clear of the marina, he sped toward the apex of the coordinates he’d memorized last night, while keeping a sharp eye out for any unwanted attention. Especially a boat full of armed men.
He doubted he’d find anything at the bottom of the ocean; the men in the boat wouldn’t have left anything of value behind. But one never knew.
And it gave him something to do. He was so tired of waiting. Waiting for Picard to slip up and show his hand. Chatter through the intricate intel channels monitored by both ICE—U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement—and ATF—Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives—solidified the belief that Picard was on Loribel Island.
Posing as a charter-boat captain allowed Jason to explore the coastline all the way around the island. He had narrowed down three possible places Picard could be working from, since the arms dealer would need ocean access. All were being monitored by satellite surveillance. Which hadn’t yielded much so far.
But now that Jason had identified the man from last night as Hector Ramirez, a name linked with Picard in Interpol files, Jason was sure it would only be a matter of time before he found Ramirez again. Jason prayed the man would lead him to Picard.
Up ahead, a small craft, maybe a kayak, bobbed in the waves. Jason slowed the Regina Lee, his gaze sweeping the area. About fifty yards from the kayak, a dark head popped up, breaking through the waves. Water spurted out of a snorkel.
Jason stared as disbelief and frustration built in his chest. There was no mistaking the face staring at him from behind a clear mask.
“Women,” he muttered, making the word sound like an epithet.
Putting down anchor helped calm his ire. Moving to the side of the boat, he called out, “What are you doing?”
With graceful, broad strokes, Angie swam closer. She had on a short-sleeved black dive suit similar to his own. When she reached the Regina Lee, she lifted the mask to rest on her forehead and blinked up at him. “Enjoying the water. You?”
His mouth quirked. “The same.”
She smiled, clearly not believing him any more than he believed her. “Did you see anything of note?”
She shook her head. “No.” She held up the snorkel. “I was hoping I’d be able to see the bottom but it’s too murky.”
He reached behind him to where his scuba gear sat on the floor of the boat and held it up for inspection. “I can take care of that.”
“I’d appreciate it.”
“You might want to grab your kayak before it floats away,” he pointed out, watching the drifting craft move farther out to sea.
“Ugh, I had it tied to my wrist,” she exclaimed and swam away, powerful and lithe in the water.
Jason couldn’t deny he liked the lady cop. She was determined and persistent. Good qualities, but ones that could get her hurt. Not something he was going to let happen.
Slipping the tank onto his back, he donned the dive mask and breathing apparatus, readying himself for the dive.
Glancing around to make sure no boats were approaching, he slipped over the side and into the water. He swam down to the ocean floor, careful to check the depth meter on his watch so as not to go beyond the limit and risk nitrogen poisoning.
At fifty feet he could see the ocean floor. Sediment and sand swirled with the current, seaweed danced in clumps and fish scattered. He searched for several minutes. Nothing. He rose slowly, letting his body adjust to avoid decompression sickness.
At the surface, he found Angie treading water while using one hand to hold the kayak in place.
“Anything?” she asked, her voice eager.
“Nope. Didn’t really expect to see anything.”
“Right.” She stripped off the snorkel gear and tossed it into the seat of the kayak. “Thanks for trying.”
Did she think he’d done this for her? Interesting. And useful for hiding his true motivations. “You’re welcome. I figured you’d be itching until you knew for sure. I just hadn’t expected to find you out here already.”
“Tenacious as a bulldog, or so my father likes to tell me,” she said with a self-effacing grimace.
“A good quality in a detective,” he replied as he kicked his legs to remain upright, the weight of the tank heavy on his back. “Hey, why don’t we finish this conversation on my boat.”
For a moment indecision warred in her lovely brown eyes. “Don’t you have some tourists to motor around the island?”
Oh, man. His cover. Dude, you’re slipping. “Not today. The weatherman predicts a storm.” He hoped she bought the flimsy excuse. “I’m all yours.”
She blinked and turned away. “Right, a storm.”
He studied her profile, liking the straight line of her nose, the high cheekbones and long-lashed eyes, so natural in the morning light. “So can I give you a lift?”
Slowly, she nodded.
“Great.” He moved closer to help her with the kayak.
Together they towed the kayak to the Regina Lee. Jason was acutely aware of her beside him. When their legs brushed against each other beneath the surface of the water, a wave of shock jolted his system. Not good. Not good at all.
The last thing he needed was to let attraction derail his mission. He needed to stay focused and professional. Romance and undercover work didn’t mix well. A painful lesson he’d already learned.
Purposefully, he distanced himself from her as they worked together to maneuver the kayak onto the back of the boat.
Once Jason was on board, he grabbed towels from a cupboard in the cabin and handed one to Angie.
She took the towel with a grateful smile. “Thanks.”
Keeping his gaze from following the towel’s progress over her limbs, Jason started the engine but let the boat idle. “So now will you let this situation go?”
She sat on the padded bench near the helm. “I’ve not much choice now, do I?”
Relieved to hear she had come to that conclusion on her own, he relaxed. “How long are you planning on staying on Loribel?”
She lifted her shoulder in a negligent shrug. “Supposed to be a week, but…”
“But?”
“I don’t vacation well.”
That made him chuckle. “Yeah, so I’ve seen.” He really liked her. What would it hurt to spend a little time with her before she left? “I’m starved. How about I treat you to breakfast?”
Tilting her head to the side slightly, she regarded him intently. “Why are you being so nice to me?”
“I shouldn’t be?”
“What’s in it for you?”
“You’re never off duty, are you?”
She raised a nicely arched, dark eyebrow in reply.
He conceded the point with a laugh. “Can’t a guy ask a pretty lady to breakfast, especially after what we’ve shared?”
The corners of her mouth tipped up but her eyes showed doubt. “I suppose. Though I’d be more comfortable if I could put on some dry clothes.”
“Ah. Tell you what, we’ll moor the boat at the marina and I’ll drive you in my Jeep to your place. You can freshen up and then we’ll head into Old Town Loribel. I know the best place to get fresh seafood omelets.”
She contemplated him a moment before answering.
“Deal.” She sat back, letting her head rest against the side of the boat,