Chapter 20
TWENTY
Kenzie’s lips still tingled from the kiss.
She touched them absently, marveling at the sensation.
She’d never thought she could enjoy kissing so much, but that had been indescribable.
The way Jaz had pulled her close, the gentle pressure of his mouth on hers, the feeling of safety mixed with something warmer and deeper.
Her phone vibrated in her cargo pants pocket, reminding her why she’d pulled away in the first place.
It was a text from Alyssa. A second text.
Call ASAP.
Are you there?
She showed Jaz the screen. “It’s my sister.”
He nodded, his expression shifting from whatever they’d just shared back to business. “Do you mind putting her on speaker?”
“Sure.” Kenzie dialed, and Alyssa answered immediately.
“Hey, Kenz. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.” Kenzie hit the speaker button. “I’m here with a…friend.” She wasn’t sure that was the right word, but Jaz smiled. “He’s listening.”
“I got your text first thing.” Alyssa was all business. “Those emails seem innocuous. What’s going on?”
Kenzie started to pace, carrying her phone with her. “My business was being used. I was being used, getting jobs that turned out to be…not what I thought they were.”
“Meaning?”
She was embarrassed to admit to her sister or anyone else that she’d been an unwitting drug mule. “What can you tell me about them?”
“I’ve been working on it for hours. The emails came from all over the world. Different IP addresses, routed through VPNs, bouncing through servers all over the Western Hemisphere. Whoever this is, they know what they’re doing.”
“Can you trace them?” If Alyssa couldn’t, then nobody could.
“It’s going to take time, and even if I can nail down the original locations, I doubt I’ll get you a name. These kinds of sophisticated networks are designed to hide identities. For now, I have a system running. Is there anything else I can do?”
“Maybe.” Kenzie met Jaz’s eyes. He shrugged. He couldn’t know what she was thinking, but he trusted her judgment. “My mentor was Edwin Cusack.”
“The one whose emails I’m tracing?” Alyssa sounded confused. “He’s your mentor?”
“He was. Edwin offered to help me get my business started, which he did. He taught me what I needed to know and then sent me referrals. If not for his help, I’d never have succeeded. Those referrals were the bread-and-butter of my business.”
“Okay?” She drew the word out in a question.
“Edwin died about a month after we met, but I kept getting emails and referrals from him for two years.”
Waiting through the long pause, Kenzie returned to the kitchen and set her phone on the island, though she was too amped up to sit.
Finally, Alyssa said, “So either our guy managed to smuggle his phone into heaven—”
“—Feels unlikely.”
“Or someone’s been impersonating him. But why? I don’t understand.”
“Let’s just say…” She really didn’t want to tell her sister, but Alyssa would find out eventually. “I was moving more than yachts.”
“Aw, Kenz, that’s awful. Are you in trouble?”
“No, I mean…” She glanced at Jaz, who shook his head. “I don’t think so. Not yet, anyway. My friend is helping me figure it out.”
“What can I do?”
She looked at Jaz for guidance.
“Hi.” Jaz leaned toward the phone. “I’m Jasper. Jasper Aylett.”
“Aylett?” Of course Alyssa recognized the name. “Any relation to Noah?”
“He’s my brother.”
“So you’re…” Alyssa’s tone cooled. “You’re Charlotte’s father.”
“Yes.” He didn’t explain or defend himself, just left it at that.
Alyssa’s judgment pulsed in the silence. Like the rest of the family, Alyssa knew Jaz had given up his daughter, that Noah was raising her now. And like everyone else, like Kenzie herself before this week, she assumed the worst about him.
“Alyssa, Jaz saved my life—a couple of times now.”
Jaz gripped her hand and shook his head, and she got the feeling he was used to feeling judged and didn’t care.
Or had conditioned himself not to, anyway.
“Can you look into Edwin Cusack’s death?
It was ruled an accident—hit-and-run in Tampa two years ago.
I can’t find any follow-up articles about it.
I need to know who did it and if there’s more to it.
Police reports, witness statements, anything that might suggest it wasn’t random. ”
“You think someone targeted him?”
“I think it’s suspicious, all things considered. There’s a good chance he was murdered.”
The rapid clicks of typing came through the phone. “I’m on it. Kenzie, how did you not hear that your mentor had died? That’s odd.”
“The only person we had in common was Cal. He was a great sailing instructor, but it’s not like we kept up after I moved away.”
“I guess that makes sense. Anything else I can do?”
Kenzie glanced at Jaz, who shrugged. “That’s it for now. Thanks, Alyssa.”
“Kenzie, wait.” Her sister’s voice softened. “Take care of yourself, okay? And…and you should loop Dad in if you haven’t already. He can help.”
“Yeah, I will.” Eventually. “Thanks, sis.” She ended the call.
“She’s probably right,” Jaz said. “Your dad can help.”
“He can. But I know what he’ll do. He’ll swoop in and rescue me—and leave you to fend for yourself.”
Jaz’s eyes narrowed. “You’re sure about that?”
“You heard my story. I wanted to call the police, and he wouldn’t let me.”
“You were a teenager. Now you’re all grown up. You get to decide what to do, how to live.”
“You don’t know my dad. He can be persuasive. And, frankly, he’s a do-what-I-want-and-ask-forgiveness-later kind of guy.”
