trapped, and she knew it. She shoved the leather wallet back into the small drawer and scrambled out of the boat.
And then the excitement that had driven her this far metamorphosed instantly into outright panic.
Chapter Six
The only exit from the boathouse was through the door, unless one counted the water as a potential way out. Guinevere froze on the dock, aware of the deceptively gentle slap of the chilly water against the boat and the wood planks beneath her feet. When she looked down all she could see was endless darkness. The thought of going into that was enough to make her dizzy.
The shock from an unplanned immersion into the cold water would be almost unbearable. The thought of trying to explain her presence in the boathouse to Cassidy was just as unthinkable.
Cassidy’s footsteps paused just outside the door.
Summoning up what seemed an incredible amount of willpower Guinevere managed to tiptoe around the dock to the far side of the small cruiser. It’s bulk now loomed between her and the door. She crouched in the shadows, praying that Cassidy would not enter the boathouse – or if he did, would not do more than glance casually around. Very little light was seeping into the old structure now. The shadows were welcome.
There was no sound at all from outside the door. Guinevere took several deep breaths and tried to crouch down even more. She was on her knees on the other side of the cruiser. The wooden planks, she discovered to her dismay, were wet, and the dampness was already penetrating the fabric of her pants. The water suddenly seemed very close. The sharp tang of it filled her nostrils.
She ought to get to her feet, march to the door, fling it open, and calmly announce her presence, Guinevere decided resolutely. After all, it wasn’t as if she were doing anything terribly illegal. A person could wander into the wrong boathouse by mistake, couldn’t she?
Possibly, she answered herself, and then she remembered the brief glimpse of Cassidy’s identification. When the boathouse belonged to a man who’s profession was hunting drug traffickers, one’s explanations had better be pretty damn good. And offhand, she couldn’t really think of a damn good explanation.
The image, she reminded herself grimly. She must remember the importance of her tiny but growing, and thus far pristine, business image. It would not be helped by being dragged into a drug smuggling case. Besides, for all she knew Cassidy might not even be willing to listen to explanations. He was obviously working undercover, and the discovery that someone was prowling around his boathouse would be enough to rouse suspicions in even the most even-tempered government man. If only Zac were here. He’d know how to confront Cassidy.
Cassidy’s footsteps sounded again. Guinevere heaved a sigh of relief as they moved farther down the dock toward the plane. Hurry up and get what you came for, Cassidy, she thought. I’m getting cold.
There was a large ripple of movement beneath the dock, and water came splashing coldly up between the planks. Was the tide coming in, or was that just a small wave? Guinevere huddled into herself, her hands and feet wet now, as well as the front of her slacks from knee to ankle. She shivered again, and this time it was from something other than fear. The cold water was like ice against her skin.
Stiffly Guinevere changed position slightly, trying to pull the hem of her trench coat around under her knees. It didn’t do much good. More water splashed up between the planks. By now, she knew, the sun must have almost disappeared. It was very dark inside the boathouse. A marina light was switched on outside.
There were more sounds along the dock. Cassidy had apparently finished his business with his plane. Leave, Cassidy. Go have a cup of coffee or a beer. Aren’t you hungry? Almost dinnertime. His slightly uneven footsteps paused again outside the boathouse door. Guinevere almost tried to make herself
And then the excitement that had driven her this far metamorphosed instantly into outright panic.
Chapter Six
The only exit from the boathouse was through the door, unless one counted the water as a potential way out. Guinevere froze on the dock, aware of the deceptively gentle slap of the chilly water against the boat and the wood planks beneath her feet. When she looked down all she could see was endless darkness. The thought of going into that was enough to make her dizzy.
The shock from an unplanned immersion into the cold water would be almost unbearable. The thought of trying to explain her presence in the boathouse to Cassidy was just as unthinkable.
Cassidy’s footsteps paused just outside the door.
Summoning up what seemed an incredible amount of willpower Guinevere managed to tiptoe around the dock to the far side of the small cruiser. It’s bulk now loomed between her and the door. She crouched in the shadows, praying that Cassidy would not enter the boathouse – or if he did, would not do more than glance casually around. Very little light was seeping into the old structure now. The shadows were welcome.
There was no sound at all from outside the door. Guinevere took several deep breaths and tried to crouch down even more. She was on her knees on the other side of the cruiser. The wooden planks, she discovered to her dismay, were wet, and the dampness was already penetrating the fabric of her pants. The water suddenly seemed very close. The sharp tang of it filled her nostrils.
She ought to get to her feet, march to the door, fling it open, and calmly announce her presence, Guinevere decided resolutely. After all, it wasn’t as if she were doing anything terribly illegal. A person could wander into the wrong boathouse by mistake, couldn’t she?
Possibly, she answered herself, and then she remembered the brief glimpse of Cassidy’s identification. When the boathouse belonged to a man who’s profession was hunting drug traffickers, one’s explanations had better be pretty damn good. And offhand, she couldn’t really think of a damn good explanation.
The image, she reminded herself grimly. She must remember the importance of her tiny but growing, and thus far pristine, business image. It would not be helped by being dragged into a drug smuggling case. Besides, for all she knew Cassidy might not even be willing to listen to explanations. He was obviously working undercover, and the discovery that someone was prowling around his boathouse would be enough to rouse suspicions in even the most even-tempered government man. If only Zac were here. He’d know how to confront Cassidy.
Cassidy’s footsteps sounded again. Guinevere heaved a sigh of relief as they moved farther down the dock toward the plane. Hurry up and get what you came for, Cassidy, she thought. I’m getting cold.
There was a large ripple of movement beneath the dock, and water came splashing coldly up between the planks. Was the tide coming in, or was that just a small wave? Guinevere huddled into herself, her hands and feet wet now, as well as the front of her slacks from knee to ankle. She shivered again, and this time it was from something other than fear. The cold water was like ice against her skin.
Stiffly Guinevere changed position slightly, trying to pull the hem of her trench coat around under her knees. It didn’t do much good. More water splashed up between the planks. By now, she knew, the sun must have almost disappeared. It was very dark inside the boathouse. A marina light was switched on outside.
There were more sounds along the dock. Cassidy had apparently finished his business with his plane. Leave, Cassidy. Go have a cup of coffee or a beer. Aren’t you hungry? Almost dinnertime. His slightly uneven footsteps paused again outside the boathouse door. Guinevere almost tried to make herself
Similar Books
