Hunt Her Down (25 page)

with his finger, wishing it was his tongue.

With a long, sweet look, she backed up. “I’m going to grab a bottle of water, and then I’m

ready to rumble.”

When she left, Dan was still smiling.

“Like her, do ya?” Max asked.

“What’s not to like?”

“The fact that she has a son.”

Dan choked softly. “He’s
my
son.”

“My point precisely.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Let’s see if I have this quote right. It was ‘Do I wish it was me up there, perusing a baby

name book? Hell no . . . I like the status quo.’ “

“And here I didn’t think you ever listened to me.”

Max laughed. “I listen, I just don’t take you seriously. File this under ‘Be careful what you

think you don’t want, then you get it.’ “

“I hate when you get deep.”

“Just practical. What are you doing with her?”

Dan gave him a puzzled look. “Nothing, as you just noted with the comment about my

shitty mood.”

“What do you want from her?” Max asked. “Because the signals are loud, but they’re not

clear. Can’t you tell she’s confused?”

Confused? Signals? “Max, I’m trying to find a missing load of cash. I’m trying to nail a

drug ring while I’m at it. If, in the meantime, I get a little close with a woman who I already

know is a good match in the sack, then so be it.”

Max looked disgusted. “Don’t screw with that kid’s head. Or hers. Understand? She’s not

like all those women you mess around with. This is a different playing field.”

“How’s that?”

“She’s the mother of your child. And you’ve messed her up once before. Though obviously

she’s forgiven you.”

Had she?

Before he could answer, Cori came in. “Peyton’s asleep. Quinn’s watching a movie. You.”

She pointed at her husband. “Be safe.”

Max took one step toward her and wrapped his arms around her, kissing her on the mouth,

then on the forehead, then murmured something in her ear that made her laugh.

Since when was Max funny?

Dan turned and left them alone, running smack into Maggie in the hall.

“All set?” she asked.

“Except for this.” He pulled her into him and kissed her hard on the lips, just so his signals

were
clear
.

She broke the kiss slowly, looking more interested than confused. He should know better

than to trust Max’s interpretation of what a woman was thinking.

“What was that for?” she asked.

“For luck.”

Her eyes widened. “Blink twice. Quick. That’s really bad luck to say out loud.”

He laughed softly. “You blink for me. While you’re at it, keep your eyes closed.”

When she did, he kissed her again, tunneling his fingers into her hair, slanting her face to

cover every bit of her mouth, and tonguing the roof of her mouth just to feel her body tighten

in response.

“Move it.” Max nudged him in the back.

Dan released her with a meaningful look, and the glint in her eyes confirmed she

understood.

They loaded up the smaller of Max’s two boats, an easily maneuverable open-bow

Contender, while Maggie familiarized herself with the instruments and checked the chart

plotter to map out a course for the short run to the mainland. She asked Max a few questions.

Then they took off across the bay toward the maze of canals that ran behind Coral Gables’

multimillion dollar homes. And one ratty mess of a former drug house.

Max planted himself on the bow peering ahead into the darkness. Maggie stood confidently

behind the wheel, her gaze moving between her charts and the reflective channel markers that

rose up from the black water of the bay.

Dan wrapped his arms around her waist, the only thing between them a thigh-high helm

bench, not nearly wide enough to separate his front from her back. She looked over her

shoulder at him.

“You’re such a natural on a boat,” he murmured in her ear.

“I got used to them, and I like the water. I hated having to sell Smitty’s, and so did Quinn.”

“I have one,” he said.

“In New York City?”

“In upstate New York. I have a restored Chris Craft Cobra up on Lake George.”

She drew back, eyes wide. “Nice.”

“It is. Maybe you can come up sometime.”

“With Quinn?”

“Of course with Quinn.”

She turned to face front, her body stiffening a little as they bounced on a wave trough. He

tightened his grip around her narrow waist, her head fitting under his chin perfectly.

“Or maybe Quinn can just go up there alone and see you.”

