Chapter 19
CHARLIE
I hate to admit it, but I spent all last night scouring my wardrobe, thinking, What does one wear on a yacht? A flipping yacht?!
When nothing appeared to be good enough to wear, I thought, What would Celine do?
Because, surely, she has some kind of yacht attire.
That led me to Ana, who helped me out with this black one-piece bathing suit with cut-outs and a red wrap halter dress.
The pineapple bun updo was her idea too.
So are the wedge sandals that make me feel like I’m on stilts.
I told Ana a half-truth, only as much as she needed to know.
“Charlie, why don’t I give you a tour?” Frank Castillo offers.
His gaze is not meeting my eyes. It is on my cleavage. The plunging neckline of this bathing suit gives me no way to hide the girls. They’re on display.
With the captain giving Oliver a tour of the bridge, I’m now responsible for distracting Castillo.
While no one expressly stated that distracting Castillo would require me to flirt with him, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out his greatest motivating factors: power and ego.
Letting him flirt with me plays into both.
I’m glad Uncle Ollie is on the bridge, otherwise this would be even more awkward and cringey than it already is.
“That would be lovely,” I purr. And this isn’t really a lie. One, I know I need to be checking for anything suspicious. Two, I’ve never been on a yacht before. Castillo walks a few steps ahead of me, so I discreetly tap the side of my surveillance frames to start recording and transmitting to Ian.
As Castillo leads me into the interior of the boat, my chest tightens.
That sense that danger is not just near; it is here.
This man could discover our purpose and dispose of us.
After all, someone in the Order shot at me and Declan only last week.
Who is to say Frank Castillo wouldn’t finish the job to protect their nefarious plans?
Courage finds me quickly, steadying my nerves and my hands.
If flirting with Castillo helps me find information to stop the Order, so be it.
I can do that. So people aren’t hurt. And, more selfishly, so I’m not shot at again.
I can care for the world at large and also act in my own best interests at the same time.
As he leads me through the first hallway, I make sure to take in every detail.
Not just for my own curiosity but so the recording picks up anything I might miss.
The interior hallways are lined with artwork.
I can’t imagine the additional insurance costs for that on a boat.
On the doorways, I catch small details monogrammed with “F. C.” in case anyone ever forgot who owned the vessel.
The dark paneling offsets the carpet flooring, the color exactly matching the tangerine Vallus logo.
“My navigation team has an office. There are so many sophisticated systems nowadays, but I want them to have what they need to navigate by the stars if necessary.” He points to an open doorway.
Inside is a wall of monitors. In the center is our current route to Key West. On the other screens, I notice other destinations.
Madeira. Sicily. Hmm, navigate by the stars, or intentionally go off grid to evade the authorities?
“Where are you headed after you drop us off in Key West?” I enquire, a totally normal question. If I weren’t in these high heels, I would be the same height as Frank Castillo. But with the shoes Ana sent me with, I am taller, putting my collarbone directly in his eyeline.
“To the Mediterranean. Have you ever been?” Castillo gestures for me to follow him.
I continue to chat back and forth, looking for more opportunities to ask about his plans.
He leads us down a spiral staircase to the deck below. “This is where we have a gym, a spa, and four suites.” Castillo points to each in turn.
This ship is huge! But I can still feel the motion of the vessel, the speed and the chop knocking us accordingly. I envy Declan’s diversion of being seasick, because I may actually be if I keep walking on these heels throughout this boat.
“Our masseuse isn’t on board today, but I’d be happy to give you a massage if you’d like?
” Castillo offers as he points to the frosted-glass door that leads to the spa.
The way he eyes me as he says this makes my skin crawl.
His cologne is too strong for this short hallway.
His fingers stroke down my exposed arm, while his other hand moves to the small of my back, guiding me to the room I have no desire to enter ever, let alone with this guy.
I freeze instead of flinch. I’m supposed to get information from this guy, but I have limits as to how far I’ll go for this mission.
