Chapter 10
The trip under the boats patrolling the island would have been breathtaking had they had the time to notice. Coral reefs with multicolored fish darted past them as Angelica and Steve made their way to the shore.
Steve pointed to the wake one of the boats made above them and held up five fingers. They had five minutes before the next boat went by.
They kept moving, careful of expelling to much air from their tanks; bubbles suddenly appearing where there shouldn't be any, might alert the guards.
Once ashore, they ran for the cover of a thick grove of confederate jasmine. Their guide had managed a layout of the island. It seemed Mr. Moretti had hired a construction crew to make some minor repairs from one of the many tropical storms that were so common in the area.
Angelica inhaled the intoxicating perfume of the flower. She loved the scent and had planted the star-like flower along the trellis of her home...she sighed. Thanks to this assignment those flowers were long gone.
"Check your weapons," Steve whispered as he tugged his harness over the dark black shirt he'd worn under his wet suit.
Angelica checked the Glock she'd brought with and chambered a bullet. She too had opted for a black T-shirt, but where Steve had camo paints, she had a sleek pair of yoga pants under her wet suit. She'd live in the damn things if she could.
She pulled a pair of binoculars from the watertight container she brought, and her favorite Israeli Baby Eagle which she strapped to her ankle.
Steve smiled, "Do you sleep with that?" He asked pointing to the gun.
Angelica nodded, "Damn straight." She laughed, but the truth was – she did. Of course it was under her pillow instead of strapped to her ankle.
"That explains it."
She looked at her friend, curious at his meaning.
He sighed, "You know I've never asked how you got in this business, Angelica.
She stiffened, her nerves tingled and she fought a shiver of pure fear.
"Don't worry," he waved of his hand in her direction before bringing the binoculars to his face. "I'm not going to now." He paused and turned to her. "It's just, in all the years we've done this – I've never seen you with anyone."
Angelica let out a small breath, "You won't Steve."
He cocked his head and helped her hide their gear. "It's a lonely way to live, Angelica."
Angelica nodded.
He was right – it was. But how did she tell him the truth? How did she tell Steve that she had no heart to give? She buried it fifteen years ago, in a small family cemetery near the Georgia/Alabama state line along with the happy, loving wife and mother she'd been then. The woman she was now was born out of revenge and hate.
He motioned her down and she froze as she flattened herself in the sand.
Footsteps.
Someone was walking down the pier.
Angelica listened.
Not one pair of footsteps – two.
She looked at Steve and held up two fingers. He nodded, he'd heard it too.
"Well Dr. Johnson, I hope you found your room satisfactory?" A male voice spoke.