Claws scratched at the door. Shit.
“Hey, you can nap later. There’s work to be done.” He whistled with two short bursts of sound.
With a slight whine, the dog left, its nails clicking away while I sighed with relief. I could hold my own in a fight, but even I knew I’d be no match against a guy of Toby’s size in close quarters.
When I heard footfalls on the deck above, I unlocked the door and peeked out. If I could get him out in the open, I could hit him with a dart without any risk to my person. The only problem I’d have would be with the dog. I figured I could deal with the pooch using every dog’s weakness—food.
Opening the fridge, I found what Rogue had been excited about when Toby had entered the cabin: a bone with some meat on it.
Pulling it from the plastic, I held it by my side and crept up the stairs to the deck, finding Toby at the helm performing what looked like a system check. The dog’s head whipped around and its tongue slurped at his chops.
“Hungry?” I whispered, so soft that even I could barely hear it. Rogue could, however, and ran straight for me, chasing the bone into the cabin when I dropped it down the stairs.
“One down. One to go.”
The engine flared to life, vibrating the entire boat as Toby eased us away from the pier.
Quiet step after quiet step, I crept up behind him.
“I hope you know how to dock a boat this size,” he said as I moved in. “Otherwise you’re gonna have a bitch of a time getting me off it.”
How does he know I’m here?
“Maybe I have a helicopter on the way?” I held my tranq gun in front of me, keeping my distance as he glanced over his shoulder.
“Doubtful.”
“Well, I guess you’ll just have to wait and see.” Flicking the safety, I placed my finger on the trigger and aimed for the meaty part of his arse.
The engine stalled.
Stumbling forwards as I fired, the dart hit the back of his shoe, not the ideal place for a tranquilliser injection.
Toby grunted and leaned down, pulling the dart and throwing it so it landed in the water. “I should take you to the deep and throw you overboard for shark bait,” he growled, nostrils flaring as he turned the key and the ignition clicked without catching. “Great.” He tried again, and suddenly all those pictures I’d been struggling to keep buried in my mind came to the front. The eyes. The voice. The gold tooth.
Shit.
Adelaide.
“Stop!” I yelled, shoving the gun in the back of my jeans as I rushed forwards. “Don’t turn that key!”
Too late. The engine made a chugging sound as I dove at Toby, catching him about the waist just as a rumble erupted from beneath us.
“Jump!”
The force of the blast shot us higher into the air before we tumbled down into the water, heat and debris chasing us, forcing us deeper down.
Frog swimming as far from the explosion as we could, we came up for air near a small jetty in the quays, gasping and spluttering as sirens wailed in the distance, flames and black smoke licking the air.
“My dog was on that boat!” Toby gasped, grabbing my arm and sneering into my face, his eyes wild.
“I didn’t do that,” I yelled back, panic settling in as I tried to keep my head above the lapping water with only one arm available. “It wasn’t me!”
“Fuck.” He released me with a shove as he swam towards the wreckage, nothing more than fire and driftwood at this point.
“Toby, Stop. You can’t go back there.”
“I need to find Rogue.” Emotion and panic coated his words.
“Your dog is gone.” He stopped swimming and met my gaze. “I’m sorry, there’s no way he survived that. But, if you swim out there, they’ll find out you did.”
“Fuck!” He ground the word out through his teeth and slapped the water.
“We need to get out of here. Now.”
Emergency services responded, their lights flashing and sirens blaring in almost every direction. Edging our way through the quays, we used jetties and runaround boats as our cover, needing to stay hidden as residents emerged to watch the chaos. Eventually, we made it back to my rental and sloshed our way inside.
“I don’t have any clothes that’ll fit you. But there’s a washer and dryer. You can wrap yourself in a blanket while your clothes clean.” I gestured to the laundry beside the kitchen.
“Where’s the bathroom?” His question came out in a monotone, the shock of the explosion settling in.
