Chapter 21
“We’re a mile up the beach. Ready when you are.”
Striding to the windows overlooking the beach, he picked up a pair of high-range binoculars. "Okay, give me a few minutes to clear the way. I'll call you when we're ready to go."
Earlier, they had spotted one of the men from the SUV sitting on the beach, wearing black jeans, boots, and a T-shirt. If he was trying to act as if he belonged, he was failing miserably. His clothes and mannerisms screamed, “I’m not from around here, and I’m up to no good.”
The other two jackasses were still in the vehicle parked half a block away, on the side of the road, in front of an empty house for sale.
From that vantage point, they could only view the front of the cottage and the end of the driveway, not further up where KC's car was parked.
Having changed into jeans, a T-shirt, and a baseball cap, Brian was now two blocks away from them, sitting in his own dark blue Dodge Ram truck.
Bringing up his contact list, KC called the sheriff and asked him to send the beach patrol over to get rid of the guy watching the house from the shoreline.
It was a good fifteen minutes before he saw the bright yellow truck with an overhead light bar rolling south across the sand toward their intended target.
The sheriff had warned his men to act as if everything was fine, and the only reason they were kicking the guy off the beach was that he was in a private, residential section.
Once KC received the word from Brian that all three men were in their vehicle, he contacted his teammates and informed them the coast was clear, literally. "Make it quick," he added and then turned to Moriah. "Are you ready?"
"I guess so."
Even if the quiver in her voice hadn’t clued him in, her anxiety was written all over her face.
Placing his hands on her shoulder, he looked her straight in the eye.
"Everything’s going to be okay. The boys and I do stuff like this all the time .
. . but usually not here in the good old U.S.
of A. Hang tight at Uncle Dan’s, and we’ll let you know when we have everything wrapped up here.
I promise this is all going to work out. "
He sent a silent prayer up that it was one promise he didn’t have to break.
Drawing her in for one last kiss before she left, he ignored the fact his uncle and brother were in the room and poured all his love into it.
Never had he been more confident this was the woman for him, and he would do whatever it took to protect her.
Not wanting to let her go but knowing it was necessary to keep her safe, he pulled away from her.
He stared into her Caribbean blue eyes and whispered, "I love you. "
She smiled. "I love you too. Please be careful."
"I always am," he swore. "Now, wait here until we’re ready for you."
Moriah nodded, and he walked out the door to the deck.
Spotting two ATVs zooming down the beach, he descended the stairs to the patio below him.
The ATVs stopped on the beach side of the dunes, and two figures walked up the path toward him.
The first person was T3, dressed in tan cargo shorts and a green long-sleeve T-shirt, carrying a large black duffel bag.
The second was Rigby Banks, wearing gray sweatpants and a black zippered sweatshirt with the hood pulled loosely over his head, effectively hiding his face from anyone looking at him from a distance. He was carrying two duffels.
Both men greeted KC and followed him into the house.
T3 shook hands with Sean and Moriah before dropping his duffel on the dining table to unload it.
When KC introduced Peanut to Moriah, the smaller man smiled and spoke with his usual Southern accent.
"Nice to meet you, ma'am." He then turned to Sean and held out his hand. "Long time no see, my friend."
Sean took the other man's hand. "It's good to see you, Rigs. We appreciate the help."
"No problem. I'm always up for a dirty, good time."
Moriah’s shock was evident when Peanut quickly started shedding his clothes. and then relief appeared on her face when she saw he had shorts and a T-shirt underneath. He handed her the sweats. "Here, put these on. This is where you become me, and I become you."
At her dubious look, he reached into one of the bags he’d dropped on the floor and pulled out a wig with long, straight, auburn hair.
It was very close to Moriah's hairstyle, and she laughed. As she pulled the sweats on over her clothes, Peanut said, “Don’t worry, I brought my own girlie clothes to change into.” He grinned wildly as he added, "But I wouldn’t mind going through your unmentionables. "
She laughed even harder when KC growled from where he stood beside her. "If you do, I'll fucking kill you myself."
When she finished getting dressed, KC pulled the hood over her head and around her face. She stared up at him. "Be careful, please."
He brushed her cheek with his thumb, trying to soothe her worry. "I will. Now, let’s get you out of here. Tobi will take you up the beach to his truck and drive you to Dan's. Stay out of sight until you hear from me."
She nodded, went up on her toes to give him a swift kiss, and then she was out the door with T3 flanking her.
Glancing at Peanut, KC had to laugh. No matter how often he’d seen his teammate in a drag disguise, it still fucking tickled him.
By now, the man was used to the razzing he received from the other SEALs and always took it in a good-natured way.
