Ride the Tide (Deep Six #3) - Julie Ann Walker Page 0,11

one they call Wolf. It is better than we could have hoped for.”

When Izad hesitated, Kazem marched over to where he leaned against the edge of the hotel suite’s desk. Kazem’s eyes sparked with bloodlust as he placed his hands on Izad’s shoulders. “In the name of my brothers, I will rain vengeance on the head of Mason McCarthy. He will die at sea as they did, nothing but the fishes to comfort his remains.”

So eager, thought Izad. But that is my own fault. All his talk of how brave Kazem’s brothers had been made Kazem feel the need to prove himself their equals.

Kazem had been a late-in-life blessing for Izad and Hettie. They had considered themselves lucky to have two sons, never imagining a third would come years later. A change-of-life baby Hettie had called Kazem, who had been six days past his tenth birthday when his older brothers were killed.

No. Not killed. Murdered.

“Are you certain you do not want me to come with you?” Izad grasped Kazem’s forearm, feeling his boy’s youthful muscles bunch beneath his touch. He was old and feeble where Kazem was tall and strong. But he was long schooled in the ways of war. Kazem was not.

Kazem shook his head. “This journey has been long and difficult.” Izad knew his son spoke as much about the journey to find the man responsible for his brothers’ deaths as he did the weeks it had taken their group to make their way to America through multiple Caribbean ports, using false identities and forged papers. “You stay here. Rest. I will see it finished.”

Izad glanced at the sliding glass doors leading to the balcony. Outside, two of his most trusted men smoked and leaned against the railing. Both were well seasoned. Izad comforted himself knowing that what Kazem lacked in experience, those two made up for ten times over.

“Can I state for the record”—the American, sprawled so casually on the sofa, lifted a finger—“that I think it’s a bad idea to send only three guys after them?”

“Why?” Kazem frowned. “The odds are in our favor. Three to two.”

“Uh…” The America made a show of counting on his fingers. “By my count that’s three to four.”

Kazem snorted. “Surely you do not think the women factor into this?”

The American shrugged. “Maybe not. But I’ve had some experience with these guys. You might be better served to send in the entire kit and caboodle.” He twirled a finger at the four men standing at attention at their various posts inside the room. Izad’s personal security detail.

Kazem didn’t bother to hide his annoyance. “Do not listen to him, Father. Like all Americans, he believes in overkill. Especially when the thing he values most, his paycheck, is on the line.”

“You will be cautious?” Izad asked. “You will do as Turan and Mahmoud instruct?”

“I will not miss a word.”

“Very well.” Izad turned to the American. “Show them where you have stashed the weapons.”

After a breathy exhale, the American stood from the sofa. “Fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

The worm of unease Izad had suffered all morning grew into a writhing serpent. But he told himself Kazem was right. The American was…well…an American. If a firecracker would do the job, he would still choose to use an H-bomb.

Besides, Kazem needed this. It was the only way he would ever truly consider himself worthy of his family name.

As if to prove Izad’s point, Kazem squeezed Izad’s shoulders and kissed Izad’s cheeks. “I will make you proud, Father,” he whispered.

“Oh, my son.” Izad embraced his boy, hugging him against his heart. “I am already proud.”

Then he watched as his youngest set off after the American, chin high, shoulders back, impatient to end the man who had done so much unspeakable damage to their family.

* * *

10:41 a.m.

“You watching him that way is giving him a face like a smacked ass.”

Alex came out of her daydream to find Chrissy standing above her. Lifting a hand against the glare of the morning sun, she squinted up at the woman. “A what?”

“Here.” Chrissy took off her Clubmaster-style sunglasses and handed them over. “They’re polarized. Put them on and take a look.”

Frowning, Alex slipped the shades over her glasses and looked toward the pilothouse where Mason was doing a bang-up job of captaining the catamaran against the wind and currents. Also doing a bang-up job of conjuring a million-and-one fantasies of her joining him there and slowly pulling off his swim trunks so she could do the things