Covert Pursuit (4 page)

“What are you still doing here?” she snapped as she stalked down the road.

He liked the way her nose wrinkled up when she was irritated. “I’ve nothing else to do today because of the storm.”

“Lucky me.”

“I take it the chief is still being difficult?”

She slanted him a withering glare. “The man is insufferable and chauvinistic. He had the gall to suggest I was making everything up”

Jason grimaced at the hurt underlining her words. He wasn’t sure why the chief would be so dismissive. He could only guess Decker didn’t want Detective Carlucci intruding on his territory. Which was good for Jason. Not so good for Angie’s ego.

She stopped and glanced around as if suddenly realizing she didn’t know where she was going. The disconcerted expression on her lovely face made Jason yearn to take her in his arms and soothe away her troubles. Instead, he stuffed his hands into his pockets to keep from reaching out to her.

Her mocha-colored eyes met his. “Can you give me that ride back to the cottage?”

“Of course,” he said and steered her toward his parked Jeep.

He opened the passenger door for her. She hesitated, glancing down at her soaking clothes.

“Don’t worry about getting the seat wet. It happens all the time.”

“Thanks,” she replied and slid in.

Once they were headed out of town, Jason decided the storm might just be the catalyst to chase Angie off the island. “Too bad about the storm. Maybe now would be a good time to head home before this baby turns into a full-blown hurricane.”

She frowned. “Are you trying to get rid of me, too?”

“Not a lot to do during a storm,” he said, not liking how dejected she sounded or that he wanted to make her feel better.

Pointing to the ocean, she said, “They don’t seem to be bothered by the storm.”

He glanced at the day cruisers and fishing boats dotting the water’s surface. “Idiots.”

As they passed the marina, she turned to him. “Can I hire you for the day?”

He hesitated. Apprehension ruffled his nerves. “What do you have in mind?”

“You said the road we followed the red truck to led to a private cove, right?”

His gut clenched. The eager, determined expression in her lovely brown eyes didn’t bode well. He had to respect her tenacity even if he disapproved. “You really need to just let this
go
.”

He snapped his fingers. “I know. How about I take you treasure hunting? If you don’t mind trudging around in the mud and rain. This island is full of places where old pirates buried their loot, or so the Chamber of Commerce keeps saying.”

“I’d rather take a boat tour of the island, including that cove. But if you’re not available, I’ll find someone else,” she said pleasantly.

No way. Anxiety twisted in his chest. He couldn’t allow her to involve anyone else. And by the challenge in her expression, she knew he’d surrender. But
not for the reason she believed. This wasn’t about his ego, this was about the mission and her safety.

If she was determined to take a boat ride, then he’d accommodate her. Taking a recon of the cove wasn’t a bad idea and at least he’d have Angie with him so he could keep her out of danger. Though he had a feeling he was the one in trouble. “After the storm passes.”

“How long will that be?”

“Could be hours. Could be days.” Maybe she’d leave by then. One could hope.

“I’ll wait.”

He was afraid she’d say that.

The next morning, Jason showed up on Angie’s doorstep before sunrise with the news that a break in the storm, which was predicted to last a few hours, made decent enough conditions for a boat tour around the island.

Sitting on the bench along the back of Jason’s boat, Angie tried to keep her gaze trained on the shoreline of the other side of the island, but found herself watching Jason instead.

He stood at the wheel, his long legs braced apart, his hand masterfully steering the vessel. Today he wore navy cargo pants and a red windbreaker with the logo of his company emblazoned on the front. She appreciated the look of him but she admired the way he carried himself more, emitting self-confidence and strength. She liked his easygoing manner, yet he’d been protective. Who said chivalry was dead?

There was nothing about Jason that suggested he’d be a man easily intimidated by her career. On the surface, Jason was a man she could see herself falling for. But—she still didn’t understand what motivated him or why he was so determined to be her crime-fighting cohort.

Especially after refusing to talk with Chief Decker. There had to be a reason. But what?

