Read Online Love at High Tide by Christi Barth - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Christi Barth
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“He’s one heck of a way to break your dry spell. Rockin’ body, awesome hair, lips that look totally biteable—”
Yeah. Darcy almost let her eyelids flutter shut to fully revisit the tan gorgeousness of his chest. Then she tripped right off the curb. Sexy daydreaming did not mesh well with tailing a suspect. “Stop it. He’s mine, and I’m not sharing.”
“Being an only child’s made you selfish.” Trina threw an arm around Darcy’s shoulders. “I am glad you’re hot on the trail with me tonight, though.”
“Me, too. I don’t think Ivan’s a mobster, either, before you ask. But something is off. He sets my teeth on edge. I’ve racked my brain, but haven’t come up with any angle to explain that parade of young hotties past his beach chair. The only thing I know for certain is that it’s weird. Weird and inexplicable often add up to dangerous.” Unfortunately, not dangerous enough to call the police. Just enough that she didn’t want her best friend running around after him all by her lonesome.
“Do you know how many asses he’s patted so far tonight? Six! A hunk half his age couldn’t pull that off. I’m telling you, there’s something hinky about him.”
“Like how he spends his evenings.” Ivan walked into his third mini-golf course in half an hour. This one had a three-story pirate ship, with masts extending up another two stories at least. Thick, nautical-looking ropes cordoned off the paths, backed by beds of bright yellow and orange hibiscus. A cannon fired a shot into a deep pool, and they both jumped.
Darcy crossed her arms. “This is officially beyond weird. He can’t be a golf fanatic, because he hasn’t so much as picked up a club at any of these places.”
“He’s making the rounds.”
Sort of like mob kingpin, glad-handing all his minions. Probably not safe to mention that comparison out loud, though. Trina would jump on it and do something crazy, like immediately calling the FBI. “But for what?”
“I guess we’ll need to get closer to figure it out.” Trina followed the path past waist-high barrels marked GUNPOWDER and treasure chests overflowing with colored stones and ropes of fake pearls.
“Isn’t the zoom on your camera getting you close enough?”
“Watching him isn’t getting us anything but sore feet. Besides, a good investigator uses all five senses. We need to listen in on a conversation.”
Bad idea. Despite the throng of families pushing down the path with them, Darcy felt in her bones this was wrong. Nevertheless, she followed Trina into another cavelike structure. This one held two putting greens and a jail cell, complete with a skeleton dressed in rags. Dark and musty, it actually wasn’t a bad spot to hide. On the other side of the bars Ivan held court. A leggy brunette who didn’t look like she’d yet lived through a senior prom spewed out a fast stream of harsh consonants. Whatever language she and Ivan tossed between them like jagged verbal spikes sounded very Eastern European.
“I don’t think listening’s going to clarify anything.” She tugged on Trina’s camera strap. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Wait,” Trina whispered. “Look.”
From beneath her baggy tank top, the girl pulled out a wad of cash. At least an inch thick, rubber-banded in the middle. Ivan slid it into his fanny pack. As he reached around to squeeze her ass, he looked up, right at Darcy and Trina. He shoved the girl aside so hard she stumbled against the rusty iron bars.
“Hey!” His voice echoed off the low rock ceiling. “You two. You come.”
“Okay, now we can leave,” Trina said in a shaky voice. She grabbed Darcy’s hand and hurried out of the cave. The fast, hard slap of flip-flops behind them neared.
Darcy glanced over her shoulder. Arms pumping, Ivan lumbered after them. Bushy eyebrows came together into an angry single line. He hollered again, this time in his own language. She didn’t need a translator to know that whatever he
Yeah. Darcy almost let her eyelids flutter shut to fully revisit the tan gorgeousness of his chest. Then she tripped right off the curb. Sexy daydreaming did not mesh well with tailing a suspect. “Stop it. He’s mine, and I’m not sharing.”
“Being an only child’s made you selfish.” Trina threw an arm around Darcy’s shoulders. “I am glad you’re hot on the trail with me tonight, though.”
“Me, too. I don’t think Ivan’s a mobster, either, before you ask. But something is off. He sets my teeth on edge. I’ve racked my brain, but haven’t come up with any angle to explain that parade of young hotties past his beach chair. The only thing I know for certain is that it’s weird. Weird and inexplicable often add up to dangerous.” Unfortunately, not dangerous enough to call the police. Just enough that she didn’t want her best friend running around after him all by her lonesome.
“Do you know how many asses he’s patted so far tonight? Six! A hunk half his age couldn’t pull that off. I’m telling you, there’s something hinky about him.”
“Like how he spends his evenings.” Ivan walked into his third mini-golf course in half an hour. This one had a three-story pirate ship, with masts extending up another two stories at least. Thick, nautical-looking ropes cordoned off the paths, backed by beds of bright yellow and orange hibiscus. A cannon fired a shot into a deep pool, and they both jumped.
Darcy crossed her arms. “This is officially beyond weird. He can’t be a golf fanatic, because he hasn’t so much as picked up a club at any of these places.”
“He’s making the rounds.”
Sort of like mob kingpin, glad-handing all his minions. Probably not safe to mention that comparison out loud, though. Trina would jump on it and do something crazy, like immediately calling the FBI. “But for what?”
“I guess we’ll need to get closer to figure it out.” Trina followed the path past waist-high barrels marked GUNPOWDER and treasure chests overflowing with colored stones and ropes of fake pearls.
“Isn’t the zoom on your camera getting you close enough?”
“Watching him isn’t getting us anything but sore feet. Besides, a good investigator uses all five senses. We need to listen in on a conversation.”
Bad idea. Despite the throng of families pushing down the path with them, Darcy felt in her bones this was wrong. Nevertheless, she followed Trina into another cavelike structure. This one held two putting greens and a jail cell, complete with a skeleton dressed in rags. Dark and musty, it actually wasn’t a bad spot to hide. On the other side of the bars Ivan held court. A leggy brunette who didn’t look like she’d yet lived through a senior prom spewed out a fast stream of harsh consonants. Whatever language she and Ivan tossed between them like jagged verbal spikes sounded very Eastern European.
“I don’t think listening’s going to clarify anything.” She tugged on Trina’s camera strap. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Wait,” Trina whispered. “Look.”
From beneath her baggy tank top, the girl pulled out a wad of cash. At least an inch thick, rubber-banded in the middle. Ivan slid it into his fanny pack. As he reached around to squeeze her ass, he looked up, right at Darcy and Trina. He shoved the girl aside so hard she stumbled against the rusty iron bars.
“Hey!” His voice echoed off the low rock ceiling. “You two. You come.”
“Okay, now we can leave,” Trina said in a shaky voice. She grabbed Darcy’s hand and hurried out of the cave. The fast, hard slap of flip-flops behind them neared.
Darcy glanced over her shoulder. Arms pumping, Ivan lumbered after them. Bushy eyebrows came together into an angry single line. He hollered again, this time in his own language. She didn’t need a translator to know that whatever he
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