Read Online In Too Deep by Cherry Adair - Free Book Online

wooden marina toward a small, ramshackle town nestled in the green hills about half a mile away. She gave every appearance of a woman dressed for high tea with the queen. Except she wore his most disreputable pair of fluorescent shorts, and an old T-shirt. And no underwear. The thought of her going commando was enough to elevate his blood pressure several uncomfortable degrees.
    "Homely, scrawny thing, ain't she? Nice arse, though." Brian watched her for a long minute, then lifted a dirty hand to scratch his whiskered cheek before turning back to face Michael. "Still, not my cuppa. Too much trouble on the hoof for my likin'."
    How fortunate for you that I don't put you first on my kill list , Michael thought savagely. "Since I've spent the last dozen or so hours with her," he said with spurious calm, "I'll vouch for that a hundred percent."
    "Let's agree you'll be outta here in the next twenty."
    "I'll split the minute my boat's fixed, how's that?" Michael offered cheerfully. There wasn't a damn thing Kenyon could do about it. Other than the mast, Michael had orchestrated what was broken with meticulous care. The Nemesis wasn't going anywhere until he said the repairs were done.
    "I'll be sure you get all the help you need then, mate."
    Michael grinned companionably. "I'll need all the help I can get. I'm good with a line and sail, but all thumbs with anything mechanical."
    "Is that right?"
    " 'Fraid so," Michael lied again cheerfully.
    "Mosey up to the building over there and ask for some help, then. Tell 'em Brian said to give you top priority. I'll order your parts this arvie, after they've told me what you'll be needing. We'll have ya shipshape in no time."
    Michael took his sweet time walking toward the marina building, feeling Kenyon's suspicious gaze stabbing him between the shoulder blades. No more mention of Bouchard.
    Either Kenyon didn't give a rat's ass his boss had drowned, or the Australian was holding his cards close to his chest. Either way was irrelevant. One less person to deal with.
    The marina was well-equipped. A boatyard, with a Quonset building off to the side, doors open, housed the equipment to maintain and repair some good-size boats.
    Three eighty-footers bobbed inside. Tucked into the slips were half a dozen yachts and boats of various sizes. All top of the line, and well-maintained. Of course there was no sign of the tourists who under normal circumstances would've owned them.
    Among other, far more sinister activities, Trevor Church's Paradise Island was a glorified chop shop.
    Michael shaded his eye and looked around. His gaze climbed the hill and settled on the overblown white monstrosity nestled with a bird's-eye view of the bay. Church's home.
    Bile backed up his throat.
    Hugo. I'm back, man. The bastard's gonna pay. I swear to God, that son of a bitch is gonna pay in a spectacular way for what he did to you.
    He overheard a smattering of French, the pidgin English the locals used, a bit of Australian-accented English, and some guy swearing colorfully in German. Michael waited a few seconds for his eye to adjust to the relative dimness, then approached two guys painting a brand-new, hundred-foot Mangusta motor yacht with the words Beautiful Dreamer on the bow.
    The boat was magnificent. Big bucks, big ego, small dick kind of magnificent.
    "C day, mate. What can I do ya for?"
    "Hey," Michael said companionably. "Michael Wright. How're you doing? That's my Oyster out there. Needs some repairs. Just talked to Brian, and he said a couple of you could give me a hand. I have a list of what I think I might need."
     
    Tally squinted, shielding her eyes with her hand. The sun shone directly overhead, shortening shadows and beating down on her unprotected head. Not a breath of wind disturbed the grasses and palm trees on either side of the path. Hard to believe less than twelve hours ago she was clinging to the side of Michael's boat thinking she'd drown at any second.
    She rubbed a hand over her tired