Just then, one of the doors further down the hallway opens. Castillo puts his hands away as Declan stumbles out. My colleague’s left hand covers his stomach; his right is to his mouth. Wow, maybe he really is seasick. Or a phenomenal actor.
“Are you OK?” I ask reflexively.
Declan nods, his fist covering his mouth. “The steward suggested I go lay down. Frank, does your team keep any ginger ale stocked?”
“Yes, let me go find you something,” Castillo says, trying to stand back from Declan as if motion sickness were contagious. “Charlie, I’ll be right back to finish our tour.”
Our host hurries up the spiral steps.
I turn back to Declan, who is now standing tall, his eyes alight with fury, staring at the staircase Castillo ascended. “I bet he will.”
“Declan, are you actually OK?” I whisper.
He gives me a single nod, a reminder to keep our conversation to a minimum, in case the hallways are being recorded.
“That guy giving you any trouble?”
“Nothing I can’t handle,” I respond. The muscles in Declan’s jaw tighten. “Nothing I haven’t had to handle before,” I remind him.
As a female in the world, I have had to deal with slimy guys who think my eyes are in my cleavage.
I can handle myself. Besides, I know nothing bad can happen to me with Uncle Ollie on board.
Or Declan. That thought both surprises me and doesn’t at all.
I know Declan won’t let anyone hurt me. He’s already proven that when he shielded me from bullets last week.
Right now, Declan is a little too protective, though. Like he thinks I can’t take care of myself. I need to show him I can handle myself on these missions.
Declan keeps his eyes on the stairs, ready to slip back into his ruse at the first sign of Castillo.
“Well, you shouldn’t have to.” He finally moves his eyes and locks them with mine.
With these heels, I’m much closer to his height.
I can hear his breath, see how his chest moves up and down beneath his pressed polo.
Declan looks so natural in this element, dressed up for a day of boating.
His calves and forearms, my kryptonite, are on display.
I am doing my best to not notice, but I’m not blind either.
Remember he’s only making sure you don’t ruin this mission. My brain gives me the reminder I need so I can stop ogling and say something. “Finally, something we can both agree on.”
The ship tilts and these traitorous shoes give me no room to balance.
I knock into Declan, who grabs my waist to keep me from falling further with deft precision.
His leather and sandalwood cologne surrounds me again, a welcome aroma.
This embrace lasts a second, maybe two, before he helps me back to my feet.
He removes his hands quickly, but the spot where his hands touched my skin is still warm. I miss his touch instantly.
At first, I think he is mad at me for being clumsy. But then I catch the pink on his cheeks, his eyes refocused on the stairs. Is Declan Davidson blushing? Because he touched me?
I feel them again. Those butterflies that only ever made themselves known in my stomach when I was crossing a finish line, when I knew I had that podium in my sights. They choose this moment to resurface.
Castillo’s footsteps tap-tap-tap down the stairs and I step back from Declan. On cue, he grabs his stomach with one hand and braces the other against the wall.
Our host returns with a can of ginger ale in his hand and a sick bag in the other. “Why don’t you head to the lounge, some fresh air may help,” he instructs Declan.
My teammate makes his way up the stairs, his tall frame wobbling as he disappears.
“So where did we leave off ?” Castillo says and he puts his hand on my upper back. His palms are damp, sweaty. My skin does not react anywhere near the same way it did for Declan. “Ah, the primary suite is ahead.” He starts to lead us down the hallway.
“You know, I probably should check in with Uncle Ollie too. Make sure we have everything sorted for when we arrive.” I turn and put on my charming smile; this motion also causes his hand to fall.
“Uncle Ollie? I didn’t realize Oliver had any family.” Castillo is now appraising me with a different set of eyes. Less lascivious, more suspicious.
“Well, he does,” I say brightly and turn to head back down the hallway, up the stairs, and away from this guy and his bedroom.
