Chapter 26
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
"Boss, you need to wake up. We've got a problem."
Rochelle opened her eyes to the words every field operative dreaded hearing, and saw Evan standing in the doorway of her bedroom.
"Out in a second," she said, waving him away.
Once he was gone, she quickly got dressed, choosing a pair of linen pants, a cotton shirt, and some sandals in deference to the heat.
She tied her hair in an elastic as she walked down the hallway to the living area.
Through the windows, she could see the sun rising in the distance, and outside she could hear the market setting up for the day.
Evan was at the dining table, laptops open in front of him. She glanced at his clothes, noting they were the same ones he'd had on the day before, and wondered if he'd managed to get any sleep at all.
"What’ve you got?" she said, standing beside him, her eyes on the screens.
"One of the other listening devices went live a few minutes ago," he said as he hit a button. "I'm assuming Damien wandered into a room with a bugged plant. Anyway, he took a phone call. Listen."
Damien's voice oozed from the speakers. "What do you mean you don't trust the island?" He sounded tense. A man on the edge. "I've got this place locked up tight. Every man working for me is pulling double shifts. Security has never been better."
There was a pause while he listened to his caller.
"I thought you were flying in and getting the charter as usual? What if somebody recognizes your friend's yacht?"
There was the sound of footsteps. Maybe Damien was pacing.
"Okay, no, I get it. Nobody knows he's your friend, so the yacht is probably safe. But I don't see why you can't just dock your borrowed yacht here. It's safe, especially at night. I've got my men covering every inch of this island, and my private dock is well hidden. Nobody will see you."
The pacing suddenly stopped.
"I understand your concerns," Damien bit out. "I can see why you're worried about the reporter, but his presence is nothing more than a stupid coincidence."
There was a shuffling noise while Damien's partner talked.
"The sea is going to be rough tonight. There's a storm coming in. We've got no way of telling how bad it’ll be."
It sounded as though Damien had started pacing again.
"On the other side of St. Patrice? Why can't you dock off Wedding Island?"
Another silence.
"It'll take time to sail around the island, and I'm telling you the sea is gonna be wild tonight.”
There was the sound of a sliding door and then the distant lapping of waves.
"This is fucking stupid," Damien spat out. "The problem is under control and the resort is safe."
A bottle opened and a drink was poured. Rochelle wondered if Damien had started in on the alcohol already.
"No, I understand. Yeah, I know." Another pause. "Fine. You'll be anchored on the other side of St. Patrice. I'll figure out how to get to you, but I'm telling you there's no need for any of this. You're making things harder than they have to be."
Something slammed onto a table. Probably the drink Damien had poured for himself.
"Don't threaten me," Damien said, his voice ice. "We're in this together. Try to remember that."
An exasperated sigh.
"Fine, but you aren't making things easy for me. Ten o'clock," he said. "Yeah, the other side of St. Patrice. I'll be there."
Evan cut the feed. "There's no more talking after that, unless you count Damien swearing and throwing stuff."
There was a noise behind her, and she turned to see Abasi saunter into the kitchen.
His feet were bare, but he'd pulled on some jeans and a rumpled T-shirt.
It was the most disheveled she'd ever seen him. Normally, Abasi was dressed in designer suits that’d been fitted to perfection.
Seeing him in jeans was a bit disconcerting.
"What's up?" he said as he opened the fridge and pulled out the orange juice.
"Damien took a call. The meet has been moved," Rochelle said. "It's no longer on the island. Now it's on a boat that'll be waiting off the far side of St. Patrice."
Abasi stopped in the process of pouring himself some juice. "He's a slippery bugger, isn't he? What's the plan?"
Rochelle paced to the window. "I don't have one yet. If you have any ideas, feel free to share."
Abasi was quiet and she assumed he didn't have anything to add. Meanwhile, her mind was racing, trying to come up with a way to handle this new information—if it was even possible.
There was movement beside her before Abasi handed her a glass of orange juice. She nodded her thanks and took it from him.
"The way I see it," he said. "There are only two things you can do. You either scrap the op, because there's no way in hell we can get eyes on the boat for the meet, or you force the meeting back to Wedding Island."
Rochelle looked at him, aware of the sharp intelligence in his eyes. Sometimes, it was easy to forget Abasi had survived most of his life in a ruthless mob family, and to do that you had to be smart.
"You mean," she said, "we need to make Wedding Island look like the easier and safer option."
"Yeah." He sipped his juice before smiling at her. "Know anybody in the coastguard, or the Drug Enforcement Agency, or whoever the hell polices these waters?"
"I might," Rochelle said, mentally flipping through her list of contacts. "I definitely know a guy in the DEA. But I'm not sure they'd be able to get something in place in time to help us."
"Can't hurt to try," Abasi said.
“Um,” Evan said, drawing their attention. "Should I tell Rodrigo about the call?"
Rochelle shared a look with Abasi and had a feeling they were thinking the same thing.
"No, we'll hold off until we know more," she said. "If we tell them now, they'll want to pull the plug on the op, and I don't want that to happen until we're absolutely certain there's no way to salvage this situation."
Evan shifted in his seat, looking more nervous than usual. "Uh, shouldn't we tell them before the wedding? I mean, there's no point in them going through with it if they don't have to."
"I'm not worried about the wedding," Rochelle said. "It's only for show anyway. There's nothing legally binding about it. The worst that can happen is Violet has to explain everything to her family afterward, and then deal with their reactions."
"Oh, I'm not so sure about that." Abasi rocked back on his heels. "Last I checked, they'd signed the paperwork for a marriage license and the officiant was traveling over from St. Patrice to take care of the ceremony. That sounds pretty legal to me."
Suddenly, the orange juice she'd swallowed felt like acid in Rochelle's stomach. "Are you joking? Because that isn't funny. As far as I know, this is purely a symbolic ceremony, and the paperwork has to be filed back home to make it legal."
Abasi was shaking his head. "I checked. Max picked the Eternal Love package, which comes with a marriage license.
It cost him a few hundred bucks extra for the paperwork, and I wondered why he'd chosen that package when cash is tight and he could have saved some money by forgoing the license.
Turns out it was the cheapest option available for this weekend, so I guess he just took it. "
Rochelle rubbed the back of her neck. "Most likely, he never even checked what was involved in the package. He was probably more worried about securing a spot on the island when he needed it."
"Oh crap," Evan said, clasping his hands on top of his head. "Does this mean Max and Violet are really getting married?"
"Yeah," Abasi answered. "The question is, do we tell them?"
Rochelle glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall.
"The wedding isn’t for a few hours yet. I'll call my contacts and see if I can find a way to force the meeting back onto the island.
Until we know for sure the meeting isn't being held where we can’t watch it, we don't say a word to the rest of the team. Am I clear?"
Abasi nodded.
Evan turned a horrible shade of green. "Even if it means they'll have to get married?"
Rochelle nodded grimly. "Even then."
"Oh man," Evan muttered. "Violet is going to kill us all."
Rochelle feared he might be right.