Her Very Strict Captain, Carpenter, Maggie [top 50 books to read TXT] 📗

“The trip should be smooth. Why don’t you lie down and get some rest?”

“Can I have a hug before you go?” she asked, leaning against his hard, muscled body. “I’m still freaked out with everything that’s happening.”

“I’m sure you are, and I bet I only know the tip of the iceberg.”

“I’m sorry, Scott. It’s complicated.”

“I’m sure about that as well,” he murmured, moving his arms around her, “but you need to get some sleep.”

“I do, desperately, and I know I keep saying this, but thank you.”

Holding her for a long minute, he abruptly clutched her hair, jerked back her head, and pressed his mouth on hers in a long, devouring kiss.

“Mmm,” she mumbled as they broke apart. “That was heavenly.”

He smiled, then turned and left the cabin.

As the door closed behind him, she leaned back against it and ran her fingers over her lips.

A chill rippled through her body.

His lingering kiss had carried a message.

She just wasn’t sure what it was.

* * *

Motoring the yacht out of the bay and into the open ocean, Scott was met by a swift trade wind. He loved working with the sails and being at one with the sea. It cleared his head and soothed his soul, but returning to the cockpit, he couldn’t shake the anxiety rippling through his veins.

It was likely Elizabeth seemed familiar because she was his type. An auburn-haired spitfire with a smart mouth, a hot body, and mischief in her eyes. But it was obvious she was in trouble up to her neck, and with his highly tuned commando instincts, Scott sensed Dan Miller wasn’t a man to give up easily.

Moving into the salon and grabbing a bottle of iced tea, he popped the top, took a swig, then checked his phone for messages. He’d been trained to be patient, but when the blank screen stared back at him, his restraint took a back seat. It was time to do his own digging.

Moving to the cabin in which Elizabeth was sleeping, he gently opened the door and crept inside. Standing at the foot of the bed, he listened to her deep, even breathing. She was fast asleep. Carefully lifting her bag, he carried it into the adjacent cabin and locked the door behind him.

Unbuckling the straps and opening it up, he unzipped the inside pocket. A California driver’s license confirmed her name as Elizabeth McKay. It was two years old. Continuing to search her wallet, he found nothing of particular note.

Grateful her clothes weren’t neatly packed, he quickly rummaged through them. Almost at the bottom, his fingers touched something he couldn’t discern.

He lifted it out.

Staring at the fat wad of bills, a dark frown creased his forehead.

Diving back in, he found another, then another, and so it continued, until he had a dozen on the bed in front of him. The bills were used, and enveloped in clear plastic film. His hands on his hips as he stared at the cash, the likelihood he was looking at dirty money loomed large.

Questions rattled through his head.

Was it possible she was guilty of murder after all?

He highly doubted it, but she could be guilty of stealing the large sum of money in front of him.

Was the scowling detective just after the cash?

It seemed likely.

Scott had no doubt the crooked cop would love to get his hands on it.

The famous adage danced through his head.

A riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma.

It epitomized Elizabeth and her situation.

A cold chill suddenly pricked his skin.

Lifting up the package nearest to him, he pressed his fingers against the wad. Feeling nothing, he continued to the second, then the third. On the fourth he felt the bump. Tearing off the cling film and looking between the notes, he found what he’d feared.

A tiny black box.

Putting the wad aside, he checked the rest of the money, then returned it to the bottom of her bag. Carrying it back to the cabin, he set it down quietly, and stood staring at the sleeping beauty wondering if he should confront her. Remaining undecided, he walked quickly up to the salon, picked up his phone, and sent an urgent text.

I need that info on LAPD Detective Daniel Miller and Elizabeth McKay now. What’s the holdup?

Elizabeth wasn’t the only one with secrets, and the island paradise wasn’t all palm trees, aqua waters, and sunshine. The dark underbelly of the beautiful tropics hosted money laundering, drug smuggling, and human trafficking.

Recruited from the Special Ops SEAL team he’d once commanded, Scott was a covert agent for the CIA. Trained in sophisticated espionage techniques, he had led several operations, but this was the first time the suspected criminal enterprise had stumbled on his boat in the form of a gorgeous girl seeking his help.

A girl to whom he was annoyingly, deeply attracted.

Moving onto the deck, he turned the yacht back toward St. Thomas, eliciting as much speed as he could muster. Once in the bay, he moved to a sheltered area and dropped anchor. Leaving a quick note on the table in the event Elizabeth woke up, he hurried to the back of the boat, climbed down to the dinghy, unhooked the line, and set off into the night.

* * *

Two hours later

Stirring from a deep sleep, Elizabeth became aware of Scott climbing into the bed. Letting out a heavy yawn, she couldn’t recall the last time she’d slept so deeply. For months she’d spent her nights with one eye open. Sleepily staring at the large windows, though the shades had been pulled down, she could see it was still dark. Moving closer to her hero and snuggling against him, she felt his hardness touch her leg. As waves of longing moved through her body, she slid her hand down his torso.

“I was just being friendly,” he softly joked. “How’s your butt?”

“A little tender.”

“Only a little? I need to fix that.”

“No, you don’t,” she murmured. “Scott, why are you so cold?”

“I’ve been busy on deck, and stop trying