Page 43 of Under the Radar
“Hugh and an undercover person following close behind us. I have guns and ammo in the lunch bag. That’s why it’s heavy.”
“What?” She scanned the patrons in the restaurant. “You mean we’re not alone?” She leaned across the table and whispered, “Are you even allowed to carry a weapon here?” Mo dabbed her napkin in ice water and laid it across the back of her neck.
“It’s not what you think. Someone’s watching our back, but they can’t hear us. And yes, I’m licensed to carry in the Bahamas.”
Mo held up a hand. “This cloak and dagger stuff has gone too far, Mac. I don’t have the drugs. I didn’t do anything to them.” She pleated the cloth napkin on her lap. “They have no way of knowing I’m even on a cruise. I was very careful to use cash, disguise myself, and my phone’s been off all week.”
“Not so fast, Reardon. You turned your phone on the night we compared text messages, and judging by your reaction twenty minutes later, forgot that you’d turned it on.”
Irritation pricked at her gut. He doesn’t miss a thing. She nodded. “Yeah, but that’s the only time I’ve used it.”
“Phones are like unprotected sex and pregnancy. Once is enough.” He ran a hand through his hair. “What did they write on your bathroom mirror?”
Her stomach lurched. “I already told you. It was awful.”
“How much is your father worth?”
“Stop it, Mac. You’re starting to sound like the detectives during the interview last Friday. I’m not sure how much he’s worth.” She shrugged. “A lot.”
“My point being,” he cradled her hands in his, “they don’t need the drugs if they can get the money instead. Your family has money. They may figure if they can get to you, your father will give them the money.”
Mo’s heart thudded in her chest. Her father had taught her how to respond in these situations. She’d memorized dozens of bank account numbers, passwords, and security questions. Her mind held the keys to the Reardon vault, just in case something like this happened. A one in a million chance kind of thing. Not an imminent—deal with it today issue. Maybe she was on some weird TV show, and any moment now, they’d tell her she won a prize.
Her ears started ringing, and the restaurant slowly closed in. Maybe a glass of cold water would quench the fire in her gut. That’d teach her to eat fried conch with spicy sauce and weird fruit for dessert. She sipped a swallow of water and choked on it.
The next breath stuck in her throat.
Mo rested her head in her hands and dragged gulps of air into her lungs. For goodness’ sake, she was wheezing, hyperventilating. She’d helped kids at school who’d hyperventilated when they were scared. It would pass. It would pass. Please, let it pass.
Mac was suddenly sitting next to her rubbing her back
Mo waved him off. “I’m okay, I’m okay.” Her hand trembled as she tried the water again. It went down this time. Dammit. If she could just cry and let it out, but drama sucked and public displays of emotion were so not her modus operandi.
Mac searched her eyes. “You scared me for a minute there.”
Yeah, well, she scared herself too. This was partially her fault because she’d parked her car so far from school. It had been an open invitation to the drug dealers. Tears threatened again. She closed her eyes and steeled herself.
Mac tugged her close against his chest. “I won’t let anything happen to you, Mo. I promise.”
She slipped her arms around him and hugged back. He can’t make that promise and keep it. She’d seen him struggle with his memories, and the last thing she wanted was for him to struggle with her memory. It wasn’t fair. To him or to her. Maybe she should fly home on her father’s private jet and use the protection of his security staff. Yeah. That might work. Whatever it took to keep Mac out of the line of fire during this tenuous time in his life.
Mac tilted her chin up and contemplated her eyes. “Do. Not. Run. You won’t make it, Mo. Do not run. I’ve got a plan.”
A chill raced up her spine. He doesn’t miss a thing. She squeezed his forearm. “Mac, as much as I’d like to make this mess disappear by writing a check to some Cartel Disaster Relief Fund, it’s not going to happen. And as much as I want a peaceful, relaxing vacation—that’s not in the cards either. I don’t want you risking your future with Lily for me. When we get back to the ship, I’ll arrange to fly home and let my father’s security team handle my protection.”
He kissed her forehead and traced a finger along her collarbone. “Thank you for that, but you already have a security team here. Remember how we handled the situation with your ex at the wedding reception?”
Mo smiled at the memory of the Sanctuary guys carting Jason Hadley out of the reception. “Yes, you handled it admirably. But Jason isn’t behind this and he was only one person. This time, we’re up against an entire drug cartel.”
Mac tapped his index finger on the table. “Our teams rescue people from human trafficking operations. It’s what we do. Even though I’m sitting here with you, somewhere, there is a Sanctuary team planning or executing an extraction. Your father’s security team is not prepared to handle this situation. The decision at hand is—do you trust me enough to let Sanctuary handle this?”
Of course she trusted him. Didn’t she?