Savage Beauty (The Arrow Tactical Series Book 5)

Chapter 19

When I get back from moving the car, Sloane’s gone. Stepping out on the deck, I scan the beach and find her off in the distance. She pulled her dark hair up in a ponytail that sways back and forth with each step. She’s in a clingy long-sleeve shirt, which I’d bet is an SPF shirt, and running shorts that set off those long, lean legs. The woman has one amazing set of legs.

She’s not a heels kind of woman, but damn if she wouldn’t look hot in towering heels and thigh-highs. That vision has me readjusting myself as I step back inside.

But Sloane won’t wear heels. She’s far too practical. Serious. And funny as hell without meaning to be. A guy can never know what’s going to come out of that one’s mouth. And now I’m grinning, just remembering—Do you want to have sex?

Yeah, surprising. If only all women would be so straightforward, the world would be a better place.

My phone buzzes, and it’s a reminder of another reason I steer clear of relationships and why I shouldn’t be standing around the kitchen like a dope thinking about a woman. Her legs? Fine. The behavior fits with any guy on any day. Quirky personality? Nope. That’s sucker land. Thinking about a woman’s personality is a blaring warning sign.

Ginger

I’m all settled in your place. Thank you so much for letting me crash here. Do you think you’ll be back soon?

I choose to ignore the woman who branded me a sucker. Besides, I might not be in the military anymore, but I’m away for work. She’ll assume work is keeping me from responding.

I flip open my laptop and login through our secure VPN. Erik isn’t a fan of video conferences, so it’s a group audio call. I have to say, if a similarity in preferences is any sign, it’s conceivable I’ll be right at home on the tech team. I need more training, but one thing my time in the military taught me, it can all be learned.

“Hi. It’s Stella here.”

“Hey, Stella. It’s Max. No one else has joined.”

“Great. I’m just popping in. I’m still working on scheduling the jet to pick you up. Both of our company jets are in use this week. I’m fairly certain I’ve got everything worked out, and one will arrive to pick you up tomorrow afternoon, but I’m still waiting on confirmations.”

“No rush. We’re good here.”

“Is that villa nice?”

“Very.”

“Trevor’s birthday is coming up. Do you think he’d like it there?”

“Ah…” I glance out the window at the relatively flat sea. No waves mean no surfing. “I mean, this place is luxe. There’s snorkeling right out your back door. But you’d need to get on a bike or drive to go do anything else.”

“So that’s a no for Trev?”

“Probably. But maybe not. It’s not like he can’t get to activities. At the airport, they had travel fliers for all kinds of stuff…you know, paragliding, scuba. This place has all your normal island shit.”

“Erik here.”

“Jack here.” Jack Sullivan isn’t normally a part of our team meetings, but he’s shown an interest in the Watson case from the beginning. He said he only met with Sam once, but I’m beginning to wonder if there isn’t more behind his involvement.

A few others from the tech team announce themselves.

“Max. We got identification on the man who entered the building last night.” Typical Erik, he doesn’t bother with any kind of intro or summarizing who is on the call.

“Is he a Solonov associate?” That’s really my biggest concern. That there are more hired guns on the island.

“Local security guard. Employed by Wright Security, a small security company that installs security systems. No record. Our best guess is that you guys triggered an alert, and he was called to check it out. He never called the cops. And no alert went to the police station. He lives in an apartment nearby, so maybe the alert triggered someone who checked their employee database and sent him because he’s so close.”

“Wouldn’t a typical security system automatically notify the police?”

“Possibly. Depends on how it’s set up.”

“So, your risk assessment would be….”

“We don’t think he’s anything to worry about. But I think that building has a security system that we didn’t identify, so I wouldn’t go back in there. Do you have that laptop?”

“Yes.”

“And that’s the only thing you took?”

“Yep. We’ll get it to you when we’re Stateside.”

“Can you get in it?”

“Well, we have the username and password for it. And Sloane grabbed a password list from a drawer.”

“Snap a photo of that list and send it to me. Turn the computer on. I’m going to walk you through how to let us take over that device.”

“Remotely? You can do that securely?”

“Yes, we can. Keep it plugged in.”

“Sloane wants to find the report she created.”

“We’ll find it.”

“You think that’s the key to what’s going on?”

“That’s Interpol’s theory. They’ll help us figure out what we’re looking at. They want to see which databases she used to source her data.”

“How’s Knox and Sage?”

“Stella dropped off the call.” Erik can be a jackass. Like he doesn’t know how they’re doing.

“Jack here. No signs of concern. Sage returns to work Monday, I believe.”

“Thanks, Jack.”

“No problem. Keep your eyes open and keep Sloane safe. We still don’t fully understand what’s going on here.”

“Copy that.” An understatement if there ever was one.

The call ends, and I get Erik set up on the laptop. Watching him take over feels a bit like handing over the reins to another team, something I’m hardwired to take as a failure. But he’s working with technical resources I don’t possess out here with a couple of phones and a laptop. I tell myself it’s the same as handing it over to a reconnaissance team.

