The plan Javi had devised to rescue Joan and Debbie sounded beyond risky to her. When the pirates came ashore, she’d be face-to-face with the horror she’d been running from for years.
Too much had happened. She had too much to think about, and was too frazzled to get it all straight. She took a deep breath, inhaling the stink of the surrounding mangroves.
“The cops I know always have a gun on them,” she told him. “Even on dates. Did you have one on Spree?”
He removed a weapon from one of the many pockets in his cargo shorts and removed the clip, the part that held the bullets.
Placing both sections on a rock at his feet, he said, “It’s useless from being in the water, but I couldn’t leave it for the intruders to find.”
Cat reached forward to pick up the gun and water dripped from the barrel. Definitely waterlogged. She set it back on the rock.
“Is there a possibility it could dry out?”
“You’re thinking about when the pirates come ashore?”
“Yes.”
He shook his head. “I wouldn’t risk my life counting on it to fire.”
“No,” she said. “I guess not.”
He continued to eat, chewing deliberately and swallowing, obviously deep in thought. She took another bite of the conch, forcing herself to eat. Javi was right. She needed the energy.
What was he brooding about? His dead brother? The bank heist in Coral Gables? How to save Joan and Deb? She hoped it was the rescue of her friends.
If only she could have somehow alerted the Bahamian boat to their plight. Would it have really made things worse the way Javi insisted? If he was a trained agent, he was probably right.
It was full-on dark now, and firelight flickered across his bearded face. Funny how he had little hair on the rest of his body save a light dusting on his chest. She remembered how silky that hair had been to her touch.
As had other body parts. Warm and silky. Yet deliciously hard.
She reached out and felt her T-shirt on the rock where Javi had placed it. Dry, thank goodness. She removed Javi’s shirt. When she handed it to him, she found him watching her, a faint smile curving his lips. A tingle of awareness cruised down her spine, chilling her again.
“The temperature is dropping,” she said, her voice husky. She slipped her T-shirt over her head, and was relieved when he did the same with his. Better that he cover up. She needed to concentrate.
He’d given her an option and she needed to think about it, seriously weigh the possible outcomes.
If she did nothing and let Spree sail away, she and Javi would be rescued, but her friends wouldn’t survive. She’d never see them again. Cat closed her eyes. Their bodies would never even be found.
But if Javi’s crazy plan to lure the pirates ashore somehow worked, then most likely she and Javi would be killed. They didn’t have a gun. And still Joan and Debbie would perish.
So what should she and Javi do? Take the easy way out and do nothing? Or risk it all and try to save her friends?
No matter how well trained Javi was or wasn’t, they were in an impossible situation.
But they had to try. They had to.
“I have serious doubts about your plan,” she told him.
His dark gaze focused on her again. “So you’ve said. Have you come up with a better idea?”
“No.”
He nodded, looking grim. “So you want to let the pirates leave with your friends?”
“No. God, no.”
She took a deep breath and wished she hadn’t. The bird stink was overpowering, and she lost what little appetite she’d had. She was thirsty, but they needed to conserve their water.
She handed the knife back to him, the way he’d handed it to her, hilt-first. Flames glinted off the metal. She couldn’t remain frozen any longer.
“I say we go for it.”
* * *
JAVI ACCEPTED THE KNIFE, his gaze steady on hers. He’d known Irish wouldn’t sit idly by and let the pirates sail away with her friends. This time he’d been careful to paint the picture in such a way that the alternative was unthinkable. He learned from his mistakes. He’d been too soft in his description of the Gulf Stream crossing.
“I can’t make any guarantees,” he said.
“I understand.”
He handed her the water bottle. “Take a drink.”
She accepted the plastic eagerly. After a quick swallow, she said, “So what do we do first?”
He thrust the knife into its sheath and rose. “We relocate to the lighthouse complex for a few hours.”
“Lighthouse?” She looked up at him, hope stamped all over her expression. “What lighthouse?”
Javi motioned south with his chin. “We can’t see it from here, but there’s a beacon marking the channel between Gun Cay and North Cat Cay.”
Irish jumped to her feet. “Is there someone in that lighthouse?” she asked, her voice excited. “Maybe a phone?”
He shook his head. “Sorry, but the light is automated now, the structure abandoned.”
Her shoulders slumped, and she appeared to deflate. “Then why go there?”
“Because there are still intact outlying buildings I can get inside.” He looked around the clearing for what they should take with them. “A storm is coming, and I think you’ll rest better with a roof over your head.”
“Rest? I thought we were going to swim out to Spree and remove the propeller.”
Javi shot her a glance. She thought she was swimming to Spree with him? No way. But that conversation could wait.
“Aren’t you tired?” he demanded.
“Oh, I’m way beyond tired,” she said. “More like exhausted and not sure I’m up for a hike. How far is this lighthouse?”
“I’d estimate twenty minutes, maybe half an hour.”
“You want to take a half hour hike through a jungle in the dark?”
