She traveled slightly lower and nipped his chin with her lips. His breathing quickened, and she savored a flash of triumph before his hands came up to frame the sides of her face and hold her still.
But it was the heat in his eyes that pinned her in place.
It also had her catching her breath in anticipation. But he made her wait, playing the same game she just had. His thumbs brushed her cheeks as his head moved closer. He nudged her chin higher, tilted her head back, and came even closer. He was near enough that she could feel his breath, the warmth of his skin.
A soft moan escaped her.
“Is this what you want?” he whispered against her lips.
“Yes…no,” she responded in utter confusion. “I…”
He captured her mouth with firm pressure, his hands sliding around her and pulling her tight against him. She responded mindlessly, wrapping her arms around his neck and reveling in his strength.
He pressed her back onto the bed and ran his hands through her hair. He nibbled her lips, her neck, tasted her skin. She moaned again as one big hand glided across her breast and lower, only to slide under her tank top and touch bare skin.
Desire spiked hard when his lips captured hers again, and she’d gone ragged by the time he lifted his head.
“Your curiosity satisfied?” he calmly asked her.
The words acted like a bucket of cold water, and she stiffened. Dear Lord! She’d totally lost control of the situation. And fast.
Embarrassment flooded her cheeks, and she shoved him away from her and sat up. Her hands were shaking and her insides quivered like jelly, yet he sat at the edge of the bed with a serene smile that clearly said he’d known what she had attempted to do. Known, took control, and used it to his advantage.
It also pointed out her complete lack of romantic finesse.
“You’re a cad,” she whispered harshly, anger beginning to take the place of embarrassment.
He just laughed. “Hardly. Just an obliging partner.”
Her jaw clenched in self-disgust as Finn stood and pulled the covers aside on his bed, then climbed in.
“I anticipate an eventful day tomorrow,” he said. “Get some sleep.”
She didn’t respond, didn’t know what to say. How could he fall asleep after that little lust-filled scene? She rolled down her covers and climbed beneath, battling emotions that were all over the place. She had every right to be furious, but then again, she started this. She couldn’t fault him for her lack of self-control or common sense. She also didn’t understand her overwhelming response to a man she’d met less than twenty-four hours ago.
The man from NorthStar will be your guide.
He switched off the light. “Goodnight, Chloe.”
She rolled over, presenting her back to him. Despite bone-deep exhaustion, sleep was a long time coming.
Chapter 6
“Boca Chica welcomes turistas, not pirates,” the town’s police captain declared with a heavy Spanish accent.
It was an instant replay of the St. Lucia Port Authority. Lack of cooperation seemed to be a common thread in the Caribbean. Worse than that, Finn hated being lied to. He may have lost his mother at a tender age, but she’d firmly instilled in him that liars stunk. And the guy sitting across the desk reeked. Worse than that, the captain had gone from friendly to cold when the words “stolen yacht” were mentioned, then followed up with a whopper of a fish-tale detailing a major police crack-down.
Something was rotten in Boca Chica.
Finn may be twice the fool for bringing one tempting and naïve historian on a risky job, but one thing he definitely wasn’t, and that was gullible. One glance around the tiny derelict precinct, and he knew they hadn’t enough funds or manpower to guard an elementary school crossing, much less staff an international crime task force.
“As a fellow lawman,” Finn said with mock sympathy, “I understand the necessity of discretion. But piracy reports indicate this area as a hot bed of activity lately.”
“Maybe,” the belligerent captain replied. “But our policía do heavy patrol. We protect our citizeens and property.”
“So if a missing ship is reported in the area, you’d know right where to investigate?”
“Sí, Santo Domingo,” the man answered.
When Chloe began to sputter beside him, Finn kicked her leg.
The captain didn’t notice as he warmed to his lies. “Boca Chica is safe and quiet. We have good business, happy people on vacation.”
Finn smiled. “There is difficulty in balancing tourism and potential crime.”
“It is difficult, sí.” The captain relaxed back in his chair, but his fingers formed a steeple as he gazed at them with obvious assessment.
