Natalie held up her hand. “Stop.”
“You need to be tagged with a tracking device. Should whoever took the other girls manage to snag you, we’ll need to follow you to wherever they’ve taken you and the others.”
“Yeah, but why the syringe? Can’t I keep a tag in my pocket?”
“That would be fine if you were wearing clothing with pockets at all times. I suspect, since we’ll be at a resort, you will be wearing a bathing suit.”
“I could sew the device into the suit.”
“Will you sew one into every item of clothing you could possibly wear?”
Natalie frowned. “Maybe. I’ve just never liked the idea of being tracked all the time, by anybody.”
“In this case, it’s for your protection.”
“Okay, but put it somewhere I can dig it out if I decide I don’t like it anymore.”
“Sure. Where would you like it?”
“Between my toes.” She lifted the hem of her sundress and held out her leg.
Lance injected the tracking microchip and sat back in his seat with a hand-held device. He hit the on switch and waited. “There.” He pointed to the dot on the screen. “There you are. Now, if you’re swimming, scuba diving or taking a shower naked, we’ll be able to find you.”
Natalie snorted. “Nice to know I’ll have company in the shower.”
Lance grinned and opened an aluminum suitcase. From it, he selected what appeared to be a tiny hearing aid and handed it to her. “You remember how these work?”
“Yeah, yeah. Let’s get to the good stuff.” She leaned toward the suitcase and plucked out an H&K .40-caliber pistol and several boxes of rounds. “I prefer the stopping power of a .45 caliber or 9 mm, but the smaller weapon will be easier to hide.”
“Exactly.” He handed her a set of throwing knives similar to the ones she had locked in her safe at home in New Orleans.
Natalie ran her hand over the handles, wishing she had time to practice throwing. These, too, she had given up when she’d decided to retire from SOS operations. How would she explain to Melody the need to have her own set of knives, especially when she was terrible in the kitchen?
Melody had no idea what Natalie had done before she’d returned home to New Orleans to be there for her after their parents died. Her sister thought she had given up the boring desk job in DC, the first job she’d taken when she’d finished college.
That seemed such a long time ago.
Loaded with all the equipment and weaponry she could easily hide in her suitcases, in the room or on her person, Natalie arrived at the hotel, smiling like a young single woman on vacation, ready to soak up the sun and play in the sand.
She greeted the desk clerk in an English accent she’d perfected when Royce had assigned her to a case in Oxford, England. Despite staying there, she was so busy working the case, she didn’t have time to play tourist and get to know the area. She asked for a room on the same floor as the one her sister had shared with her three girlfriends from college. Hopefully she’d find out more by hanging out with them at the bar, if they hadn’t already gone home, frightened by the loss of their roommate.
As soon as she unpacked her suitcase and stowed her weapons in the room’s lockbox, she stripped out of her sundress and pulled on the sexy swimsuit her sister had insisted she buy. She had, against her better judgment. Whatever made Melody happy made Natalie happy.
In what little there was of the black suit, Natalie had to agree with Lance and the subcutaneous injection of the tracking device. Anything other than her body beneath the suit would have stood out.
Dressed for the beach and hanging out with young people, Natalie grabbed a beach towel and sunglasses and headed down to the lobby. She passed through the lobby and out to the pool area, checking out all of the people she passed, wondering if one of them was behind her sister’s disappearance. None of the young women looked anything like those in Melody’s selfies.
Once out on the beach, she noted someone changing the yellow flag to red, indicating it was dangerous to swim.
Mothers herded children out of the shallows and teens frowned and complained as they slogged through the water to shore. A group of young women in colorful bikinis stood in water up to their waists, taking pictures of each other. The man hoisting the red flag, waved for them to return to shore, yelling something about riptides.
Natalie glanced farther down the shoreline, thankful for her sunglasses. The white sand was bright behind her lenses, but without the glasses the beach would be blinding.
Sand crunched beside her and a shadow crossed over her face.
Natalie tensed.
“Looking for someone?” a deep male voice asked.
She turned toward the man wearing nothing but black swim trunks and a smile. And, good Lord, he didn’t need anything else. Suntanned and tattooed, his body was magnificent, his white teeth shining in his tanned cheeks. Dark hair, dark eyes and a friendly face topped him off.
“Not particularly,” she answered, remembering to use the proper British accent before promptly turning the other way.
“Name’s Sawyer,” he said. “Me and my buddies just got here today.”
“That’s lovely.” As handsome and well-muscled as the man was, he wasn’t in Natalie’s plan. She was there for her sister, not to flirt with muscle-bound men in sexy black swim trunks.
“Bug off, Sawyer,” another voice said from behind Natalie and she spun to face an even taller man with jet-black hair and a jaw that looked hard enough to crack walnuts.
She tipped her sunglasses down, curious about the true color of his eyes. Her heart fluttered as the deep green orbs stared down into hers and took her breath away.
No. She didn’t have time for the sudden tug of attraction. If she knew for certain where her sister was and that she was all right, Natalie might consider flirting with this incredibly handsome man with the tribal tattoos on his shoulders.
“Excuse us,” he said. “It’s been a while since we’ve been around a beautiful woman.”
“No need to explain.” Just leave.
A shout rose up, drawing those startlingly green eyes away from Natalie and to a couple of splashing figures farther out than was safe. Both figures appeared to be women, one closer in than the other. The woman furthest out seemed to be moving out to sea despite her attempt to swim ashore.
Mr. Green Eyes left her and jogged toward the water, the one called Sawyer on his heels.
Natalie hurried after the two.
“Looks like the current is dragging them out,” Sawyer said.
The man with the green eyes didn’t respond; he raced toward the water without slowing. He charged in up to