Worry churned in her stomach. Was she making a mistake by trusting Jason?

When she’d talked with Gabe, her detective partner, last night, he’d found nothing unseemly in Jason’s background. Jason owned the charter company, which comprised the one boat and himself, owned a condo and had a decent enough financial portfolio but nothing to suggest he was involved in anything criminal.

Still something nagged that all was not as it seemed and until she was sure of him, she would keep her heart out of the equation.

“The cove should be up ahead on your left,” Jason said, his gaze meeting hers with a direct look that let her know he was aware she’d been staring.

Heat crept into her cheeks. She wasn’t sure what he’d seen on her face; she hoped her thoughts of his attractiveness and her misgivings hadn’t been transparent. She turned away and shifted on the bench to a better position.

A long stretch of beach with a dock and what looked like a picnic area curved along the coastline until the sand gave way to a more rocky terrain that
jutted out to a point, cutting off access to what lay beyond. Above the shore, houses grew out of the lush green foliage covering the hillside. Angie could only imagine the view afforded those blessed with the chance to live on this side of the island. Her aunt’s cottage sat closer to the southern tip near the Loribel Lighthouse.

“There.” Jason pointed to the wide cove as they moved beyond the rocky point. He slowed then stopped the boat. He came to stand beside Angie.

“Can we get closer?” she asked, squinting but still unable to determine what she was seeing.

“No, but these might help.” Jason handed her a pair of black binoculars while keeping a pair for himself.

She flashed him a grateful smile before bringing the ocular lens to her eyes. Adjusting the focus wheel and the diopter brought the cove into clear view.

“Do you recognize either boat?” Jason asked.

She studied the vessels moored in tandem to a long wooden dock. “The farthest one looks like our friends from the night before, don’t you think?”

“I do,” he said, his tone excited.

“The other boat could be the one I saw dump the bag in the ocean. It looks about the same size and shape. Can you make out the name on the side?”

“
Courir le Soleil.
French for
Race the Sun,
” he translated.

She repeated the words softly to herself. She swung the lens slightly to the right. A large gaping hole in the side of the cove wall came into view. Men moved in
and out of the opening like ants. “Hey, what do you think that tunnel is for?”

Following her line of vision, he said, “Interesting. What could they be digging up?”

“Pirate loot?” she quipped, remembering Jason’s comment about pirate gold hidden somewhere on the island.

“Maybe. Or they could be burying something.” Jason tensed. “We have activity.”

Moving the lens of the binoculars slightly up and to the left, she saw a group of armed men exiting from a 20x20 cedar shingled shed that looked as if it were built right into the cliff’s wall. As she searched the faces of the men, Angie’s breath caught. “I see the guy who was at the café,” she exclaimed.

“Yeah, I see him. Uh-oh. We’re not the only eyes with binoculars. We’ve been spotted.” Jason dropped the binoculars and moved to the helm, restarted the engine and pushed the throttle forward, sending the boat into motion with a sudden burst.

With mounting apprehension, Angie held on and watched as the tattooed man and several others ran for the boats. “Hurry,” she shouted. “They’re coming after us.”

“Hang on!”

Jason pushed the Bowrider to its limit. The boat shuttered and shook with the speed. He should have gotten them out of there the second he confirmed that deck boat was the same one that had waylaid them the
other night. Now they were about to be chased not by one, but two boats full of armed men.

Way to go, Buchett. Jeopardize the whole operation.

His blood ran cold.
And while you’re at it put the pretty detective at risk.

T
hunder vibrated through the air like the sound of an old steam engine locomotive roaring across the countryside. A sound from Jason’s childhood. Good memories, sad memories.

The break in the storm hadn’t lasted as long as the weatherman predicted. He glanced at the thickening, dark clouds and pushed the boat to go faster. The last thing he needed was to be struck by lightning. He raced the boat along the ocean’s turbulent waters, slicing through the waves and hugging the coast until reaching the busy marina area where the
Regina Lee
could blend in with other Bowriders. He slowed to the no-wake speed and looked for an empty slip.

