Page 44 of Wrecked
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Sam went perfectlystill and stayed calm. If this person had wanted to kill him, he’d be dead by now. “I’m not armed.” He kept his hands where they could be seen.
Who robbed someone in Podunk Nowhere?
And how had that person gotten on this boat without him realizing it?
“I know you’re not armed. Do not move or attempt to disarm me if you do not want to be shot.”
That husky voice. He knew that deep female timber. This time he caught the hint of a buried accent. British? What the hell was going on?
His heartbeat ticked up and his senses sharpened.
She warned, “Sit very still when I move the gun away. Hate to mess up this shiny boat.”
“Understood.” Sam assessed the threat level to potential bystanders in the marina. The marina owner had said the boat owners were not here, but he didn’t want to put her at risk either.
The office was almost two hundred feet away and uphill fifteen feet if bullets were fired. She should be safe.
The cool metal withdrew from his head.
He cut his eyes to the side but kept every other muscle still. “Hell of a way to thank someone.”
The woman from Venezuela stepped into view with her back to the handrail running around the bow. “I already thanked you by warning you the mansion would blow.”
“Then what are you doing here?” How had she even found him? He drew in a slow breath, forcing himself to stay calm. With that inhale he discovered she’d showered with a lemon-scented soap. Nice.
Funny the things he noticed when someone was threatening his life.
Nitro would be rolling his eyes.
Sam had enough light from the tall pole at the end of the dock to recognize the length of the gun meant it had a suppressor, which was still pointed at him. No light reflected off the flat black finish.
“I want to know what you were doing in that mansion,” she stated.
“I’m not going to pretend we aren’t both operatives. Why don’t you tell me whatyouwere doing there?” He remained still, looking for common ground. He needed her to give an inch first. “In fact, if you want to have a conversation, how about putting the gun down? I’m not as chatty when a loaded weapon is pointed at me.”
After a long silence, she lowered the gun to point down but did not put it away. Where would she stuff a gun that size in those tight black pants or that snug matching tank top?
She said, “I was there to extract someone.”
That rattled his brain. His heart cranked up to a heavy drumbeat. He cautiously asked, “Who?”
“Do you really think I’ll tell you when you have shared nothing?”
Could she know about the senator? Lifting a shoulder casually, he said, “My mission was classified. I can’t say a word.”
“Classified did not stop someone from giving you up.”
“He didn’t—” Sam snapped his mouth shut. He could not say a word about the arms dealer.
Her voice held amusement. “You are so quick to defend someone, but you had a weak link somewhere in your intel chain.”
The minute he was on a mission, every nerve and thought process geared up, like now, but for some reason, he was enjoying this insane conversation. That’s what happened when he’d been denied female company for so long.
Lifting his beer to test her knee-jerk reaction, he took a long drink then lowered it back.
Nope. This one had ice in her veins. Confident she could take him down if he made a wrong move.
