by Matt Lincoln
“Excuse me, miss. Do you want a side or drink?”
Emily felt her cheeks warm. She wasn’t prone to distractions, especially not to people she’d never met.
“Chips and a sweet tea, please.”
She paid for her order and started to walk toward the pickup counter and felt a sharp tug at her head.
“Ow!”
She turned and found a middle-aged white woman holding one of her waist-length braids.
“Let go,” she cried.
“It’s so pretty,” the woman said. She dropped the braid. “I didn’t mean anything by it. I wish I could braid my hair like that.”
Emily pushed down the urge to shout at the woman. Instead, she faked a smile long enough to turn and march to the end of the counter where her food would arrive. People never “meant anything” by touching her hair, no matter how she’d styled it throughout her life.
“Are you okay?” a pleasantly baritone voice asked.
She looked up and into Ethan Marston’s eyes. Blue like the Caribbean she so loved, those eyes were deep with intelligence. With soul.
“Uh, yeah. I’m okay. Happens all the time.”
Well, not okay, exactly, but she was used to it. Her dad would hate it, but she’d been thinking about taking the braids to shoulder’s length so they’d be less of a temptation for grabby hands.
“It shouldn’t happen at all. People need to keep their hands to their damned selves.”
He gave the woman behind her the best stink eye she’d seen in years. Maybe her dad’s picks weren’t all bad. Then again, maybe this was the one time he just wanted to send her some consultation business. She cleared her throat.
“So, I’m meeting one of my dad’s clients here for lunch,” she ventured.
“You’re Emily?” he blurted out.
Her heart dropped. People always did that. She looked nothing like her dad even though her personality was more his than her mother’s had been.
“I am.” She assumed her professional demeanor and stuck out a hand to shake. “You must be Ethan.”
He took her hand in his and gave a warm shake.
“It’s good to meet you,” he said. “I saw you outside but thought you’d gone inside already. If I’d known, I would’ve waited for you.”
“You texted when I was getting out of my car. It’s okay,” she replied as their orders were announced.
“Well, the problem with that was that I was supposed to buy you lunch,” Ethan said, and his eyes twinkled in a way that made her giggle as they found a booth together. She wasn’t a giggler. Geez, what was wrong with her?
“My dad said you have an interest in pirate treasure.” She figured it was best to get down to business. Those eyes were a distraction, and she was there as a professional. Yes, a professional, she reminded herself. “What would you like to know?”
He worked on his Reuben for a minute, as if using the sandwich as an excuse to think. Something about a fleeting look on his face suggested conflict. Sometimes a person needed time. She waited and ate a few bites of her own lunch.
“Have you ever heard of the Dragon’s Rogue?” he finally asked.
Emily sat up straighter. No wonder her dad had called.
“Captain ‘Mad Dog’ Grendel was something of a legend.” She tamped down the surge of excitement. “Hunters have been searching for the wreck for years. Did you find it? Is that where you got the coins?”
A smile flitted across his lips. The man knew something.
“I wish,” he answered. “The ship belonged to my ancestor, Lord Finch-Hatton. We found his remains a few months ago in a cave along the shore. The coins and a pinnace were close to the body. DNA testing confirmed the identity and his relation to my family.”
She couldn’t contain her grin. “That’s fantastic! Were there any clues to the ship’s sinking?”
He gave a slight shake of his head. “Not from that scene. Just that he’d either stolen the pinnace or was stranded. My guess is that he escaped.”
Ethan showed her the location on his phone map.
“That’s in the area of the ship’s known sightings,” she told him. “There are records of Mad Dog’s incursions as far southeast as Barbados and north to Charleston, South Carolina.”
Ethan’s eyebrows raised a fraction and then settled. This man didn’t like to broadcast his emotions, Emily realized. His chiseled features were attractive but also conveyed a hardness gained through experience. Her dad had said something about military service. This man must have seen some tough situations.