Frank Castillo is silent for a beat before redoubling his efforts. “You know, Charlie, I’m sure working for your uncle has its perks, but you would be a great fit with my team. I’m sure I could find a position for you.” The way he says it makes me want to barf, but I keep my face stoic.
This man is as old as my uncle, as old as my father! Also, the whole “buying illegal arms and trying to recreate the world for his own profit” thing – huge turnoff.
“Sure,” I say, not sure how else to lead with this. “Especially if it would mean travel. I love that I get to travel in my current role.”
“Well, I’ll be based out of Italy for most of the summer. Working with me would ensure you’d see all the best places. Lake Como. Milan. Rome, of course.”
I nod my head as we climb the stairs. Making a mental log of his itinerary now. Oliver and Declan are out in the lounge. I do my best to keep my pace even as we walk toward them, trying not to run to the safety that I know they offer.
The rest of the cruise down to Key West is uneventful.
Oliver keeps Castillo busy with conversation.
They talk about business and potential new tariffs that could impact both enterprises.
Declan keeps up his charade and sneaks below deck a few more times and each time I know he is gathering more data.
I turn off the camera embedded in my glasses and wait for us to arrive in Key West.
We disembark in darkness; we’ll all have to get some rest before our early morning for the swim start.
“Thank you again for the ride. The next time you have your eye on one of our finish lines, let me know. We’ll arrange everything on our end.” Oliver shakes Castillo’s hand and beelines for the limo, checking his phone.
Frank offers to carry my bag to the car that is waiting for us. Declan is a few steps ahead of us and I catch him roll his eyes.
“Charlie, it was such a wonderful accident we were able to meet this afternoon.” Frank Castillo grabs my hand and plants a kiss on it. “I hope we’ll meet again soon,” he says with a twinkle in his eye.
I give a smile, because I know if I open my mouth to say anything, bile will come out. All our bags are in the back of the limo and I slide in next to Declan. The doors are closed and the limo pulls us away from the dock. Not fast enough for me.
“Please tell me you both got something?” Oliver says, his voice tired.
“Yes, but first I need a towel or a wipe or something,” I say, cringing, wanting to clean my hand.
“His ship was running slower than max. Which means he either wanted this to be a longer trip or it is running heavy,” Declan announces as he hands me a heated towel from one of the side compartments.
“You think the weapons were on board?” Oliver asks.
Declan gives a nod. Could be.
“Alright, next we’ll assess any major targets in the Caribbean and potentially the Yucatán. The captain told me they’re sticking to this region,” Oliver adds.
I correct him politely. “He’s spending the summer port-hopping in the Mediterranean.”
Both Declan and Oliver glance at me, clearly asking for clarification.
I tell them about the navigation room and Castillo’s boasting. “Madeira is a likely port after crossing. He specifically mentioned ports along the west coast of Italy.”
“Good work, Charlie.” Oliver turns to me as I make a show of rubbing my hand clean.
“Please never tell your father I put you in this situation.” This makes me furrow my brow at him.
Patriarchal bullshit, but I understand what Oliver is trying to say.
He’s second-hand embarrassed. I don’t need him to be.
“Can you be frenemies with less creepy people?” I ask, trying to make light of the situation.
Oliver puts the information together. “We now have an idea of where the weapons may end up. Not a complete waste of time.”
I give a nod and feel a sense of accomplishment. One clue at a time, one piece of information at a time. We can stop him.
“Charlie,” Oliver says, peering at me over the top of his glasses, “if that guy does another one of our races, I will personally put a hole in his tires and add Ex-Lax to his electrolyte drink.”
This makes me smile. I look over at Declan, expecting him to give a laugh as well. Instead, his face is serious, unfeeling. So much for being a team, I think to myself as I wiggle out of my sandals.
This is what snaps Mr. Serious from his stare. “We’re not at the hotel yet,” he states the obvious.
“I would rather walk barefoot over every seashell in Key West right now than spend another minute in these shoes,” I shoot back.
This earns me a chuckle from Declan, which is just as much of a win as our intelligence gathering.