Barefoot with a Stranger (Barefoot Bay Undercover #2)(19)

“Yeah, sure,” Gabe agreed. “You drove all night, and you two have a long travel day ahead. You’ll stay here, Mal. I need to finalize some details anyway. Nino can take you on the golf cart, Chess.”

Chessie pushed back from the table. “Nino really ought to get my bag at the airport. Can’t Mal drive me?”

Mal looked up, visibly surprised at the suggestion.

“He doesn’t know where the villa is,” Gabe said.

She looked hard at Mal, and he returned the stare, just enough silent communication in his nearly black eyes to give her hope that he’d go along with this emergency plan.

“That’s okay.” He stood. “I can figure it out and take her there.”

Gabe shook his head. “For crying out loud, you can drive a golf cart yourself, Chessie. I need to talk to Mal.”

No matter what they decided or who might have planted that listening device, she had to tell Mal first, alone and fast. Then they could decide what to tell Gabe, if anything.

“When you’re done, then,” she said, putting a light hand on Mal’s arm, trying not to think about the dusting of hair on his corded forearm and how it made her body quiver. “I’d like to get to know you better if we’re going to be on this assignment together.”

Mal’s brow lifted slightly. He definitely took that suggestion the wrong way. Well, let him. If it got him alone with her, she’d have accomplished her goal.

“If that’s what you want,” he said, making no move to get out of her touch.

Gabe muttered a curse. “Go to dinner tonight if you want to play twenty questions with your life histories. I need Mal all day for some other stuff. Come on, Chess. Golf cart’s outside, and I’ll tell you how to get to the villa.”

If she pushed any harder, it would just be weird. She’d have to wait until they were alone, if Gabe ever let them be alone before they landed in Cuba. For all she knew, he was going to fly to New York with them.

That’s how overprotective her brothers were. And that’s why she followed his orders for now, because if he found out the truth…no, Chessie didn’t even want to think about it.





Chapter Six





Mal watched Chessie drive off in a golf cart, still trying to discern the unspoken signals she’d been sending him. She was mad? She had every right to be after he skulked out in the middle of the night. She was scared? He got that she didn’t do field work and might think she was in over her head, but she didn’t strike him as a woman who cowered easily.

Most likely, she wanted to cook up a story in case Gabe somehow figured out they’d met. The former CIA consultant was whip-smart and could easily spot discrepancies if he interrogated them apart from each other. He didn’t think they’d done a bang-up job of pretending they’d never seen each other before, but then, he was trained in nuances of spying and she wasn’t.

“She’s gone,” Gabe said, giving him a nudge.

“I see that.” Mal kept his gaze on the asphalt trail that Chessie had taken to the resort.

“Then stop staring after my sister.”

Mal turned and blinked at Gabe, bracing for the shakedown. He was totally ready to man up to what happened, but not without Chessie’s permission. This was her family relationship at stake, and he had no right to kiss and tell. Even under some torture from Gabe, he wouldn’t crack. He’d stay silent until they agreed otherwise. “I just wanted to be sure she followed your directions,” he said.


Gabe looked skyward.

“How else would I know if she’s going to be a good partner on this assignment?” Mal demanded.

Gabe tipped his head, no doubt loading up two barrels of sarcasm and accusations.

“She seems reluctant,” Mal added. “Are you sure she’s the right person for the job?”

Blue eyes the same deep Wedgwood blue as Chessie’s—why the hell hadn’t he noticed that when he met her?—narrowed like a pitcher about to wind up and throw a hundred-mile-an-hour fastball. Mal braced for the assault.

“For one thing, she’s lovesick over this dick-brain bozo who’s been stringing her along like she was fishing line on the end of his pencil-sized pole.” Gabe put his hand on Mal’s shoulder and guided him toward the road that joined all the bungalows on the cul-de-sac. “Maybe you can help in that regard.”

Mal’s steps slowed. Help? Gabe was giving him permission?

“I mean, you could be like a father figure, but not one of her brothers or her cousin.”

Mal choked. “A father figure?” Oh hell no.

“She might look up to you.”

Or up at him, from flat on her back. Like she did last night. “Hate to break it to you, big bro, but I’m not that much older than she is. She’s thirty, right? That’s what you put on the passport.”

“Yeah, but…” Gabe shook his head and led Mal to another one of the Spanish-style bungalows. “Shit. I keep forgetting she’s not sixteen.”

“She is certainly not sixteen,” Mal said, keeping all irony out of his voice. “And I’m thirty-eight. Definitely not old enough to be her father.”

“But you are wise,” Gabe shot back. “One of the best spooks I know.”