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I stood between the back wall and the bars. “Indiana, I’m Detective Tyler Kingsley.”
“I know who you are.”
“Good. I’ve been ordered to protect you.”
She stepped back.
“I can protect myself.” She paced her cell like a shark trapped in shallow waters. “And I certainly don’t need a cop pretending to help me.”
“Believe me, I’d rather do anything else.”
She sashayed forward, put her hand through the bars, and waved me closer.
I took one pace toward her.
“Then how about you let me go and take a few days off? I won’t tell Watts if you don’t.” She smiled, and I was mesmerized by how stunning she was when she wasn’t scowling.
Stepping back, I leaned against the cold concrete wall and crossed my arms. “You obviously don’t know me very well. I’ve been ordered to shadow you until you bring Chui’s salvaged yacht into Rosebud Wharf. So, until then, you and I are glued at the hip.”
She sighed. “Okay, Mr. Follow-the-Rules, let me out, and we’ll get started.”
Despite her civil tone, defiance oozed from the rest of her.
“I’ll let you out when I’m ready.”
“Are you dragging this out so this supposed secret will spread?” Her voice was a mix of acid and ice. She walked to the concrete bed at the rear of the cell and lay down. She raised one knee, and two long scars peeked out from the frayed edge of her shorts. Those wounds looked much more severe than my two bullet wounds.
I was tempted to walk away and let her simmer for a few hours, but the sooner we got this mission over with, the better.
I wrapped my hand around two cold bars. “How long will it take you to raise that yacht?”
Staring at the ceiling, she shrugged. “Four days. Ten days.”
“What are the contingencies?”
She rolled onto her side to face me, curling her hand up beneath her cheek in a pose that made her look deceptively innocent. “Have you ever spent time on the ocean?”
“A few times.”
“There’s nothing like the unpredictability of the sea. One minute, she’s caressing you like a lover. Next minute, she’s trying to break your neck.”
The detective in me wanted to tell her to cut the bullshit.
The man in me was extremely intrigued by the challenge of Indiana Smith.
“Look, I want to get this done as quickly as you do. So as soon as you stop playing games, we?—”
“Games!” She swung her legs over the side of the bed and sat. “I’m the one locked in a cell. You’re the one playing games.”
I glared at her until she snapped her gaze from me. “How many days should I pack for?”
She shrugged. “Just one. After twenty-four hours on Rhino, you’ll be begging to return to solid ground.”
“Like I said, Indiana, you don’t know me.” I strode away.
“I love it when you talk dirty,” she called down the hallway. “You might want to change into something comfortable, Officer Fancy Pants. I’d hate you to get fish guts on that Italian suit.”
When I returned to the main office, Cooper grinned so big it was a wonder he didn’t split his lip.