It was time to bow out gracefully.
Finn stood. “We appreciate your time, Captain. We’ll be heading back to Santo Domingo this afternoon.” He shook hands with the man and ushered a mulish-looking Chloe back out to the car.
“What was all that blathering about?” she demanded the minute they were outside the police headquarters. “Why didn’t you insist on his cooperation?”
“Because, if I had, we’d stand no chance at all of finding the Emerald Fire.”
“Why not?”
“Boca Chica police are in league with the pirates.”
“You can’t know that!”
He opened the door to the rental for her. “I’ve been at this a long time, Chloe. I know the signs.”
With a look that clearly spelled frustration, Chloe climbed inside. He shut the door and circled around to the driver’s seat.
“Where to now?” she asked as he backed the Jeep out of their parking spot. “Because we aren’t leaving this town.”
“Market Square,” he replied. “We need some supplies.”
“Supplies for what?” she asked, her expression doubtful. “And what signs are you talking about?”
“Take a look out there.” He thumbed toward the window. “In depressed foreign economies like this one, local authorities are well paid to look the other way. In their defense, they probably don’t have many sources of income. Turning a blind eye toward piracy is a small price to pay to keep their department afloat.”
Her shoulders sagged in discouragement. “So if the police are in cahoots with the bad guys, our odds of getting the Fire back are slim.”
“Not necessarily.” Finn had one more idea.
Chloe tossed a hopeful glance his way. “Meaning?”
A herd of goats rushed onto the road from a tree-lined field, and he braked hard, their duffle bags hitting the back floorboard with a thump. The old Jeep idled roughly as they waited for the last goat to cross.
Finn used the time to lean close to her, brush her hair away from her ear and whisper, “You want to steal the yacht back?”
Her eyes widened in shock. Whether from his nearness or his words he couldn’t tell, but their close proximity had a strong effect on him. Or maybe it was the memory of last night, the feel of her soft skin, the way she tasted, the surge of lust that hit him when she arched her back while in his arms. Up close in broad daylight like this, he could see pale, barely visible freckles sprinkled across her nose. Why he thought that was appealing, he didn’t know, but the urge to kiss her would’ve knocked him down if he wasn’t already sitting.
“Steal the—are you serious?” she whispered back.
He’d completely lost all common sense. If all it took to distract him was a few freckles, captivating eyes, and lips that begged to be tasted, then he was in deep trouble. He settled back in his seat, forcing his brain to take control again.
“Oh, God.” Chloe closed her eyes, and when they reopened, he saw an excitement that suddenly made him nervous. “We’re going all James Bond aren’t we? I’m so on board with the idea.”
Well, hell. He’d done it this time. The goat herder waved at them when the last of his flock cleared the road, and Finn put the Jeep in gear,
beginning to roll. The plan to steal the yacht occurred to him last night, an idea likely borne of sexual frustration, and he’d only himself to blame. If he hadn’t been a total idiot out to prove a point, he wouldn’t have lain awake for hours afterward, thinking up the most insane way to carry out this job.
“We’ll have to act fast,” she was saying. “No long-term planning, just do it.” She was already working scenarios, and it scared him. He expected reluctance, not enthusiasm.
“You realize this is dangerous, right? The pirates will fight back, and we’ll probably get ourselves killed.” He was trying to discourage her, but he should have known better.
“Fight fire with fire I always say,” she said with a shrug.
He doubted she said that, but he’d play along, especially when there was no other choice. They pulled into the local shopping district, and she asked, “What’s your plan?” with too much zeal to suit his comfort level.
“I’m sort of winging this one.”
She frowned, rubbing at her chin in thought, and he inwardly cursed. He used to have good judgment. A level head. There was no logical reason to give a woman like Chloe an opening to cook up trouble. She’d comply without hesitation.
“Look, you might think you’ve fallen into a spy novel here, but what we’re talking about doing is foolish and risky.”
