Special Ops Exclusive (10 page)

Something hot and sultry sizzled between them, and it had nothing to do with the stifling temperature.

Nick broke eye contact and swallowed a groan. His lower body was on fire. He was stiffer than a two-by-four, his blood humming with arousal. Fortunately, Rebecca wasn’t looking at his crotch, otherwise he knew she’d flash that mischievous smile and tease him mercilessly.

New aromas permeated the air as they drove into the beach town of Pista Olvidada. Sweet flowers, dark spices, pungent coffee, and underlying it all was the salty scent rolling off the ocean. The town offered one main strip with a handful of shops, restaurants and bars. In the distance was a picturesque marina, and a long dock where vessels ranging from beat-up speedboats to gleaming white sailboats were moored.

Nick parked in a spot on the street and they hopped out of the Jeep. “So how are we doing this?” Rebecca asked. “Same deal? We’re looking for our friend Willie?”

“It worked with Javier. Might as well keep up the charade.”

“So I’m your girlfriend again.”

“Yep.”

“Okay, then.”

Before he could object, she rounded the vehicle and took his hand. When she interlaced their fingers, the warmth of her palm seeped into his already-feverish flesh.

“Couples hold hands,” she informed him.

Her tone was light, but those green eyes were dancing again. Looked like her seduction plan had officially been launched.

Nick decided to play along. Truthfully, holding Rebecca’s hand felt...nice. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d held hands with a woman.

They fell into step with each other and crossed the street, heading for a corner bar that featured a green sign cleverly labeling it as “The Bar.” Several patrons were seated on the outdoor patio, and the light breeze blew cigarette smoke in Nick and Rebecca’s direction. Every person on the patio narrowed their eyes suspiciously when they glimpsed the approaching couple.

“The locals might not be too welcoming,” Rebecca murmured.

“Nah,” he murmured back. “They’ll warm up once you unleash that sassy redhead charm.”

Sure enough, his prediction proved correct. Within two minutes of meeting Rebecca, every man, woman and child they spoke to fell in love with the redhead. Unfortunately, nobody admitted to knowing, seeing or having any information whatsoever about one William Neville.

For the next hour, they struck out time and time again. After visiting every establishment on the strip, they drove to the marina where they finally hit pay dirt at a fish and chips restaurant right on the water.

The fishing boat captain they encountered turned out to be a Chatty Cathy, and more than familiar with Nick and Rebecca’s prey.

“Neville! Yes, yes,” the captain said with an enthusiastic nod. “He bought Rudy’s place by the dump. I gave him a lift out there to check out the property.”

Nick’s chest tightened with excitement. “He’s still in town, then?”

“Well, sure. Haven’t seen him around the strip, but I saw him on the water early this morning. Fishing near the cove.”

“He has a boat?” Rebecca asked in a careful tone.

The gray-haired captain gave a hearty laugh. “If you can call that flimsy dinghy a boat, then yes, he has a boat. The dinghy came with the house. So did the car. When old Rudy dropped dead, his kid sold everything in one bundle.”

Nick chuckled. “Who exactly was this Rudy?”

“An American. He visited our town about thirty years ago and never left. Cranky son of a bitch, a real cheap bastard, too, but he had a knack for finding the fish. Whenever I had a bad catch, I’d take old Rudy out on the water the next day and that bastard would sniff out the fish like a bloodhound. It’d more than make up for the loss of the previous day.” The captain sighed regretfully. “I’ll miss that son of a bitch.”

They ended up chatting with the colorful captain for several more minutes, but not about Waverly; they’d already gotten the intel they’d come here for, including directions to Rudy’s beach house. But the captain seemed to appreciate the company, and Nick felt slightly bad when he finally had to cut the man off and announce it was time for them to go.

Rebecca’s green eyes were filled with excitement as they left the waterfront restaurant and walked down the wooden pier toward the marina’s entrance.

“So what now?” she asked. “Are we heading to old Rudy’s place or should we wait until nighttime? You soldiers prefer the cover of darkness, right? Like, being one with the shadows and whatnot?”

“First I want to case the place.” He shot her a stern look before she could open her mouth. “Just me. Alone.”

“Aw, you’re mean. I happen to be a
great
caser.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I’m sure. But you’re still not coming with me. You’ll only slow me down.”

