Ride the Tide (Deep Six #3) - Julie Ann Walker Page 0,33

in is the man himself.”

The thought turned Izad’s already roiling stomach into a cauldron of acid.

He knew little about the American. Not his name, not his age, not even his real hair color—because the dark, listless hue he sported atop his head had obviously come from a bottle. But it was clear the man had some military training. It was there in the way he carried himself, in the vernacular he used. And he had to have connections inside the government.

For ten years, Izad’s offer of one million U.S. dollars to anyone who could help him uncover the name of the person or persons responsible for his sons’ deaths had gone unclaimed. For ten years, his network of underground informants and spies had come up with nothing, unable to hack into the records of the U.S. Navy to give him the answers he sought.

And then, four weeks ago, the American had contacted him out of the blue.

At first, Izad had thought the man was a gift from God. Now, he wondered if the American was the devil himself. He seemed to enjoy sowing discord and spreading doubt at every turn.

“You had better pray you are wrong. Because if you are right”—Izad’s words dripped like venom from his tongue—“you will come away from this with absolutely nothing.”

Chapter 9

8:48 p.m.

What fresh hell is this? Alex thought when the door to the conference room she’d been sequestered in for the last—she checked the clock on the wall—seven hours opened a crack and low voices sounded outside.

As soon at the Coast Guard cutter docked in Key West, she’d been separated from the others and whisked into the bowels of the Coast Guard station—a building she knew well because this was where she’d been questioned by an FBI agent named Tomlinson after those horrendous events on Garden Key.

This time, however, she’d been grilled by the local authorities, the state police, and the FBI.

Apparently, there was an issue of jurisdiction when it came to crimes committed on the high seas. Everyone was vying for the case. And you would think that after having given her statement so many times, the events of the day would have cemented themselves in her mind.

Just the opposite was true, however. As the hours wore on, exhaustion set in, making everything feel like a dream. Her memories had become fuzzy and faded, like ancient words on sun-damaged parchment paper.

She wasn’t sure she was up for more tonight. At least not on an empty stomach.

“Hey!” she called to whoever was behind the door. “If you’re coming to ask me more questions, you better bring a pizza with you. That ham sandwich you fed me three hours ago has long since digested. And according to an article I recently read in the New England Journal of—”

She snapped her mouth shut when the door fully opened to reveal Chrissy, Wolf, Mason, and Meat standing outside. Each and every one of them—yes, including the dog—looked about as bad as she felt, but she didn’t think she’d ever seen any four more beautiful beings.

“Sorry.” Chrissy made a face. “I’m fresh out of pizza.”

Alex jumped from the uncomfortable metal folding chair—which she thought for sure must bear a permanent imprint of her ass—and ran around the conference table to drop to her knees and enfold Meat in a hug.

He woofed softly and snuffled in her hair as his chubby hind end wiggled side to side.

“I love you too,” she told him, hiding her face in his many neck wrinkles and giving herself a few moments to camouflage the strain in her expression and plaster on her game face. “Even if your breath does smell like unwashed balls,” she added.

“No wonder.” Chrissy harrumphed, and then went on in that slow island cadence, “I’ve seen him working on the suckers morning, noon, and night.”

Alex chuckled. And, oh, it felt good to laugh. Then she was on her feet and gathering Chrissy into a bear hug.

“So this is what we’re doing now?” Chrissy asked drolly, patting her on the back.

“After what we’ve been through today, I’d say a round of hugs are definitely in order.” When Alex stepped back, she tried to offer Chrissy a wide grin. But it was so brittle it made her cheeks hurt. “Man, it’s good to see a friendly face.”

Chrissy pointed to herself. “You call this friendly? I feel like twenty pounds of shit shoved in a ten-pound bag.”

“You and me both, sister,” Alex agreed. Now that she was back among her people, she could