“I never thought otherwise,” she replied with meekness that he didn’t believe for a millisecond. “Shall we pick up a couple rocket-propelled grenade launchers while shopping?”
She’d no doubt meant it as a joke, but the thought had crossed his mind. In fact, he intended to load up on enough ammunition to be the envy of underworld crime operatives everywhere. But he wasn’t mentioning that to her just yet.
* * * *
Two hours later, Chloe had to admire Finn’s single-minded steamroll through the market place. They’d thrown together a shopping bag full of black clothes, flashlights, flares, a local map, firearms, a few things of unknown purpose, and a whole new level of anxiety regarding the people of Boca Chica.
The town was a strange mix of potential gone wrong. Nearby resorts screamed luxury, but here at the marketplace, bleak signs of poverty were everywhere. Occasional traces of a happier, color-soaked past peeked through the deteriorated streets and buildings, but today’s commerce had a hard edge as locals scratched out a living on the few brave tourists who strayed to their beaches and shops.
Chloe wasn’t sure she liked the calculating gleam that lit the eyes of every vendor at the sight of their cold hard cash. Not one of them batted an eyelash when Finn inquired about buying things that, if not illegal, probably should be. Military surplus was sold like black market contraband, and it didn’t take long to acquire enough firepower to take out a small army. Or a pirate stronghold.
That hard reality challenged her nerve. Her line of work at the Foundation required risk. She was used to taking chances. Reclaiming lost cultural artifacts wasn’t for the faint of heart. But raiding a pirate den and stealing back a hundred and twenty-foot yacht was a definite first.
Her bounty hunting ticket to the Emerald Fire had a serious death wish going on. And here she was, following his lead because she wanted the Fire just as desperately as he did. Correction, he wanted the yacht—she wanted what was hidden on board.
They’d pushed their way down a busy sidewalk and veered into a small shady park with an open bench. Once out of the harsh noonday sun, the temperature dropped from high-intensity sauna to an acceptable level of hot, and they took a seat. Finn began ripping open their purchases, strategically placing them in their backpacks while Chloe gathered the destroyed packaging. She walked it over to a nearby trashcan and tossed it, all the while glancing curiously at the people moving by on the sidewalk.
They were a mash up of local and tourist. She wondered what drew them here. And what kept them here. About to turn back, the sight of a familiar face several store fronts away made her gasp. She knew the man that rounded a street corner and disappeared.
“Uncle Jon!” she shouted and tore off after him.
Finn yelled her name, but she kept running. She zipped around a corner and stopped cold, searching the crowd for another glimpse.
There he was, head down and hands in pockets as he made his way across the street. She rushed forward again, dodging shoppers in her frantic dash along the sidewalk. She raced up behind him and grabbed his arm just before he stepped into a street-side cafe.
Her uncle whipped around, prepared to fend off an attacker, but his expression morphed to stunned amazement when recognition dawned. He whooped in delight and immediately squeezed her into a bear hug.
Finn caught up with them seconds later, armed with their duffle bags and a scowl dark enough to block the Caribbean sun. She didn’t care. Her uncle was alive! And in Boca Chica!
Wait a minute.
“What are you doing here and not in St. Lucia?” she asked him.
“I can ask you the same thing,” he replied with a grin.
“I flew down as soon as I heard the Fire was missing.”
Her uncle’s smile disappeared, and he glanced at the stormy visage of her new partner.
“Uncle Jon, meet Finnegan Kane.”
Finn stuck his hand out to her uncle. “Boston Marine Insurance, sir.”
“I don’t recognize you from Sam Brady’s office,” her uncle replied as he shook Finn’s hand.
“It’s a long story.” Finn gestured toward the café. “How about we have lunch and talk about it?”
As the two men sized each other up, Chloe looped her arm through her uncle’s, and with a giant smile of relief, she steered him through the café entrance. They were quickly seated outside on the patio under the shade of a coconut tree, and after placing their order, Chloe could wait no longer. “What happened, Uncle Jon? Why haven’t you contacted anyone?”
