Page 107 of Deep Tide

Sean glanced at the agent on lookout by the door. The man gave him a nod, and Sean stepped into the dark shadow beside the building. He hurried around the corner, feeling a prick of unease as he detected the sound of a car engine somewhere nearby. He paused for a second by the pier and held his breath, listening.

No voices. No movement. Scanning his surroundings, Sean darted back onto the pier.

Pain reverberated through his skull as he crashed into a wooden beam. He grabbed a post, catching his balance as stars flashed through his vision. In the dimness, he hadn’t noticed the wooden No Trespassing sign. Biting back a curse, he touched his hand to his forehead. Was he bleeding? The last thing he needed to do was leave a trail of blood everywhere.

Staying in the shadows, Sean silently hopped onto the boat. He ducked under a line again and stepped onto the back deck, switching on his flashlight.

The space was empty. Three of the four chests on this side of the tank were gone.

Someone had been here.

Sean whirled around. The four chests on the other side of the tank were still there, waiting to be off-loaded. But what if none contained a hidden suitcase?

Voices drifted over from the parking lot. Someone was coming. Sean’s phone vibrated in his pocket, and he ignored it as he rushed to the nearest chest. He unlatched the lid and flipped it open. He dug his hand in, and his stomach sank as he felt nothing but shrimp and ice.

Fuck.

He shut the lid and moved to the next one. His hand smashed into something hard, and his burst of relief canceled out the pain. Sean opened the hard-sided suitcase and added the three doctored phones to the top layer. Then he closed the lid and spread ice over the case.

“One more,” said a gruff voice nearby.

Panicked, Sean darted toward the bow and crouched behind a pile of boat fenders.

A flashlight beam swept over the deck. Sean ducked down, trying to make himself small.

“Here.”

The beam swung toward the opposite side.

“You sure?”

“Yeah. See?”

Ice rattled as someone dug through the chest. Then the lid slammed shut.

Sean crouched there, not moving or breathing. Sweat trickled down his back as he listened to the grunts and puffs of two guys hefting the chest and hauling it off the boat. Planks creaked as the men lumbered down the pier.

Sean crab-walked backward out of his spot. Sticking to the shadows, he hurried to the other side of the boat and jumped onto the dock, then darted around the corner of the building.

Pressing his back against the wall, he listened to the low grumble of an idling engine.

Sean crept to the end of the building and peered around the corner. A pickup truck was parked on the grass now, outside the halo of white created by the security light. The men loaded the chest onto the truck bed with three other chests, then closed the tailgate.

One guy went to the driver’s side and hitched himself behind the wheel. The other stood at the back, fumbling with his phone for a moment before jogging to the passenger side and sliding into the truck.

The truck moved forward. Its taillights brightened as it slowed to exit the parking lot.

Sean pulled out his phone and shielded the screen with his hand as he read a message from Moore.

Incoming. Get out.

Sean gritted his teeth and shot a furious glare at the window where that dumbass agent should have been on lookout. Sean could have been shot just now. Or captured. He scanned the parking lot for any more surprises, then rushed back to his vehicle.

Thirty seconds later, he was racing down the highway, mentally replaying all that had just happened.

Two seconds. Maybe less.

That was how close everything had come to going sideways.

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