Redeeming Her SEAL (ASSIGNMENT: Caribbean Nights Book 9) (2 page)

But he did know one thing: Audra held court in the center of this fiasco.

Shaking her head, Rachel tapped the sheet. “Dr. Reed’s report is very clear. She’s concerned about the dolphins and wants to be sure the island, as well as the coral reef, is not destroyed.”

Charlie swore and all seven pairs of eyes swiveled to stare at him. Clearly they didn’t understand how truly screwed Aqueous Adventures was then.

“Uh, that sounds good?” Jace glanced around as if looking for some corroboration for his thoughts. “Doesn’t it? I mean, that’s what Rachel was hoping for, that the island would become a wildlife sanctuary so it couldn’t be developed.”

“It’s not good.” Charlie clamped his back teeth together before he let loose with another string of profanities as the reality unspooled in his head. “For us, I mean. It’s good for the dolphins. But if it’s a wildlife sanctuary, the injunction against commercial ventures still holds.”

God, why hadn’t he realized that before now? Well, he knew
why
—Audra had done the exact opposite of what he’d expected and all his thoughts had been centered around the wrong outcome.

Dex frowned grimly. “We still can’t take snorkelers there. And the reef off the coast of Countess Cay is still in the restoration process, so we’re stuck.”

And that was exactly why Dex was the first one he’d approached to join him in this Caribbean adventure. His laser-sharp vision and straight shooting were invaluable. “Exactly. Maybe we can find a loophole. Rachel, what if you work with the court to invalidate the injunction against commercial ventures if the excursions educate snorkelers about the habitats of marine life? We’ll make it a big deal. Do school field trips and such. If Anderson wants it treated like a wildlife sanctuary, let’s treat it that way.”

As everyone jumped into the fray to hash it out, the idea unfolded inside him, soaking up some of the crappy mood all the Audra talk had brought on. They could actually increase bookings if they expanded their marketing to tourists and locals alike to highlight the educational aspects.

All they needed was an expert in dolphin habitats who could help them create the right spiel. It just so happened that he knew one who might be a little less hostile than he’d envisioned. Audra had filed that report for a reason, and he burned with curiosity to understand why. In the course of uncovering her agenda, he might also figure out Anderson’s. Surely she had the billionaire’s ear. How else was he supposed to solve his company’s problems when all roads seemed to lead to Dr. Audra Reed?

Charlie owed it to his partners to stop the hemorrhaging.

He swallowed. After a year of avoiding her, Charlie was going to have to go see Audra. And convince her to help him. It was the right thing to do—and doing the right thing was so ingrained his guys called him the Saint, which he rarely took as a compliment. The right thing usually sucked.

“Rachel is a miracle worker of the highest order, no doubt,” Evan threw in with a small smile at the woman that portrayed his feelings for her better than if he’d hired a skywriter to spell it out. “But even she’ll need time to navigate something like that through the court. What are we going to do in the meantime to keep our snorkeling business going?”

“We can work on finding another coral reef to take tourists to. Maybe there’s one within boating distance that we just don’t know about yet.” Charlie locked gazes with Dex. “Riley, you take point on that. Two heads are better than one. Emma, if you’re willing to help, that is.”

Emma nodded as Dex replied, “Sure thing.”

“I’m going to pay Dr. Reed a visit.” Charlie prayed he didn’t sound as grim to everyone else as he did to himself. “If she’s concerned about dolphins, she might be willing to partner with us to create a bang-up program to educate people about their habitat. It’s worth a shot.”

“I’m guessing that isn’t going to be easy,” Evan muttered. He was the only one of the group who knew Charlie had a history with Audra, but he’d left the details sketchy. On purpose.

He’d dragged the cream of his platoon along with him into a business venture that had seen more downs than ups thanks to his former lover’s boyfriend. What was he supposed to say?
Sorry, it’s probably my fault, but hell if I know why?
Or better yet, he could tell them he’d held paradise in his hands but let Audra go before he could let her down and then still came back to the Caribbean to set up shop with his guys because he’d already promised them he would.

There were some things—a lot of things—that Charlie didn’t share with anyone, nor would he.

“Probably not,” he returned honestly. “I’m convinced she has an angle.”

And he was pretty sure the conversation would gut him like a game fish.

Didn’t matter. This was his team, and he’d bleed for them until the day he died. Together they were building up Aqueous Adventures slowly but surely. He had their backs, and they had his. Always.

It was a testament to their loyalty that not one of them ever brought up the fact that Charlie’s father could buy and sell Jared Anderson twenty times over. Charlie had walked away from the St. Croix telecommunication billions without a backward glance. The price of his inheritance had been too high.

On that note, the meeting broke up. Charlie did some quick mental logistics—owning only two boats among six guys sometimes made travel off the island a trick and a half. Miles and Jace slung drinks most nights at The Crow Bar in Freeport, but they wouldn’t be going to the main island until later, and he didn’t know when he might be back. Charlie and Jack worked part-time at the dive shop in Harbour Town on Abaco Island, and if he recalled, Jack had a shift later today.

“Hyland. Wait up.”

Jack paused on his way out the door and slugged Miles on the arm as he made an off-color comment about a correlation between lockpicking and lady parts. “What’s up, boss?”

Charlie rolled his eyes. “I’m not the boss. Stop calling me that.”

“No can do.” There was nothing but pure respect in the other man’s eyes as he rejected the mandate. “You’ve saved my ass more times than I can count. Not the least of which happened when you asked if I wanted to do something crazy with you like move to the Bahamas and open a company together. You lead, I follow. Every time.”

For some reason, despite having heard similar comments in the past from the others, Charlie’s throat tightened. His guys humbled him so much. “Easy to lead when you’ve got a great team backing you up.”