Her uncle shook his head and scrubbed a hand over his face. “I couldn’t. Until last night I’ve been hiding on board the Fire.”
“Where are Mike and Brett?” she asked.
He shook his head, his shoulders dropping as he leaned back in his chair. “Dead. Shot and dumped overboard.”
Pain ripped through Chloe. She’d known both crewmen for years. Brett was the Fire’s first mate. He’d befriended her immediately after signing onboard eleven years ago. He’d taught her sailor knots and answered endless childish questions. Mike served as cook and purser, a gentle man with an easy laugh and fabulous stories. She’d loved spending time in the galley with him, learning to cook gourmet meals and laughing over his tales of adventure. She never knew if he had lived all those stories or made them up as he went along, but their entertainment factor had kept her going back for more.
That they were now gone choked off her breath, and a giant, gaping hole opened in her chest where her heart used to be.
“The scumbags hit us deep in the night,” her uncle continued. “Before I even knew what happened, we were under sail. The movement of the ship woke me, and I started topside, but something, I don’t know what, instinct maybe, had me turning back to the master cabin and using the escape hatch instead. Outside I slid along the starboard lines, up and over the bridge until I could see the aft deck. There were three pirates, and they were asking Mike and Brett who else was on board. They claimed they were alone, to protect me I guess. The bastards used silencers to shoot them, then tossed them in the water.”
Chloe squeezed her eyes shut against the horrific image.
“I just lay there,” her uncle continued, “too stunned to move or speak. I struggled to process that I’d just witnessed the murder of two good friends.”
Chloe couldn’t believe it either, and the vengeance she’d felt taking hold inside her earlier widened to an all-consuming need for retribution. Fury burned her nerve endings and sharpened her resolve to carry out tonight’s risky plan.
“I don’t know how long I lay there,” Uncle Jon said, “but self-preser
vation finally got me moving. Daylight approached, and I had to hide because I damn sure wasn’t allowing those animals to steal my ship, murder my friends, and get away with it.”
Lunch was delivered right then, and Chloe looked at her steaming bowl of gumbo and thick bread with reluctance. Her appetite had vanished.
Their waiter drifted away, and Finn leaned forward on the table, ignoring his lunch as well. “How’d you end up in Boca Chica?”
“They sailed us here, drinking my liquor and partying the whole way. Their base camp is a boat sales and repair shop that sits a pretty good distance out of town. I jumped ship when they berthed the Fire at their pier last night, then walked the six or seven miles into town.”
Chloe reached over and laid her hand on her uncle’s, squeezing with support. She didn’t know what to say or how he had managed to stay hidden the two days it took to sail here, but she was beyond glad he did.
“Can you get back to that camp?” Finn asked.
“Absolutely,” Jonathan replied. He smiled at Chloe, but turned inquisitive eyes toward Finn. “Tell me, how did Boston Marine get involved so quickly?”
“Your wife called in the policy,” Finn said in his usual blunt way. “Said you and the ship were missing, and she wanted to file a claim.”
A flash of pain crossed her uncle’s features. It was quickly masked before he turned to Chloe, but she’d seen it. Honestly, Finn had to learn the art of softening a blow.
“Did SafeSail call you?” her uncle asked.
“At three a.m. no less,” she replied.
“You went to Lisa?”
“I did.” Chloe would rather avoid telling her uncle about his trophy wife’s spiteful response, but he deserved to know. Mike and Brett deserved justice for their sacrifice, yet she was reluctant to hurt her uncle beyond what he’d already endured.
“The truth, Chloe.” Jonathan wiggled his fingers, palm up, encouraging her to talk. “This old man has done a lot of thinking the past two days, and it’s time for some hard facts.”
She sighed in resignation and gave him what he asked for. “Lisa seemed less worried about her missing husband and more concerned about why I got the call and not her. She fired off a round of furious accusations at me, claiming I had you change the notify information.” She stopped there, not wanting to go any deeper into her suspicions of Lisa’s treachery. Or Owen’s possible involvement.
Emerald Fire Page 5