“I knew they came up past Miami,” he said, “but I didn’t know they made it to Charleston.” He caught her eye. “There were thousands of pirate crews back then. How do you know so much about Dragon’s Rogue?”
“When Dad called, I looked it up in a database.” Emily spread her hands wide. “You’re right. There were thousands of pirates.” She set her palms on the table. “They’re still entering information from handwritten records through crowdsourced volunteers online. Dragon’s Rogue appears a few times in piracy reports throughout the lower East Coast and the Caribbean, but they’re sporadic.”
“Where were the last reports of activity?”
“Somewhere between here and Nassau, actually.” At his nod, she cocked her head. “You aren’t surprised.”
He allowed a slight smile. “My grandfather and I did a lot of research. We missed the Charleston information, but the rest of our legwork puts the wreck somewhere in that line.”
Emily blinked. “If you already knew that, why talk to me?”
Ethan crossed his arms, but he leaned back with a brighter smile. Relaxed but closed off. Interesting.
“You study the Caribbean, and you know about piracy back in the sixteen hundreds,” he explained. “Maybe you can help me narrow the search area for the wreck. It’s out there. Gramps felt it, and I feel it.”
Emily knew the feeling. As they finished their sandwiches, their conversation stalled out. Eventually, Emily’s curiosity won over.
“What do you do for a living?” she asked.
He took a long pull from his drink and regarded her. She felt as though he was judging something she couldn’t name. Whatever it was, she apparently passed his judgment.
“Ever hear of MBLIS?” he asked. “Stands for Military Border Liaison Investigative Services.”
Although the acronym rang a distant bell, she couldn’t recall anything specific. Maybe something on a news website or blog.
“So you’re some sort of investigator for the military?” she asked.
“You could say that. We cover cases that happen in international waters or cross international borders through those waters.” A wry grin appeared. “It’s a mouthful, but it’s a way to do good.” The grin vanished under a shadow. “Our job is to stop some nasty people.”
It hit Emily where she’d heard the acronym, and it was recent.
“Are you on that case with those women found at the dockyards?”
His eyes narrowed, but he didn’t seem to be seeing her. “Yeah. We get some of the trafficking cases. This one is… unique.”
Excitement and dread mixed in Emily’s belly. The study of piracy was only part of her expertise. Over the past two or three years, she found herself learning about other dark secrets in the Caribbean.
“I know a few things about trafficking.” She spoke slowly and softly. “That’s not my primary area of expertise, but I’ve been catching up on the history of it.”
“Ever hear of branding the victims?” he asked with a stony face.
Emily sighed and nodded. “It’s a common practice. The pimps mark the victims as their property. It can be barcodes, names, any number of things.”
“Yeah, and on any tattooable part of the body,” he added.
“Do you have a photo of the tattoos?” she ventured.
“It’s part of the investigation. I can’t share it unless you’re brought in to consult.”
Pain flickered thro
ugh those eyes. Yeah, he’d seen some nasty business, she decided. But there was something about him that compelled her to act.
“If I can help, I want to,” she offered.
“I have to think about it.” His phone vibrated, and he took a look. “Excuse me. It’s work.”
“Of course.”
Emily watched him go outside. Despite the heavy nature their conversation had shifted to, she couldn’t help but appreciate his backside as he walked away. Her heart raced. Did she want to get involved because she wanted to help or because she wanted to be near this person she’d only known for the space of a meal? She valued honesty, overall to herself. The truth was she wanted to help for both reasons.
He returned within five minutes.
“The survivor is awake again and is willing to talk some more,” he told her. “I know more about trafficking than I ever wanted to, Miss Meyer. It’s a cruel business. This young woman is going to need a lot of time to heal.”
Emily stood.
“I want to meet her.”
“What?”
“I want to meet her,” she repeated. “If she’ll let me. She should have an advocate already, but she probably needs a friend. She’s far from home, after all.”