Pressing my lips together in commiseration, I pointed down the hall, and he disappeared without a word. Shit. How the hell did this happen?
Upon hearing the shower switch on, I grabbed towels and a blanket, hesitating slightly on the other side of the bathroom door when I thought I heard a sob. Is he crying? Oh god.
A knot formed in my throat. He’d just lost his dog, his boat and all of his belongings. The photos of his daughter, the books, the history. That boat held his identity. Of course he was upset.
Whoa. When did I learn empathy? Emotion wasn’t really something I did well.
Staying as silent as possible, I cracked the door open and slipped the items I held inside, grabbing his wet things then slipping back out again and heading to the laundry where I stripped out of my own clothes and started the washer after removing everything from our pockets.
Our phones, his wallet, my tranq gun, and the condoms I’d stolen sat on the counter, soaked with seawater. At least I’d thought to leave my purse behind, so my personal stuff was fine. But everything Toby owned was wet, destroyed or dead. Was this my fault?
Wrapping myself in a towel, I went upstairs and took a quick shower so I didn’t stink of fish. Then I dressed in a fresh pair of jeans and a T-shirt before heading back downstairs. I found Toby standing at the window overlooking the marina, watching the rescue boats attending to the scene. Moisture beaded on his bare shoulders as small drips fell from the ends of his overgrown hair. The strong defined muscles in his back rippling with tension, and I longed to reach out and place my hand against his skin. Now is not the time to get all aquiver, Blair.
“I’m sorry about your dog,” I said as I approached, my eyes dropping to where the towel hugged his hips. He was a stunning sight to behold. All man. Even after his nasty words, he took my breath away.
“I had him since he was a pup. Almost fourteen years now. The vets always said he wouldn’t last that long. But he was healthy….” He frowned then swallowed without continuing.
“If it helps, he was gnawing on that bone you bought him when it happened.”
His mouth quirked slightly. “It doesn’t.” He met my eyes. “But thanks.”
I shrugged and moved to stand by him. There were four boats crowded around the wreckage now, lights flashing as divers entered the water looking for survivors, or at least evidence there were none. I swallowed hard. That poor dog.
People did shitty things and survived all the time. I always hated it when innocents, like animals and kids were caught up in the mess. Rogue didn’t deserve that end.
“Why does your family want you dead?” I asked after a while, thinking about the man I’d seen on the pier. He was a freelancer who specialised in munitions, went by the name Irish. I’d only seen him in the flesh once before. Right after a house blew up in Adelaide and….
No. Don’t.
“What?” He looked at me like I was insane. “This wasn’t my family. They’d never...”
“Hey, I was just asking.” I held my hands up for a brief second before folding them across my middle. “Someone wants you dead and since they sent me to find you, it makes sense they also did this.”
His jaw ticked as he stared at his destroyed boat and shook his head. “This wasn’t them. They don’t… I just know it wasn’t them.”
“Then who? And how did they know you were here?”
“You tell me.”
I took a step back, insulted that he’d question my professionalism.
“I haven’t told anyone shit about you. You deleted every photo and destroyed my notes before I uploaded a thing. Either someone has been watching you all along, or…” I let my voice trail off as I gathered my thoughts.
“What?”
“Would someone be running an active search on you? Waiting for a picture of you to pop up somewhere?” The database I’d used to run the image of the girl I now suspected to be his daughter wasn’t just used by private investigators.
“It’s possible.”
“That girl. The one you had dinner with. She took your photo.”
He shook his head. “She wouldn’t.”
“But what if she did? What if she uploaded it to her social media? Even if she sent it in a private message, it could get picked up.”
His jaw tightened before he growled out a name. “Grey.”
“Grey what?” My blood went cold.
“The smuggler.”
Holy shit. “Brendan Grey?”
He nodded. “You know him?”
My eyes went wide as my cold blood turned freezing and stopped up my heart.
