail about a man he'd glimpsed only briefly, she nodded.
"Emilio is Jorge's wife's cousin. He owns and operates a fishing boat. The Santa Guadalupe. Jorge brought him to the cantina to meet Maggie and Adam earlier this evening. He and his cousin-in-law thought the Rigeways might be interested in chartering the boat for some sport fishing."
"And this Emilio was wearing a shark's tooth necklace?"
"He was."
"You've got keen eyes," Maggie commented. "I didn't notice it."
"I spotted the glint of a gold chain," Adam said slowly, "but not what was attached to it."
"Remember when Jorge knocked over the beer bottle? Emilio and I both ducked down to retrieve it. The tooth slipped out of his shirt then. When I remarked on it, he got all flustered, stuffed the thing back inside his collar and—"
"—left faster than a gamecock with his tail feathers on fire," Maggie exclaimed. "Do you think this shark's tooth connects Emilio to Alvarez? Is it a gang symbol? A mark of the brothers?"
"I don't think it's a gang thing. The two goons who drove me out to Alvarez's compound weren't sporting any teeth but their own. No, this one is very distinctive." She paused for dramatic effect. "My guess is it's the personal possession El Tiburon's so anxious to recover."
She'd had plenty of time to puzzle this out during the drive to the resort.
"Alvarez told me his nephew was carrying something the night he was shot. Something that belonged to him. Something he wanted back. I'm thinking he gave the tooth to Martin. Or Martin borrowed it without his uncle's permission. Maybe he just wanted to flash it around. Maybe he was using it as a signal that he had his uncle's backing for whatever he was up to. In either case, my guess is Emilio lifted it off Martin's body. Or knows who did."
The other three exchanged glances. Their minds seemed to click on a level that didn't include Liz.
"It fits," Adam said. "Jorge works for Aero Baja. He has access to the AmMex flight manifests."
"He knows who's coming off the rig and when," Maggie murmured. "Jorge passes the information to his wife's cousin, who just happens to own a deep-sea fishing boat."
His face grim, Devlin picked it up from there. "Emilio approaches the target, takes him out on the boat, steals his passport and dumps him overboard. He then sells the passport to Alvarez, uncle or nephew. He even tries to make some extra on the side by arranging a meeting with an Americano reportedly willing to pay big bucks for information about the men coming off the rig."
His hazel eyes hardened to agate.
"I'm betting he didn't intend to tell me a damned thing. He probably arranged that midnight rendezvous with the idea of bumping me off and lifting my papers, as well. Except something went wrong. Martin Alvarez got wind of the meeting. Followed Emilio to the beach to see what he was up to, maybe intending to take him out. But Emilio got to him first."
Liz had to voice a protest. "Wait a sec! I see two flaws in your scenario. First, Jorge can't be involved in a scheme like that. I know him. He's not just my coworker. He's my friend."
"Harry Johnson was my friend," Devlin countered, his jaw tight.
"I'm just saying that Jorge and his wife are good people."
"What's the second flaw?"
"We still don't know for sure Emilio is part of the scheme. We don't even know he was the informant you were supposed to meet that night."
"Maybe not. But as you said, he either lifted the shark's tooth off Martin's body or knows who did."
The harsh edges to his face softened. He shifted on the sof
a cushions, his thigh nudging hers.
"That was good work, Moore. Keep it up and we might just have to make you an honorary inductee."
"Into what?"
"Our little fraternity." Sliding a palm around her nape, he tugged her forward for a quick, hard kiss. "I'll drive you back to your place. Then Maggie, Adam and I need to get to work."
The kiss was delicious. The impetus behind it wasn't. Irritated all over again, Liz jerked away from his hold.
"Guess again, cowboy. You're not taking me home and tucking me into bed like a good little girl. I want in on what happens next."
The glint that sprang into his eyes suggested he'd been hoping she'd be more bad than good, but he countered her argument with one of his own.
"What happens next is just grunt work. You need your sleep. You have an early flight tomorrow, don't you?"
He knew damned well she did. And she knew he was doing his macho protective thing again, cutting her out of the action in the process.
"I can shave off a few hours. Or reschedule the flight to later in the day."
She figured the last option would make him squirm. The clock was already ticking. He couldn't stay off the rig too long before his absence was noted.
His face took on a stubborn cast and he looked ready to continue the debate when Adam stepped into the breach. "Liz is right. She's too much a part of this for us to shut her out now."
"I agree," Maggie said.
Their combined front forced Devlin to give a reluctant nod. Adam picked it up from there and reeled off a string of pseudonyms.
"As I think you know, Devlin's code name is Rigger. I'm Thunder. Maggie goes by Chameleon."
"Like in the lizard? The one that changes its color to fit its surroundings?"
"Like in the lizard. She's very good at changing colors, by the way."
His wife beamed up at him. "Thank you, my darling."
"We all work—or have worked—in various capacities for a government agency known as OMEGA."
Her mind whirling, Liz drove home through the darkness. Devlin sat silent beside her. He'd insisted on coming along, assuring her he'd find his own way back to the resort. She hadn't argued. She was still trying to absorb everything Adam had revealed. Code names. Undercover agents. OMEGA.
Devlin and the Deep Blue Sea Page 8
