Risky Desires (Wolf Security Book 2), page 10
“Tyler! Do you have news?”
I filled her in on what stage we were at with Chui’s yacht. “But it’s like towing an iceberg. Any chance Levi can do a fly-over and make sure—”
“Ah shit, Tyler,” she said. “He can’t. His wife, Billie, has just gone into labor.”
Damn. I’d heard she was due to have their baby soon.
“I wouldn’t dream of asking him now,” Aria said.
Dread inched up my spine. “I understand.”
“Ring me when you have Rosebud Wharf in sight. I’ll meet you there.”
“Okay. Will do. But, Aria . . .” I paused. What I was about to say made me sound like a rookie, but I believed it to be true and couldn’t let it go unsaid. I’d learned that lesson the hard way.
“Spit it out, Tyler. What’s up?”
I cleared my throat. “I’ve had a feeling that someone is watching us, but I haven’t been able to lay eyes on anything suspicious.”
She didn’t respond.
“I could be wrong, but I think someone wants us to get the yacht onto land.”
“That’s a worry. I’ll arrange twenty-four-hour security.”
I sucked air through my teeth. “I hate saying this, but how can we trust the security? This is too important. Can I make a suggestion?”
“Go ahead.”
“We need to get on Chui’s boat as soon as it’s out of the water and search it before some other bastard gets in front of us. I’m talking tonight.”
“I agree. I’ll pull a team together. You want in on the search?”
“Absolutely,” I said, even though a decent sleep was calling.
“Good, let me know an ETA as soon as you can.”
“Will do.”
“And, Tyler? Good work.”
“It wasn’t me, Aria. Indiana Smith and her father deserve all the credit.”
“I’ll make a note of that. Watch your back.” She hung up the phone.
Using the binoculars, I scanned the ocean again. A tiny blip on the horizon caught my eye. Thankfully, it was a cruise liner and not a boat I should worry about.
I put the binoculars back on the bench and grabbed a cold water from the fridge.
“That was a good thing you just did.” Old Smithy’s voice sounded like he’d swallowed seashells.
Swiveling to him, I frowned. “What thing?”
“Giving Indiana credit for that salvage.”
“You both deserve it. What you do is incredible.”
He shrugged. “We’ve been doing this forever.”
“But that yacht is the biggest boat you’ve ever salvaged.”
He scraped his hand over his forehead and wiped the sweat onto his bare thigh. “We were lucky it wasn’t sitting any deeper and that it wasn’t tangled in coral and rocks. Otherwise, the physics to raise anything from the bottom are virtually the same.”
“Then it comes down to the equipment, right?”
He glared at me. “You bastards gave us no time to prep for this salvage.”
“I know. And I’m very sorry for that,” I said in what I hoped conveyed my genuine apology. “You and Indiana deserve to be compensated for this salvage, and I’ll do everything I can to make sure you get something in return.”
“Don’t waste your breath. The cops hate us.” He snorted. “We’re fine.”
“I know you’re fine, but that’s not my point.”
“It don’t matter, Kingsley. Luck was on our side. This salvage was quicker than we anticipated.”
Rhino’s engine rumbled to life, and everything shuddered around us.
“Let’s hope our luck continues all the way into Rosebud Wharf,” I said.
He jutted his chin. “There’s always some fucker trying to snatch something off Indy and me after we’ve done all the hard work.”
He spoke with so much venom, I wondered if that had anything to do with why he and Indiana hated the police.
“Not this time.” Clenching my jaw, I snatched the binoculars off the counter and strode to the side railing. As I scanned the horizon, I still couldn’t shake the feeling someone was watching.
It was the same feeling I had whenever Wesley’s ghost appeared out of nowhere.
Except this was somehow more real.
And more deadly.
CHAPTER 10
Tyler
As Rhino crawled through the water, I took my position at the bow, scanning the horizon non-stop. The sun beat down on me mercilessly, casting a glare over the shimmering water that was as ferocious as the blaze from above.
