Page 101 of Poison Evidence

The others stood, and one by one, they climbed the short ladder to the deck. Poised to step onto the inflatable boat, Luke paused and turned to Dimitri. “This is going to work,” Luke said softly. “Hell, we’re ten times more prepared than we were last November, and this time, we’ve got a full team.”

“If anything happens to me, Luke, watch out for my sister and Ivy. They’re why I sent you the card. To give them backup if I fail.”

Luke gave a sharp nod. “I figured that out.” He gave a wry smile. “I’ve spent a lot of months trying to figure out what—if anything—you told me was true.”

Dimitri shrugged. “Not much. Except when I said I wasn’t going back to the GRU. And I didn’t. I was forced.”

Luke glanced over Dimitri’s shoulder, and his expression softened. “Be good to Ivy, or Undine is going to kick your ass—and mine.”

Dimitri nodded. That was Undine, fierce and protective of everyone, even when she didn’t know the person well. He glanced over his shoulder to take in the woman who’d made him want to live. “She means everything to me,” he said, holding her gaze. “She should be on the next flight out of here, going home where it’s safe.”

She crossed her arms, drawing his gaze to her cast. Guilt kicked him in the balls. “Not a chance,” she said.

“I’ll leave you two to your arguing.” Luke jumped into the boat. “Rest up. Tomorrow is going to be a craptastic day.”

Ian lowered the engine into the water and pulled the cord. He pointed the boat toward Koror, and they sped off into the night.

Ivy pressed up against Dimitri’s side, and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Luke trusts you.”

He stared after the boat as it raced across the water. “I’m amazed he does. And humbled.”

“You like him.”

“I do. I was also jealous of him—his life, his friendships. Everybody likes Luke. Everyone respects him. Even Undine’s father—who once hated him—became Luke’s biggest fan. Parker had friends on the surface, and respect from the other Coasties, but it was all a lie.”

She ran her fingers over his cheek. Sometime in the last day, his whiskers had crossed the line between stubble and beard. “I never knew Parker Reeves, but I do know Dimitri Veselov, and Dimitri is the man I want to have a future with.”

He couldn’t help but grin. “Dimitri is one damn lucky bastard.”

“Let’s go to bed so he can explore just how lucky.”

Chapter Thirty-Seven

It was showtime. Ivy glanced at her watch again. She’d had to duct-tape it to the cast because she hated wearing it on her right wrist and knew she’d be checking the time constantly.

After some debate, they’d agreed that Ivy would stay on the boat, anchored off the Angaur shoreline. All the men they trusted were involved in the operation. There was no one left to guard her. The hotel wasn’t secure and was also the first place anyone would look for her.

The exchange in the jungle of Peleliu was a covert operation on foreign soil, so the local police as protectors for Ivy were out. They’d start asking questions if she suddenly showed up at the station to hang out—plus she wouldn’t be able to carry a gun if she were with the police. And she wasn’t about to give up her gun.

She was comfortable on the boat and had an unobstructed view of all three hundred and sixty degrees. It was the logical choice. No one had reason to search near Angaur, and here there weren’t any small islands for approaching vessels to hide behind.

But waiting for word from Dimitri was excruciating. It would likely be hours before she knew if he’d been successful. If he was even alive.

She paced, but the boat was half the size ofLiberty. Very unsatisfying when it took less than a minute to circle the entire vessel. Finally, she paused in front of her computer.

She had the files she’d copied from the AUUV yesterday. She had yet to see if there was valuable intel stored in the memory. Work would distract her like nothing else could. But then, she doubted even work could distract her today, not with Dimitri in the jungle, trying to save his family. Trying to save himself.

But still, it was worth a try. She plugged in the hard disk and scanned the list of files.

She sorted the videos from the images. She clicked on a short video that filtered to the top. It wouldn’t play, so she broke it open and looked at the stills. It looked like video from the seventies. A man in front of a brownish-yellow background. She separated out the audio track and hit Play.

A deep baritone made wordless, musical vocalizations. Weird. But then the vocalizations were interrupted by a song that was familiar to her: Rick Astley’s equally deep baritone singing, “Never Gonna Give You Up.”

She laughed. She’d just been rickrolled, Russian-style.

She shook her head at this first layer of security, wishing she’d thought to put a rickroll in CAM.

The idea of someone stealing her baby, only to be confounded by Rick Astley on repeat made her smile. She would add a rickroll to CAM 2.0.

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