Sting

by Jennifer Ryder

  “Feel what?” I prompt.

  His eyes never leave mine. “Feel, full stop.”

  Sweet cupcakes.

  “And what now? I feel like I barely know you.” Even though I love you.

  “You don’t realise how alike we are. In different ways, we fight crime. We’ve seen how drugs destroy lives. We’ve fought it in our own way, whatever the cost. Our love lives included.”

  Ain’t that the truth.

  “I don’t know the truth from the lies,” I whisper.

  I admire Ryan for what he does, but I feel like I’ll be starting our relationship all over again. Can I put myself through that?

  “You ask anything of me, and as long as it’s nothing to do with the job, I promise you I will give you the truth. I’ll talk until I’m bone dry.”

  I stand up and dust the sand from my shorts. “You would?”

  Ryan rises and moves his body close. He lifts my head with a crooked finger beneath my chin.

  “I’m sick of putting my life on hold,” he says, his voice hoarse. His hands glide up my arms and he rests them on my shoulders. “You make me want things I’ve never dreamed of, and I only want them with you.”

  Tears stream hopelessly down my face. How long have I waited to hear this? Why couldn’t it be without all these complications?

  He wraps his strong arms around me and pulls me into his warm chest. His familiar crisp scent teases at my nostrils as I squeeze him tight. I’ve missed this so, so much.

  “You can’t fix it, Ryan. You can’t fix me.”

  “I know I can’t do anything about the past. I can’t fix Angel, but damn it if I’m not gonna move mountains to give Willow what she needs. What she deserves.”

  This situation is no longer just about me. It’s about what the future holds. It’s about the baby. Our baby.

  Can we be a family? Can I have something that I’ve been dreaming about since I was a little girl? How will it all work if he’s off on an assignment? Will I not see him for weeks, months at a time?

  “What happens when this job finishes? What then?”

  “I want out of undercover. We’ll work it out, Blondie. I promise. We will.”

  He leans down, and in a gentle-giant move, kisses me on the forehead. I close my eyes, allowing the warmth of his lips to seep into my soul.

  I press my palms against his chest. His pec muscles flex beneath my touch as I slowly push him back. He drops his hands to my waist.

  I will not get excited by the placement of those magic hands.

  I swallow hard. “I need time to think, Ryan. I have to go.” I take my car keys out of my pocket and turn towards the car park.

  Ryan seizes my wrist, his grip firm. “Wait. At least let me follow you home.”

  I shake my head, and his hand drops to his side in a sign of defeat.

  The corner of my mouth curls into a fleeting smile. It’s all I can manage. “Just give me some time,” I ask.

  “Whatever you need. I only wanna make you happy, and I know I can do that.”

  I huff a forced breath out of my nose, and nod.

  I know you can, Ryan.

  I need to learn to trust him, and I can’t just switch that on. It’s something to be earned.

  There’s no sight of him as I wander to my car and drive out of the car park.

  Part of me wishes there was.

  ****

  RYAN

  The ocean creeps higher up the sand as the tide rushes in. The waves crashing to shore do little to calm me. Her words bombard my thoughts as I walk further up the beach.

  “Just give me some time.”

  I’ll give it to her, even though it’ll fucking kill me. I’ll give her anything she wants. I just want us to be okay. I need us to be.

  “What happens when this job finishes?”

  I meant it when I said I wanted out of undercover. I’m done, and next time I talk to Pete I’ll be telling him just that. After this job there’ll be plenty of opportunities on my doorstep. I’ll just choose the one that works best for me and my little woman.

  “I don’t know the truth from the lies.”

  I never lied about my feelings for her; she has to know that. I rarely lied or stretched the truth, and when I did, it was only for work. I know I wasn’t all that forthcoming with personal stuff, but then again, neither was she. Now I know it was for good reason.

  “I feel like I barely know you.”

  Well, didn’t those words cut right to the fucking bone.