“Have I slowed you down so far?” she challenged.

“No,” he had to concede, “but this is different. It’s recon. I prefer to do recon alone.”

When they reached the Jeep, Rebecca paused by the passenger door and tightly crossed her arms over her chest. The pose pushed her breasts together and created a whole lot of cleavage in her tight white tank top. Nick’s mouth went dry at the sight, and he had to force himself not to ogle the tantalizing swell of creamy white skin.

“And what am I supposed to do in the meantime?” she demanded. “Knit a sweater?”

He opened the door and slid into the driver’s seat. “Take a nap. Read a book. I’m sure you can find ways to entertain yourself.”

“I’m not tired, I don’t have a book, and in case you haven’t noticed, we didn’t pass a single motel driving through town, so where exactly am I supposed to lie low and entertain myself?”

She raised a good point. And although he’d teased her about it, she was also right about that cover-of-darkness issue. He would much rather check out Waverly’s place at night when he could blend into the shadows and move around unseen. Doing recon in broad daylight defeated the purpose of...well, recon.

But what other choice did he have? It was only ten o’clock in the morning. The sun wouldn’t set until at least seven, maybe later. So unless they wanted to spend the next nine or so hours twiddling their thumbs, it looked like a daytime mission was in the cards.

Nick started the engine, then waited for Rebecca to get in and buckle up. “You’ll have to stay in the car, then,” he told her.

That elicited an unhappy frown, but she didn’t protest. “Fine.”

He gawked at her.

“What?” she muttered.

“Did you really just agree to my request without putting up an argument?” He pulled out of the marina lot and headed in the direction the captain had told them.

“Request? You don’t request, Nick. You command.”

He sighed. “Not usually. With you, the commands just come out.”

“Oh, really? So you don’t typically order women around?” She sounded extremely intrigued.

“Nope. I’m a gentleman, remember? Very polite and respectful.”

“Are you saying I bring out the rude, disrespectful a-hole in you?”

“I guess so.” Laughing, he stepped on the gas and picked up speed as they drove away from the heart of town.

Waverly’s hideout was only a ten-minute drive according to the fishing captain, and it required following a long, dusty road lined with towering trees and dense foliage on both sides. Five minutes in, the odor of garbage thickened the air and made them both wrinkle their noses.

“And there’s the dump,” Rebecca said, her gaze fixing on the wooden sign indicating the turnoff for the town’s garbage dump. “Why would anyone willingly live near a dump?”

“Clearly old Rudy was a risk taker.”

She laughed. “Clearly. Hey, did you also find it weird that the captain seemed to know a scary amount about Rudy?”

“Not really. I mean, Rudy was a genuine fish whisperer—of course he was popular around these parts.”

Another melodic laugh left her mouth and tickled his ears. “I guess you’re right. I kind of wish I got to meet him. It sounds like he was an interesting chara— Hey, you missed the turnoff,” she suddenly said. “The captain said to turn at the red fence.”

Now Nick was the one laughing. “We’re not going to pull up right into his driveway, Red. We may as well wave around a big sign that says We’re Coming for You.” He snorted. “Ha, I knew you’d be terrible at recon.”

She stuck out her tongue at him.

“Wow, real mature of you, Rebecca.”

This time she gave him the finger.

“Even more mature,” he said mockingly, but his lips were twitching with amusement.

Jeez. He was having way too much fun with this woman. He definitely needed to stop that.

He kept driving for another fifty yards or so, slowing down when he neared a section of road where the vegetation was thicker. “Hold on to the dash,” he told her. “Might get bumpy.”

She barely had time to respond when he’d veered off the road and drove directly into the thick canopy of trees. The Jeep bounced as it traveled over the tangle of vines and rotting undergrowth that made up the jungle floor, and the sun disappeared from view, hidden by the trees. Everything was green and lush in the rainy season, and the air smelled like fragrant wildflowers and damp earth.

Palm fronds scraped the sides of the Jeep as the vehicle skidded to a stop in a small clearing. The trees provided shade, but no protection in terms of bugs. The moment Nick killed the engine, mosquitoes swarmed the vehicle, whizzing past his ears with a high-pitched whine.

