how she’d refrained as long as she had.
“Okay,” she told him. “You’ve officially checked in with me. I know you probably have other things to attend to, so…” She made a shooing motion with her hand. “Fly away, Batman.”
“Pretty sure Batman didn’t fly. Pretty sure it was Superman who—”
“Don’t get technical with me.”
“You’re right, darlin’. Today’s not the day for technicalities.”
The endearment had her silly heart tripping over itself again. “That’s the second time you’ve done that.”
“Done what?” His eyebrows knit together.
“Called me darlin’.”
“Sorry.” He looked genuinely contrite. “Don’t mean no offense. I’m not tryin’ to infantilize you or—”
She cut him off. “It’s okay. I mean, sure, the feminist in me might be screaming and shaking her fist. But the rest of me kind of likes it.”
She instantly regretted admitting as much because he lifted one eyebrow, his expression going dark and seductive.
“But don’t take that as an invitation to pick up where we left off two months ago.” She pointed a finger at his nose.
“Why not? You said you forgave me.”
“Forgiven and forgotten are two entirely different things.”
He pretended to pout, and it was disconcerting how he could look like a warrior ripped from the pages of a history book one minute and an earnest schoolboy the next. And, holy moly, would she have loved to fall for his particular brand of charm.
But she knew what kind of man he was. And she’d be damned before she ended up like her mother.
* * *
1:48 p.m.
“Well?” Izad asked the head of his security after Navid clicked off from his call and shoved his cellular phone into his hip pocket. “What did he say?”
“The Coast Guard ship is pulling into port now. Omid and Cas are positioning themselves to see anyone disembarking from the vessel. They will call us as soon as they know something.”
“Yes. Good. That is good.” Izad nodded, telling himself to be patient even as he resumed his pacing.
He was surprised he hadn’t worn a hole through the hotel suite’s carpeting. He’d been at his back-and-forth vigil ever since they heard the Second Wind put out a Mayday call over the marine channels. Which, of course, they’d expected. What they had not expected was for the Coast Guard to report, less than an hour later, that they’d rescued survivors from the Second Wind and were bringing them back to Key West.
“Survivors.” Izad mumbled the sickening word to himself now.
“Please, sir.” Navid placed a gentle hand on his superior’s elbow and steered him toward the sofa. “You are tiring yourself unnecessarily. Sit and rest.”
“What does that mean that there are survivors?” Izad grabbed Navid’s forearms. He knew his expression matched his tone. Both were desperate.
“It could mean many things,” Navid assured him, softly insisting he sit.
It was only after Izad settled into the sofa’s cushions that he realized Navid was right. His muscles twitched from overexertion. His bones ached.
“Perhaps after Kazem killed McCarthy, he did not have time to kill the others because the Coast Guard got there too quickly,” Navid said. “Or perhaps Kazem thought he had killed them all, but had only wounded a couple of them. We will have our answers soon enough.”
“Should not Kazem have called by now?” Izad looked at his watch.
The plan had been for Kazem and the others to kill those on board the Second Wind, then race to Cuba where like-minded friends were waiting to spirit them back to Iran. But first, Kazem was supposed to call Izad and tell him they could rest easy knowing their vengeance had been achieved. Knowing their loved ones had finally been vindicated.
“Not necessarily.” Navid’s tone was reassuring. “The journey may be taking longer than anticipated. The National Weather Service’s marine forecasts say the waters of the Florida Straits are rough today.”
From the corner of his eye, Izad saw the American shake his head. The gesture instantly ignited Izad’s pique. “What?” he demanded with a snarl.
“I told you it was a bad plan.”
Red crept into Izad’s vision, but it was Navid who stomped over and bent to growl in the American’s face. “You know nothing more than we do, so it would behoove you to shut your mouth.”
“I know since there are survivors, things must’ve gone at least a little sideways out there,” the American persisted. “I know Mason McCarthy is one tough sonofabitch and you underestimate him at your own peril. And if I were the betting sort, I’d lay down ten-to-one odds that at least one of those survivors the Coasties are bringing