  Willow and I will have to start from scratch. I can’t imagine it will be easy. My heart twinges in my chest, knowing that I get to do this again. I get to sweep her off her sexy tennis shoes once more.

  I just have to gain her trust. I’ll prove to her, show her that what we can have will be incredible.

  My phone buzzes in my pocket, setting my heart racing with hope that it’s her. She wants me to come over. We’ll talk some more. I’ve never been more serious than when I said to her that I’d talk ’til I’m dry.

  Mick.

  What a fucking let-down.

  “Yeah, man,” I say and let out a heavy sigh.

  “Palmer, the exchange is going down tomorrow, out at sea.”

  Hallelujah.

  “Where’d we get the intel from?”

  “The South Australian taskforce got some info from a wire tap. After another chat with Bones, he confirmed that he’s expected to be pushing supply with more gear coming in any day now. They mentioned a place called Grey’s Canyons. We’ve worked out that it’s a place about forty kilometres off shore. Some of the local deep-sea fishermen rave about it.”

  Thank fuck I’ve got this seasickness shit under control.

  “So I’m guessing we’ll be planning a big day out on the water?”

  “Yup. I’ve already packed the satellite phone, extra ammo, and plenty of food and water. I’ll fill up some jerry cans with fuel on my way in. With any luck we’ll get the exchange on camera, and then depending on what happens, either the Coastguard or POLAIR will swoop in.”

  This is it. We’re at critical point. I just wish it wasn’t happening so far off-shore.

  “Man, if I never see another boat again …” I say through a chuckle.

  “So you keep sayin’,” he says. “Righto, hotshot. I’ll see you here at five sharp.”

  “Will do.”

  I turn around and make the journey back to my car. I scroll to Willow’s number in my phone. It’s time to man up.

  I send her a text.

  Me: Here are some truths

  I wait a minute, before I send another.

  Me: I love lemon

  Let’s see how this tactic goes. I’ll text a truth, every now and then until I fall asleep. I need her to know she’s on my mind.

  ****

  WILLOW

  After a hot shower, I curl up in bed with a Lady Grey tea. From the nightstand, my phone alerts me of a text.

  Ryan: Here are some truths

  Huh?

  I take a sip of my warm drink, and contemplate what he means. It beeps again.

  Ryan: I love lemon.

  I chuckle softly to myself. That’s the first thing that comes to his mind?

  Another text.

  Ryan: Lemon meringue pie is now my personal favourite

  Warmth rushes to my face, and I squeeze my thighs together. Images of that night run through my head. His hot mouth exploring my body; how his hands held me, firm, yet gentle; and how he brought me completely undone beneath him. These memories will stay with me forever. And they now have me feeling horny as anything.

  Every ten minutes or so, another message ensues.

  Ryan: I adore your coffee, and anything that comes out of your kitchen

  Ryan: I have a sister, who busts my balls. She’s pregnant with her first child, care of her boyfriend, who is a pilot

  Ryan: I’ve never heard anyone sing quite like Sienna

  I laugh out loud as I remember being caught in the rain
with a very squealy Sienna, and driving Ryan home; his potent sexiness filling the car to the point where it affected my driving ability. Was that the moment I fell for him?

  Ryan: I was a jock

  Ryan: I DO want you round-bellied and cooking biscuits in OUR kitchen

  Oh, Ryan. My heart pangs. He meant that. He really did. Well, it’ll be here a lot sooner than he thinks.

  I run my hand over my belly. It doesn’t look any different to normal, but just knowing what’s inside—our future—has me crying happy tears.

  I slide my phone beneath my pillow, and take great comfort in knowing that he wants the same thing I do. I’m ready to take a chance and start again with Ryan.

  A muffled beep fills my pillow.

  Ryan: I know where my heart is. Night, Blondie x

  I know where mine is, too.

  This time, I have to reply.

