Operation Summer Storm (6 page)

“I wasn’t planning on it,” she murmured, dragging her gaze from his and focusing back out on the endless blue of the water that surrounded them.

“You’d probably push me off so the boat could run over me,” she added beneath her breath.

His chuckle told her he’d heard her and she steeled herself against the hitch in her heartbeat that reacted to the sound.

The cry of a bird drew her attention further out to sea where she watched it dive into the water and come up with a small squirming fish in its beak. “Isn’t it strange to see a bird this far out in the ocean? We have to be miles away from land,” she said.

“Maybe she just doesn’t realize she’s flown too far from home yet.”

Summer heard the slight edge of his tone and tensed. “Maybe she’s doing what she needs to do in order to survive. Maybe she doesn’t have any other option,” she countered.

“Or thinks she doesn’t.”

She shifted her gaze to his face and regarded him silently for a few moments. “Is everything in your life always so black and white?”

His eyes seemed to caress her face as they roamed thoughtfully over her before he answered. “It used to be. I liked it that way.”

“What happened?” she asked, frowning. She thought he wasn’t going to answer her as he pushed away from the rail.

“You came along.” he said, leaving her staring at his broad back as he walked away.

* * * *

Los Cavernas

The Phillipines, Western Pacific Ocean

Early the next morning, just as dawn stretched its long fingers across the sky, the captain came down the steps and spoke in a low tone, using his native tongue which Summer had no idea as to its origin. Tate and the others wasted no time in getting to their feet and grabbing their equipment.

Tupper helped her to her feet as she climbed out of her bunk. “This is our stop,” he said over his shoulder as he squeezed past and headed up the stairs. She heard the engines beginning to slow. Jumping back out of the way, she dodged men and backpacks, trying not to gape at the weapons they were removing from storage cupboards beneath the seats.

“Where are we?” she asked Tate as he brushed past her on his way back down the stairs.

“This is where we change transportation. Take this and wait upstairs,” he passed her a large canvas pack before turning away.

Summer gave an involuntary “oomph” as the packs initial weight surprised her, but turned and lugged it up the stairs obediently. “Thanks very much for asking,” she mumbled under her breath. Up on deck, she was surprised to see how organized everything was. An inflatable dingy floated alongside the fishing boat, loaded with most of the gear the men had brought up from below.

Shading her eyes from the sun, Summer switched her gaze to the small island before them; it looked like something a child would draw. White sand surrounded the edge, green coconut palms and lush foliage behind, and in the background a majestic looking volcano crater— which she hoped was dormant. The Island was long, but couldn’t be more than seven, or eight miles in length.

Tate came up onto deck, sending her a swift glance she caught from the corner of her eye. “Must be nice to have a millionaire as a business partner,” she murmured.

Lifting the heavy box up and over the side of the boat, he gave a small grunt. “He’s not your typical millionaire,” he warned, turning away to pass more equipment over the edge.

“How many people live here?”

“Six.”

“Six?” she repeated doubtfully and her eyebrows hitched in surprise. “Plus us?”

“Including us,” he corrected. “Hope you can swim.”

Summer’s head snapped around to follow Tate in alarm. “Why?”

Tate nodded toward the boat full of equipment. “There’s no room on the boat.”

She tried to judge the distance from the fishing boat to the sandy strip of beach before them. She’d known this wasn’t going to be fun. She’d expected it to be uncomfortable at times, even downright disgusting, but sitting around in wet clothes after she got out of the water was not something she was looking forward to. God how she loathed the feeling of wet clothing against her skin. She always had. Ever since the swim and survive certificate they’d been forced to do in the first year of high school.

She shuddered at the memory. She hadn’t felt well, but it was the last day, and the grand finale of the course had culminated in an endurance and survival swim where students were forced to tread water—fully clothed in jeans, long sleeve shirt, and shoes—for half an hour. She’d been struggling to keep her head above water, her arms felt as though they were weighted down with barbells, and the heavy fabric of her jeans had dragged her beneath the surface. It had been her physical education teacher, Mister Barry, who’d dived in to pull her from the water, and it had taken the rest of the year to live down the humiliation. To this day she could still feel the horrible bristle of Mister Barry’s bush-ranger beard against her face as he’d started resuscitating her in front of the whole class. The fact that she’d been conscious the entire time, protesting against the teacher’s overzealous resuscitation attempts, went unheeded and she lay there silently wishing she
had
drowned.

One look at Tate’s smug expression though and she knew there was no way she could protest. Gritting her teeth, she eased herself down the ladder and into the water, wincing as the stiff denim of her shorts clung to her legs like plastic wrap on leftovers. Tate stood above her and watched her progress with cool detachment.

Gritting her teeth against the horrible feeling, she pushed off from the side of the boat and followed the others as they swam the inflatable boat and its cargo toward the beach ahead.

Maloney waited at the beach line for her and helped pull her bedraggled form from the water. “You okay?” he asked as she dropped to the ground to rest.

“Just dandy,” she answered between gulps of air. “Nothing like a marathon swim at daybreak to get the juices flowing.”

He gave her a ghost of a smile before turning to help unload the gear from the boat and Summer got to her feet, just as Tate walked from the water.

Water streamed from his clothing, as he raised his arms to wipe his face. Summer felt her mouth go dry as his sodden trousers molded to long, muscular, thighs.

My God, she thought feeling breathless and flustered. He looks like every woman
’
s fantasy come to life. Mortified beyond belief, she turned away and scolded herself for being so ridiculous. How could she find him of all people attractive? He was a rude, obnoxious man, and as soon as they found Willow, she’d be glad to see the last of him. Glancing down at herself, she drew in a sharp breath; her white T-shirt clung to her like a second skin…and had become transparent. She pulled at her wet clothing in a fruitless attempt to rectify her modesty.

