Kate nodded. “She’s already a suspect in two murders, so she has nothing to lose by killing again. For the sake of public safety, I’m positive the king would want her captured as soon as possible.”
“You’re right. He does. That’s why he’s pulling every diplomatic string he’s got to get help.”
“Which should make our job easier. We’re going to need to pull a lot of strings to organize what I have in mind.”
He crossed his arms and looked at her expectantly. “Which is?”
She lifted her chin. “I think we should use the fleet of Montebello.”
Did she know how appealing her neck looked when she angled her chin that way? She used to like the way he would run his tongue along her jaw. And he liked that low purr she made when he would suck on her earlobe….
“Sam?”
He jerked his attention to what she had said. “What fleet? The Montebellans have no fleet.”
“They have fishing boats and pleasure craft.”
“Kate…”
“Think about it, Sam. The waters around this island are usually busy with small craft, so those boats wouldn’t arouse suspicion as they cruise the coastline. They would serve to draw Chambers out. They’re maneuverable, and if coordinated properly they could systematically cover a large area.”
“If coordinated properly?”
“We could man the boats with all available Montebellan police and Navy personnel, who would remain in constant radio communication.”
He stared at her as he rapidly assessed her suggestion. SEALs were trained to make use of anything available when they were on a mission. But civilian vessels? In a naval operation? It was unconventional, but it just might work. “I see where you’re heading, Kate. If we chart a course for each vessel so that it covers one section of a grid near the coastline—”
“With naval vessels positioned offshore as backup for the small boats—”
“And spotter aircraft on standby,” he added.
“By tomorrow we could draw a surveillance net around the island that a rubber raft couldn’t slip through.”
“All right. Sounds good. Let’s set this up.”
She lifted her eyebrows. “Just like that? You’re willing to go with my idea?”
“Yes.”
“Oh.”
“You sound surprised.”
“Well, yes.”
“Why?”
“I was under the impression that you liked getting your way.”
“Sure I do. In this case, I want to complete my mission by catching a murderer, and if your idea gets me there, I’ll use it.”
“I see.”
“Kate, just because I was more interested in your body than in your mind doesn’t mean I thought you didn’t have one.”
She took a step back, her cheeks flushing red. “Sam, we agreed—”
He muttered an oath and held up his hands. “Sorry.”
“No problem.” She cleared her throat and turned to the table. “We’d better get started.”
Ursula hated the water. She’d never learned to swim. The only reason she owned a bikini was that she looked so scrumptious in one.
She lifted her arm to hold her hat against the breeze and inhaled deeply. “I just love sailing,” she said. “It’s so exciting, don’t you think?”
The boy nodded quickly, his gaze riveted to her cleavage. His frame hadn’t yet fleshed out, and he looked all coltish arms and legs in his swimsuit, but the gleam in his eye was all man.
Ursula twitched her shoulders so her breasts jiggled, hiding a smirk when she saw the boy’s eyes widen. Teenagers were so easy to manipulate. This one appeared to be sixteen, maybe seventeen, and like all adolescent males, he could be led around by his sex drive.
He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing like a cork. “I have a sailboat.”
Of course, she knew he had a boat. She’d noticed him drag up some little thing with a rainbow-striped sail on the sand ten minutes ago. It was the only reason she was giving him this free show. She needed that boat now that she’d had to abandon her plan to leave Montebello by plane.
The past twenty-four hours had been simply dreadful. When she’d reached the airport yesterday, she’d found it crawling with security. She’d been smart enough to work her way past them, but when she’d seen the cop behind the ticket counter, checking everyone’s ID, she’d known it was no use. She wouldn’t be getting on a plane anytime soon.
There weren’t many choices open to her. Either she continued to hole up in the hotel room she could no longer afford until the heat at the airport died down, or she had to leave this godforsaken island by water. And she hated the water.
She should have known better than to team up with Gretchen Hanson. Sure, they’d been childhood chums in Shady Rock, Colorado, but Gretchen had always reminded Ursula of a rat. The woman must have spilled everything the instant she’d been caught. Now the police knew Ursula’s name, and the photo from her driver’s licence was on wanted posters all over the country.
It was dangerous to be seen in public—with a face and body as outstanding as hers, she naturally drew attention. Yet she could have saved herself the trouble of donning the sunglasses and concealing her hair under her hat when she’d decided to troll the beach for prospects this morning. This kid hadn’t looked at her face yet.
“A sailboat. How marvellous.” She paused and tipped down her sunglasses, giving him a slow, suggestive perusal. “And I’ll just bet you’ve got a big one.”
“B-big?”
“I like them long and sleek. Is yours?”
“My…”
“Your boat, honey. Is it big?”
“She’s a twenty-three-foot catboat.”
“Ooh, sounds yummy. Are you… experienced?”
“Uh…”
She adjusted her hat and leaned toward him. “I meant at sailing.”
“Yeah. I’ve been sailing for years.”
“I can see that,” she murmured, drawing her fingertips along his scrawny forearm. “You have such lovely muscles here.”
His jaw went slack. “Uh.”
She