Indiana stayed on the bridge, making sure Rhino kept a steady pace to keep Chui’s yacht in position behind us. Old Smithy was passed out to the world, snoring in the hut.
The vast expanse of the ocean seemed endless. After two hours of heading toward Rosebud Wharf, boats finally began to dot the horizon. At first it was enormous tankers and giant cruise ships that used the major shipping lane running the full length of Australia’s Eastern seaboard.
The closer we came to land, other boats started appearing out of nowhere, making my surveillance even harder.
Hours passed, and the dread in my stomach added to the oppressive heat smothering me.
It wasn’t until the sun started its slide into the ocean that a slight breeze cooled the stifling air. Finally, twinkling lights flickered on the land mass ahead of us, and a trickle of relief washed through me.
After walking around Rhino’s entire top deck, I stopped at the bow to peer through the binoculars at a speed boat that was racing toward us. I decided the bikini-clad women and shirtless men on the boat didn’t pose a threat.
I turned to the sound of footsteps behind me. Indiana had her Dr. Martens boots on again, and she’d pulled on denim shorts. Lucky for me, she hadn’t covered her bikini top.
“How are you going, captain?” I asked.
She smiled but turned her head away as if embarrassed. “We’re about an hour away from Rosebud, maybe ninety minutes, if you want to give them the heads up.”
“Can do.”
She had worked non-stop since before sunrise this morning, and I had no idea how she was still standing. Or still looking so incredible. She seemed to feed off the ocean somehow.
“Indiana,” I said.
“So, Kingsley,” she said at exactly the same time.
We both chuckled.
“You go first,” I said.
“No, you first.”
“I just wanted to thank you for doing this. I know it was under duress, but they made the right decision by asking you to salvage this yacht. Your professionalism is outstanding.”
“Huh.” She tilted her head, and the setting sun shimmered in her stunning amber eyes. “Thanks.”
“Also, I hope I’ve convinced you that not all cops are the same.”
She scrunched her nose. “Well, you sure are different, Officer Fancy Pants.”
I chuckled. “Maybe we could have a drink some—”
“I don’t think so,” she interrupted, scowling at me like I’d offered her a bad oyster.
“You can tell me why you hate cops so much.”
“We’d need more than one drink.”
“Deal,” I said.
She cocked her eyebrow. “That’s not me agreeing.”
“Sounded like it to me, Captain Bossy Boots.”
She threw her head back in a laugh that made her stunning boobs bounce. “All right, one drink, and it’s your treat.”
“Deal.” I offered my hand.
She playfully smacked it away. “Don’t expect me to hold back on telling you all the reasons I think cops are assholes.”
I grinned back at her. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“Careful what you wish for, Kingsley.”
“Yeah? I already told you—you don’t know me.”
“And you don’t know who you’re dealing with.” She thumped my arm and marched away.
“Just so you know . . . I love a challenge, Captain Bossy Boots.”
Giggling, she stepped onto the bridge. Behind the windshield, she studied a few gadgets before she clutched the steering wheel and turned it a fraction.
I waved.
She flashed the bird at me.
Progress.
As the lights of Rosebud grew brighter in the distance, I rang Aria.
“We’re about an hour away from Rosebud Wharf,” I said.
“Good. Any issues?”
“None. But I’m still getting that feeling.” The beat of a chopper thumped in the distance. A helicopter was aiming straight for us. “I’ve got a chopper heading toward us. Is that Levi?”
“Shit. No, Billie is still in labor. Levi is with her in hospital.”
“It’s headed straight for us.”
“Son of a bitch,” Aria hissed.
I sprinted to the bridge.
“What’s wrong?” Indiana’s eyes flared.
“A chopper is inbound.” As I pointed toward it, a massive floodlight came on beneath the cockpit.
“What does it look like?” Aria asked.
“It’s too far away to see yet.”
The powerful beam tracked across the water like a glowing sword.
“What the fuck’s going on?” Old Smithy charged into the room like a wounded beast, carrying a half-empty bottle of whiskey.