“I think we lost them,” Angie said, her gaze searching the ocean.

“Good.” Relief swept over him, easing the tenseness of his shoulders. Still, he wanted to get them out of there. He killed the engine, flipped the buoys over the side and then jumped onto the dock where he
quickly tied off the ropes, securing the
Regina Lee
to the dock.

He offered Angie his hand as she climbed from the boat. Her strong fingers grasped his, the pressure sure and confident. He liked the way their palms meshed. They fit together. He held on a little longer than necessary.

Maybe in another place, another life— But wishing for the impossible wasn’t productive.

Angie jerked her hand back as soon as her feet were on firm ground, her cheeks blushed becomingly. “I need to call the FBI since the chief won’t believe me.”

Jason hesitated. Without having to explain his undercover mission, how could he tell her involving the federal authorities wasn’t a good idea? He couldn’t risk having his identity compromised even to explain the situation to Angie or the Feds. Too many people had worked too long and too hard to build a plausible character that wouldn’t draw suspicion.

Only someone truly “deep under” would ever stand a chance of closing in on Picard. He could only fall back on his pretense of not wanting trouble with the authorities and hope she bought his story. “I’m inclined to do as I’m told when men with guns tell me to mind my own business. I would think that would include talking to the law. Besides, you still don’t have any proof.”

“Right.”

The disappointment and censure in her expression cut deep. He didn’t like that it seemed as if he was
letting her down. She didn’t understand what was at stake, and he couldn’t fill her in.

He thought of the way her hand fit with his, how perfect and right touching her felt. He gave an inward groan. Her presence was distracting him. Big-time. He needed her gone so he could go back and find out exactly what was going down at that cove without having to worry about her safety.

“Look, it is what it is,” he said. “I’m not helping you anymore. Besides, I’m more concerned that those men may be able to identify you and will come after you. You really need to back off.” He glanced up at the sky. Storm clouds rolling across the horizon promised a downpour. “In fact, I would recommend leaving the island now before this storm hits full force. The causeway will be a mess before long. The quicker we get you back to your place, the quicker you can pack up and go.”

“The storm isn’t why you want me to leave.” Her eyes narrowed. “You just want to get rid of me so you don’t have to babysit me. I can take care of myself. I’m not some prissy Southern belle who appreciates your he-man antics.”

She was way too perceptive and a bit off base, but he couldn’t let her know. He certainly didn’t think of her as prissy or incapable of taking care of herself given the right circumstances, but she was no match for the type of villains bound to come after her if she kept poking her nose where it didn’t belong.

And keeping tabs on her would only hinder his progress.

He made a sweeping gesture, encouraging her to notice that all around them boats were being secured as their owners prepared for more wind and rain. “Everyone’s going to be running for cover in the next few hours.”

“Meanwhile, those men get to roam free.” She shook her head. “I can’t allow that. It’s my job to keep the public safe from the likes of those men with their boatload of illegal guns.”

He took a step closer, crowding her. If he had to get mean to keep her safe, so be it. “It may be your job in Boston, but not here. There’s no dead body, no witnesses to interview, no suspects to interrogate. The last thing any of us needs is you running around this island chasing danger like a dog chasing a cat. Eventually you’ll catch a mouthful. And then what? You’re alone. You don’t have the law on your side. Those guys wouldn’t think twice about killing you, pretty lady or not.”

“I’ll find my own way back to the cottage.”

By way of the cove, no doubt. He reached out to snag her elbow. “I’ll drive you.”

She yanked her arm away. “No. You’ve made it clear you’re done. I don’t need you.”

Her angry words ripped through him like shrapnel, stinging in their intensity. Surprise made him flinch. Why did he care? He didn’t. The last thing he wanted was for her to need him. “Are you going to leave the island?” he asked, his voice gruff.

