Of course, the more pressing question was, why had someone tampered with the fuel? It wouldn’t pose a particularly dangerous situation; the worst it could do was strand him on the water, and even if the radio had been sabotaged, there was enough boat traffic to ensure he wouldn’t stay stranded long. Simple vandalism made no sense as an explanation—maybe if the boat were docked somewhere on shore where there was easy access to someone on foot or in a car. But to sabotage the Lorelei docked out on Nightshade Island, someone would have had to take a boat well out from the mainland, make a no-engine approach and sneak into the boathouse.
No vandalism was worth that effort.
Which left...
He checked his cell phone. No bars. With a sigh, he headed upstairs to the cabin and crossed to the satellite phone attached to the wall near the galley. Lydia Ross answered on the second ring. “Gideon, I was just thinking of you. I forgot to pick up any cherries when we were in town, and I so wanted to cook a cherry crumble for our guest.”
“We’re already behind schedule, Mrs. Ross, and I’m—” He stopped before he said he was heading back to the dock to refuel. Even considering the bucket of water he’d drained from the tank, he had plenty to go back and forth from the island to the dock. Refueling could wait.
He felt the strong urge to head back to the island immediately.
“I’m already halfway back,” he finished. “Look out your bedroom window and you should be able to see us coming soon.” He paused in the middle of the room, taking a look around. Shannon Cooper’s suit jacket still lay on the bench where she’d apparently discarded it earlier. On the table in the galley sat an empty water bottle.
A couple of feet away sat her duffel bag. His gaze settled there and he moved forward, ducking to keep from bumping his head on the cabin’s low ceiling.
“Oh, I must admit I look forward to having company. I’ve let myself become quite the recluse.” Lydia’s soft laugh was rueful. “Is she as nice as she sounded on the phone?”
“She seems very nice,” he said carefully, wondering if Shannon’s innocent face hid a devious mind.
Because there was another possibility he hadn’t considered.
What if Shannon had gone below deck after he’d left her in the cabin? She could have dumped a few bottles of water in the tank in no time through the access hatch, if she knew anything about boat engines.
Practically grew up in a marina...
“Mrs. Ross, why don’t you go up to the widow’s walk?” he suggested. From the large railed-in square of space on the roof of the house, she’d have a largely unobstructed few of the whole island. “You can look for us from there.”
“Gideon, is something the matter?”
He sighed. Despite her gentle manner, Lydia Ross was as savvy as her husband had been, and just as tough in her more refined way. “Mrs. Ross, someone’s sabotaged the boat. I’ve fixed the problem for now, but I’m worried it may have been an attempt to keep me off the island for a while.”
“I see.” He heard steel in her voice. “Shall I get the Remington?”
“I believe you should,” he answered, quietly unzipping the duffel bag. Inside, beneath a tablet computer, he found neatly rolled sets of clothing. Everything inside smelled good, like fresh rain on a hot day. “I’m on my way, but go to the widow’s walk and call if you see any boats trying to come ashore.”
“Will do. I’ll call back.” As she hung up, Gideon froze, his gaze locked on the sleek, black subcompact GLOCK G26 tucked in the bottom of Shannon Cooper’s bag.
She’d come aboard armed.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Shannon Cooper’s voice, close behind him, made his heart skitter. He dropped the bag and turned toward her. “Do you sneak on purpose or does it just come—” He stopped cold.
She was holding his Walther in her right hand, barrel pointing down.
“What are you doing with that?”
“This?” She brought the pistol up, still pointing away from him. As he watched with racing pulse, she checked the chamber with easy skill. “I thought I’d ask you the same thing.”
Chapter Two
Shannon’s bravado was fading fast, but if there was anything she’d learned how to do in a houseful of rough-and-tumble siblings, it was to show no fear. “I want to know what’s going on. Who were you just talking to?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“On the phone, just now. Who were you talking to? You said ‘call me if you see any boats coming ashore.’ Ashore at Nightshade Island? What are you up to?” She nodded toward her duffel bag, lying open on the floor. “Why were you going through my bag?”
“Put the gun down.”
She shook her head. “I’ll keep the Walther.” But she lowered her hand again. “I’m not here to hurt anyone. I’m here to do a job. But I don’t know you from Adam, and I don’t like your snooping through my things.”
“Back at you.”
“Your bag was lying open.”
“Fine. I’ll rephrase. I don’t like being interrogated at gunpoint.”
She laid the Walther on the top of the cabinet nearest her. “Better?”
“I carry a gun for protection. Why do you carry one?”
So he’d seen the GLOCK. “Same reason. I have a license.”
“So do I.”
All her family had concealed carry licenses. She supposed it wouldn’t be unusual for a former marine to have one as well. “That still doesn’t answer my question. Who were you talking to?”
“Lydia Ross. I asked her to go to the high point of the house and look around to see if there was any unusual boat activity around the island.” He took a couple of steps toward her. Slow and steady, as if he were being careful not to spook her.
She was spooked anyway. “Why would you think there might be?”
He moved closer still, his big body looming in the small cabin. He barely had headroom at all, his hair brushing the top of the cabin. He would have to duck to get through the door, she realized. But he could do a lot of damage to her if he wanted.
Did he want to?
“Because someone sabotaged the boat.”
A chill washed over her. “How?”
“Don’t you know?”
The conversation was careening off into unexpected territory. “How would I know?”
He took another step. A long one, bringing him only a few inches from her. His nearness seemed to steal the air from the boat cabin, leaving her feeling light-headed and sluggish. “Someone put at least a half gallon of water in the fuel tank, no doubt in an effort to strand this boat out in the middle of the Gulf. I didn’t do it. But I left you in here for several minutes. All you’d have had to do is grab some of the bottled water in the fridge, go down to the engine room and add the water to the tank through the access port.”
“I wouldn’t know a fuel tank from a fish tank,” she said flatly.
“You said you grew up in a marina.”
“I said I practically grew up in a marina. Which means I know my way around a fishing boat, sure. But nobody ever let me mess