Operation Turtle Ransom: A suspenseful, wild-ride-of-an-adventure on a tropical beach in Mexico (Poppy McVie Mysteries Book 4)

by Kimberli A. Bindschatel

  He came around to the back of the truck, and with one step on the mound, he was in the back with me.

  I immediately shifted to a defensive stance, my feet and body aligned, elbows bent, hands out in front of me. His demeanor seemed carefree. His hands were free of anything—weapons or otherwise. Nonetheless, I was in the middle of nowhere. Alone.

  “You are bonita, señorita,” he said, his eyes all flirty, in no hurry to explain why they’d stopped. “You should not be out here all alone you know.”

  I stared back at him. Was he a harmless teenage boy with the bold swagger typical of Mexican men or should I coldcock him right now and take the truck? The driver might be a problem. He was the wild card. I tried to catch a glance inside the cab, but the back window was so dirty, I couldn’t see anything. I scanned the surrounding area. Meadow, a fence line choked with bushes. No one in sight.

  When I didn’t answer, the boy looked insulted. With a flick of his hand, he unclipped the bungee cords from the dirt bike, took hold of the handlebars and wheeled it backward onto the dirt mound, then down the other side.

  He climbed onto the bike, kicked it to start, revved the engine, then turned to me. “Are you coming or what?”

  “With you? On the bike?” He had to be kidding.

  “Do you want the ride or not?”

  On a motorcycle? He could take me anywhere. Far into the wilderness where I’d never be found. Or right to the Tiki bar.

  And what was I going to do with the dog? I couldn’t leave her out here in the middle of a field.

  The driver put the truck in gear. Crap.

  I slung my backpack over my shoulders and hopped from the truck.

  “C’mon girl,” I called.

  The dog gave me a wary look and stayed put.

  “C’mon.”

  Nope. I slipped off my pack and found a half-eaten protein bar. I broke off a corner and held it out. She dropped her head and took one step toward me. Then hesitated.

  “It’s okay, girl.”

  She took another step, then another, giving in to the scent of food.

  When she licked and nibbled, I held it tight, keeping her close, then reached around and scooped her up in my arms. She wriggled and bucked but I held her snug.

  “I can’t leave you here, so relax, girl.”

  The boy smirked and shook his head with amusement.

  I looked at the motorbike. With my backpack on and a wriggling dog in my arms, how was I going to get on the back of that thing?

  He must have read my mind because he let loose a chuckle, then, to rub it in, he revved the engine.

  “It’s okay, girl,” I said and slung my leg over the back of the bike. Somehow, I managed to get the dog situated with front legs on one side, back legs on the other, then I scooched forward, pressing her between us and wrapped my arms around the boy to hang on. “Vámonos!”

  Chapter Two

  I can report that the roads in rural Mexico are really a series of potholes. I’m not sure my hind end will ever forgive me. Neither will the dog. The entire ride she had those cartoon eyes—wide, round saucers with a glassy sheen of terror.

  Our dismount from the back of the dirt bike wasn’t pretty either. The dog leaped from my arms, did some kind of triple salchow in the air, barrel-rolled to a stop, then scurried off to pee in the grass.

  My hair was wound up into a nest so tight, if a family of swallows moved in, I’d never know it. I swear, every inch of me was coated in powdery dust save for the spots behind my sunglasses. Must’ve looked like a white raccoon mask. My stiff legs didn’t want to hold me up. I felt like a cowboy, home from a two-week cattle rustle.

  But I’d made it. Late, but I’d made it. And in one piece. My vacation could officially begin. Three days of pure relaxation in sunny Mexico with my best friend.

  The Tiki bar was right down on the beach, a ramshackle place with a roof that was one part palapa, one part corrugated tin, all sagging toward the middle. White plastic tables and chairs were stuck in the sand.

  This was no five-star resort, that was for sure. I hoped it was the right place.

  I thanked the boy for the ride.

  “Be careful, bonita, this is Caballeros country,” he said, his gaze on my chest. Then he spun the bike around with one foot on the ground and sped off.

