Page 48 of Christmas Harbor Secrets
“It’s not,” Rone cut in. Not cruelly. Just clean. “And if it is, it’s a trap. The chip could’ve been taped to anything.”
“Then we anchor off the island and dinghy in.”
He exhaled hard, as if every part of him wanted to say yes and no at once. “You asked me to tell you the truth. Here it is: heading to that island without backup is a death sentence. They know this trawler can only anchor in deeper water. That bay’s only accessible during high tide for us.”
“Then we leave the boat at a different bay, at another island, or the other side of the island. We’ll hike or dinghy or paddleboard. Whatever it takes.”
He stood with his hands braced on the table like he was steadying a patient gurney. The wrapped burn on his hand showed clean white against sun-browned skin. “Isobel.”
“Don’tIsobelme. I don’t need your protection. I need your help. I’m not Torres.”
Rone’s voice dropped, that low, steady tone that neverboded well. “You’re exactly like Torres, running into the fire without a solid plan. This is NOT happening.”
The words hit like cold spray. She blinked, trying to keep her footing as the trawler pitched. “You can’t just decide that?—”
“I just did.” He pushed away from the table, the motion all control, no heat. “Laurel Tide owns half the coast and probably three-quarters of law enforcement between here and Tallahassee. You walk into their den alone, and you’re not coming out.”
“I’m not asking to walk in alone,” she said, following him toward the steps. “I’m asking totry.”
“Trygets people killed.” He turned the trawler north into the opening of the bay. The low rumble filled the cabin, vibrating through her ribs. “We go offshore. Then we call Blake and set a proper extraction point. End of discussion.”
Salty wind pushed through the open hatch as he turned the wheel, easing them into the bay. The mangroves slipped by in ragged blurs. Sunlight speared through the gaps in the canopy and flickered across his face—hard planes, focused eyes, that furrow between his brows that meant he was already twenty steps ahead in his mind.
She gripped the edge of the console, fighting to swallow the fear that tasted too much like loss. “You think they can’t track us out there?”
“Not as easy. Land-based surveillance falls off past the shoals. No tracking and no line of sight make it harder to find us.” He didn’t glance her way, just scanned the water like it could lie to him. “If Laurel Tide’s watching, they’ll expect us to head inland or back to port. They won’t expect deep water.”
“Fine, but then we can return to another shoreline,” Isobel pleaded, her chest tight and aching.
“You’ll only get yourself killed.”
“I’m not Torres,” She said in a seething tone. “I’m not your partner, and I don’t have to agree to a deal if I choose not to.”
“Be reasonable,” Rone groaned.
She crossed her arms and stood next to him. “I’m the one with the evidence; I decide the deal.”
He huffed, scrubbed his hands down his face, and leaned back in the helm chair. “Do you want me to lie to you and tell you that we can waltz onto that island, rescue your father, and then make it out alive? I thought you wanted honesty, not fantasy.”
“I want a chance.”
“Fine. A chance I can give you. Take the helm.”
“Really?” Her pulse thundered.
“I’ll try to save your father, because you’re right. Torres…” His gaze fell to the floor, and the mighty man in front of her visibly crumbled. “I can’t bring her back, but I might be able to help save your father and Echo.”
“Thank you,” she breathed, warmth filling her body.
“On one condition.”
Isobel stiffened. “What’s that?”
“I’ll do this only if you agree to leave.”
“I knew I couldn’t trust you. No. I’m not leaving.” Isobel stood her ground.
“Then no deal.”
