23. Sydney
CHAPTER 23
SYDNEY
“We’re here!” I jump to the dock, ready to grab the line that West tosses to me. And about dang time. I don’t think I’m cut out for a sailing life. Or maybe I need a bigger boat because of the amount of times I had to go pee and announce it to West so he wouldn’t barge into the cabin…well, that could chalk it up to one of the more embarrassing parts of my life.
I need space to move. And a bathroom with a door. I grip the line and lean back, pulling the boat closer to the dock.
“You’re turning into some decent help, you know?” West says as he gets ready to toss another line after I loop it around the tie-off point.
I glance down at the giant sweats. “Are we going in public?”
“Yes. Give me my sweats back. I don’t want people thinking I’ve kidnapped you.”
“But think of the fun conversations we could have,” I tell him with a laugh.
He cuts the engine and then jumps to the dock beside me. “I can just picture it now. You’d probably be screaming for help just for a good laugh.”
“I would never do that…unless I caught it on camera.”
He walks past me and boops my nose. “Exactly. Go put your clothes on, and we’ll get a good hot meal and buy you something that won’t fall off you.”
“Aw, you’re about to make me melt with all this sweetness.”
He raises one eyebrow and looks at me with concern. “Sometimes I worry about you.”
I follow him to the next line that he’s tying off. “So, you’re thinking about me too?”
Dammit. I could bite my tongue. Too ? That just told him I’m thinking about him.
“It’s a little hard to get you out of my head when you’re in my clothes—and my bed.”
He stands up and turns around, a challenge in his eyes.
“Well, it’s hard to keep you out of my head when you’re a big bossy pants.” Yes. A good, cutting insult. I’m establishing healthy boundaries again.
Except, he just smirks and climbs back onto the boat. “Let me grab some stuff, then we’ll go get a taxi to a car rental. We’ll need something to drive around while we’re here.”
Once he’s done in the cabin, I quickly run in and change back into my dirty clothes and grab my purse.
We make our way up the dock as West calls for a taxi to come pick us up.
There’s a huge asphalt pad with lots of big trucks and heavy equipment. A fuel truck hurries by, and we have to dodge out of the way of a forklift carrying a loaded pallet.
“Watch where you’re going!” the driver yells at us as though he doesn’t have that thing flying across the shipyard at full throttle.
“So, you think it’s here?” I ask him.
He looks at me sharply as he gently pushes me out of the way of another oncoming truck. “What’s here?”
“The money, of course.”
West shrugs. “There was a manifesto in the document that mentions Half Moon Bay. It’s the best I can figure.”
“Do we just start talking to the port managers?”
He looks at me. “No. We need to find out what all is in the manifesto and where it came from first.”
“And how do we do that?”
“By getting food and clothes, and then me spending time on the laptop.”
“You can figure out everything just by getting online?” No wonder Bodie recommended him. He’s invaluable.
After a short-lived argument about the type of rental car to get, West settles on a BMW. It’s not the sports car I had my eye on, but it’s also not the cheap little sedan he wanted. We’re calling it a compromise.
After that, we drive to the nearest department store. Cheap clothes and snacks. That’s all I need to make me happy today.
West marches through the men’s section and snatches exactly three shirts and two pairs of pants, along with a pack of socks. I’ve never seen anyone shop so fast. I wish I’d pulled out a stopwatch. I bet he did it in fifteen seconds flat.
“Ready to go get your clothes?” he asks as though nothing irregular has happened.
“Oh, of course. But I don’t want to pull you away if you want more time to debate your decision.” I grin up at him, and he smirks down at me.
“Come on, smartass. Some of us know what we want.” He chuckles as he walks away.
I can’t help but think I know what I want, too. Unfortunately, I can’t just grab it off a clothing rack.
Unlike West, I take my time perusing the shelves and finding a blouse and pants that would be comfortable and cute.
West groans when I put back the fifth pair of pants. “Too many buttons,” I explain.
He gives up and pulls out his phone to entertain himself as he follows me around the clothing department.
But halfway between the blouses and sundresses, his phone chimes, and he stops lumbering after me.
West reads something on his phone, then lifts his head to talk to me. “They’ve been tracking us.”
“What?” I ask as I grab two shirts from the rack and another pair of jeans.
“I think they’ve been tracking the file,” West says with a grunt and begins scrolling through his phone. “We need to go.”
“Wait. How are they tracking the file? Who is tracking the file?”
“Well, it’s not the Easter Bunny. Did you find enough clothes? Let’s go pay and leave.”
I don’t have enough clothes to get me through a day at the beach, much less a treasure hunt. I haven’t even had time to go through the shoe section and find a classic work boot. Everyone who treasure hunts needs a good lace-up boot. It’s practically a law.
“You mean to tell me that they tracked the location to the hotel in Newport because I copied the file the night before? Because I’d had the file open so long?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying. Fletcher just texted.” West grunts as he turns around and grabs my clothes from me. “He was able to get a hold of some information that they were looking for a missing USB. How else would they know about it unless they tracked it there?”
He tosses the pile of clothes on the conveyor belt, adds a Coke bottle from the fridge, and then drags his wallet from his pocket. He always acts like it’s paining him to spend money.
“But why did they kill Braxton instead of me?” I ask. Unfortunately, I forgot to ask quietly. There are a few gasps from nearby customers, though the cashier seems unfazed.
West shrugs. “Maybe they didn’t have enough information to know if it was Braxton or someone else. Maybe it only gave them the location of the hotel, and they assumed it was Braxton. The flash drive was supposed to be in his possession, after all.”
I nod as he grabs the bag from the cashier and leads the way outside the store.
After we reach the rental car, and he tosses the clothes in the backseat, West asks, “Where’s the flash drive now?”
I open my mouth, but no words come out. I point to my jeans pocket. With a glare, he stomps toward me and grabs my jeans pocket. I’m still in them . His hands are too big to fit inside, and my hips are ticklish. We end up in an awkward, yelping tangle of limbs flailing back and forth before I push his hand away and pull out the flash drive to hand to him.
He holds it up and looks at it. “This little thing could get us killed.”
“Yes, thank you. I actually thought that as long as I touched it, I would be safe—like a base in tag, but for the mafia.”
His eyes narrow at me but not before I see his lips twitch. “You say the weirdest things when you’re nervous.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I’ll try to be more normal next time I find out I’m carrying a homing beacon for a murderer.”
West chuckles and shoves the USB in his pocket. “Come on. Let's go back to the boat, grab our stuff, and then figure out how to get rid of this thing.”