CHAPTER 2 #2
They will take a guess it’s another criminal, taking advantage of the complex water passages, fog, fast tides and countless natural hiding places that make this a smuggler’s paradise.
The one thing I know for sure is that they won’t catch us. The Quartermaster is a faster boat and there’s no one more adept at navigating these waters in the dark than Marcus.
Except for maybe me, but I have another problem to deal with.
I turn to the woman, who’s pushed up to one elbow and wiping water from her face.
“Come on,” I say, offering her a hand. “Let’s get you warm.”
She stares up at me, skin pale, blond hair plastered to her cheeks. She’s got big blue eyes and long lashes still wet with salt water.
There’s only a moment’s hesitation, but her cold hand slaps against mine and I haul her up. To her credit, she barely wobbles, but I can feel her entire body trembling just from her grip.
I don’t touch her in any other way and lead her belowdecks, down the companionway and into the salon. I release her hand and move to a chest where I pull out a wool blanket.
“Here you go,” I say, turning to face her. She’s spinning in a slow circle, taking in the surroundings, then stops to face me. I step into her and wrap the blanket around her shoulders.
“Thank you,” she says through clenched teeth and lips tinged blue.
“What’s your name?” I ask.
Despite the fact that I just pulled her from frigid waters, her eyes are clear and her focus sharp. She’s cataloging me, the boat, our opportune rescue. “Sarah Klein,” she finally says.
I almost laugh. I would have respected the lie if she had told it better. “Try again.”
“Why do you have a gun strapped to your leg?” she asks, her eyes drifting down to the weapon, clearly changing the subject. “And why did you shoot at the other boat?”
I stare at her a moment, amused by her bluntness. “I would have thought your first words would’ve been ‘Thank you, Finn, for pulling me out of the water.’” I hold my hand out to her. “My name’s Finn Marlowe, by the way.”
She ignores the offer of a shake, but I can tell she’s chagrined. “Thank you, really… for pulling me out. Had you not…” A full shudder runs the length of her body and I’m guessing that’s an expelling of fear in addition to the cold. “Are they chasing us?”
I shake my head. “They can’t catch us. We got too much of a head start and could have taken a hundred different routes out of there.
” I sweep my hand toward a settee, encouraging her to sit.
“Want to tell me what you were doing there? I saw you had a camera around your neck when you jumped in the water but don’t have it now. ”
“It was weighing me down,” she murmurs, gingerly perching on the edge of the padded bench. She gathers the blanket around her tighter and shivers.
“Want to get out of those wet clothes? I have some you could wear.”
“No,” she exclaims, then looks abashed. “I mean… no thank you. Perhaps you could drop me off somewhere on Whidbey Island. We have to be close, right?”
I ignore the request. “What were you doing out there?” I ask again.
“Photography… nighttime, long exposures.”
“All right, Sarah Klein.” I chuckle. “If that’s your story… but you should know, Voronin’s men will be looking for you.”
She looks alarmed by that, and she should be. They’ll kill her if they find her. “My jacket,” she murmurs in contemplation. “My ID was in there, but I took it off in the water.”
“That’s probably gone for good. Did you have a vehicle nearby?” Her pretty blue eyes snap to mine, and I take a moment to realize the rest of her is quite pretty too. Heart-shaped face, full lips. “If your car was close by, Voronin’s men might have stopped to go through it.”
“Fuck,” she mutters, leaning back and letting her head thunk against the wall. “The registration.”
“I’m guessing it won’t say Sarah Klein.”
She’s not so cold and disoriented that she mistakes my dig at her. I get a well-deserved eye roll and then some truth. “It’s Josie. Josie McAdams.”
“They’ll have your home address then—”
She shakes her head. “No… my employer. The SUV was registered to my boss’s company.”
“And that is?”
Josie exhales loudly. “Jameson Force Seattle.”
I cock my head. “Never heard of them.”
“Private security company.”
Now that’s interesting.
And dangerous, seeing as how I’ve got a stolen painting I smuggled over international lines tonight in the cargo hold.
“What exactly do you do for Jameson? And once again, why were you out there tonight?”
