West of Port (Love and Treasure #4)
1. Sydney
CHAPTER 1
SYDNEY
No one ever told me that the winds of change stink .
As I jog down the bayfront road in Newport, Oregon, I try not to breathe too deeply. I’m worried I’ll choke on the suffocating smell.
After running for so long, my chest aches, forcing me to take another deep breath of misty air. I might feel better, but now I have that horrid stench stuck in my nose. I try to distract myself from the stench by thinking about the fact that I’ve made my dreams come true.
So this is what success feels like.
This is the moment I’ve been planning for the last five months. And if there’s anything I’ve learned in life is that your outlook can change everything. This is why I choose to view today as the beginning of a successful endeavor.
Success also smells like bad gas. Maybe I’ll cross-stitch that on a pillow someday—some inspirational fodder for future generations.
I’m on an adventure .
It’s felt great to get back to running now that I have my strength back from another round of mono. So, while I do love running, that isn’t part of the adventure. That’s just a routine now. But me being here on the Oregon coast? And the reason I’m here? Now that’s the adventure.
It’s too early for the tourists to be out. Most of the shops on the bayfront haven’t even opened. But the forklifts moving back and forth in front of the fish plants look like ants, busily moving pallets, plastic totes, and other boxes containing who knows what. Some of the forklift drivers give me friendly waves as I run past, and others don’t even notice me as they’re busy with their tasks.
Between some of the buildings, I can see a trawler slowly making its way out of port.
The strong smell that’s trapped by the fog is a mixture of the fish plants and the mud flats at low tide. Combined, it’s not quite the fresh coastal air I was expecting.
Soon, I’m at the end of the flat section, and I have to walk up the steep hill to the bridge that crosses the bay.
When I reach the top of the hill, I run over the bridge. The whoosh of cars rushing past still makes me nervous, even with a protected sidewalk to run on. Running across is not a quick feat—it’s a wide river. And when I hit the other side of the bay, I slow to a walk again. I’ve got plenty of time today. The only rush I feel is from my own excitement.
Instead of rushing back to the bed and breakfast with the glorious bagels, I continue toward the marina.
The marina parking lot isn’t full, with it being a weekday, but there are still a decent number of trucks with boat trailers attached.
I reach the boat ramp and stop to look around.
One truck is backed up to the edge of the water, unloading a boat. One man is driving, and another man is frantically waving him back. Some yells and curses float from the window when he drives back too far.
I turn to the right and make my way to the long term moorage areas. I have clear instructions for the boat I’m looking for. Bodie King made sure I had everything I needed. I’m not supposed to meet the man until tomorrow, but I have time to kill. I’ll just make sure I can find the boat in question. That way, I won’t be late for the meeting. It’s my first time hiring a freelance tech consultant and I want to get it right.
Various sailboats, questionable houseboats, and small fishing vessels line the area.
I keep walking until I reach dock number four. There’s one sailboat and two small fishing boats.
I’m looking for an old, retired police officer who lives on the sailboat. Bodie King referred me to him, and I decided to take him up on the referral since I was going to be on the West Coast anyway. I need someone who’s good with technology, and above all else—discretionary. I study the sailboat as I slowly walk by. I haven’t actually met the man yet, so I don’t want him to think I’m a creeper on the dock.
I hear a thump and a curse as I reach the sailboat.
Something crashes loudly, and a board goes flying through the air. I jump back and rest a steadying hand on the piling behind me.
A man is standing with his back to me, shirtless, as he throws a chunk of wood toward the railing.
Muscles ripple across his back as he swings a crowbar down onto the deck, pulling up another board.
A chunk of wood goes flying through the air. The man grunts and jerks back so that it doesn’t hit him.
Tattoos snake up his arms and across his shoulders.
There’s a detailed scroll design around his forearms, and an animal around his right bicep seems to open its mouth wider whenever he flexes. On his other arm, there’s a clock and a compass.
I snap my jaw closed as I realize I’m standing on the dock, gaping at the man replacing the wood on the sailboat. He’s not the man I’m looking for, but what a view!
He turns slowly and stares at me over his shoulder. With a squeak, I spin around and speed-walk away…to the end of the dock because I don’t have the mental capacity to run away in the right direction.
I should keep walking straight into the bay. Just let myself sink in the murky water and swim away. Besides, I need something cold to cool down my hot cheeks. It would be less mortifying than facing him again.
But since I have my phone in my pocket, I decide to not swim away in a puddle of embarrassment. I pivot on my heel and speed-walk past him again. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a scowl on his face as he watches me pass.
Whoa . Not what I’d expected to find when I searched for a retired tech consultant. I should have asked him when West Turner would return to the boat if I’d been in my right mind and not been busy ogling his arms and freakin’ back muscles. But I highly doubt this contractor is keeping tabs on his boss.
I guess I’ll try again tomorrow. When Bodie recommended West to me, he told me he would arrange the meeting time. I need some help, and since I’m just about the most tech-averse person, I need help doing a little digging on the dark web. Bodie assured me that this guy can find anything I need and that I could trust him.
But tomorrow will be soon enough to hire him to do some digging.
Tonight, I need to see a man about thirty million dollars and serving up some revenge.