As Rebecca began swatting at the persistent insects and cursing in her noncursing way, Nick hopped out and grabbed his go bag from the back of the Jeep. He rummaged through it, found a can of heavy-duty bug repellent, along with a mosquito net that he tossed to Rebecca. Then he began to arm himself, sliding a pistol into his waistband, a knife sheath on his hip, a second pistol in his right boot and another deadly KA-BAR in his left one.

When he finished, he stalked to the passenger-side door and held out a 9-millimeter Beretta. “You know how to use this, right?”

She nodded. “I go to the target range every couple of months, and I have a permit to carry.”

“Good. Safety’s on, keep it that way. Move into the driver’s seat and don’t get out of the car, no matter what. If I’m not back in an hour—”

Her eyes widened. “Why wouldn’t you come back—”

“—I want you to get the hell out of here. Make your way to the airfield and call Tate. He’ll arrange for a plane to take you to Ecuador. Understood?”

After a moment, she nodded again.

“With that said, I’ll be back shortly,” he assured her.

“You better be,” she grumbled. “I can’t do this alone, Nick. You’re the Watson to my Sherlock, remember?”

He laughed again and resisted the urge to do something stupid, like lean in and kiss her goodbye. The mere thought of feeling Rebecca’s pouty lips pressed against his own sent a bolt of lust straight to his groin, and he took a step back before he gave in to the overpowering urge.

“Remember, stay put,” he said in a strict tone.

“Yes, sir.”

He left her in the Jeep and disappeared into the trees, swiftly making his way through the heavy brush. His boots didn’t make a sound as they stepped over the overgrown jungle floor; years of training and experience had honed his ability to move like a ghost.

The half-mile trek to Waverly’s property didn’t take long, and soon the house became visible through the trees. Nick found himself staring at a small shack constructed from an unusual combination of brick and wood, with a brown clay-tiled roof and a front courtyard overrun with dirt and sand. He couldn’t see the ocean, but he could smell it, salt and seaweed and fresh air.

Flattening himself against a gnarled tree trunk, he drew his gun and examined the house. Through the blossoming foliage he made out a rust-covered sedan. Someone was home, then, unless Waverly was out on that dinghy the captain had mentioned.

Nick crept closer, assessing, pinpointing entry points. Front door. One window.

Satisfied, he made his way to the back of the house, traveling silently through the brush. His grip on the 9 millimeter was solid; the weapon had become an extension of his hand over the years.

A rickety wooden deck graced the rear of the shack, ringed by a slatted railing with several broken posts. Nick’s gaze zeroed in on the beer bottle sitting on the rail. Condensation dripped down the side of the bottle, hinting that it had been recently opened.

Footsteps.

His spine stiffened when he heard the footsteps. He edged backward, camouflaged by the trees, but he still had a clear line of sight to the man who’d just stepped onto the deck.

Paul Waverly.

Jackpot.

The tall, blond man wore khaki shorts and a white polo T-shirt, and the Costa Rican sunshine had brought some color to his normally pale face, which meant that he no longer resembled someone who’d spent his entire life locked up in an attic.

He had something in his hand. A cell phone. He was typing furiously on the keypad and he didn’t look happy. Not by a long shot.

Nick shifted his gaze and noted the large window behind the blond man, then the screen door with its mesh torn to hell. When he concluded his appraisal, he made his way through the trees again, this time emerging at the side of the house.

Now he could see the ocean. About a hundred yards away, and getting there required a trek down a rocky slope that opened onto black sand rather than white, a product of the volcanic rock much of the landscape had been carved out of. He glimpsed a small wooden dock at the water’s edge where an old white motorboat was tied up.

Satisfied, he returned to the back of the house, but Waverly was no longer on the deck. A flash of movement in the window confirmed that the man had gone inside.

Nick stared at the screen door, thoughtful. There was really no reason why he couldn’t make a move right now. The house was isolated, no neighbors for miles. And yes, it was daylight, but Waverly was indoors. Unless the DoD aide had ten bodyguards with assault rifles in there—which Nick highly doubted—gaining the upper hand on the man would be a piece of cake.

He checked the tactical watch on his wrist. Only fifteen minutes had passed since he’d left Rebecca. It shouldn’t take long to handle Waverly. And if the man refused to talk, he could always tie him up and go back to the Jeep to grab Rebecca before his hour was up.