“My guys’ plan is sound and every scenario has been accounted for.”
“Your guys.” Gene shook his head, sounding so much like Foghorn Leghorn that Tony was surprised he didn’t start his next sentence with I say, I say. “You keep callin’ them that. Where did you find them anyway?”
“You’d be amazed at how many ex–armed forces types are willing to sell their services for the right price.”
Gene grimaced.
Poor Gene. Always thinking the best of people. It was genetic. Everyone in the Powers family suffered from the same affliction.
“Come on, Gene.” Tony sighed. “It’s just three girls, one woman, and a wet-behind-the-ears park ranger. It’ll be a breeze.”
“A breeze, huh?” Gene smoothed his mustache and wet his lips with his tongue. “Then tell me again why there are guns involved.”
Tony smiled, but the expression held no humor. “Surely, since you’re a born-and-bred Texan, I don’t need to explain that to you.” When Gene scowled his impatience, Tony elaborated. “Shock and awe, my man. Shock and awe. Besides, we need to make this thing look legit if we want him to pony up the cash and do it quickly.”
“Shock and awe better be all it’ll be.” Gene pressed a hand to his chest as if his heart was hurting. That’s all Tony needed, for the waffling old cuss to have a heart attack. Although, on second thought… If Gene keeled over with a coronary, Tony would be left at the helm. Which would make things so much easier.
“If anything happens to Maddy,” Gene said, shaking his head, “I’ll never—”
“Nothing is going to happen to her,” Tony assured him. When Gene searched his eyes, he made sure his expression reflected one-hundred-percent sincerity.
Gene turned to stare out at the ocean again, a muscle ticking in his jaw. Tony simply sat and waited. Gene had donned his decision-making face, and Tony knew better than to intrude. Finally, Gene blew out a breath. “Okay. Let’s do this.”
Tony flashed Gene a reassuring wink before lifting the satellite phone in his hand and barking two words: “Go time.”
Chapter 3
6:35 p.m.…
“I don’t think I’m always right,” Mason said. “I just think I’m hyper-fuckin’-competent, which leads to a higher-than-usual occurrence of being right.”
“Well, I guess you really put me in my place, didn’t you, Mr. Muscles McSmartypants?” Alex countered. “But I’m telling you, I heard somewhere that—”
“And here comes the useless trivia.” Mason’s exasperation was evident to Bran, even though he was high above the deck of the catamaran in the captain’s chair, busy keeping the mainsail full of the warm wind blowing across Hawk Channel and trying to read the fast currents doing their best to pull the sailboat off course.
“Just so we’re clear,” Alex huffed, crossing her arms and glaring at Mason, “I think I like you better when you aren’t speaking.”
Bran frowned down at the two of them. They’d been trading insults since he weighed anchor and set sail for the Dry Tortugas. It was amazing how two people could take such extreme delight in rubbing each other the wrong way.
Amazing and annoying. Definitely annoying.
“Remind me again why you two are here?” he called to them. Then, on second thought… “Remind me again why I’m here?” There had to be a reason. Although, for the life of him, he couldn’t remember what it was.
Alex turned and shaded her eyes against the glare of the running lights he’d clicked on after the sun sank slow and lazy into the sea to the west. The moment it had touched the water, however, it was as if something hungry was waiting for it there, sucking it down quickly and leaving nothing but a reddish-orange smear in its place. Stars were breaking through the darkening sky overhead, and the blue waters had turned a silvery gray in the deepening dusk.
Bran loved being at sea. Out here he was so free and…removed. Out here he could forget who he really was.
“You’re here because your pride wouldn’t let you back down when LT started making bok-bok noises at you after I told him about Madison Powers’s invitation,” Alex called to him, a grin kicking up the corners of her mouth.
Roger that. Now he remembered. His best friend had always known how to goad him into doing things he didn’t want to do. The rat bastard.
“I’m here because I’ve never been to the Dry Tortugas and the historian in me considered that a crying shame,” Alex continued. “Plus, there’s nothing any of us can do to prepare for the search dives tomorrow. And if I stayed around Wayfarer Island, I wouldn’t get any sleep. I’m too amped up.”