Ethan shook his head. “Not a good idea. She’s under guard for her safety. If you go, you’ll be at risk, just like everyone else around her.”
“In other words, she’s alone in a sea of people.” Emily emptied the remains of her lunch into the garbage and set the tray on the dirty stack. “Sounds to me like she needs someone there to act as a friend, not a staff member.” She looked directly into those sea-blue eyes. “I’m sure Dad didn’t know to tell you that I spent time as a volunteer working with trafficking survivors. Caribbean history has included human trade for centuries. My knowledge isn’t current, but it serves.”
He looked around and then to her as his jaw tightened.
“Look, you can follow me to the hospital,” he said, but he held up a hand. “I’ll ask her if she wants a visitor, someone who just wants to be a friend. If she says ‘yes,’ you sign in and follow the rules, and you gotta know she’s in rough shape. If she says ‘no,’ you leave.”
Emily’s common sense screamed at her to not get involved, but something deeper overrode it. She’d gotten into trouble before for following her heart. Chances were she’d get in trouble now.
“Let’s do it.”
14
The lunch with Emily made me feel more human than I had in months. There was something about her dark, soulful eyes that pulled me in, especially when she pinned me with that eye contact. Her desire to help not just with my treasure hunt but a total stranger spoke to a big heart, and I knew I wanted to get to know her more.
Since Tessa had returned to New York City, I’d pushed through work because bad guys needed to be caught and good guys saved. That’s how it worked. But being with Tessa, even just for a short time, had meant something. Love? No, not that, exactly, but a kind of companionship I wasn’t used to.
As I drove to the hospital, I realized that craving for companionship was alive after a mere hour with Emily. It didn’t hurt that when she walked, her umber braids danced around her waist like an invitation to pull her in for a kiss. Intelligence, kindness, and looks… she had it all, and I was in trouble.
I was a damned fool for letting her tag along to see Luci, and I almost hoped Luci wouldn’t want a visitor. On the other hand, I hoped she would.
As I walked Emily up to Luci’s room, I nodded to MBLIS and Metro officers I recognized. Most of the extra officers and agents were in plainclothes, but a few token uniforms walked through the building as a deterrent. I wasn’t convinced that uniforms would deter the traffickers after Luci, but I held out hope that we had enough people to prevent a tragedy.
A nurse led me past a pair of uniformed officers and into Luci’s room. She shrank into her covers as I approached, so I stopped several feet from the door.
“I’m not here to hurt you, Miss Ramírez,” I spoke in my gentlest tone. On the inside, I wanted to destroy whoever did this to her. “We can bring a female agent in if that would help.”
She took a shuddering breath and shook her head.
“Tell you what.” I gestured toward the door. I knew I shouldn’t do this, but Luci looked so afraid and alone. Emily had been right. “I have a friend out in the hall who’d like to meet you. She heard about what happened, and she’s worried about you being alone.”
The nurse gave me a sour look.
“I mean, away from home, without friends.” I turned toward the nurse. “She also spent time helping people in similar situations.”
I noticed Luci’s face was less swollen as she glanced toward the hall. The physical healing process was beginning. The rest? Time would tell.
“My best friends, they are dead.” Her words were barely audible above the soft sounds of the building’s ventilation and her IV machines. “My family disowned me.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said. “Would you rather my friend leave? She’ll understand if you’d like to be given space.”
Luci closed her eyes. Angry skin around the tattoo lines suggested an infection. Her hair fell forward as she dipped her chin, and the ink and bruises disappeared.
“I would like a visitor,” she said. “Someone who doesn’t want something from me. Will she be happy to sit with a broken person?”
“It’s your choice,” I told her.
“Yes, please. I would like to meet this friend of yours.”
Guilt ate at me for calling Emily a friend. She was a stranger more than not, but there was something earnest and good about her. Diane was going to kill me for this, but it felt right.
