Page 2 of Mated to Team Shadow

I glanced around the cabin frustrated by the pristine cleanliness of its occupant. Who would think that an international criminal had a clean fetish? I walked to the desk and rattled each drawer to find them locked tight.

Merde.

I was not without resources, just a rapidly dwindling amount of time for my investigation. I pulled the metal nail file I hid in my bra and worked the lock of the topmost long, thin, middle drawer. This is the place where many people kept sensitive information on thumb drives.

The question was whether Morgan had pried opened these locks to gain the inner recesses of the desk. I had to hope so because I found no other place he could hide information.

My misspent youth hassling the principal of my high school rewarded me with a click. Heart thudding, I pulled open the desk to find a leather journal and several thumb drives.

Score!

I hope.

I pried open the leather journal to find it was a ledger with words and numbers but in Spanish. Since my Spanish was as good as my French, I couldn't make heads or tails of the words. I slipped my iPhone SE from my bra, stripped of all apps and not connected to a service. Its use was strictly to take photographs, and its compact size made it easier to conceal in clothing. I had to work to steady my shaking hands as I snapped sharp photos of the pages. The ship shuddered from a bump which I could only surmise was the dock.

I was officially out of time.

One more shot and I'd have captured the written pages. I slipped the phone back into my bra. In a scorching second of bravado and heedless of the danger, I scooped up the thumb drives and stuffed them in my bra, determined I would get off this vessel before Morgan discovered the drives missing.

Or so I hoped.

The cabin door rattled, and my heart nearly stopped as I shoved the desk drawer closed.

The door flew open revealing a bodyguard. Only he wasn't tall and dark. He stood delectably tall, buff, and blond.

"Who are you?" he said with his eyes narrowed.

"I'm looking for the bathroom," I said sloppily, aiming to pull off my drunk act.

His eyes narrowed because he clearly did not believe me. His nostrils flared too and surprise lit his handsome green eyes. The bodyguard touched a headset on his ear.

"Intruder in the primary's office."

He nodded and touched the headset again.

"Roger," he said.

My stomach fluttered with a thousand nervous butterflies, and as usual in dangerous conditions, I now needed to use the bathroom, but I had to hold it.

"Oh, baby," I said in a seductive voice. "I didn't mean to make any trouble. I'll just go on my way."

But Tall, Blonde and Delicious wasn't having it as he moved to the desk, and I tried to pass by him. He grabbed my arm in a viselike grip and stopped my forward motion cold.

"Wait here," he said with utter politeness as if he was a waiter offering a menu.

"I should go," I said.

"No," said a rougher voice. Another of the bodyguards stood in the door. And this one was massive. He had to turn to get his expansive shoulders into the cabin. His deep blue eyes stared into me to the divine secrets of my soul. His nostrils flared too.

What is it with these guys flaring their nostrils?

"What do we have here?" said another voice.

Morgan came up behind the bodyguard, standing straight and utterly sober in his white linen suit. The bastard had played us all. The butterflies in my stomach morphed to big nasty moths seeking escape as suspicion glittered in his cold eyes. My heart sank as I realized that he did not buy my drunk act.

"Gunner found her here," said the big guy.

Morgan sauntered past both bodyguards.

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