Taken By the Spy. Cindy Dees
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“We need to stay away from him. He’ll try to kill us again!”
“That’s why we’re going to hunt him down and eliminate him before he gets us. Ops thinks it would be safer to go on the offensive and not sit back and wait for him to come to us.”
Shock rendered her speechless. They were going hunting for their would-be killer? She burst out, “That’s the dumbest idea I’ve ever heard of.”
He snorted without humor. “Wait till you get a load of the next part, where you act as my cover to smuggle me into Cuba.”
“How am I supposed to do that?”
“Can you handle a sailboat as well as you handle a motorboat?”
“Well, yes.” She frowned. “How did you know that?”
He made a noise that might pass in some circles for a laugh. “Tortola? Hyannis? Magen’s Bay? You grew up on water. And where there are rich people and water, there are sailboats.”
“I happen to prefer motorboats,” she replied a little stiffly. She hated fitting his stereotype of her, but she had, in fact, grown up around boats of all kinds.
Mitch’s voice rasped across her skin like a cat’s rough tongue, drawing her attention once more. “I need you to sail a wounded catamaran into port on the south side of Cuba and request repairs. They’ll let you come ashore in an emergency. I’m going to hide in one of the pontoons. Once you’ve docked, I’ll sneak out and we’ll head inland from there.”
“Sounds dangerous.”
“Not especially. If the Cubans catch us, they’ll only throw us into prison. In six months, a year tops, the U.S. government will negotiate our release. I figure with your father being who he is, the Cubans will spring us after a few weeks. At least, they’ll spring you that fast.”
“I do not want to be incarcerated in a Cuban jail, thank you very much.”
“Me, neither. That’s why you’re going to pay attention and do what I tell you to.”
“I don’t like it,” she announced.
“Neither do I. But I’ve got no time to fool around with setting up another entry into Cuba. You’re it, Miss Hollingsworth. We need to stick together anyway until I kill Camarillo. I may as well put you to some good use.”
“Gee, thanks. I always love sounding like some sort of disposable power tool.”
“You don’t throw out power tools,” he corrected gently.
She merely narrowed her eyes and glared at him. Fine. So she’d never seen a power tool in person in her life. He knew darn good and well what she had meant. She sulked for several minutes, trying to figure out some better way to get into Cuba. But she was completely out of her league on this one. She turned her attention to something that had bothered her from the very beginning. “How did Camarillo find you? Wasn’t your meeting with whoever you were supposed to meet with a secret?”
He looked roundly irritated that she dared to question his work and didn’t bother to answer.
She wasn’t about to let him go all strong and silent on her, like she didn’t matter enough to talk to. No, sirree. She got enough of that from her father. She poked again—something simple to get him talking. “How did you get those boathouse doors open?”
His teeth flashed white in the darkness. “Have you ever heard of a don’t ask, don’t tell policy? If you won’t ask, I won’t tell.”
She absorbed that one in silence. Eventually, she asked, “How long are we supposed to sit here, waiting for your phone call?”
He shrugged. “Could be all night.”
Great. All night in a dark, secluded place with this macho male. Darned if that didn’t make her heart beat a little faster. More in an attempt to distract herself than actually make conversation, she commented lightly, “I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry.”
“Gee, I’ll just call the local French gourmet delivery joint and have them bring us a seven-course meal,” he retorted.
She glared and replied loftily, “There’s food in the Baby Doll’s galley.”
He looked startled, like he’d forgotten for a moment that the Baby Doll had a compact, but completely stocked, cabin.
She ducked below and turned on the halogen track lighting. It twinkled subtly overhead, lending the space a romantic glow. She opened the small cupboard above the microwave oven. “There’s canned spaghetti or tuna fish,” she called up.
“I’ll take spaghetti.” He joined her in the tiny cabin, filling its entire space with his dark presence. He sprawled on the leather couch, a feline predator at rest. She passed him a piping hot container of spaghetti and zapped one for herself. When it was ready, she moved to the far end of the couch and perched cautiously on it. She promptly burned her tongue, but did her best not to show it. Darn, that man flustered her! She shifted uncomfortably in her seat.
“We could always break into the main house and raid the pantry,” he suggested.
“Let’s not,” Kinsey said dryly. “We’re already imposing. And these are my friends.”
His only reply was a casual shrug.
They finished their meal, such as it was, in silence. Mitch arose and held out his hand for her cup and spoon. She handed them over and he tossed them in the galley’s sink. He’d just turned to head for the steps when his cell phone shattered the deep silence. Kinsey jumped nearly as hard as he did. He fished it out of his pocket.
“Go,” he bit out.
His eyebrows drew together in a frown as he listened, and his gaze flicked over to her. Whoever was on the other end of the conversation was talking about her, she was sure of it.
“I’ll see what I can do,” Mitch rumbled. He disconnected. Turned to face her. “Seems we’ve got a little problem. Your father doesn’t want you to help us with this operation. He thinks it’ll place you in too much danger. You’re, and I quote, totally unprepared to deal with the pressures of the situation.”
Heat flooded her face. This was exactly what she was talking about! People took one look at her and assumed she wasn’t good for anything. “In other words, he thinks I can’t hack it,” she forced out.
“More or less.”
“Give me your phone,” she snapped. She held out her open palm expectantly. One eyebrow raised, he laid the device in her hand.
She stabbed out her father’s private number and waited impatiently for the call to go through. Richard Hollingsworth’s voice came on the line. “Hello?”
“Hi Dad, it’s your useless, spoiled daughter calling.”
“Honey, are you all right? They told me some guy shot at you today.”
“Oh, I’m fine. And that guy’s shark bait,” she replied breezily. “The man who saved my life today needs a favor from me, though, and I’m going to do it. I hear you’re worried, so I’m calling to tell you I’ll be fine. He says I need to stay with him and I believe him. I trust this man implicitly to keep me safe.”
Mitch’s gaze riveted on her at those words. Her embarrassed gaze skittered away from his.
“Kinsey, do you have any idea who this Perovski fellow is? I had my staff run a profile on him, and you can’t believe some of the things he’s done. Plainly put, he’s a killer. He’s a covert operator and runs around blowing things up and assassinating people for a living. You have no business being around someone like him.”
The condescension in her father’s voice set her teeth on edge. “Be that as it may, I’m going to help him with the next phase of his current mission.”