“There’s a trail. I used it this afternoon and remember seeing some old rope I can use to foul the prop.”
“Of course you did.”
“Pack up and let’s go.” He looked for a stick to spread and extinguish the fire. “Be sure and bring your flippers and snorkel.”
“Wait a minute,” she said. “Wait just a minute.”
Javi turned back. “What’s wrong now?”
She held out her arms. “I don’t understand why you built a beautiful—and not to mention warm—fire here and we’re leaving it.”
“I built a fire because you were cold and wet. It enabled us to cook food and put something warm in our bellies. Making a fire also gave us something useful to do while we decided how to proceed. We’re relocating because strategically it’s the best idea.”
He looked toward the north. The wind hadn’t picked up yet, but it would. He could smell the coming storm. “It’ll rain soon, and there’s shelter not too far away. I can build another fire if we need one.”
She blinked and glared at him. She opened her mouth, but didn’t speak.
“What?” he demanded, sick of having to explain every decision to this civilian. He preferred to work alone, but at least a trained partner wouldn’t ask questions when the answers were obvious.
“You have an answer for everything, don’t you?” she said.
“I only wish I did.” He sighed. Damned if he wasn’t barking orders again. He could hear Dr. Moonface’s calm voice droning on about his need to control.
“And consider this,” he said, trying to effect patience. “What if I’m wrong about the pirates? They could use the dinghy to come ashore and find us, eliminate a threat. I’d prefer we not be where they expect us.”
She hugged herself, glancing toward the trail that ran south through the vegetation. “Right. We should relocate.”
Her fear shimmered in the cool night air around them, unease flowing off her so strongly that he could taste it. Maybe she was afraid of the dark.
Yes, Irish was a civilian. He needed to remember that she spent most of her time communing with plants.
“Do you have any other questions?” he asked.
“Oh, only about a million.”
“Hey.” He stepped toward her and wrapped his arms around her. She came into his embrace willingly but with a tiny sob that cut straight to his gut. He also needed to remember that she was terrified.
“We’re going to be okay,” he said. Her skin was chilled. The hike would probably do her some good.
“Are we?” she whispered.
“Yes.” He hugged her tighter.
“What about Joan and Debbie?”
He closed his eyes. He had to be honest. “I’m going to try like hell to save them.”
“But no guarantees,” she said.
“Do you want me to lie?”
“Yes.” She pulled away from him, and brushed a tear from her cheek. “No, of course not.”
He’d made her cry. Shit. Yeah, I’m handling this so well.
“Cat, I—”
She held up a hand to keep him away. “I’m okay. Just a minor breakdown for the cowardly lion. Sucking it up now.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself.”
“Lead the way,” she said, reaching for her snorkel gear. “I’m chilled again and need to move.”
“I need to take care of the fire first.” Rain was coming and he didn’t believe the flames could escape the pit, but to be safe he separated the burning wood so it’d quickly burn out.
“Let’s go.” He took the bag from her, hoisted it over his shoulder and stepped toward the trail.
They didn’t speak as they hurried down the narrow path leading to the south tip of the island. He’d hiked to the lighthouse this morning while Joan and Debbie sunned themselves and drank tequila on the beach. His healing muscles had protested that much use, and the injured thigh had persisted with a dull ache ever since.
He used the pain to remain focused.
The path angled away from the beach, so there were fewer birds and the stink from the rookery diminished the farther they hiked. The wilderness surrounding them remained quiet but for the occasional rustle in the branches or guttural squawk when they disturbed a roosting cormorant or pelican. He spotted a discarded length of line and snatched it for possible use on Spree’s propeller.
The exercise warmed him, and he was certain Irish must be feeling better by now, too.
He looked behind to check on her. She kept up with him easily, her chin set at a determined angle, her mouth tense. She’d tied her hair back in a ponytail. The woman had grit, although she didn’t seem to know how strong she was. His gut told him she would survive this ordeal.
If she listened to him.
Overhead, the sky was filled with more stars than he’d seen since his life on Ganesh. A beautiful, stirring sight, but one he couldn’t take the time to enjoy. Not when so many lives depended on his remaining sharp.
He wasn’t going to let anyone die. Not this time.
Dr. Moonshine insisted sometimes you couldn’t prevent bad things from happening. Did he believe that?
Not really. So maybe the good doctor was right and he did have some sick need to control everything and everybody. But total control was impossible, and he knew that at least. Didn’t he?
Well, hell. The thing is he could have tried harder to convince the women not to sail to Gun Cay, and he should have. If he had tried harder to convince Berto not to—no.
He couldn’t go there. Not now—not when he needed to focus on keeping his charterers alive.
He understood what was going on here. His mind was playing tricks on him. Stress did that. Being on a sailboat and the encounter with pirates had raised Roberto’s ghost.
If he got out of this op still breathing, maybe he should take the time to analyze why his brother’s murder still haunted him after fourteen years.