“We’ve got company,” I said.
“No shit. I’m not blind.” He glared at me. “Who is it?”
“Don’t know.”
The beam of light swooped onto Chui’s yacht like they knew it would be there.
Old Smithy stepped out of the bridge and shone a power flashlight up at the chopper. A man with a massive camera was leaning out the side door.
“Fucking hell, it’s a news chopper. How did they find out about us?” I asked Aria.
“Not from my team. Who have you told?” she barked at me.
“I haven’t told anyone but you, Aria.”
“Jesus Christ,” she said. “What about Indiana?”
I faced Indiana. “Have you told anyone?”
“I had to call ahead to the harbor master so they could get the crane ready.”
“Ah, shit.” I raised the phone. “Aria, we had to—”
“I heard,” she said.
The chopper lowered, and the light beam swept from Chui’s yacht directly onto the bridge.
“Shit.” I ducked down and clutched Indiana’s wrist, trying to pull her down with me. Last thing I needed was Nikki Bolton seeing my face on national television. I didn’t look anything like the man I’d disguised as during my undercover operation, but she knew me intimately. My eyes, and the damn dimple in my chin, were the same.
“What’s going on?” Aria asked.
“Those bastards are getting footage of us.”
Indiana snapped her wrist free. “Everyone knows Rhino. And now they know we’re working with the damn cops.”
Outside the bridge doorway, Old Smithy gave the chopper the bird, then turned around, pulled down his shorts, and flashed a browneye at the chopper. The way his ass lit up, I would say they got prime footage of him waggling his butt at them.
Indiana chuckled.
I groaned. “He may regret that later.”
She huffed. “No, he won’t.”
The light beam flicked off, and the chopper swept away.
I stood, and into the phone, I said, “It’s gone.”
“Damn bastards,” Aria said. “I’m heading to Rosebud now. I’ll give everyone a thirty-minute warning. See you soon.”
“Copy that.” I ended the call.
Indiana folded her arms over her chest. “What was that all about?”
I slid the phone into my shorts pocket. “How the hell should I know?”
“No, I mean you ducking down. Don’t want to be seen with us, huh?”
Shit. I didn’t need her knowing about my undercover work. “It’s not that.”
“Yeah, right.” She rolled her eyes.
Old Smithy staggered back onto the bridge chuckling, and a cloud of whiskey breath wafted off his tongue. “Well, that gave them something to show on air. Bloody vultures.”
He swigged from the bottle.
I rubbed my temples. “What’s the wharf master’s name?”
“Roger Newton.” Indiana peered through the front windshield, and I followed her gaze. The bright lights from the harbor cast an eerie glow across the black water.
“Do you trust him?” I asked.
“I don’t trust anyone but Dad.” She nodded at Old Smithy as he took another swig.
“Indiana, I get it. You’re a hard ass. But seriously, there must be some people you trust.”
She leveled her fascinating amber eyes at me. “I guess I trust Ryder Westwood. He’s a good guy. And I used to trust Whisper until the bitch arrested me the other day.”
“You mean after you set fire to that other boat?” I said.
“Kane Devlin deserved it. Slimy bastard.”
I turned to Old Smithy. “What’s your opinion of Roger Newton? Do you think he’s trustworthy?”
Lines wrinkled his face in a scowl, yet he nodded. “Roger has been running the wharf forever. He’s made some enemies because he runs a tight ship. So yeah, I’d say he’s trustworthy.”
“So, he wouldn’t have called the reporters?”
“Fuck no. He hates them.” Smithy gripped the doorframe so hard his knuckles turned white. “Rosebud Wharf has been hounded by those bloodsuckers ever since Chui’s bullshit made headlines. Roger would do anything for them to piss off.”
Frowning, I tried to piece together how the reporters knew about us bringing in Chui’s yacht.
“Kingsley, you do know Roger was just my first contact, right?” Indiana said.
I frowned.