Dressed in hot pink sweatpants and a zip-up jacket, the SEAL had added a moderately-stuffed push-up bra to give him the figure of a woman.
Striding toward the hallway bathroom, he carried the wig he would expertly apply.
When all was said and done, and a big pair of women’s sunglasses were added, the man could definitely pass as Moriah when viewed from the back and at a distance.
Hopefully, it was all they needed to convince the bad guys Moriah was still at the cottage.
Entering the living room again, Peanut struck a pose and batted his eyes at his teammate as he spoke in a falsetto voice. "See something you like, big boy?"
Frowning, KC narrowed his eyes at the other man. "Knock it off, snookums."
It wasn’t long before T3 returned to the cottage via the beach with Trouble in tow.
They’d hidden the ATVs between the dunes of a currently unoccupied house a few lots north.
Troy “Trouble” Mason was six foot one and tipped the scales at 200 pounds on the nose.
The blond-haired, blue-eyed, twenty-seven-year-old was a playboy in both looks and personality and had women of all ages throwing themselves at him everywhere he went.
Whenever asked how he got his nickname, the explosive’s expert would respond, "Because I rain trouble down on the enemy before they ever see us coming.”
Once they were all settled in the cottage, KC called the sheriff and asked him to tell the beach patrol unit to leave the area.
Sitting on the sand, Leo kept an eye on the house where they’d seen Moriah with four other men.
Knowing one was a cop and seeing another one with a gun in a shoulder holster had been the only thing that had kept him from shooting and killing them all.
Well, that and he needed the bitch alive to find out where the bag of money was.
The two goons were in the truck, watching the house from the road. While he hated the sand getting all over him, it was better than being in a closed space with Goon One farting up a fucking storm.
Movement north of the house caught his eye, and he watched a truck as it approached him, tossing up sand as it drove down the shoreline.
When the vehicle stopped beside him, he saw a black shark logo and "Beach Patrol" on the side panels.
The occupants were two uniformed men, and the driver rolled down his window.
"Sorry, sir, but this is a private beach.
Someone called the dispatchers to say there was a non-resident sitting out here. You'll have to leave."
Leo stood but didn’t approach the truck. Eyeballing the beach house, he asked, "Who called it in?"
"I don't know, sir. The dispatcher didn’t pass on that information, but you still have to leave the area. There's a public beach about a half mile south of here you're welcome to enjoy."
"Ok, thanks." He slowly walked back toward the house he’d been sitting behind, two lots down from where his target was. The pathway between the dunes, which led to the patio and driveway, was the same route he had used to gain entry to the beach. When he reached the dunes, he glanced over his shoulder and was disappointed to notice the patrol had parked their vehicle next to a nearby jetty and appeared to be settling in to eat lunch. Continuing along the path to the home’s driveway, he then made his way across the street to the Explorer.
Goon One, sitting in the passenger seat, glared at him as he climbed into the back. "What’re you doing back here?"
"Got kicked off the fucking beach by a patrol. Gotta wait for them to finish their lunch and leave before I can go back."
When the man sneered in disgust at him, Leo wished he could put a bullet in the asshole’s head. Maybe when this was all over, he’d do it just for kicks.
An hour after being kicked off the beach, the beach patrol vehicle was gone, and their little friend from Chicago had taken up his post again.
This time, however, he sat a bit further away on a jetty.
Brian called KC to alert him that the other two men had abandoned their surveillance, driven into town, and stopped at the local deli.
It wasn’t long before they returned with their lunch and parked in the same spot along the roadway.
As T3, Trouble, and Sean waited inside, KC and “Moriah” stepped out onto the porch, careful to remain at an angle so the man on the beach could only see Peanut from behind.
They stood close together at the railing for a few minutes and engaged in a meaningless conversation.
Sean exited the cottage a few moments later with his carry-on luggage and briefcase, which now contained two communication headsets, and made a show of saying goodbye.
As he descended the stairs toward the street where his rental car sat, KC and Peanut returned to the house.
Trouble was observing the man on the beach through the window blinds.
"He's making a phone call—probably telling his buddies Moriah and you are still here and are alone now. "
As Peanut removed his wig and changed into black tactical clothes, KC sat on the couch and made himself comfortable despite his desire to get this mess over with.
"Great. Sean will circle around and meet up with Brian. If these guys are the idiots I think they are, only two of them will try to get into the house, and one will stay behind in the SUV for a quick getaway. We’ll take them down in here, and my brothers will take out the driver.
Sheriff Griffin has agreed to keep his patrols off our road unless there’s an emergency.
Brian will notify him when the action begins. "
The men attached their com-sets to their ears with the small microphones parallel to their cheekbones. They were all ready and now just had to wait until dark, and then, hopefully, the bad guys would make their move.