* * *
AS SWEAT TRICKLED between her breasts, Cat realized she was no longer chilled. In fact, she was now downright warm. And thirsty. Very thirsty.
But Javi had the water, and she refused to drink until he did.
They hadn’t actually discussed the need to conserve their meager water supply. That fact was so obvious there was no need to. She was secretly hoping there’d be a water source at the lighthouse even though he hadn’t mentioned it. Maybe he didn’t know.
To keep her mind off her parched throat, which still tasted of the too-dry conch, she focused on the surrounding jungle. The dense thicket of mangroves had given way to small Australian pines and rather scraggly palm trees, which didn’t create much canopy. She looked up and gasped at all the stars in the dark sky. And a tiniest sliver of a crescent moon.
Under other circumstances, she’d think the night sky beautiful. At least she was no longer tired, as if this hike had somehow energized her. Maybe she’d gotten that famous second wind.
Her foot caught a root. She stumbled, and went flying forward into Javi’s back.
Maybe not.
He whirled to catch her before she fell. “Careful,” he said.
“Sorry,” she muttered.
“What happened?”
“I tripped,” she said, finding her footing with his help.
“Do you want to take a breather?” He peered into her face, his hands warm on her skin, supporting her.
She looked away, embarrassed that she’d almost fallen. But she’d always been clumsy. Her father loved to call her Clumsy Cat whenever she’d been less than graceful, somehow believing his nickname sweet. She resented it every time.
Maybe she should have told him so. But there was no point in snapping at Javi over her awkwardness.
“No,” she said. “I want to keep going.”
“You’re sure?” he asked. His thumbs lightly massaged her upper arms.
She took a deep breath and met his gaze. “I’ll rest when we get to the lighthouse.”
“Good girl.” He squeezed her lightly, and lowered his hands. “But let’s take a drink.”
“You don’t have to suggest that twice.”
He dug the plastic water bottle out of the mesh bag and handed it to her. She took a long drink, remembering the purchase of this liter bottle in the grocery store in Marathon. That shopping trip seemed like a lifetime ago. She and her friends had been in such high spirits while they provisioned the boat.
She handed the bottle to Javi. He took a swallow and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
A rustle in the vegetation caused both of them to whirl toward the sound. She relaxed when a pelican flapped huge wings and took to the air, squawking angrily at being disturbed from his evening roost.
“Is it much farther?” she asked.
Javi looked around as he screwed the top back on the water bottle. “I don’t think so.”
“I know we’ve been on this trail longer than thirty minutes,” Cat said.
“It only seems that way,” he said in what she now recognized as his patronizingly patient tone, the one he used when clarifying things for her.
She was starting to hate it.
“Is there any chance we’re lost?” she asked.
Giving the plastic top a final hard twist, he dropped the water in the bag. “There’s only one trail in this direction, and we haven’t left it.”
“Okay, then,” she said. “Let’s keep going.”
Determinedly placing one foot in front of the other, careful not to trip, she followed him down the path. The man definitely did not like explaining things. Was it just to her or everyone? Was it because she’d jumped into his bed l
ast night? So far they’d both been careful not to mention their reckless lovemaking, but it was out there between them, making their situation that much more awkward. Maybe he considered her a bimbo, unable to form a rational thought.
Did he think he didn’t have to explain his plan, that she should just calmly accept whatever he told her? Or did he believe she should automatically understand what was going on? But how could she? She’d never had any of that famous FBI training at—what was the name of the facility in DC? Quantico.
Her head jerked up from the trail. Was that noise the sound of the ocean? She listened hard. Yes, definitely waves breaking on rocks, and not far away. She released a breath. Naturally, Javi was correct about how close they were to their destination. They couldn’t have been walking more than five minutes since their rest, and they’d arrived at a coast.
She could only hope it was the one they wanted.
A squat lighthouse was the first thing she spotted when they emerged from the wilderness into a rocky clearing. She couldn’t tell its color but the tower appeared darker—perhaps red—on the top half than the bottom. A metal structure sat on top that reminded her of the Eiffel Tower.
Now that they were free of the shelter of the junglelike vegetation, a strong wind blew off the water, plastering her T-shirt against her chest. The storm must be getting close.
As she moved toward the center of the clearing, she noted three or four concrete structures surrounding the lighthouse, one of them two stories. Most of the window openings were boarded over with plywood, but a few gaped open. No doubt that’s where Javi intended to pass the night.
Until they hiked back to incapacitate Spree.
Javi halted and stared at the top of the lighthouse.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
He didn’t answer for a few moments, then said, “Ten. I was timing the flash of the light, confirming we’re in the right place.”
“You had doubts?”
“Just double-checking. The Gun Cay lighthouse flashes every ten seconds.” He nodded. “And that’s exactly where we are.”
Wanting to see the other shore, Cat braved the wind and walked beyond the tower toward the sound of the breaking waves, careful to stay clear of the spray, which would only chill her again. Javi said there was another island across that dark expanse of water.
Stranded with the Captain Page 12
