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And that just made sexy Captain Bossy Boots even more interesting.
A strange mix of regret and relief swirled through me as I fetched my things from Old Smithy’s cabin. He was fast asleep on the leather sofa when I returned to the hut, and as I packed my coffee machine into my duffle bag, Indiana made herself scarce.
Just before I stepped off Rhino onto the wharf, I paused to see if she was watching me.
She wasn’t. I hated how much that disappointed me.
Get your shit together, Kingsley. You have work to do.
The scent of salt and decay swirled around me as I strode along the gauntlet between the large decrepit boat tied to the wharf on my right and the creaking old warehouses on my left. In the distance, two cop cars were positioned across the wharf entrance, blocking unauthorized access. Their strobing blue lights flared over the crumbling buildings.
Following the line of watermarks made by the yacht’s transportation, I stepped into the old warehouse, and my breath hitched. The empty expanse echoed similar vibes to the place where the final showdown in my undercover operation went disastrously wrong.
I tried to shrug off the ill-timed memory, but the walls seemed to groan as if dishing a warning.
I strode toward the group of people standing back from the yacht as two men in Hi-Viz jackets removed it from the towing vehicle. Among the group stood Aria, Captain Watts, Officer Lacey, and Ryder, Whisper, and Jeff from Border Force.
The warehouse’s vast interior was shrouded in shadows, and cobwebs draped from the rafters like tattered windchimes. But the walls were solid, and other than the two giant front doors the yacht had been driven through, the only other exit was a single door at the back. A row of broken window louvers sat high up near the roof, and the wind whistled through them like trouble ghosts.
I had enough experience with them to know.
At least the yacht was now hidden from helicopters and with the minimal access points, we could stop other bastards from getting in here.
The yacht, still cradled on the giant boat carrier slings, dominated the center of the massive concrete expanse. Powerful floodlights beamed onto the dripping wreck.
“Hey, guys,” I said as I approached.
Aria, Watts, and Ryder all turned to me.
Watts nodded. “Well done, getting this here.”
“Thanks, but I barely did anything. Indiana and her dad should take all the credit.”
Ryder shook my hand. “Welcome back.”
“Thanks.” His grip was firm, but nothing like Old Smithy’s had been.
“Where are they?” Aria asked.
“Indiana didn’t want to hang around.”
Ryder huffed. “That sounds like her.”
Whisper winked at me. “She give you a hard time?”
“Nothing I couldn’t handle.”
“Yeah, she acts tough,” Whisper said, “but really, she’s like a pit bull, all tough on the outside, but she’s a big softy when you get to know her.”
Jeff simply nodded; his expression unreadable.
Two men who had been working on the connection between the tractor and the boat trailer stepped back, and the tractor rolled forward, free from the yacht.
As Ryder strode to the men, two figures marched through the entrance. Maya led the way with another man I didn’t know beside her. Maya seemed to bound across the concrete, and the man with her had a weird gait, too. It was only as he got closer that I realized he had a prosthetic leg.
That must be Cole Tanner.
I’d heard his leg was amputated nearly a year after he’d suffered a brutal bullet wound while on a military mission with Aria.
