The Man I Want to Be (Under Covers)(28)

"This is amazing!" She looked at him with such unexpected approval that it filled his chest with warmth.

It was amazing. The exhilaration. The open water. Kenna smiling at him  because of something great he'd done. It was a sensation he'd been  searching for for more than a decade. And one he fully welcomed now.  This woman made him feel alive. Whole. Goddamn, what he wouldn't give to  feel like this forever.

Drunk on the feeling and craving more, he pulled the bar thing that was  attached to the sail toward him. The boat turned to the right and lost  some speed.

Kenna spun with a worried expression. "What happened?"

"Not sure," he said, turning the bar the opposite direction. That slowed  them down even more. His high drained at a rapid pace and  disappointment took hold.

Kenna frantically looked around, watching Ash's and Luke's boats gaining on them. "Do something! They're going to win!"

Shit. Uh …  Come on, you piece of shit miniature boat. He pushed and  pulled on the bar, up and back, neither direction doing much to gain  them any speed. In fact, they were starting to slow even more.  Practically crawling.

Calder and Cassandra glided next to them, still moving at a steady pace.

"Hey, Ishmael." Calder gave Tyke a salute as they rolled past. "Thar she blows, dickhead!"

Then Ash and Sam breezed past. Cooper was laughing. "Guess those lessons woulda been a good idea, huh?"

Sam had enough decency to at least look slightly sheepish. Sorry, she mouthed, then giggled.

The worst of the pack were Estelle and Rose. The two old broads coasted  up to Tyke and Kenna, slowly, but moving nonetheless. And passed them  because the catamaran Tyke and Kenna were in had stopped. Dead in the  water.

"Better luck next time!" Rose called out.

"Like a woman, Tyke," Estelle said as they crawled past. "Gotta know how  to give it to her when she wants it and when to coax her into it when  she doesn't." She shifted her gaze to her great-niece with a wink.

Kenna's eyes narrowed in Tyke's direction. "Really? How hard can it be, Bryan?"

A whistle blew in the distance, signaling the first boat crossing the  finish line. Screams and cheers erupted as everyone celebrated.

"Señor?" a voice called from the shoreline. "Señor, you need help? I come swim to you-bring catamaran back?"

By this point, Calder and Cooper were now standing on the shoreline, hands on their knees, laughing their asses off.

"Come on back, Tyke!"

"You can do it! Just blow harder into the sail!"

An unladylike snarl erupted from the other side of the boat. "Forget this." The plastic beneath him shifted as Kenna stood.

"What are you doing?" He threw a hand behind him so he didn't topple  overboard. "I'll fix this. Just gimme a second. Kenna, wait!"

She rolled her eyes before diving into the clear, blue water and  swimming toward the shore, taking with her any hope Tyke had of getting  some before his recon with Reese later.

The man who'd offered the sailing lesson earlier was wading in the water  with a vengeance, shouting like he was saving Tyke from drowning. "Un  momento! I coming, Señor! I help you!"

He'd much rather sit out here and wallow in his stupidness, but thanks.

All while the entire wedding party stared at him from the shoreline.





Chapter Fourteen


Tyke huddled behind a large row of bushes looking at a small two-story  Cape Cod. He and Reese had set up surveillance about two hundred feet  away. On their bellies in damp grass, they scanned the front exterior of  the house and surrounding area through binoculars.         

     



 

The place was located smack in the middle of a long street that was  lined with about twenty houses along the ocean. The tall hill across the  road where Reese and Tyke lay served as great privacy for the  neighborhood from the rest of the resort craziness. This area was dark  and quiet. Peaceful. Likely coveted by the resort staff as a way to  decompress after servicing the guests.

Some upstairs lights were on in the adjacent houses; people readying for  bedtime after a hard day's work. Clint Azure's house was dark and  silent. Only a few overgrown shrubs and trees out front. No cars in the  cracked driveway.

"Area secure," Reese said beside him. "If you're going, I would say now is the time."