“Whatever, man. You have a gift, or we wouldn’t be here.”

Enough with the lovefest. He’d made mistake after mistake in pursuit of doing the right thing, as his nightmares liked to remind him. He’d landed so far off the mark so many times it was a wonder anyone still called him the Saint. That title was only worthy of a guy without so many sins to his name. “Stop or you’ll give me a complex. You going to Abaco?”

Jack nodded. “Soon as I grab my wallet from home. You need a lift?”

And that was the value of handpicking the best of the best from his former platoon when deciding who he wanted to go into business with. “You read my mind.”

His team was his family, forged in the inferno of war, which had bonded them more closely together than blood ever could. He didn’t take any of them for granted one single day of his life. And he was going to fix this problem for them come hell or high water.

T
hirty minutes later, Charlie and Jack took off from the Town dock and jetted to Abaco in one of Aqueous’s speedboats, a trip that usually took about ten or fifteen minutes, pending the traffic. As they flew over the crystal blue water, they yakked about the latest episodes of
Walking Dead
and
Vikings
, the only two TV shows either of them watched. It was nice to shift focus off of Audra for a few minutes.

Jack pulled into the Lady of Saints Marina in Harbour Town and tied up in the slip the company rented, then snapped off a one-fingered salute as Charlie hopped a water taxi to Freeport. Such were the logistics of the Caribbean; everything was within boat or plane ride distance as long as you didn’t mind a journey of several legs.

The sign for FARC came into view a half second before the building did. Freeport Aquatic Research Center overlooked a small park on one side and a marina on the other. Charlie paid the driver, clambered up the concrete steps from the dock, and entered.

His pulse thumped in his temple as he walked into the hushed, air-conditioned building where Audra worked. He’d never been to FARC before, but of course he knew where she’d landed after getting her doctorate. The Caribbean was a small place.

The lobby displayed photographs of marine life: dolphins, a hundred different kinds of fish, turtles, eels, shrimp, rays, you name it. If it swam in the turquoise waters of the Caribbean, there was a picture of it on the wall. Charlie had viewed almost all of them up close and personal in the year since he’d left the Navy and settled on Duchess Island.

A pretty receptionist smiled as Charlie approached, and he forced a return smile because this was only the first obstacle in what would likely be a long quest. The blackness inside rattled his box, threatening to spill out a whole slew of unpleasantness, which wasn’t helping. Mostly, he could keep his PTSD symptoms under control. Except in times of extreme duress. Like now.

“I’m here to see Dr. Reed.” He almost didn’t choke on it. At this point, it would have been a lot more preferable to be hashing out a way to get in to see Anderson instead. He still might go for a fourth try later, but Audra was the right plan. For now.

“Do you have an appointment?” the receptionist asked pleasantly.

“He doesn’t.” Audra’s voice sliced through the air from behind him. “But it’s okay.”

Charlie’s blood heated instantly despite the certainty that he’d been braced for this.

He turned. Audra stood just inside the glass door, not one red hair out of place and a frozen smile on her face. The dress she wore covered everything, but that didn’t matter when he knew exactly what that angular body underneath looked like. Gorgeous. Miles of creamy legs. A slick, delicious center that he could instantly taste. Flashes of her breasts heaving as she came stormed through his mind at the same moment a swirl of emotions he couldn’t sort fast enough clutched his lungs.

Dear God. He’d have sworn he’d ordered all of this in his head, at least well enough to be in her presence. But he hadn’t realized how much the sight of her would hurt deep down where he couldn’t touch the ache. Why did the memories have to be so sharp? It had been
two years
since the last time he’d seen her in person.

“Follow me to my office,” she said and swept past him in a cloud of perfume he didn’t recognize, which tripped a landmine he hadn’t expected.

Given to her by her boyfriend? If things had gone as he’d have preferred, he’d be privy to every last detail of her life, and instead, they were virtual strangers. Who’d spent two glorious weeks together exploring each other’s souls as they learned each other’s bodies.

Had that meant nothing to her? Her expression still hadn’t shifted from the frozen half smile, as if she’d stumbled over a slightly crazy relative she had to be nice to but didn’t really like.

He waited to respond until they’d entered the elevator and the doors slid closed. “I’m not a trained dolphin.”

That was the best he could do?
Moron
. But being this close to her without having the right to touch her, without having the right to demand answers for why
Anderson
, of all people—surely this was the definition of madness.

“No one said you were.” Monotone. Her gaze never drifted from the smudge on the shiny panel in front of her. “Would it have made this easier if I’d said please?”

“No,” he fairly growled and cursed himself for admitting that much. And for letting her get to him when she was so obviously unaffected by the bristly vibe between them that was so palpable it was nearly a third presence in the elevator.

He’d ended things between them. Didn’t she want to know why? Didn’t she care what had prompted his crappy breakup text message? She’d been the one to suggest that he go back to Iraq for his final tour with no promises between them, and eight months later Abu Al-Khaseeb had happened, forever altering him. He’d pounced on that out, figuring she’d at least understand. Figuring it would give her an opportunity to move on with the least amount of baggage from his inability to come home whole.

Didn’t matter. He had a mess with his company to fix, and that had to stay forefront. The secrets in his black box would stay there where they belonged.

Her office was small but clearly functional. Papers covered her desk, and a corded phone peeked out from the mess. Three sets of snorkeling equipment lay in a haphazard heap in the lone visitor’s chair. His fingers itched to organize the chaos. “Housekeeper’s day off?”

Audra shut the door with a click. “What do you want, Charlie?”

Apparently they were going to jump right into it with no
hi, how-are-yous
. He turned to face her since she hadn’t bothered to come into the room. “Where should I start?”