Ten
Landon
Portside of the top deck, I bit down on an apple and watched as sailing boats passed us heading out of the marina. My shift didn’t start for twenty minutes, and I was taking the opportunity to listen in on a conversation Walt was having in the hot tub with one of his male guests, Bob. Spying wasn’t part of my brief—all I had to do was report everyone’s comings and goings—but it was in my nature to over deliver. And anything I could do to stop the bad guys from killing people. It wasn’t as if I didn’t know how to cover my tracks and not get caught.
I’d not heard anything interesting so far. The two of them were talking about Walt’s oil business.
“Have you heard from the new client?” Walt asked just as the wind changed direction and the voices became muffled.
I stepped closer to the bow so I could hear better.
“Thursday, I think. And then I think we’ll need a trip. It’s not like these guys can enjoy life in the Med without going detected.”
Shit. Which Thursday?
“Will they come onto the yacht?” Walt asked. “It’s very private. We can bring them out by tender.”
“We don’t get to call the shots on this one. Going on what my contact has told me, they will want to do a social dinner. So it doesn’t look like a meeting. You know, with wives and girlfriends. It’s all about building trust. These guys don’t make friends easily.”
This had to be about more than an oil deal.
I missed their next exchange. The next voice I heard clearly was Walt’s. “But Vivian is on a job at the moment. Won’t be around the next couple of weeks.”
“You just need to find yourself a date. But that’s not going to be a problem. Not for a man with a yacht like this,” Bob said as he and Walt chuckled.
“Jesus, she’s beautiful,” Bob said as Skylar appeared at the top of the spiral staircase with a tray of drinks.
Bloody hell. We were just getting to the good bit and now Skylar was interrupting. Bob and Walt were bound to clam up before I got to hear which Thursday they were talking about or who they were going to meet. I checked my watch. My shift was about to start, and I didn’t want to be late.
“Fucking right,” Walt agreed.
I took a few steps to my left so I could see better.
“Gentleman, I brought you some champagne,” Skylar announced as she approached the hot tub. “And some nuts.” She set the tray down beside the bubbling water and handed out the glasses. Walt checked out her arse as she handed Bob his drink. Fucking idiot.
“Would you like to join us?” Walt asked. “The water’s beautiful.”
“I’m afraid I have to make sure your lunch is on track and order some more of your favorite Cognac. I want to make sure everything’s perfect for you.”
Walt grinned.
“Can I get you anything else?” she asked.
A horn from one of the nearby boats sounded and she glanced in my direction, catching me watching. She didn’t react, just turned back to Walt.
“I don’t think so, darlin’. Not unless you’re ready to hop in with us,” Walt said.
“You’re out of fresh towels. I’ll send some up,” Skylar said without missing a beat. She was keeping it professional—good for her.
I tossed my apple core overboard and headed to where the fresh towels were stowed for the hot tub toward the aft deck. It wasn’t my job, and I wasn’t on shift, but it meant one less job for Skylar. From what I’d seen since we started, Skylar was incredibly diligent and hard working.
After distributing the towels, I headed down to the galley to begin my shift, which normally started with me emptying the bins in the kitchen. The fact that I hadn’t emptied a bin in years made me grin to myself. Reynolds had been right—a summer with nothing to do wouldn’t have suited me. And I’d never minded physical work. Being a deckhand was actually fun. There was a lot to do, and I was learning new stuff, but nothing was particularly difficult.
Skylar was at the sink when I pulled out the rubbish.
“Why were you up on the top deck? You shouldn’t be listening to guests’ conversations,” she said.
“I wasn’t listening to anything. I was enjoying the view and eating an apple,” I said, feigning ignorance.