Something snags my attention in the water. I peer in harder.

It can’t be…can it?

A new rush ignites my blood. I grab our only paddle and start shoving it into the water.

“Flint, no. You’ll never be able to paddle us that far,” Val says, tugging gently at my arm. “Save your strength. The sea just keeps getting rougher. There’ll be big swells before long.”

“I’m not going for the yacht,” I say, already making long strokes. “I’m only going right over there, a few feet away.”

She gazes in the direction I’d pointed, and squints. “What’s that?”

The glistening object surfaces again, confirming the shit-eating grin already on my face.

“A bale of turtles. Their backs, reflecting in the moonlight. If we get close enough, and they surround us, I’ll be able to shine my flashlight on ’em. That’ll get the chopper’s attention.”

“Sea turtles?” She grins and bites her lips together, nodding her head. “Seriously?”

I know exactly what she’s thinking. “Couldn’t be more fitting.”

“I do like them, you know,” she says.

Holding in a laugh, I ask, “Have you ever thought about giving turtle tours for real?”

We both burst out laughing.

“I have a feeling I’m missing something,” Ray says.

“Oh, just a new hobby I might take up someday,” Valerie says, smiling.

When we’re closer, I try my trick, hoping like hell it works.

My flashlight beam brings them closer when I fire it up, arcing the light through the darkness at their shells every time the turtles surface, surrounding the boat. Their greenish backs glisten like white diamonds, missing stars sparkling in the darkness.

The chopper makes a wide pass around the yacht, then peels away a minute later.

Soon, it’s overhead, and someone’s voice comes blasting through a speaker, telling us the Coast Guard is en route.

I drop the paddle, and once again, wrap my arms around Val.

That’s exactly where she stays until long after the Coast Guard arrives.

* * *

All of my men are accounted for and in one piece.

Cornaro’s men, too, handcuffed and hurt to varying degrees.

Wes Anderson is onboard the Coast Guard boat, along with other agents, and takes Cornaro and his men into custody.

The bastard flashes me a look that could make hell itself freeze over.

Enough of this fuckery. I nod at Wes, gesturing to take the prick away, before he even gets a final word.

He’ll have plenty of grand bullshit speeches to keep him company when he’s rotting away in a six by eight cell.

Later, Val and I sit at a table in the galley, heading for port. Cash appears, having just finished bandaging up Ray with another medic. He grabs her hands.

“Let me see them,” he says sharply.

I tug her a bit closer to my side. “See what?”

She sheepishly bows her head at the frown Cash gives her.

“Her hands,” he gives me a look like I should already know. “Haven’t you noticed how she’s been hiding them?”

“No.” I reach down, lifting one of her hands, which she’s balled into a fist.

“Open it,” Cash says.

“They’re fine!” Val insists.

“Babe, open,” I say, wondering what’s up.

She huffs out a breath and finally does.

Seeing one of the long gashes across her palm, I frown, grabbing her other hand. It’s not as bad, but it also has a nasty scratch. It dawns on me then.

“The glass you used on Cornaro?” I say.

“I had to keep it hidden,” she whispers. “Couldn’t let him see it between my fingers.”

Cash goes to work on both hands, covering them with ointment and bandages. “Luckily, you won’t need stitches, but they’ll be very tender for a while. Go easy on her,” he tells me.

“Fuck off back to your birds,” I spit back. Then I grab his thick hand and reel him in, shaking it so hard it jostles his whole body. “But thanks, man. We wouldn’t be here without you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he mutters, pulling away and dusting himself off. “I’ll leave you two to your kissy faces.”

I rub her back. Kiss her temple. I have the urge to tell her how dangerous that glass could’ve been, but she isn’t stupid.

This entire escapade was danger central, and the way she used those chunks of glass on Cornaro was as much a reason why we caught him as everything else. “You’re tough stuff, Valerie Gerard.”

“I suppose.” She looks up at me with an impish grin. “Tough enough to put up with you.”

I lift a brow. “That a challenge?”

She straightens her shoulders, gives me a solid once-over, and laughs. “Nope. That’s a fact, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

21

Open Mic (Valerie)

“You’re sure you’re sure?” Wes Anderson asks.

I nod, feeling like a bobblehead.

I’ve done a lot of nodding today at endless questions.

Truly, I’m not sure of anything right now, but the thought of being pulled into more cloak and dagger stuff just makes my stomach hurt.

Sighing, he leans forward, giving me a tense look. “You realize with the cache of information we collected at King Heron Fishing, we’re going to RICO the entire Cornaro Outfit, here and abroad. It’ll take months—you know how legal moves—and rats will be coming out of the woodwork. Implementing a witness protection program for you and your family would help ensure your safety during that time, Ms. Gerard.”

Tags: Nicole Snow Romance
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