  Me: Night, Big Mussies <3

  I’m looking forward to some more truths tomorrow.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  RYAN

  I gulp down some water and chuck the bottle back into the Esky. Five hours we’ve been out here, and fucking nothing. Not so much as a bite.

  “How much longer do you reckon we’re gonna be floating?” I ask as I take another look at the old blue and white fishing trawler, which is the only boat around for miles.

  “As long as it takes,” Mick growls.

  Yeah. He’s as fed up with this waiting shit as I am.

  Two hours later we radio in and report that the vessel with the helipad is within view.

  “Fuck me. They’re here,” Mick scoffs. “I thought we’d be waiting til sunset.”

  The sleek white vessel approaches the trawler with great speed, creating a wide frothy wake behind it. I grab the camera with the telescopic lens and zoom right in and take some pics.

  It and the blue and white trawler bob against each other, deckhands putting fenders between them and securing the boats together with rope. The muscle, dressed again in black, move around the lower deck of the yacht. I keep taking shots until a young guy on the trawler in a navy singlet and board shorts makes the exchange, passing three large black bags over to the muscle. That’s a fucking lot of gear.

  Perez suddenly comes in to view with binoculars targeted in our direction. I turn around and put the camera on the seat.

  “Fuck!” I grunt out. Did he see the camera aimed at them?

  The boats part ways and the luxury vessel turns and powers straight for us.

  “What the fuck do we do here, Mick?”

  “They must be fucking on to us,” he says, his voice gravelly. “Worse thing we can do is run; it’s only going to make us look suspicious if we do. We need to hang tight. We’ll be fine with the cover. Just stick to that.”

  “I fucking hope you’re right. They’ll have some firepower, no doubt.”

  “Relax. This is what you were trained for. Keep it cool.”

  Easy for him to say. My pulse is out of control, my heart in my throat.

  I pick up the satellite phone. “LOCSTAT operator?” I say, loud and clear.

  “What’s your status?” the commander asks.

  “VOI is on approach. ETA two minutes. Put the Coastguard and POLAIR on standby. Be ready to pounce at ground zero. They made the exchange.”

  “Your coordinates are locked,” he confirms.

  “Further updates ASAP.”

  I take the memory card out of the camera and stash it in the invisible Velcro pocket in my shorts. Sure comes in handy right now.

  “Give me the spare card from the bag,” I bark.

  I insert the card Mick hands me and switch the camera back on. I take a few random shots of the water, the boat approaching, and the fishing reels set up. Then I take off the large lens.

  “Give me a goofy face,” I say to Mick, aiming the camera at his open mouth.

  “What the fuck?” he says, and frowns, deepening the lines between his brows.

  “Just do it!” I yell.

  He forces a pathetic grin, and I take a few snaps of him before stashing the camera under a towel. Within the shelter of the cabin I load my Glock, and slip it into the covert holster in my shorts. Mick does the same. Who knows what the fuck will go down here, but we need to be prepared.

  The vessel slows beside us. Our boat rolls high on the swell it creates. This time there’s no sight of the deckhands. Not a good sign. Less witnesses.

  The muscleman without the ink ties a rope to the side rail on our boat. The boats now ride the rough swell together.

  “How we doin’, homies?” Perez says, looking between Mick and I with a narrowed gaze. He grips the rope and leans closer, peeking around into the cabin.

  “Good, mate, you?” Mick says, like a true professional.

  “You catch anything today?” he asks, and glances towards our fishing rods. They’re unbaited and sitting in their metal holders.

  “Nothing biting today, mate. We were just packin’ up and about to head home.”

  Perez juts his chin towards his minders and they each take position beside him, arms crossed under their chest.

  “You fish out here regularly?” My heart pounds as his beady eyes scan over us from head to toe. “Not many boats out this way.”

  “One of the blogs said there were some good fish to be caught out here. We thought we’d try our luck before we brought any customers this way. Don’t think we’ll bother again,” Mick says.