I knew the man. Everyone who had access to a news outlet knew about Grey these days, but I’d had my own special reasons for hating the man. Grey and his organisation were responsible for smuggling most of the drugs, guns and people into the country, making himself wealthy off the back of the resulting misery. And that was just the start. He’d gained public notoriety a little under a year ago when he was arrested after a cache of stolen drugs were found in a warehouse he owned. Since then, his name had remained in the papers alongside the Grim Order as they waged war against each other. It was speculated the MC had planted the drugs on the smuggler’s property, setting him up to remove suspicion from themselves, or weaken Grey’s operation so they might take over. No one outside really knew for sure, but the turf war had been getting increasingly heated in the last few months since they released Grey. Insufficient evidence, they’d said. I was thoroughly disappointed the man was at large again and suspected his release involved foul play.
“Why’s he after you?”
Toby’s eyes met mine, their focus far away. “I killed a bunch of his men.”
“A bunch?”
He nodded in slow motion. Fuck.
“Oh.” I took an involuntary step backwards.
“Regret saving me?”
I shook my head. “No. The only good smuggler is a dead one in my opinion.” In fact, seeing Grey dead would be my greatest joy. I moved closer so Toby and I were standing side by side. “What do we do now?”
His brow lifted. “We? There’s no we.”
“The man he sent saw me get on that boat. They see me walking around, they’re gonna realise you probably are too.”
“I don’t give a fuck what they think.”
“And what if they know about your daughter? Isn’t it better for her if they think we’re both dead?”
He spun so fast, his hand shooting out to grab my arm, that I didn’t have time to counter. “What the fuck do you know about my daughter.” His fingers pinched my skin.
“I figured it out. After your dinner that wasn’t a date, and the photos hidden in your books.”
“You were in my room?” His grip tightened, and I winced.
“Yes,” I admitted. “But maybe they weren’t. Maybe they found you the same way I did and have no idea about your girl. Or maybe, just maybe, they found that photo of you two and they know exactly who she is.”
“They can’t possibly know she’s my daughter. No one knows. I’ve made sure of that.”
“You look alike. That’s how I figured it out. What’s to say they didn’t too?”
“Shit.” Releasing my arm, he scrubbed a hand over his face. “Shit. Fuck. Shit.” He took a step back, turned, then faced the window again, lacing both hands behind his neck. “I can’t stay here. I need to make sure she’s safe.”
“Let me go. You don’t even have any clothes.” I gestured to the towel around his waist.
“Then give me my wet clothes. I don’t care. I’m going.”
“They’re in the washing machine. They’d be full of soap.”
“I’m going,” he insisted.
“Fine. Just give me ten minutes. I think I can help.”
He placed his hands on his hips then let out a growl. “You have five.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
SPILL
“HUH. Those clothes are baggy as fuck on me,” Nick said, when Toby emerged from the bathroom, dressed in what Nick had called his ‘eating pants’ and a plain black T-shirt.
Nick was a fit guy. Coming in at five-eleven, he worked out regularly and wouldn’t be described as tiny by anyone. When compared to Toby, he was practically a waif.
I covered my smile with my hand as Toby ran a hand over his chest where the fabric stretched so much it became a second skin. “The shirt’s a little snug, but the pants are fine.”
Nick nodded knowingly. “Elastic waist,” he said, pride in his dark eyes.
“Just don’t flex or that shirt’s gonna tear,” I said from behind my hand trying not to laugh. The hem of the shirt barely touched the waistband of the khaki pants.
He pulled at the hem and rolled his eyes. “I need your car,” he stated.
“No way, mate. I’ll drive you,” I said, hands on my hips and a ‘don’t even try to argue’ expression on my face.
“Whoa, whoa,” Nick put in, touching his fingers to my shoulder. “We seem to be forgetting that this is my case now. I do the driving.”
Twisting my body towards him, I narrowed my eyes. “You can’t possibly think I’m handing my collar over to you. I put in the time and effort. I’m delivering him to his family.”