“And yet, he’s not here. He wanted to swoop in, as you called it, that first day, right? And you asked him not to.”
True. But could she trust him not to insert himself if she called again?
“You do what you think’s best. I’ll just say, you’re lucky you have a dad to call.” He averted his gaze, but not before she saw the flash of pain there.
“Delaney said you guys lost your father when you were…what? A teenager, right?”
He nodded but didn’t add anything more. It’d been years since his father’s death. Maybe a person never stopped grieving that kind of loss.
Jaz’s phone rang, and he snatched it. “It’s Wentz, my handler.”
He answered, listened for a moment, then put it on speaker. “You’re on with Kenzie Wright, the woman I told you about. Kenzie, this is Special Agent Wentz.”
“Ms. Wright.” Wentz’s voice was gravelly and tired. “You were sailing the Blue Fantasy?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And what did you know about the drugs on board?”
“Nothing.”
Jasper tapped the mute button. “Wentz can be wily and opportunistic. Don’t admit to anything.”
“What could I admit to? I didn’t know anything.”
“You do now. Be careful with your words. He knows you were the captain. You weren’t aware of contraband, and you still aren’t convinced. You never saw any drugs.”
“Right.”
Wentz had asked something while they were talking, but Kenzie hadn’t caught it.
Now, Wentz said, “Are you still there? Did I lose you?”
Jasper unmuted. “We’re here. Repeat that?”
“Miss Wright, what can you tell me about the drugs on board?”
“I don’t know anything about any drugs.”
“You never thought to inspect the cargo you were carrying?”
“I wasn’t aware I was carrying cargo. I was hired to transport the yacht, that’s all. Jaz told me he suspected that there were drugs on board, and we saw a bunch of crates—”
“Crates that had been stored in a hidden citadel,” Jaz said. “I had to break in with a crowbar, and even then, we just got a glimpse of what was inside.”
“I didn’t know they were there, and I have no idea what was inside them. The owner told me he was boxing up their valuables, so that’s what I assume was in the crates.”
There was a moment of silence from the other end, then Wentz said, “Okay. Jaz, walk me through what you’ve found since we last spoke.”
Kenzie wasn’t sure if the man was convinced, but at least he’d quit questioning her. Since nobody had confirmed that drugs were on board the yacht, she figured she couldn’t be charged.
Not that she was thankful the yacht had been boarded by pirates, but she hated to imagine what would have happened if it’d been boarded by immigration or customs agents. If they’d found the drugs, she’d have been arrested, charged, and probably convicted of smuggling.
She could’ve landed in prison.
Someone had taken a lot of risks with her life and her future.
Jaz summarized the events of the last twenty-four hours—going to Kenzie’s apartment, retrieving her files.
He told Wentz about Edwin Cusack, his death, and the mysterious referrals.
“We also discovered that many of the yachts Kenzie transported were registered in Panama. And most of the contracts came from yacht management companies.” Jaz pulled Kenzie’s files closer.
“At least a dozen, all with generic company names. And then there are the owners themselves, which are often businesses. I haven’t had…
” His voice trailed. “I just realized five of the yacht management companies are located on St. Martin, and…” He flipped through paperwork. “It’s odd, these addresses.”
“They’re probably shell companies,” Wentz said. “Send me everything, and I’ll run ’em through our databases, cross-reference cartel operations, see if any patterns emerge.”
“I haven’t worked my way through all the files yet, but I’ll send you what I’ve got.”
“Sounds good. Where are you right now?”
Jaz’s expression hardened. “Somewhere safe.”
The man sighed. “St. Barts?”
“I’ll check in, but I’m not broadcasting my location. Too many people are looking for us.”
“Fine. Just don’t do anything stupid.”
“Me?” His voice rose comically high. “Never.”
Another sigh. “Ms. Wright, are you okay staying with him? You trust him?”
Kenzie looked at Jaz, remembering the kiss, the way he’d held her after she’d confessed her darkest secret. The way he’d trusted her first.
“Yes,” she said. “I do.”
“All right then.” Wentz sounded marginally convinced. “I’ll be in touch when I have something. Keep your phone on.”
After the call ended, Jaz leaned back in his chair, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
“What?” Kenzie asked.
“We’re actually getting somewhere.” He looked more hopeful than she’d seen him since this whole thing started. “Alyssa’s tracing the emails and looking into Edwin’s death. Wentz is running down the shell companies. We have people working multiple angles now.”
“You think we’ll find who’s behind this?”
“I’m almost afraid to say what I think.” He reached across the bar and covered her hand with his. “The pieces are falling into place. It’s just a matter of time.”
Kenzie turned her hand over, lacing her fingers through his. The gesture felt natural. “What do we do while we wait?”
He pumped his eyebrows. “I can think of a few things.”
Warmth filled her cheeks. She didn’t know if he was serious or joking. She had no experience with these things.
He must’ve read her expression because he laughed—amused, not mocking.
“As much as I’d like to pick up where we left off, we probably ought to focus.
Let’s keep going through your files, look for anything we might have missed.
” He squeezed her hand gently, then released it.
Even as he bent toward his computer again, he was smiling.
The man was downright beautiful when he smiled.