Ocean Prey (A Prey Novel #31) - John Sandford Page 0,79
They ate a couple of pounds of shrimp and drank four margaritas between them, and wandered out the door while Regio and Lange were still eating.
“If they didn’t buy that,” Virgil said, “we’re cooked. Because we shoulda gotten an Academy Award.”
* * *
Back at the motel room, Virgil looked at the king-sized bed and whispered, “I can take the floor if that would make you happier.”
“You’re going to need your sleep for tomorrow night,” Rae whispered back. “I don’t figure you’ll be coming on to me at this point and rape doesn’t seem to be your style.”
“You’re right and you’re right. Not that you don’t have a nice . . . mmm . . .”
Rae rolled her eyes. “We won’t be spooning, either.”
“Of course not,” Virgil said.
Which didn’t mean he wouldn’t wake up a few times with spontaneous erections; he’d been away from Frankie for two weeks and he could feel the heat coming off Rae’s body. The second time, he heard Rae quietly laugh, but then they both went back to sleep. They woke together in the morning and Rae stretched and said, “See? No harm, no foul.”
She was wearing black dancer’s leggings and a half top, which revealed much of her personal terrain.
Virgil grumbled, “Fuckin’ Bob must’ve been a fuckin’ saint, to be traveling around with you and nothing’s going on.”
“No, he wasn’t. We were like brother and sister, sorta.”
“Well, I’m not your brother. I’m committed. Got new twins. Got an old lady I’m in love with. But Jesus, Rae, you . . .”
“Hush up.”
* * *
They met Regio and Lange in the parking lot and Lange said, “We’ll come by your place this afternoon and pick you up. What time?”
“Depends on how far we have to drive to get to the boat, and how far the boat is from the drop spot. I’ll let you figure that out,” Virgil said. “We don’t want to go out too late—we need to get out there after dark, but not way dark, just dark enough that nobody will see me going over the side. It’d be good if there were still some boats on the water. Their screws will confuse Coast Guard sonar, if there is any sonar watching the dive zone.”
“Gets dark around six . . .”
“Sundown is a few minutes before six o’clock,” Virgil said. “I looked it up. Let’s say we want to be cruising past the drop-off spot between six-thirty and seven.”
Regio nodded: “We’ll pick you up at four o’clock. Be ready.”
“We’ll stop and refill my tanks on the way back to the apartment,” Virgil said. “I want to get a nap if I can, before we go out.”
“We’re on. For sure. The thing you gotta do, is figure how to rig up all that gear so you don’t get all tangled up in it. That was a problem . . . in the past.”
* * *
From the car, Virgil called Lucas and filled him in. “If we’re going past the drop-off at six-thirty, and they’re picking us up at four, that means the boat’s got to be close. You’ve still got the tracker on their Lexus?”
“We do. We’re watching them now.”
“If they find it, I could be fucked,” Virgil said.
“They won’t find it. I can guarantee that.”
“And what do you do if they show up with a different vehicle? One you can’t track?”
“We’re talking about that,” Lucas said.
On the way north, off the Keys and headed for the scuba center, Rae said, “I’m starting to pucker.”
“I didn’t think good-looking women had anything to pucker.”
“You’d be wrong about that,” Rae said. “The thing is, I sorta like the feeling.”
Virgil glanced at her, smiled: “So do I. So does Lucas.”
“So did Bob,” Rae said.
CHAPTER
NINETEEN
Michael Behan, Jack Cattaneo, Marc Regio, and Matt Lange met at Behan’s waterfront condo and Behan opened with, “This Willy guy—he can do it?”
“That’s what the diver chick said,” Lange said.
“And you think he’s legit?”
“I do,” Regio said. “Matt’s a little nervous about him.”
Cattaneo asked, “Why?”
“Can’t really tell you why,” Lange said. “You’ve talked to him, Jack. He comes across as this stoner, lazy do-nothing slacker, but then, all of a sudden, he seems a little too . . . smart. A little too driven. He opens his mouth and all this technical stuff comes out.”
“But only about diving,” Regio said.
Lange: “That’s true. Only about diving. He seems to have trouble with his cell phone.”
Behan and Cattaneo looked at Lange for a couple beats, then Cattaneo asked, “You nervous enough to pull the plug?”