Her Very Strict Captain by Carpenter, Maggie (best book club books of all time TXT) 📗

brimming and her fingers curling into fists. “I’m suddenly really, really angry—I mean, like, anger I’ve never felt before.”

“Hey, look at me,” he said firmly, cupping her chin and tilting her head up. “Focus on how lucky you are to be alive, not only alive, but with me, a guy who has you in a safehouse and is now—officially—your personal bodyguard. Together we can outwit these bastards.”

“You really think so?” she managed, her face crumpling as she stared up at him. “I can’t see how…”

“I understand what you’re feeling,” he continued, recognizing the self-doubt already seeping through her. “When we’re victims of treachery, it smashes the very foundation of everything we believed to be true, and we start to lose confidence. You just learned the man you trusted with your life is actually your enemy.”

“But why, Scott, why he would do something so despicable? He’s one of the most admired men at the DEA. Nailing the bad guys has been his life’s work.”

“There are any number of reasons good guys turn bad. It’s usually about money.”

“But to have Manny killed and send Dan after me… no… I can’t stand this! I have to talk to him!” she suddenly shouted. “I have to talk to him right now! I want to know how many dollars Manny was worth. How much I’m worth.”

“You can’t confront him,” Scott said vehemently, fighting his own building rage, “not yet anyway, and remember, Conchello gives the orders.”

“I don’t care. It was still Jim who probably tipped off Conchello about that raid,” she exclaimed. “He’s still working for him. This is too much for me, Scott. I can’t handle it.”

“Let’s sit down for a minute,” he suggested, guiding her to the conversation pit and settling her on the couch. “Elizabeth, you have to push aside all that raw emotion. If we’re going to beat these dirt-bags, we need to think clearly and stay focused. Dan has the tracker in his hotel room. That’s not going to end well, and with Jim we have the advantage. He doesn’t know we’re on to him.”

“It’s so hard to wrap my brain around all this, and Jim—what he’s done—who he really is.”

“Believe me, I understand, but listen,” Scott insisted, taking her hands in a firm grip. “Revenge is best served cold. Step back, be determined, and don’t let your emotions cloud your thoughts. We’ll come up with a plan, and execute that plan. Can you do that with me, or do I need to leave you tied up here and do everything by myself?”

“You’d better not,” she retorted, glaring at him, then let out a breath and nodded her head, “but I get what you mean. I’m okay, kind of, almost. I know I have to be. Is that good enough for the moment?”

“That’s good enough for the moment,” he repeated. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“Um, those guys on your yacht probably mean Jim and Dan know we’re on this island, so Conchello probably does too.”

“Good, you’re thinking clearly. He wants you here. We just don’t know why.”

“Should we leave?”

“They’re in speedboats, I have a yacht. Think about it.”

“Oh, right.”

“Even if they find this house, which is unlikely, you don’t have to worry, it’s a fortress, and I can call in some serious backup.”

“That’s good to hear,” she said, letting out a relieved sigh.

“Emily has spotted boats coming and going from the beach, and I already have a drone doing surveillance. There’s probably an email waiting for me with information about them already.”

“I wish I knew more about you,” she said softly, narrowing her eyes as she stared at him.

He smiled. “You will, but for the moment, just know I’m on your side.”

“I do, and—”

But his phone buzzed, cutting her off.

“I’m on yours,” she finished quickly.

“Check out the yacht while I answer that,” he said, helping her up.

As he strode across the room and lifted his phone off his desk, she hurried to the telescope and peered through the eyepiece.

“The speedboat’s gone,” she declared, “and the seas are rougher.”

But his yacht was suddenly the last thing on Scott’s mind.

“Elizabeth,” he said solemnly, walking over to her, “prepare yourself. Conchello just stepped off a plane in St. John.”

Chapter 12

St. John played host to the wealthy and celebrated. Flying in on their private jets, they were collected by limousines and whisked away to magnificent homes boasting stunning views of the sparkling Caribbean.

Sonny Conchello considered himself one of them.

Obsessive about his appearance, his suits were tailor made and his shoes handcrafted in Italy. Even his leisure clothes were expensive. Nothing about him fit the stereotypical image of a ruthless drug lord, but those working for him knew his dark soul and stone heart. Ferocious greed drove him. Not a penny was spent without the expectation of a significant return, whether it be in coin or deed.

Those unfamiliar with his barbaric nature thought him charming. At dinner parties he was delightful company, entertaining everyone with amusing anecdotes and witty remarks. They also welcomed the little packets of magic he never failed to offer. Occasionally, he would take his hosts aside and tell them about a marvelous new mind-enhancing product. It was hard to acquire and very costly, but for them, he’d see what he could do.

The ploy rarely failed.

But the warm, sparkling sun didn’t welcome him when he stepped off his jet. Staring up at the dark gray skies, he hoped the heavy clouds weren’t an omen.

The man in charge of his Caribbean operation, Ewen McDonald, hailed from Australia. Though relatively new to the organization, Ewen had proven to be creative, sharp, and reliable. As he stepped from the black SUV with the tinted windows, Sonny watched him hurry forward.

“Glad to see you beat the storm,” Ewen remarked as he approached.

“That makes two of us,” Sonny retorted, marching to the SUV. “Where’s Dan Miller?”

“Still in St. Thomas.”

“What about Scott Specter? Any idea where he’s taken Beth?”

“That’s a good news/bad news situation,” Ewen replied, settling behind the wheel as Sonny climbed into the back.

“I’m listening.”

“David