She narrows her eyes at me. “That’s top secret,” she declares primly. “What were you doing lurking with your running lights off? Why do you have a gun? Maybe you were up to nefarious deeds tonight.”
“Not nefarious enough to shoot at a woman in the water,” I point out. I throw my hands wide. “Seriously… do I look like someone who would cause trouble?”
“Well, I don’t know. I’m not sure what smugglers look like. Tonight was my first experience with those Russians.”
I bark out a laugh. “Smugglers? That’s a tall tale.”
“Not so tall,” she replies, eyeing me up and down. “The Salish Sea and all the islands, straits and channels have been a smuggling mecca for over a hundred and fifty years.”
“You don’t say,” I drawl.
She nods. “This is the most trafficked smuggling corridor in North America. It started out in the 1850s with wool, opium and Chinese laborers. Prohibition saw liquor running through here. Now it’s women and antiquities.
Take your pick, but I suspect with your smug smile that you know exactly what I’m talking about. ”
Yeah, she’s too smart for her own good. Had she said that to Voronin, he’d have slit her throat.
But me? I’m still quite amused by her bold proclamation, especially since she’s nailed my occupation with only a few observations.
“So, were you investigating Voronin? Happen to stumble upon one of his off-loads?”
Josie’s expression remains aloof. “It’s none of your business what I was doing.”
“What exactly do you do for Jameson?” I ask, trying a different tack.
She stares at me for a long time, and I can see the wheels turning. Trying to figure out whether to trust me, and she really shouldn’t.
“I’m the lead intelligence specialist,” she says.
“And you gather intelligence by crawling through bushes with a camera?”
“Yes, exactly,” she snaps. “Now, how about telling me what you were doing out there with your lights off and a gun on your leg, Mr. Marlowe?”
“I was minding my own business. Until I heard gunshots.”
She raises a well-arched eyebrow even higher.
I offer my most charming smile. “Again, I ask, do I look like a man who causes trouble?”
She gives me a slow up-and-down. “Honestly? Yeah.”
“I’m wounded.”
“You don’t look wounded.”
“It’s an internal wound.” I tap my fist against my chest. “It’s deep inside here.”
And to my utter delight, Josie ducks her head to hide the smile forming on her mouth. I’m enjoying this woman—this very dangerous woman because she’s clearly working on a case to bring down Voronin, who’s still, at his basic core, a smuggler same as me.
Our only difference is that I specialize in high-end art and antiquities. He traffics women.
I’m prompted by another full-body shiver running through Josie and cross over to the galley to start the kettle.
“Tell me one thing honestly, Josie McAdams.” I find the tea tin without looking. “You were there for Voronin tonight? Yes or no.”
“That’s none of your business.”
“It is when you’re on my boat.”
“I don’t know whose boat I’m on. I don’t even know what kind of boat this is.”
“It’s a fishing boat.”
“It’s not a fishing boat.”
“Why not?”
“You have a frequency scanner mounted to the bulkhead and pencil notations on a chart of Coast Guard patrol windows. Coupled with the way you were drifting dark and the gun on your thigh, you’re not fishing, Mr. Marlowe.”
The kettle begins to whistle.
“You have a very vivid imagination,” I say as I pour the boiling water into a mug.
I bring it to her and she gratefully wraps both hands around it, holding it up to her face as if the steam could chase away the chill.
She stares at me over the rim. “What now?” she asks.
And I understand the real question without her even asking it.
Deep down, she’s concerned she really knows too much about what I do, even though she doesn’t have any real proof.
While I might have fired on Voronin’s men and fished her out of the water, thereby putting myself in peril, she senses I’m not on the up-and-up.
“Now,” I say with a roguish smile, “I’ll get you somewhere warm and dry and then I suggest we go our separate ways.”
Josie nods at me.
I thumb toward the steps to the pilot deck. “I’m going to talk to my mate, Marcus, and we’ll find a populated area to drop you off.”
She nods again but then stops me with just one word. “Finn?”
I glance over my shoulder at her.
“I don’t care what you do for a living. I’m grateful you saved me.”