  The two thugs board our boat and start poking around. Not what we fucking need.

  “Listen, is there something we can help you with?” I interject. It brings a scowl from Perez, who decides to board too.

  “Just lookin’ around. Might be looking to get into the fishing business myself.”

  I lean back against the cabin door. My gun is a comfort as it digs into my side. I hate the thought of having to use this, but if push comes to shove ...

  Mick backs up closer to the steering wheel. “Well, I wouldn’t get a piece of shit like this. It was all I could afford. I could put you in touch with a mate who works with a lot of the big suppliers.”

  The tattooed muscle lifts the beach towel beside Mick, revealing the camera with the telescopic lens beside it.

  Fuck! We’re committed now.

  “What the fuck is this shit?” he growls, snatching up the camera.

  “Birthday gift from the missus,” Mick says, not missing a beat.

  He turns it on. The device beeps as he scrolls through the photos.

  “You fuckin’ watching us, huh? Who the fuck do you work for?”

  “What do you mean? I just got it for my birthday, mate. I’d die to have a boat like yours, and I took some pics to show my wife. I’m just a fucking dreamer,” Mick pleads.

  “Liar,” he shouts and throws the camera into the ocean, then crushes the lens beneath his boot, glass splintering across the deck.

  The thug takes a gun from the back of his pants and swings the barrel, hitting Mick’s temple with brute force. He falls to the ground like a sack of shit. A dark trickle of blood slides down his forehead.

  We’re fucked here. Beyond fucked.

  I pull my gun and take aim between the offending thug’s eyes. Pain slices through my abdomen. The deafening sound of a gunshot rings in my ears.

  “Not a smart move, homie,” Perez grunts. “Now fuckin’ drop it.”

  I drop my gun and hunch over, compressing the point of impact with both hands. I’ve been shot? Blood seeps from my gut, coating my fingers in the sticky, warm liquid. So this is what it feels like.

  Someone steps forward and kicks my gun out of reach. A knee collides with my head, blurring my vision. I fall back. The wind is knocked out of my lungs with the impact of smashing into the cabin door.

  “Wait,” I plead. “This is just a misunderstanding.”

  “I’m not a dumb cunt. What kind of fishermen carry this kind of photography gear and a Glock? I smell a fucking pig.”

  He turns to face th
e others, holding the rail as the boat rides the peak of the swell. I shuffle closer to the cabin, trying to reach the gun concealed within the lifejackets.

  “Finish the pig off,” Perez orders. His top lip sniggers, providing a glimpse of a gold tooth.

  No! I won’t let it end like this!

  I force my eyes open wider, to find a distorted image of a man aiming a pistol at my head. A shit-eating grin sniggers across his lips.

  I reach towards the lifejackets. A sharp pain from my earlier wound rips up my side, immobilising me.

  It’s over.

  A loud crash comes from the deck of the yacht. Our boat slams into the swell, a wave of water splashing over the deck.

  A shot rings out.

  With a heavy thud, pain radiates from my chest, stealing my breath.

  “Let’s get the fuck gone. These fuckin’ pigs deserve a slow death. They’re as good as dead anyway, out here,” someone shouts.

  Another torrent of water sprays into the boat. Keys rattle and the yacht’s engines roar, becoming fainter with each passing moment.

  I reach around for where the emergency beacon should be. The pain blinds me, my vision clouding. I close my eyes and am gifted with a vision of a sunny day and Willow running towards me on the beach, in that teeny white bikini.

  As the warm liquid seeps between my fingers, regret creeps in.

  She’ll never know how much I love her.

  I never got to tell her.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  WILLOW

  “These are for table nine,” I inform Gabs, as I slide the two cappuccinos towards her. She smirks at me, probably a result of the chipper tone in my voice, and then carries them out. It’s surprising what a few simple texts can do. I haven’t had time to look at my phone all morning, because we’ve been run off our feet. I can’t wait to find out what truth is waiting for me when I next do.