I met Emily in the hall and saw that she’d already signed in.
“Go easy,” I told her. “She’s traumatized as hell, and she still has a lot of bruising. She looks like she was in a bad wreck.”
Emily stiffened for a moment and then nodded. “Does she need a friend?”
“Yes.”
“I’m here, and I’m a damned good friend.” She flashed me a sad smile. “Don’t worry, Ethan, I’ve had a lot of practice at visiting people in hospitals.”
Without another word, she stepped into the room ahead of me. I intended to ask about that at a better time if we were to meet again.
“Hi, I’m Emily.”
I watched the women introduce themselves to each other. Something about Emily’s easy-going nature helped Luci relax. I found a chair and sat in a corner, back from the pair, to let Luci get used to my presence. I wasn’t a trained advocate, and the one assigned to the hospital that day wasn’t available, so I did my best to not make Luci feel threatened.
After a half-hour or so, Emily looked up at me.
“Ethan, what are your questions?” she asked.
She had one of Luci’s hands cradled between both of hers, and Luci sat a little straighter. Sometimes my instincts weren’t half bad.
“Just an update,” I told them. “Emily, you won’t repeat anything that’s said here?”
“Of course not.”
“May I come a little closer, Miss Ramírez?” I asked.
“Yes, Agent Marston.” She allowed a slow nod. “You may call me Luci.”
I stood and brought the chair to the foot of her bed. It hit me that Holm would’ve been more intimidating simply by hovering over everyone in the room. I wasn’t short, but I’d learned how not to loom, and that was a good skill in situations like this.
“You can call me whatever you feel most comfortable with.” I was careful to keep my voice soft, gentle. “Agent Marston, Ethan, Jackass, it’s up to you.”
The corner of her mouth tilted upward. That was a good start.
“We found the man you told us about, Sealy,” I said. She closed her eyes and nodded. “He is going to help us get to the person who did these things to you.”
“It was… it was many people,” she whispered.
Emily caress
ed Luci’s hand as a tear rolled off her chin.
“I know. To stop them, we need to get to their boss. When we get him, we will get the others.” I hoped. Sometimes the snakes found the cracks, but she didn’t need to hear that. “My team is going to Barbados the day after tomorrow. We’re going to do everything we can to bring them down, and to free the other… the other survivors.”
One of the things we were taught in our training sessions was what words to use around people. We gave Bonnie a hard time about the hacker versus cracker thing, but with people who’d be hurt, it was serious. Don’t call the Lucis of the world victims, if we could help it. They were survivors.
“These people are dangerous,” Luci warned.
She met my gaze for a microsecond and looked away. Someone was going to die for doing that to her.
“Me and my team, Luci, we’re as dangerous as it gets.”
She squeezed Emily’s hand so tight that Emily winced, but she let Luci squeeze as much as she needed. All this for a stranger.
“I am going to go with you,” Luci announced. “I will go to Barbados and help you all I can.”
Emily gasped. “Oh, hey, you don’t need to do that.”
“Yes. This is who I am.” This time, Luci’s eyes locked onto me and barely flinched. “I fight for people who can’t. I did this in my home country, and now I will do this for the people I left behind. They are in cages, Agent Marston. They are hurt until they do everything they are told. Then he sells them. I cannot stay here while they are tortured.”
I couldn’t say no to her. I’d let Diane do it. She was the boss.
“Me, too,” Emily blurted.
“What?”
Luci flinched at my sharp response. I felt bad, but Emily had taken me by surprise. She’d known me less than a day and Luci for an even shorter time. These women were not thinking straight.
“I’m going. Luci needs me, and you could use a historical consultant.” Emily patted Luci’s hand and then stood. Her “dare me” expression was more nerve-racking than facing some of the most dangerous assholes of my career.
“That’s not up to me,” I told them. “You two sit on this. I’ll talk to the MBLIS director, Diane Ramsey. It’s her call.”