“It’s really none of your business,” she said and turned on her heels to walk away.

She was wrong. It was his business. Because as long as she stayed, he’d feel responsible for her.

He blew out a harsh breath and watched her hurry along the dock toward the marina building, her dark, curly ponytail whipping in the gathering wind. He should follow her to make sure she arrived back at her aunt’s cottage safely, though he doubted she would appreciate the effort.

There he went again, being distracted by the lovely Angie. She wasn’t his responsibility. He had a job to do. Wasting time arguing with a beautiful, stubborn detective out of her jurisdiction wouldn’t accomplish anything productive.

He could only hope she’d make the right choice and scratch investigating the cove off her to-do list before something bad happened to her.

Angie yanked open the door to the marina’s main building and stepped inside, her skin instantly cooled by the air conditioner. She glanced around, taking stock. A boat rental sign hung over a long counter and shelves full of groceries and boating paraphernalia crowded the space. A few customers browsed the aisles.

Grateful for the shelter from the angry storm brewing outside, she took a steadying breath. If only the angry storm brewing inside her could so easily be avoided. She didn’t get Captain Wishy-washy. Jason’s constant change of attitude baffled her. One moment he was gung ho to participate, and the next he was backing off.

If Gabe hadn’t already told her the man was what he appeared to be, she’d think Jason had something to hide. She trusted Gabe, but she also trusted her own instincts. And her instincts were screaming that Jason wasn’t what he appeared to be.

But what that was, she didn’t know. And Angie wasn’t sure the effort to find out was worth it when she had something more pressing, like illegal weapons, to investigate.

Forcing Jason from her thoughts, Angie headed toward the counter where an older man with a ruddy complexion stood talking on the phone. Graying hair poked out from beneath the edges of a baseball cap. He wore a long-sleeved T-shirt with a screen print of a basketball player doing a lay-up. He caught Angie’s gaze and held up a hand to indicate for her to wait a second.

When he hung up, he smiled, showing stained teeth with badly receding gums. “Hi, there. What can I do for you?”

Angie stuck out her hand. “I’m Angie. I was hoping you could give me some information.”

He shook her hand. “Mike. If I can help, I will.”

“I want to inquire about a boat,” Angie said.

“We’re not renting any boats today because of the storm. But they say this squall will pass pretty quickly, so come back in a couple of days,” he said.

“I didn’t mean I want a boat. I was hoping you could tell me who owns a certain boat.” She described the boat. “It has a French name.
Courir le Soleil
,” she said,
hoping she didn’t slaughter the pronunciation too badly.

His expression closed, became guarded. He shook his head. “Sorry. Don’t know it.”

“What about the Corrinda family? Do you know them?”

“Of course, everyone on the island knows the Corrindas.” His gaze narrowed. “Are you a reporter or something?”

“No.” Interesting. “Is there something newsworthy going on?”

He shrugged. “Not that I know of. The Corrindas are private people. But every once in a while someone comes on the island wanting to do a piece on them.”

“I’ve heard they’ve been here for a long time.”

“That they have. Old man Corrinda’s great-great-grandfather founded the town of Loribel. They own most of the property on the island. Even this here marina belongs to the Corrindas.”

“That’s a lot of wealth,” she mused, wondering just how that wealth was acquired. Buried treasure beneath their estate? She mentally scoffed. Not likely.

“It sure is.” The telephone rang. “Excuse me,” he said as he moved away to answer. He turned slightly so she couldn’t hear the conversation.

The door opened. Wind howled like an angry wolf, reminding Angie of the danger rapidly approaching. She needed to find a ride to her aunt’s cottage. Hopefully, Mike would be able to help her out once he was through.

Mike’s gaze lifted to someone beyond Angie. She turned to see who’d come inside. Jason walked toward her, carrying a black rain slicker.

She frowned, hating the pleased surprise curling inside her. “I thought you left,” she said.

“Not yet. On my way out now.”

Mike covered the phone with his palm and called out, “Hey, Jason. Be with you in a sec.”

