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

desk and powering up a computer. “Come and sit with me.”

“So that’s how Dan must have found me,” she exclaimed, sliding into a chair next to him.

“I don’t think so. If he’d known where the money was he would have picked it up long before now. Someone else has been pulling the strings.”

A shiver pricked her skin.

The drug lord’s evil face loomed in her mind’s eye.

“Who are you?” she whispered, staring at Scott as the computer came to life. “Where are we? What is this place?”

“All in good time,” he promised, pointing at the screen. “Tell me what you see.”

“A hotel room,” she replied, trying to focus though her head was swimming.

“Dan Miller’s, to be exact.”

“I don’t understand.”

“While you were sleeping last night, I followed the tracker. It led me back to St. Thomas and into that room. I found the rolled-up cash stuffed in socks, and the cash with the tracker is keeping them company. Before I left I placed a camera in the overhead light.”

“Holy crap. So that’s Dan Miller’s room, but how did you know he wasn’t there?”

“He was busy on my catamaran. Elizabeth, I have a security system on all my boats. My phone beeped alerting me to an intruder. When I got that call from Jerry—”

“Who’s Jerry again?”

“One of my captains. He called and told me about the break-in, but I couldn’t let him know I already knew about it. He would have wondered why I hadn’t let him know.”

“If there are cameras, why didn’t you know about the cash in my bag?”

“I would never spy on anyone in their cabin. Mind you, I was tempted,” he added with a wink.

“This is incredible, but, uh, what now?”

“If I’m right, and I hope I am, Dan will soon be having visitors,” he replied, then turning his chair around, he leaned toward her. “A moment ago you asked me who I was. Now I’m asking you. Elizabeth, who are you? I believe you’ve suffered, and you were close to the man who was murdered. Those weren’t crocodile tears I witnessed, but you’re also too savvy to be a helpless victim.”

“I’m not sure—”

“For example,” he continued, cutting her off, “why are the packets of money wrapped in cling film? The obvious answer? To preserve fingerprints and DNA. Tell me I’m wrong.”

She paused.

“You’re not wrong.”

“When you first showed up, I found it hard to believe you just happened to stumble down that particular wharf at the very moment I’d just docked. I took a little swim, and what did I find?”

“Shit,” she groaned, rolling her eyes.

“You know all about trackers, don’t you, Elizabeth? You’ve been following my catamaran for six months.”

“Not strictly true,” she exclaimed. “I thought I might need to—”

“Come back down here to disappear for a while if things went south?”

“Something like that.”

“You’re a very cunning, very naughty girl, Elizabeth McKay. It’s time to start talking, and I mean every, last, fucking detail. Who are you, why did you choose me to help you, and why did you really come back here?”

Chapter 9

Rising from her chair and walking across to the sliding glass window, Elizabeth stared out at the distant slate gray clouds. They seemed to touch the ocean, turning its pristine turquoise blue to an ominous olive green. Wondering if the approaching storm was a harbinger of the hours ahead, she took a long, deep breath, then turned to face the man who made her toes curl and her heart thump… and had saved her life.

She’d had a feeling he was more than just a risk-taking maverick who owned a sailing school. Now his unique home with its high-tech equipment confirmed her suspicions. It also made it easier to reveal who she was and why she was in the islands.

“Okay, Scott,” she began, squaring her shoulders. “You deserve to know, and it’s time. The murdered man was Special Agent Manny Delgado. He was my partner. We were embedded in an international drug-running organization based in Los Angeles. It’s operated by a drug kingpin named Sonny Conchello. You may have heard the name.”

“Sure, he’s legendary,” Scott replied, “and I knew there was more to you. Go on.”

She paused.

He’d indicated no surprise, or even concern, which made her believe he felt both. His ability to control his response suggested a high level of military training, possibly even espionage. Given the sophisticated high-tech house, and his nocturnal activities, nothing would surprise her.

“Elizabeth?”

“Sorry, I was just thinking about everything,” she said solemnly. “Dan Miller is an LAPD detective, but he’s on Conchello’s payroll. The first week I was at the mansion, Dan flashed his badge and pinned me against a wall to—as he put it—pat me down. I fought him off, surprisingly with no problem, but from that moment on, he’d scowl at me and make threatening comments. Please don’t think I’m paranoid when I say this, but the night of the raid I’m sure he was out to kill me. When he didn’t succeed, I suppose planting the evidence to get me arrested for Manny’s death was the next best thing.”

Pushing back from the desk, Scott moved slowly toward her. His poker face was gone, and she could see the anger in his eyes.

“At some point I’d like to hear how you ended up with such a dangerous assignment, but not now,” he murmured, bringing her into his arms.

“No, not now,” she agreed, sinking against him. “Now we need to talk about where I go from here.”

“Correction, where we go from here, you’re not in this by yourself.”

A swell of emotion rose up from deep inside her soul.

Scott was not only giving her shelter, he was offering a ray of hope.

Manny had been shot trying to save her from a spray of bullets, and when she’d fled the Conchello mansion, she’d been convinced she’d be dead within hours. But in Scott’s engulfing hug, and the security of the fortified house, she felt safe for the first time in months.

“You were right, miracles do happen,” she managed, slowly pulling