Nick leaned in, his face only a few inches away from mine. “Your fuck up is my success.”
I shoved him in the chest to get him out of my face. “So typical. Always ready to claim the glory just for showing up.”
The roar of an engine cut into our little tiff. At the same time, we turned to where Toby had been standing, only to find him gone and the front door open.
“Now look what you’ve done,” Nick said, pulling his keys from his pocket and rushing for the door.
“You can’t blame me. He’s your collar,” I shot back, following close behind.
“Oh, now he’s mine.” Nick slid into the driver's seat of his Cherokee as I jumped into the passenger side. “Where’s he even going?”
“To check on a girl,” I said, leaving out the fact they were related as I held out my hand. “Give me your phone.”
“You seriously think he’s gonna answer if you call?”
“No. But my iPad is in the car. We can track it.”
“Fine.” He slapped his phone in my hand and started the Jeep, heading out of the quays as I logged into my Apple account.
“Here.” I brought the map up on the screen and connected it to his hands-free. “He’s just at the edge of town.”
“Reckon he’s hittin’ her up for one last bang before he pisses off again?” Nick grinned lasciviously as he looked my way then took a corner.
I chose to ignore his comment and change the subject instead. “I’m gonna need you to stay here and play the worried partner role.”
“What? Stay in Wannanup?” He glanced at me, frowning, his hands still on the wheel.
“Yeah. I need you to act like you’re waiting for them to find our bodies. Act upset, ask questions. You know, sell it.”
“You reckon whoever blew up his boat is still watchin’?”
“Of course. Wouldn’t you?”
“Well, yeah. But why can’t you be here? Who even knows you were on that boat but him and me?”
“You remember a guy called Jasper O’Keefe from your commando days?” Nick practically grew up in the armed forces and was discharged in his early thirties after failing one too many psych evaluations.
“Irish? Yeah, I remember him.” Every guy coming out of the military seemed to have a nickname
of some sort. Jasper O’Keefe was Aussie through and through, but since he had an Irish sounding surname, the nickname had caught and stuck. He went into demolition once his time was up with the forces, but the bad guys paid better and he soon became the go-to guy whenever you needed something exploded. Grey had hired him on more than one occasion I knew about.
“He saw me get onboard.”
Nick jerked his head back so hard he almost lost control of the car.
“Nick!” I grabbed for the wheel reflexively, but he deflected me with his left arm.
“You saw Jasper O’Keefe, and you got on that boat? Are you insane, Blair?”
“I didn’t recognise him until it was too late.”
“But, you know what he does, right?”
“I know.”
“Then why, in god’s name would you get on the fucking boat of a guy you know is a criminal?” He gestured to his head, emphasising what a dumb idea it was.
“I know.”
“You’re losing it, Blair. Fucking losing it.”
I clenched my teeth. “I’m fine.”
“No. You haven’t been fine since Adelaide, and you know it. You drink to forget and you fuck to feel something. But all you’re really doing is messing up your life. You’re better than this.”
Gritting my teeth so hard my jaw hurt, I focused my attention on the blip of my iPad on the map. “Save your lecture, Nick. We’re almost there.”
With an aggravated sigh in the tension-filled air, Nick pulled up behind my Captiva. I jumped out before he even cut the engine, thankful he stayed in the Cherokee as I walked right up to my car and got in beside Toby.
“What was your play here?” I asked as soon as I shut the door. Toby turned to me and grunted in annoyance. “Realised you can’t just storm in there in case they’re watching?” He grunted again. “Which place is hers, anyway?”
“Yellow brick.” He stretched one long finger towards the end of the street at a single-storey house with a rose garden and white-framed windows. “It’s pretty.”
Another grunt.
“Do you think anyone is watching her?”
“Not that I can tell.” He kept his eyes on the house and didn’t look at me. “Why are you even here? Haven’t you done enough?”
Fool's Paradise (Cartwright Brothers Book 5) Page 5