The sound of soft sand, squelching under feet, from behind her, announced Tate’s arrival. She sighed before turning to face him and tried not to gape when she saw he was now shirtless and carrying a large box on one powerful shoulder.

“Take this,” he said tossing her his wet shirt. “Don’t want to get the boys too excited,” he said, nodding down at her arms, folded protectively over her chest.

Summer’s eyes flashed angry sparks as she pulled on his shirt and fastened the buttons. She hated standing before him looking like a contestant in a wet T-shirt competition; it put her at a definite disadvantage. She hated even more, the fact she couldn’t seem to take her eyes off his bulging arm muscles, taking the strain of the heavy box on his shoulder, or the smooth muscles and flat abdomen of his stomach, as it tapered down to disappear into the waist of his trousers. She really hated that.

They trudged up the soft white sand and into the dense tree line. Beyond the beach, mountains rose from the earth, thrusting into the sky in rugged profile, a testament to their violent explosion from the seabed hundreds of thousands of years before.

She stopped and stared at the jagged beauty before her. “It’s breathtaking.”

Tate grunted. “Right. Come on.”

She sighed at his lack of appreciation for the view and turned to follow him. Moments later they came into a clearing, where she discovered, off to one side, a large tin shed, its doors open wide.

Summer gaped at what it housed. “Is that for us?”

Tate sent her a brief grunt, which she took to mean that it was, and felt her heart sink a little more.

She had to admit, she knew next to nothing about aircraft, but one thing she did know, was this particular one belonged in some kind of wartime museum—not in a hanger—being prepared to fly.

A man with white whiskers and a floppy straw hat emerged from inside the hanger, wiping his hands on a rag, as he came forward. He shook the men’s hands and smiled, showing a wide toothless grin.

Summer eyed him warily. He resembled a cross between a hillbilly and fisherman, and after giving her a swift suspicious once over, ducked back under the wing of the monstrosity and proceeded to ignore her.

“How do you pull all this together?”

For a moment, she thought he wasn’t going to answer her. “It’s a business, as legitimate as any other. We have skills that most people don’t come by, and that pay very well. We’ve got a contact, with access to pretty much anything we need…for a price.”

“Is everything always about money, with you guys?” she asked, skeptically.

“Isn’t it everything where you come from?”

“No,” she said simply, before amending, “I don’t know,” she said changing her mind, “maybe for some people.”

“But not for you?” he asked cynically.

“No.” She shook her head and raised her chin, until she was able to look him in the eye, “money isn’t everything to me. There are far more important things in life.”

“Like what?”

“Like…” Summer paused, thinking of her sister, “having your freedom and able to feel safe,” she glanced away quickly, “family, friends…”

“…raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens,” he finished sarcastically.

A smirk crossed her lips as she sent her skittering gaze back to his, “I wouldn’t have picked you for a Sound of Music fan.”

“Just goes to show you can’t judge a book by its cover,” he said with a shrug and turned to continue up the beach.

Everyone moved about like a well-oiled machine, getting whatever was required to do done with a minimum of fuss. With the sun well and truly up she found its heat, even at this early hour, beginning to dry her wet clothing.

“Coffee?” she looked up in surprise as Tate stopped beside her. “It’s not poisoned, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he assured her with a dry smirk.

She took the offered cup and thanked him, “how long until we leave?”

“Can’t leave until tomorrow night—planes not ready,” he said taking a seat beside her, his own cup balanced in one big, capable hand.

Summer cursed herself once more for becoming side tracked by his body and of all things...his hands. She’d never been a hand woman before. She became aware that he was eyeing her strangely, before she realized he’d asked her a question while she’d been busy daydreaming about his appendages. “Sorry?”

“I asked if you still wanted to go through with this.”

“It’s going to take a little more than a swim to put me off,” she assured him looking out over the water in the distance, listening to the shrill cries of sea birds and the low hum of insects. “I have even less choice about this than you do,” she said as the wind lifted the loose strands of hair at her nape gently.

“I don’t follow,” he said clearly puzzled.

“Blackmailing you, as you so delicately put it,” she added dryly, “is one thing, but I can’t ask you to put your lives at risk for my sister, and then just sit back. This is still my problem, so whether you like it, or not, we’re in this together.”

“We’re trained to do this. It’s our job,” he pointed out logically.

“Which is why I chose you—but I’m trained too, and you’re going to need me to take care of them once they’re out,” she reminded him, taking another sip of her coffee.

For a moment, he sat and regarded her with a thoughtful expression. “It doesn’t change the fact it’s no place for you to be. Maloney’s a medic; he can handle any medical emergency that comes up. Hell, we’re all trained to a higher standard than most EMS officers, you’re sister will be cared for.”

“Maloney is one guy—he can’t do it all. Correct me if I’m wrong, you guys are going to have your hands pretty full, going into this compound right?” She saw the answer in his expression as it tightened noticeably. “There’s no way I’m leaving my sisters wellbeing to anyone else—not when I’m in a position to do it.”

He dropped his gaze to the ground and seemed to consider her response. “About the other night,” Tate paused, “I know you were pretty shaken up.”

Summer winced; when she closed her eyes she could still see those horrible black masks staring down at her. She cut him off before he could finish, “I know why you thought you had to do it—forget it. Let’s just get this over with; then you can have the damn file and I’ll get out of your life, Okay?”

Tate clenched his jaw. “You just make sure you keep your end of the bargain lady. You better make damn sure that evidence is some place safe.”