  No kidding.

  Chris must have seen me arrive because he was headed toward me when I turned around. I plowed into his arms.

  No where on Earth feels as much like home. Chris was as close to family as I had since my dad died, and my mom, well, I didn’t need to go there right now. Chris and I were both military brats and had learned to find roots where we could.

  I’d missed him. In fact, I hadn’t seen him for more than an hour since I’d graduated from training. He worked as a flight attendant, galavanting around the globe, and since I was a new agent with the U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service, I’d been running from one undercover operation to the next.

  He’d been right about one thing: I needed a break from it all. No bad guys. No getting shot at. No following orders.

  He wrapped his arms around me and snugged me close, gave me the signature Chris squeeze. “How’s my Poppy girl? Besides late. I was starting to get all kinds of worried when you didn’t get off the last bus. I swear, I started to think you’d been kidnapped or something.” He tried to pull away, but I held on. I needed another moment. Just a little longer. Chris was my rock. And I needed my rock. I didn’t realize how much until right this moment.

  “I’m okay,” I said and—I have no idea why—my eyes got wet with tears.

  “Hey there, what’s got you down?” Chris said, all concerned.

  “Nothing,” I lied. Well, not exactly. I didn’t feel down. Just relieved. Happy to be with him. “It’s this dry Mexican air.” I wiped my eyes. “Really. The dust.”

  Chris stared at me for a moment with those soft, hazel eyes. “Uh huh.”

  “I’ve missed you. This was a great idea, to meet here, get away from it all. It’s beautiful.”

  It was true. Blue skies. Lush green foliage. Sandy beach. Eighty-five degrees.

  “Yes, it is. And relaxing, which is the point,” he said, holding out his hand, gesturing for me to follow him to the table and sit. “What happened? What held you up? Wait, don’t tell me. It has something to do with the dog, right?”

  The pup had circled back and jumped up on Chris, wagging her tail like they were long lost pals.

  “Hey, I’m the one who saved you,” I said, hands on my hips.

  “You’re so cute,” he cooed, rubbing her ears. “What happened?”

  “She got caught chasing chickens.”

  “Ah.” He touched his nose to her nose. “Well, aren’t you lucky Miss Poppy came along.” He looked up at me. “So, does she have a name?”

  I shook my head.

  “I’m going to call her Lucky.”

  I unclipped the straps on my backpack and dropped it next to the table. Lately, I’d become accustomed to its weight, its feel on my back, like it was part of me, but it was a relief to shed the burden.

  I saw an electrical outlet and took the opportunity to plug in my phone, then slumped into the chair across from Chris.

  “You look like hell,” he said, taking the chair across from me. Lucky snugged up to his leg.

  “It was quite the trek to get here. Two flights, one cab, three buses, one pick-up truck, one dirt bike, and—believe it or not—an offer to ride a burro, sort of. But I’m here.” I looked around the bar. “Where is here anyway?”

  “Heaven.” He winked. “There are a couple private, posh resorts about fifteen or twenty miles north of here, but yeah, otherwise, we’re pretty much in the outback. I figured you’d like it,” Chris said, those eyes glued to me like he thought I might bolt.

  I breathed in the warm, briny air. “Wasn’t what I was expecting, but hey, I’m going with it. This is your rodeo.”

  The waiter arrived, johnny-on-the-spot, handing
us our menus.

  The dog instinctively skeddaled.

  “Two cups of your famous tortilla soup to get us started,” Chris said.

  “Y dos copas de rojo,” I added. “Lo que usted recomienda para emparejar con la sopa.” And two glasses of red. Whatever you recommend to pair with the soup.

  The waiter bowed with a smile, but lifted his head slowly. “Lo siento. No tenemos vino. Pero podría hacer una llamada—” I’m sorry. We don’t have any wine. But I could make a call—

  Chris held up his hand to silence the man. “You ordered wine, didn’t you? I might not speak Spanish, but I know you. This isn’t really a wine kind of a place.”

  “Right. Man, am I tired.” To the waiter, I said, “Dos cervezas, por favor.”

