boating crowd. He had the collar of his flight jacket turned up against the rain but he hadn’t bothered with a hat. Dashing – and dangerous.
Guinevere stared at the boathouse and the plane for a very long time. It was getting late, and at this time of year the days were exceedingly short. By four o’clock it was going to be growing dark. There wasn’t time to run back to the hotel and convince Zac that he ought to take a look inside that boathouse. If the job was going to get done, Guinevere told herself resolutely, she would have to display a little of the right stuff herself and do it.
She felt the odd little frisson of excitement that she had first known when she’d followed Zac one night during a search he had made of a private house. It was compounded of one part fear, one part adrenaline, and one part thrill. It was heady stuff, but she knew it was also very dangerous. Zac was to blame for having introduced her to it.
Could she make it down to the plane’s dock without Cassidy spotting her from the cafe where he’d gone for coffee? The question was taken out of her hands when Cassidy suddenly emerged from the cafe and started up the street toward the center of the village.
It was now or never, Guinevere told herself. She emerged cautiously from the protection of the rest rooms and made her way down to the dock. Once on the dock she felt naked and exposed. Anyone who chose to come in this direction from the marina would see her. Halfway along the gently shifting planks Guinevere’s heady sense of excitement became two parts fear and one part adrenaline. The thrill was gone.
She couldn’t turn back now. She was only a few feet away from the old boathouse. A moment later her hand was on the door. She opened it and quickly stepped through into the dark interior. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dim light seeping through the cracks. In another half hour she wouldn’t have been able to see at all, and she wouldn’t dare turn on a light if there was one.
A small cabin cruiser was tethered inside the boat-house, but that was all Guinevere could see. Disappointment welled up in her, mitigating the fear. She didn’t know what she had expected to find, but she sure hadn’t found it. The door closed behind her as she walked over to the cruiser. In the shadows it appeared to be a sleek craft, obviously built for speed.
Guinevere listened for a moment, but all she heard was the rain on the tin roof. Would she be able to hear the sound of approaching footsteps on the dock outside? Even if she did it would be too late to do anything about it. She would be trapped. The only way back to shore was along that narrow dock.
As long as she was here, Guinevere thought, she would just take a quick look inside the boat’s cabin. It was a pity to waste the adrenaline. Carefully she eased herself into the boat and made her way to the neat cabin. There wasn’t much to see. It looked exactly the same as the cabin of any other small boat. There was no gun casually left lying on the seat.
But then, she told herself, Cassidy wouldn’t casually leave a gun lying on the seat. He’d put it somewhere safe. Perhaps a small cupboard or shelf that would be conveniently within reach of the boat’s pilot. Remembering to use a handkerchief, Guinevere began cautiously opening doors. She didn’t see anything that appeared to be dangerous or incriminating, but in the dim light it was difficult to be sure. She was about to give up when she eased open one last drawer built into the pilot’s console. A flat black wallet lay folded inside. She pulled it out and flipped it open.
Luke Cassidy
Drug Enforcement Administration
She barely had time to examine the official-looking identification, which included a picture of Cassidy, when her question about being able to hear footsteps on the dock was answered.
Cassidy’s slightly uneven stride was unmistakable, even over the sound of the rain on the roof. Guinevere was
Guinevere stared at the boathouse and the plane for a very long time. It was getting late, and at this time of year the days were exceedingly short. By four o’clock it was going to be growing dark. There wasn’t time to run back to the hotel and convince Zac that he ought to take a look inside that boathouse. If the job was going to get done, Guinevere told herself resolutely, she would have to display a little of the right stuff herself and do it.
She felt the odd little frisson of excitement that she had first known when she’d followed Zac one night during a search he had made of a private house. It was compounded of one part fear, one part adrenaline, and one part thrill. It was heady stuff, but she knew it was also very dangerous. Zac was to blame for having introduced her to it.
Could she make it down to the plane’s dock without Cassidy spotting her from the cafe where he’d gone for coffee? The question was taken out of her hands when Cassidy suddenly emerged from the cafe and started up the street toward the center of the village.
It was now or never, Guinevere told herself. She emerged cautiously from the protection of the rest rooms and made her way down to the dock. Once on the dock she felt naked and exposed. Anyone who chose to come in this direction from the marina would see her. Halfway along the gently shifting planks Guinevere’s heady sense of excitement became two parts fear and one part adrenaline. The thrill was gone.
She couldn’t turn back now. She was only a few feet away from the old boathouse. A moment later her hand was on the door. She opened it and quickly stepped through into the dark interior. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dim light seeping through the cracks. In another half hour she wouldn’t have been able to see at all, and she wouldn’t dare turn on a light if there was one.
A small cabin cruiser was tethered inside the boat-house, but that was all Guinevere could see. Disappointment welled up in her, mitigating the fear. She didn’t know what she had expected to find, but she sure hadn’t found it. The door closed behind her as she walked over to the cruiser. In the shadows it appeared to be a sleek craft, obviously built for speed.
Guinevere listened for a moment, but all she heard was the rain on the tin roof. Would she be able to hear the sound of approaching footsteps on the dock outside? Even if she did it would be too late to do anything about it. She would be trapped. The only way back to shore was along that narrow dock.
As long as she was here, Guinevere thought, she would just take a quick look inside the boat’s cabin. It was a pity to waste the adrenaline. Carefully she eased herself into the boat and made her way to the neat cabin. There wasn’t much to see. It looked exactly the same as the cabin of any other small boat. There was no gun casually left lying on the seat.
But then, she told herself, Cassidy wouldn’t casually leave a gun lying on the seat. He’d put it somewhere safe. Perhaps a small cupboard or shelf that would be conveniently within reach of the boat’s pilot. Remembering to use a handkerchief, Guinevere began cautiously opening doors. She didn’t see anything that appeared to be dangerous or incriminating, but in the dim light it was difficult to be sure. She was about to give up when she eased open one last drawer built into the pilot’s console. A flat black wallet lay folded inside. She pulled it out and flipped it open.
Luke Cassidy
Drug Enforcement Administration
She barely had time to examine the official-looking identification, which included a picture of Cassidy, when her question about being able to hear footsteps on the dock was answered.
Cassidy’s slightly uneven stride was unmistakable, even over the sound of the rain on the roof. Guinevere was
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