Tyke placed his binos in the black canvas bag Reese brought with him to  the islands. They hadn't planned on anything happening while they were  on vacation, but one could never be sure. Reese liked to be prepared.  Tyke couldn't complain. It made it easier to snoop around Clint's place.  Which is what they were doing tonight. Since Kenna's efforts in  Michael's room turned up empty, Tyke wanted to do the same to Clint.  Just something small to see whether the guy could be their thief.

Local police were doing their own investigation-if looking at the  footage from Kenna's room for hours on end and talking incessantly about  what they should do next could be considered an investigation. Tyke had  always been more of a take action first kind of guy. Rattle a few cages  and eventually the bad guy makes a mistake. That's what he was hoping  for now.

Tyke hadn't said anything about Clint-or Michael, for that matter-to the  police because he wanted to first see whether either man was a viable  suspect. Plus, he didn't want anyone tipping Clint off that they might  be on to him. If Tyke found evidence suggesting for sure that Clint was  involved, then Tyke would alert the authorities. But for now, being the  stubborn bastard he was, he and Reese were going to handle it.

"Keep an eye out," Tyke said, getting to his feet in a crouch position.  "If you see anything-" He spotted movement at his two o'clock, so he  threw himself flat on the grass and scrambled for his binoculars. "Who  the hell is that?"

Reese was already on it, following the person with his own equipment. "A woman. And by the looks of it, Kenna."

"What?" Tyke snapped his binoculars back up and confirmed that, surer  than shit, it was her. He'd recognize that profile anywhere.

Her red hair was pulled up into a pile on the top of her head. She wore a  black tank top that showed off her full chest and black shorts that  were just short enough to give her that curve that drove him nuts.  Despite the dark clothing, the way she was tiptoeing out in the open  across the front yard Stevie Wonder could've spotted her.

Goddamn woman. She'd told him she was meeting the girls to talk about wedding crap.

"Are you going after her?" Reese asked, innocence in his tone. Like he didn't pick up on Tyke's ire.

"Yeah, I'm going after her." He sprang to his feet. "Keep an eye out and let me know if you see anything else."

"Copy that."

Tyke veered right to come in behind her so she wouldn't see him  approach. He followed her path down to the front of the house, his boots  lightly touching the cement driveway. She knelt under the front bay  window when he caught up with her.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

She squealed and whirled on him with a …

What the-?

He plucked the item out of her hand and examined it. "What are you doing with a plastic knife?"

"You're late," she gasped, clutching her chest.

"I'm late?" Tyke said with a snort. "For what?"

Her expression suggested he was a little slow on the uptake. "Seven o'clock. We were going to search Clint's house."

How did she-?

Then he remembered Reese's text. Damn technology.

"I sat around and waited for twenty minutes," she went on, "but you  didn't make a move, so I decided to do my own thing. I'm going in. Now  give me the knife and get out of here. You're blowing my cover."

It took all he had not to laugh maniacally while he strangled her.

"What's with you and your cover?" he said. "Honey, if you even had one, it was blown the second you stepped on the lawn."

She made a pfft sound between tight lips. "Please. I'm covert."

"Nothing about you is covert." He slid the plastic knife into his shorts  pocket. "What exactly were you gonna do with that thing? Saw someone's  hand off after an hour? Would that be before or after they easily  snapped it in half?"         

     



 

Kenna gave him a once-over, seeming fixated with the belt he wore that  contained rope, pepper spray, a small subcompact handgun, and a six-inch  tactical knife. Stainless steel. Not plastic.

"Whose wedding did you think you were coming to? The Sopranos'?" she  asked. "Why would you need all of that stuff?" She started to reach for  his dagger, but he swatted her hand away.

"Kenna, get out of here so I can search this house before Clint gets home."

"No."

"Get out of here."

"No."

"Kenna, I'm serious. Go."

She gathered her lips together and crossed her arms like a stubborn kid who didn't get the pony she wanted for Christmas.

He closed his eyes and counted to five. Slowly. When he opened them and  she hadn't disappeared, he groaned. "You're going to follow me in,  aren't you?"