“Hey, Mike,” Jason replied and then pointed at Angie. “I’m here for her.”

Mike nodded with a wink and then resumed his conversation.

Angie arched an eyebrow at Jason. “Really?”

He gave her one of those devastating grins that knocked the breath right out of her.

“Can I give you a ride?”

Mentally slamming down her reaction, she contemplated his question. She was still mad at him but she did need transportation and he was offering. Now wasn’t the time to hold a grudge. “Yes. I’d appreciate it.”

“Here.” He shoved the slicker toward her. “The rain is coming down hard.”

Donning the slicker, she followed him out into the rain, her clothes not protected by the slicker instantly clinging to her skin. His Jeep sat idling, illegally parked at the end of the walkway. They jumped in. The short drive to the cottage took longer than normal because of the storm.

“People really are leaving the island.”

“Yes. Did you think I was making that up?”

One corner of her mouth rose. “A little.”

“We haven’t had an official evacuation warning.” He gave her a sidelong glance rife with meaning. “Yet. There’s still time for you to go home.”

He wanted her gone awfully bad. And it wasn’t just the storm driving him. Why? “Mike said he thought this storm would pass quickly.”

“Could be. But I’d still advise you to leave now while the weather’s relatively calm.”

This was relatively calm? Palm trees bent and wobbled in the wind. Gusts rippped around the vehicle so hard Angie could feel the vibrations. Rain pelted the car, pinging loudly on the Jeep’s metal exterior.

Jason pulled to a stop in front of the cottage and got out. He walked around to the passenger side as Angie opened the door. The wind whipped the door out of her hand, sending it bouncing on the hinge. For a second she thought it might go flying away.

Jason reached for her hand. “Come on.”

Wind swirled over Angie, rattling the slicker as she let him lead her to the front door of the cottage. As she fumbled with the key, Jason disappeared around the back. Curious about what he was doing, she went in search of him. She found him on the back patio, stacking the two Adirondack chairs near the sliding door.

He tugged on the storage-closet door. “Do you have a key for this?”

She nodded and handed over the key ring. He
quickly stored the chairs then unlocked the slider and motioned her inside. She turned on a table lamp near the pullout couch. Wind whistled down the chimney.

“I better go secure my condo,” Jason said. “Do you know where a flashlight and candles are in case of a power outage?”

Good question. She headed for the kitchen. “I would imagine there would be some in the drawers.”

Jason followed her and helped her search. They found two flashlights in the pantry and a scented candle in the bathroom cupboard, which she placed on the coffee table along with a book of matches from Fiona’s Italian Restaurant.

“All set,” she announced.

“You’re sure you won’t reconsider leaving?” Jason stood with his back to the sliding door. Behind him the ocean churned, white-capped waves whipped up by the increasing wind. He looked ruggedly handsome standing there, legs braced apart, his broad shoulders filling the door frame. He looked like he belonged out there braving the elements rather than in her aunt’s living room with its provincial furnishings.

“No.” Why did he keeping pushing her?

Resignation shone in his blue-gray eyes. “Then I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around.” He reached for the slider’s handle. “If you need anything…” He paused then reached inside the pocket of his windbreaker and pulled out a business card. He set it on the round end table closest to him. “Call.”

“Thanks.”

He saluted then slipped out the door, leaving Angie more confused. Again he’d offered help, yet he’d been unwilling to do something that could really make a difference. Whatever. She wanted to stop thinking about him, but the image of him standing with the ocean at his back refused to be dismissed.

Stop it,
she admonished herself.
Do something useful.

She decided to call her ATF agent brother, Joe. He’d have access to information on the Corrinda family. Maybe the Feds would be more interested and less likely to have received favors from the Corrinda family than Chief Decker.

She carried a notepad and pen to the dining table and sat in one of the cane-back chairs. Using her cell, she called her brother’s work phone. Gotta love roaming. She could feel her bank account draining with each ring.