“Getting Chui’s yacht off our back and onto the wharf takes a team of men and specialized equipment.”
I cocked my head at her. “Such as?”
She gave me a weird grin and pointed out the windshield. “You’re about to find out.”
Massive spotlights lit up an area at the wharf, focusing on a giant gantry crane that stretched from the edge of the wharf to the top of a barge. About a dozen people stood on the shore, but their faces were obscured by the shadows, making it impossible to recognize any of them.
Indiana whistled. “That’s a first. I have never been able to convince them to use the gantry crane on any of my salvages before.”
I frowned.
She pointed at the massive piece of equipment. “That’s usually reserved for Border Force seizures.”
I was grateful for the specialized equipment. The sooner we got Chui’s yacht away from nosy bastards, the better.
Then again, those bastards in that chopper would probably make the salvage of Chui’s yacht headlining news come six o’clock. My chest squeezed.
I hope like hell that my face isn’t included in that footage.
I’d done everything I could to keep a low profile since I was exposed at the end of my undercover operation. No social media. No contact with old friends or colleagues. And the hardest thing of all: no calls to my parents.
Those damn bastards could have ruined everything.
Indiana’s grip tightened on the steering wheel as she guided Rhino toward the massive steel frame of the waiting gantry crane. People stood on either side of the narrow channel between the wharf and the barge. Only one man in a Hi-Viz vest seemed to be moving. He stood on a boxy boat below the gantry, which had a massive battering ram at the front that looked to be made of rubber. He waved two red batons. . . guiding Indiana into position, and I assumed his boat would serve as Rhino’s brake.
As we entered the channel, Captain Watts and Aria stood amongst the crowd. Beside them stood Ryder, Whisper, and Lacey. At least they were people I could trust.
“You should go outside and watch,” Indiana said in a tone that showed her gentle side. “It’s pretty fascinating.”
“Are you sure I can’t help?”
“Go watch, Kingsley, ya pain in the butt.” Despite her words, she grinned. She must be exhausted, yet somehow, she looked magnificent. Indiana drew some kind of energy from this work, or maybe it was Rhino.
I, on the other hand, would give anything for a few hours’ sleep.
I brushed my hand over her arm and was surprised when she didn’t pull back. “Sing out if you need me.”
“I won’t.” She indicated to the door with her head. “Go, before you miss the action.”
After one last glance at her, I strode out the door and headed for the rear dive platform where Chui’s semi-submerged yacht towed behind us.
The gantry crane sprang to life above me, shifting closer to the wreck. Rhino shuddered beneath me, signaling that the droning engines had been turned off. New sounds took over the night. The rumbling of heavy machinery somewhere else on the wharf. The whirring of the crane above. Shouts from the men on either side of the channel.
With a series of mechanical clicks, a heavy-duty sling was lowered down from the crane’s towering frame, positioned behind Chui’s yacht. A large, heavy-duty sling, attached to steel cables that glinted in the blazing lights, descended into the water. The entire crane moved forward, positioning the sling beneath the yacht’s hull.
A double dose of anticipation and apprehension surged through me.
Two smaller boats drove into the channel on either side of the yacht, each with two men wearing Hi-Viz uniforms. Working in tandem, they removed the cable tethering Rhino to the yacht.
They drove forward and hooked the cables onto Rhino. As they raced away, the noise of the crane changed. The steel cables reversed, slowly hoisting the yacht out of the water with a steady, controlled motion.
As the yacht rose higher, water and debris gushed from every exit. The yacht hung suspended in midair, the harbor lights flickering and dancing across its hull, and I got my first look at the massive luxury yacht that held something that some trigger-happy bastards were willing to kill for.
We had better figure out what that was, or all this effort was for nothing.
A din erupted from the crowd. When people pointed at the rear, I assumed they were getting their first glimpse of the massive crater in the hull caused by Viper’s C4. Even once his intentional detonation to breach the wall Chui was hiding behind had failed, nobody had anticipated the yacht sinking with Chui inside.