  That brought a smile and a nod and he headed for the kitchen.

  “Don’t let the decor fool you,” Chris said. “This place has the best food. That’s how they make it go. They draw the tourists from so far.”

  “Good, because I’m starving. I’m going to pig out, then find a hammock on the beach and sleep for three days.”

  “I know you’re kidding. You’re incapable of sitting still.”

  “I am not.”

  “And you invite trouble.” His eyes went to the dog who’d found a couple three tables over who were dropping scraps for her. “What are you going to do with her?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Didn’t think it through, huh?”

  “They would’ve killed her.”

  He nodded in understanding. “Swear you’ll try to relax.”

  I held up my hands in mock surrender. “Swear it. On my honor. No trouble.”

  “Besides the dust. And your hair,” he smirked, “You look like yourself again. How’s it feel to be back in your own clothes? You little bohemian-chic princess. Your face has healed well. Your arm and leg feeling okay?”

  “I’m fine,” I said, attempting a dismissive tone.

  He frowned. “And Dalton? He’s recovering well?”

  I nodded. The damn tears threatened to surface again.

  Dalton and I had just come off an operation in Alaska where we’d been undercover as a brother and sister team on a grizzly bear hunt that hadn’t exactly gone as planned. I’d come home with a few bumps and bruises. He’d suffered a lot worse. “You know how Navy SEALs are. Indestructible. At least according to him.” I had to change the subject. I wasn’t ready to talk about Dalton. “But we didn’t get them all. There are still poachers out there killing bears. That’s what hurts.”

  “Well, that’s just your ego. You’ll survive,” he said with a wink.

  A smile sneaked onto my face.

  “Remember. You’re officially on vacation. That means no talking about work. Got it?”

  “Got it.” I nodded. “Except,” my finger shot up. The plane. I needed him to check the flights. I had to get back in three days. Nope. I wasn’t going to say anything. He knew.

  Chris looked at me for a long moment. “Except?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Fine.” He leaned back in the chair and eyed me. “I can’t believe you’re actually here. I thought for sure you’d bail on me at the last minute.”

  “What? Why?” I frowned.

  “Because I know you.”

  I shook my head. “I promised, remember? Besides—” I moved to the edge of my seat “—I’m dying to hear this big secret. Now give it up.”

  “Patience,” he said with a sly grin. “In good time. Let’s eat first.”

  “You’re quitting your job, moving here and buying a Mexican restaurant?”

  He grinned.

  “Training to be a yoga instructor?”

  Chris shook his head, amused.

  I crossed my arms. “Don’t tell me you’ve found religion.”

  That one made him laugh out loud.

  The waiter appeared with our soup and plastic cups filled with beer. “Are you ready to order?” he asked.

  “We’re not in a hurry,” Chris said, waving him off.

  “Wait,” I said. I picked up the menu and pointed. “Some of these, please.”

  He nodded with a grin and left us.

  I turned to Chris. “I love Mexican hospitality. It’s too bad about all the negative publicity, the rise in crime. It’s going to kill tourism here and good people will be the ones to suffer.” I picked up my spoon and slurped in a mouthful of spicy yumminess. “My god, that’s good.”

  Chris held up his beer and spread his arms wide. “Look at this beautiful place.”

  Ocean waves lapped on the shore, sparkling with reflections of the sun. “What better spot to relax and simply enjoy time with your bestie?” he said and held out his cup.

  I picked mine up and smacked it against his. “To a no stress, laid back, do nothing vacation.”

  “Now you’ve got the idea,” he said and took a swig.

  I leaned back in my chair, drew in a long, deep breath. “You’re right. You’re always right.”

  “So, tell me what’s going on with Dalton.”

  My stomach clenched and I shifted in my chair.

  “That bad, huh?”

  “As usual, we were arguing. He was worried about the hunt, you know, whether I’d be able to pull the trigger. And then he said—” What had he said? Something about wishing he could see the world the way I do. “I don’t know. We kissed.”

  Chris propped his elbows on the table and lowered his chin to his clasped hands. His eyes bright, he said, “And?”