“I’d prefer if you came with him.”

“Why?”

He covered her ear with his mouth, her hair whipping in his face. “If you have to ask, I’m

doing something wrong.”

“Oh, you’re not doing anything wrong.” She turned her face toward his. As he kissed her,

they hit a high wave and bounced out of each other’s arms.

Max turned, and pointed toward the channel marker. “Let’s take this entrance and work our

way over to the Gables.”

As soon as they entered the canals, Maggie took them down to a quiet, no-wake five miles

per hour. They kept the legal minimum lights on the boat, snaking through the waterways that

made Coral Gables more like Venice than a South Florida metropolis. Almost every home had

a dock, many covered, most mooring to impressive miniyachts, sailboats, and cabin cruisers.

When they reached the entrance to the canal that ran behind Viejo’s house, she slowed the

speed even more.

Dan reached into his pocket and pulled out her comm device. “Here you go, Maggie. Your

wireless.” He slipped the bud in her ear, turning the tiny microphone toward her mouth. “You

can hear me this way.” And he’d hear her every breath.

“There,” he said, flicking her three silver hoops in his fingers. “Except for these, you look

like a Bullet Catcher. One more time, let’s review the plan. You and Max wait at the dock

while I go up and check out the house and make sure we can get into the shed. If anyone

comes up the canal, Maggie, you leave. Circle around until they’re gone.”

“You’ll have no way out.”

“That’s fine. I’m armed. Once I know we can get back in that shed, I call in Max and we’ll

go to work. If not, we’ll look at options for getting back in.”

“If someone’s there?”

“We might bail.” He glanced at Max. They’d worked all this out in prelim. “Or might

reassess.”

“If someone’s visible from the dock?” she asked.

“We cruise right on by.” And he and Max would drive back and enter on foot later.

He moved to the starboard side as they got closer. They passed a poinciana tree that marked

the edge of the property, and a long row of queen palms.

“Looks black as night at Casa Viejo,” Maggie said, peering up toward the house.

Looks could be deceiving. As they reached the uncovered dock where the Cigarette boat

had been tied up during the last pickup, she veered closer. Before he climbed out, Dan pulled

her into his chest again to whisper in the ear with no comm device.

“Be careful. Follow directions.”

She nodded, but didn’t turn. He put a finger on her chin and tried to nudge her around, but

she looked straight ahead. “You be careful, too,” she said, noncommital.

He ran his hand down her arm until he reached her three bracelets, then transferred one to

her other arm, sliding it up with ease.

One bracelet:
Meet me in my room.

He could swear he felt her shiver. With that to look forward to, he leaped onto the dock and

headed into the mangroves.

“LOOKS DESERTED.” DAN’S voice, amplified through a state-of-the-art ear speaker not much

bigger than her baby fingernail, was as effective as the real thing. Toe-curlingly warm and

inviting.

She glanced down at the bangle he’d just used for what might be the smoothest move in the

history of seductions. No, he never forgot a thing.

Max stood starboard, one hand on the weathered dock to hold the boat in place, the other at

his ear. “Where are you?”

“At the pool. West side. I’m going to circle the house.” Maggie closed her fingers over the

helm, the vibration of the twin outboards rumbling through her. She imagined Dan at the gate,

rounding the bushes, passing the laundry room, stealthily eating up ground on his mission.

“All quiet,” he said softly. “Looks dark. Doesn’t mean deserted, just dark. I’m rounding the

front and heading back to the shed.”

She exhaled and Max turned to look at her, making her remember she was miked, too.

“Part one complete,” she said with a quick smile.

“From here,” Dan replied, “a cakewalk.”

Max cringed.

“Did he just make a face?” Dan asked.

“Uh, yeah,” Maggie replied.

“I hate that word,” Max said. “Every time, it brings trouble.”

Maggie’s heart flipped a little.

“Don’t tell her that,” Dan said. “She believes in that stuff.”

More than he could imagine.