Out on the deck, I scan the beach and see the tall, dark-haired beauty strolling slowly along the beach. I dial Knox and kick back in a chair, happy to keep my eyes on her.

“Hey, man. I hear you’ve made progress.” Laidback happiness oozes from the guy. It’s in his tone. There’s a smile there I can hear.

“Keeping tabs?” I ask.

“You know it.”

“And things there?”

“Spent a couple of rough days with Sage salvaging what she can from her house. It’s emotional for her.” That sucks. I forget sometimes that she didn’t escape this ordeal unscathed.

“Fire destroyed everything, huh?”

“It did a number. I know we determined the goal of burning her house was to flush her out, but if you consider the fire intensity, you’d think they were set on eliminating evidence.”

“She taking it all okay?”

“Eh, I think losing her parents’ and Sam’s stuff hit her harder than losing anything she owned. But she’s at the school today.”

“Jack said she was going back Monday.”

“Nope. She’s been back for a couple of days.”

“And are you patrolling the school grounds?” The idea of a protective Knox hanging out in a school parking lot all day has me grinning.

“No. She teaches at a fancy private school that has security on the grounds. I hung out there at first, but based on the reports I’m hearing, the heat is off. You agree with that assessment?”

“Yeah. I do.” It’s a fair assessment. “We’re out of here tomorrow, if Stella can secure the plane for us.”

“That’s what I heard. A couple of other jobs are taking priority. Plus, we’re in investigative mode on this one. But I’m not actually working today.”

“Oh?”

“I’m house hunting. We’re crashing at Sage’s buddy’s house, and I’d like for us to get our own place.”

“No shitting?”

“Nope.”

“Good for you, man.” Never thought I’d see the day Knox got serious enough to move in with someone. But with a guy like Knox, I suppose it all comes down to timing. Those first few years, he witnessed so many relationships combust with the weight of distance, mine included, he pretty much refused to go down that rabbit hole. But now, there are no tours on the calendar. He’s done with all that. We’re done with all that.

“It feels good. Right. How’re things there? Is Sloane driving you crazy?”

She steps into the swirling water up to her calves. Her back is to me, and she kicks a leg, sending a foamy spray through the air. She’s like a kid playing around on the shore, oblivious to anyone watching her.

“Nah. She’s not so bad.” She’s staying strong, all things considered. She’s not the only Watson to lose something important. “She’s clinging to hope she can return to work, but I’m not sold that’s the case.”

“Sage told me her work is everything to her. How’s she handling it?”

“All right. She still believes once we clear this up, she can safely return.”

“Sage wants to talk to her.”

“I’ll have her call her.”

“She’s not with you?”

“Took a walk on the beach.”

“Is that safe?”

“I’ve got eyes on her.”

“Do you, now?” I snort at his innuendo. Well-deserved innuendo, as it stands. “Nah, in all seriousness, man, don’t go playing around with her. She’s Sage’s sister. I don’t want things getting awkward years from now.”

“So, it’s like that, is it? Already doing long-term planning?”

“It’s exactly like that. And you’re family to me, so don’t go making the holidays awkward.”

“Aye, aye, Captain.”

“Fuck off.”

We end the call, and I throw the phone down and fold my arms behind my head, kicked back to watch the slender sexpot meander along the secluded shoreline.

She’s not really my type. With each day that passes, the thought feels more like a barrier I’m constructing.

But it’s not bullshit. I go for blondes with serious curves. I’ve always loved a full rack. But there’s something about her. Like now, just watching her, I’m totally turned on in spite of those barely there tits. She’s not trying to be sexy; she just is. Maybe that’s what it is. She doesn’t doctor anything. Her words, her face. What you see is what you get. Compared to Ginger and the frog hogs who followed her, she’s refreshing.

If she ever found someone else attractive, she’d tell me. She might explain it with an in-depth tutorial on chemistry and pheromones, but she’d tell me.

Knox doesn’t want me messing around with her because he’s worried we’ll cross paths in the future and it will be awkward. But, you know, I don’t think it would be with someone like Sloane. Things get awkward when someone doesn’t come out and say what they’re thinking. If something bothers Sloane, she’ll tell you.

She washes her feet at the spigot and doesn’t seem to see me until she’s climbing the steps.

“How’d the meeting go?” She lifts her sunglasses and blinks to adjust her eyes to the shade.

“Good,” I tell her as my gaze tracks down those slender legs to a smear of sunblock above her knee that needs to be rubbed in.

“Still heading out tomorrow?”

“That’s the tentative plan.”

“What’re we going to do until then? Market?”

Those shorts of hers are flimsy fabric, the kind our high school girls’ soccer team wore. Short enough to reveal the smooth curve of skin where thigh blends to ass.

I push up off the chair, stalk toward her, and pop that fine tush. She squeals, and I smooth my palm over her, just like I did last night, letting my fingers trace the seam of her panties, because yes, her shorts are that short.

“Get inside. I’ll show you a few things we can do.”