  “Stop it.”

  He sat back in his chair. “What’s the big deal? You’re both adults. It’s about time.”

  “He’s my partner. I could get fired. It’s not like he works two cubicles down and it’s just some office policy thing. We let our guard down. Our cover was brother and sister for god’s sake.”

  “Well, some families are kinda—”

  “Chris! This isn’t funny. We damn near got killed!”

  His grin disappeared. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

  “What am I going to do?”

  “I think you’re overthinking it. I mean, honey, we love who we love. Besides, you’re so damn cute together.”

  I shook my head. “You don’t understand.”

  The waiter arrived with a tray loaded with tortillas and salsa and plates of beans covered in melted cheese. I picked up a warm tortilla, filled it with spiced black beans, rolled it up and shoved the end into my mouth. “So good,” I muttered with my mouth full.

  Chris grinned. “That’s what I love about you.”

  “What?”

  “Uninhibited.” He made himself a bean tortilla, took a bite, then swallowed before he said, “You want to know what I think? I think once you two hook up, I mean, let a little steam out of this”—he gestured up and down my body—“hot mess, and you’re not walking around all the time on the verge of bursting, the undercover stuff won’t be an issue.”

  “Are you not hearing me?” I crossed my arms. “This is my job we’re talking about. Just last week I heard about two field agents getting fired. The agency forbids fraternization. Period.”

  “Yeah, for what reason?”

  “Ooooh, you’ve gotta try that salsa,” I said, pointing to the salsa verde. “I don’t know. If you’re a couple, I guess they’d worry you’d care too much about the welfare of the other person rather than focus on doing your job.”

  “What? You aren’t supposed to care about your partner? Isn’t that the point? You’ve got each other’s backs?”

  “Well, yeah, but…” I shrugged. Hadn’t Dalton tried to explain this very thing to me once? His justification for keeping women out of combat? “I think it’s more about the men, feeling like they need to take care of a woman, distracting them from their own jobs. Or maybe it’s the way people are when they’re dating, you know, all focused on each other at the expense of everything around them. I don’t know. Or maybe it’s… It’s just not acceptable, you know. It clouds your jud
gement.”

  “You sure are trying to convince someone.”

  I sat back. Was that what I was doing?

  “How would they ever know?”

  Like that hadn’t crossed my mind. I opened my mouth to remind him again about the agents who’d been fired last week, but he cut me off.

  “You know what? I’m sure you’re right,” Chris said. “Dalton really isn’t the right guy for you anyway.”

  “Don’t give me that reverse psychology crap.” I grabbed another tortilla and slapped it on his plate, then took another one for myself. “I can see it a mile away.”

  “Fine,” he said. “I’m just saying. Maybe it’s because you’ve spent so much time together lately. Sometimes attraction comes from proximity, you know.” He spooned some beans onto his plate. “Some time away might be a good thing. Maybe he won’t seem so attractive.”

  “Yeah, I suppose.”

  He set down the spoon and looked at me. “I think a date is in order. Maybe a blind date.”

  “No. God no.”

  “You know you could…” He left the thought hanging out there.

  “What? I could what?”

  “You could start things up again with Noah. I bet he—”

  “Oh, no. Nope.” I shook my head.

  Noah Kingston. Just the mention of his name made my insides melt and set my brain afire. When I was with him, all sense of right and wrong went out the window. He was an animal activist I’d met in Costa Rica while on my first undercover op. Actually, to be more accurate, I’d have to call him a renegade eco-warrior. He was intense. We’d hit it off, to put it mildly, but I’d called it quits when the op was done. It was how it had to be. “Another mistake.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  I frowned. “That man is nothing but trouble. I mean, it’s like, when we were together, I had no impulse control or something. No. Bad news.”

  “You’re older and wiser now.”

  “It was, like, three months ago.”

  “I don’t understand you sometimes. That man was fine. And more than a hot biscuit. Brains, passion, money. Are you sure—”

  I leaned forward, kept my voice low. “I slept with him while I was undercover and I damn near lost my job because of that.”