A few more minutes passed. The only sounds other than the idling engines were a dog

barking in the distance and the steady song of the cicadas. And her heart, which thumped loud

enough that they probably heard it in their earpieces.

“All right, kids, I’m at the shed.” Dan said. “The lock is on, but . . .” A long pause. “Our

secret entrance is intact. Let me get in there and see what we’ve got.”

She imagined him sliding through the opening. The boat rose and fell on a swell, taking her

stomach for the ride. Was she really worried about him? Did she really care?

Yes
.

When did that happen?

About fourteen years ago. Some dreams die hard. That’s what it should have said on her

fortune cookie. No.
Some dreams die hard, stupid
.

“Well, what do you know,” he whispered. “Santa’s been here. Come on, Max. And bring

the tools. These crates are nailed shut.”

In one easy move, Max grabbed a duffel bag on the bench and stepped up to the dock. The

boat rocked with the change in weight; then he turned to her. “You leave at the sight or sound

of another boat. We won’t lose contact.”

She nodded and moved her hand from the wheel to the throttle, and scanned the canal up

and down. Nothing.

He disappeared into a break in the mangroves, as soundless as Dan.

“You okay, Maggie?” Dan’s voice rolled through her like warm syrup.

“I’m fine.”

“No lights? No boats?”

“Don’t worry about me, Dan,” she said. “Just find what’s in those crates.”

“I’m coming up the back,” Max said.

For the next minute or two they said nothing, and the only sound she heard was scuff and

bump as they worked. A few words exchanged. Max swore. Dan blew out an irritated breath.

“Jesus, this is it? Anything inside that one?” Dan asked.

“Nope. Rock solid.”

Before she could ask what they were talking about, the low chugging throb of a speedboat

came down the canal.

“Someone’s coming,” she said.

“Go, Maggie. It’s a Cigarette boat. Just roll east as fast and quietly as you can.”

Her “Okay” was almost drowned out by the backfire of a go-fast engine being held to a

speed much slower than it was built to run.

Maggie pushed the throttle forward and steered into the canal.

She turned to squint back into the darkness, already two properties away. Then she looked

forward, following the thin beam of the bow light. Four more docks; then she’d turn into the T

in the canal, where she could wait or circle all the way around behind the next street. Once the

other boat had passed the house, she could head back to the dock.

But if she wanted to turn before that, she was moving far too slowly to reverse directions.

She glanced over her shoulder as the speedboat’s engine exploded with one more ear-

cracking shot of built up exhaust, then went silent.

“Aw, shit.” Dan’s whisper was barely loud enough for her to hear it.

One hand on the wheel, she stared behind her, but the moon was only a sliver, giving just

enough light for her to make out the bobbing of a low-slung boat without a single light on

board.

“They’re docking,” she whispered.

“Get out of there, Maggie,” Dan urged. “We’ll hide. There’s a ton of cover here. Just
go
.”

“We gotta move now, Dan.” Max warned.

“We have to check that one. Before he takes it.”

Maggie pressed the throttle forward but not enough to get the attention of whoever was

docking at Viejo’s.

“I think there’s just one person,” she whispered.

“Get the hell
out
of there, Maggie.”

She moved on, but more slowly than she knew he’d want her to. Wasn’t she more valuable

as their eyes than if she were hiding down the next waterway? “One guy. Definitely. Tying

up.”

“Drive, Maggie.” Dan’s voice was tense. “I
mean
it.”

“He’s off the boat. He’s going up there.”

“Let’s go.” That was Max, with urgency. “Just leave it. We got one open, Dan. We saw

what’s in there.”

“You go first,” Dan said. “And I’ll just . . . get this.”

Shuffling. Movement. Scraping metal, exerted breaths.

The driver of the boat disappeared into the mangroves, through the same break in the

branches Max had used.

“He’s on the property,” Maggie said. And a hundred and fifty feet from the shed.

“Max.” Dan’s voice was low and dead serious. “You better get back in here.”

“Not now. He’s in sight. Going to the house.”