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

thirst to do everything in her power to hunt down the men responsible, but emotion was clouding her judgment.

It was something he needed to deal with before she became another of Conchello’s victims.

Chapter 15

Deciding to jog back to the safehouse from the small dock, Scott powered up the steep track to the top of the island. In each hand he held a plastic bag containing weights. One also contained the wad of money with the disabled tracker, a small towel, swimming trunks, and his phone. Reaching the peak and pausing to catch his breath, he scanned the water in search of approaching speedboats.

Earlier that morning, Frank had called. The drone had returned surveillance footage of three cigarette boats traveling at high speed from an island Scott had pointed out to Elizabeth six months before. The men had unloaded on the small beach below the safehouse, and carried the crates into the tropical forest. Continuing its fly over, the drone’s sophisticated imaging equipment identified the encampment in spite of efforts to hide it under camouflage nets. Adding to the valuable intel, David Clark had started to offer up detailed information about the new base.

In an ironic twist of fate, the ruthless drug lord had set up his new camp under Scott’s nose.

Operation Justice was suddenly breaking wide open.

But standing on the summit, Scott didn’t see a trio of boats speeding through the water, or any sign of them on the beach, but it was possible they’d already come and gone. Resuming his run, he started down the hill, jogged past the safehouse, and continued to the beach for a swim—and some quick reconnaissance. Slowing to a walk as he neared the bottom, he listened keenly for any foreign noises.

The rush of wings caught his attention.

Startled birds burst into the sky.

He checked his watch, took note of his location, and set the distance tracker. Arriving at the beach five minutes later, he’d walked almost a quarter of a mile. Though he saw no signs of life, there were plenty of footprints in the sand leading to an area off to his right.

He could follow them, but suspecting surveillance cameras, he placed the bags he’d been carrying on the sand, quickly changed into his trunks, and ran into the water. Diving beneath the surface and swimming parallel to the beach, he popped up his head and eyed the lush foliage for hints of an opening. There was nothing to see, yet beyond the abundant vegetation lived a nest of vicious vipers.

In spite of the intelligence, he still didn’t like the setup.

Security cameras would be difficult to spot.

Booby traps easy to miss.

If they wanted the evidence to survive, it would have to be a stealth operation with only a few men, followed by backup dropping from helicopters—assuming they reached the base successfully.

* * *

Long after Elizabeth and Emily finished the delicious omelet, they remained at the kitchen table. Over cups of cinnamon coffee, Emily captivated Elizabeth with hair-raising espionage tales. Even when Elizabeth thought the story may have been embellished, she remained spellbound. When she heard the front door open and close, she was tempted to leave and welcome Scott home, but Emily was relaying a harrowing incident in London.

“I see she has you in her clutches,” Scott declared, entering the kitchen.

Cloaked in the smell of the ocean, water still trickling from his disheveled hair and dribbling tantalizingly down his ripped, naked torso, Elizabeth thought he looked like a mystical warrior from Atlantis. She wanted to lick the salty droplets from his skin, and feel his cool, wet body slide enticingly over hers.

“Emily, I keep telling you to write a book,” Scott continued. “You could be the next Ian Fleming.”

“Hardly,” Emily muttered modestly.

“He’s right,” Elizabeth agreed. “You have great stories. I was riveted. I still am.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed them,” Emily said with a happy smile as she rose to her feet. “Now I must take my leave.”

“Thank you, Emily,” Scott said gratefully, ambling over and pecking her on the cheek. “I’ll walk you to the door.”

“No, wait, you have to finish,” Elizabeth said urgently. “Were you followed when you walked away from the Embassy?”

“I’m sure I’ll see you again soon and I’ll fill you in then. In the meantime, maybe you can figure out who the mole was.”

As Scott and Emily left, Elizabeth pushed back from the table, picked up the few dishes, and carried them to the sink. She had just finished washing up when Scott returned.

“What happened with David Clark?” she asked eagerly. “Did he give you any information? I have stuff to tell you too. Important stuff. I know where—”

“Everything is under control for the moment,” he said firmly, taking her hand and leading her into the hall.

“But I want to know what he said, and I found the entrance to the camp.”

“I know you did, and I’ll tell you about David later.”

Moving into the bedroom and swiftly lifting her T-shirt over her head, he tossed it aside, walked her backwards, and pushed her on the bed.

“Can’t you at least—”

“Stop talking,” he ordered brusquely. “Lie back and close your eyes.”

Her butterflies bursting to life in her stomach, she squeezed her eyes shut and waited. She heard rustling, then his footsteps as he approached the bed. A blindfold slid over her eyes, and he swiftly pulled off her shorts and panties.

“Arms over your head and lock your fingers together.”

As she nervously followed his instruction, only a few seconds passed before he’d laced her wrists together and tied them to the slotted headboard. Wordlessly trailing his fingertips across her breasts to tweak each nipple, he carried his touch over her stomach and into her pussy.

“Wet already,” he muttered. “Spread your legs and keep them there.”

Quickly following the brusque order, she caught her breath as he tickled her inner thighs, then whimpered as leather cuffs were swiftly buckled in place around her ankles and secured to the footboard.

“Now I have your attention,” he began sternly, sending a quiver of anticipation