Emerald Fire. Monica McCabe

      Her uncle didn’t even bat an eye. “Not surprised. Not enough tourism to float the economy around here.”

      “The plan I have is dicey,” Finn said.

      “Don’t care,” her uncle stated emphatically. “The bastards have my ship. I want it back. What’ve you got?”

      “The only option left,” Finn explained. “We steal it.”

      Her uncle sat back, crossing his arms and staring at Finn with something akin to respect. “That takes guts. Or absolute insanity. Which is it?”

      “Desperation,” Finn replied. “I need the paycheck that comes with the yacht’s recovery.”

      Uncle Jon stared at Finn as though he were trying to get a read on his capability. “You do this sort of thing often?”

      Finn shook his head. “I wouldn’t say often, but a stint in the Navy gave me a rather unique skill set that comes in handy once in a while.”

      Chloe wondered what exactly that involved, but decided not to rock the boat since her uncle seemed satisfied with Finn’s answer.

      “Okay,” Uncle Jon finally said. “When do we strike?”

      “Tonight.” Finn grabbed his sandwich.

      “I like it,” Uncle Jon said. “There’s only one condition.”

      “And that is?” Finn asked.

      “Chloe stays out of it.”

      “What?” she exclaimed. “Not a chance!”

      “No way, honey. I’ve seen what those men are capable of, and you aren’t going anywhere near them.”

      She appreciated his protective instincts but refused to be set aside like some fragile flower while the menfolk went about battling the bad guys. “After all the self-defense classes you’ve put me through, the weapons training, and crazy fire drills, you know I can handle whatever is thrown my way.”

      Her uncle didn’t budge. “I put you through them because you sailed with me. I wouldn’t risk your safety without some guarantee you’d be able to handle yourself in times of crisis.”

      “Isn’t that what this is?” she argued. “A crisis? I’m prepared. Don’t even think you are leaving me behind.”

      “This isn’t make-believe, Chloe,” her uncle said adamantly. “It’s not training. It’s a group of hardened men who have no qualms about killing.”

      That part was definitely disconcerting. But her uncle knew what she did for a living, the specialized skills she’d developed to stay at the top of her game. He also knew she’d spent years chasing the truth about William Desmond. Why would he think she’d let third-world thieves stop her? She was much too close to step down now.

      “I’ve already agreed to follow Finn’s lead,” she said. “With you there, too, I’ll be fine. Besides, the Fire is on the chopping block, and there’s no time for other arrangements. And really, is it any safer for me to drive back to Santo Domingo alone? Get a flight out of here all by myself?” That was a bogus play. She’d traveled the world solo, and they both knew it.

      Her uncle and Finn stared at her in consternation. She offered them a smile. “The devil is in the details, right?”

      “You get more like your mother every day,” Uncle Jon declared. “Never could win an argument with her either.”

      “It’s settled then,” Finn said. “Eat up, me hearties. We’re going to be getting real busy.”

      Chapter 7

      Daylight was fading fast by the time the taxi pulled up to a remote beach house. Three gringo tourists decked out in Hawaiian print shirts, board shorts, and sandals piled out. Perfect island camouflage if you didn’t want to be noticed. Finn and Jonathan grabbed their backpacks while Chloe carried several plastic grocery bags and a brochure from Tropicana Properties. American stereotypes settling in for several days of beachfront access. Finn had called the rental company earlier and listened to their sales pitch, but all he needed to know was that it was empty and in close proximity to a certain boat repair shop.

      After Jonathan paid the driver’s fare, Finn led his questionable team down the driveway toward the rear of the bungalow. As rentals went, the owners had a lot of nerve calling it a beach cottage. The place was totally surrounded by woods. The so-called beach access cut a thick path through the trees. You couldn’t see the water or hear waves. Bad for tourists, but ideal for staging clandestine operations.

      Finn took a few deep breaths in an attempt to get a grip on what they were about to try to pull off. It was the craziest thing he’d ever contemplated for a bounty. Extreme measures to get the job done came with the territory, but fighting crime with crime? Raiding a pirate stronghold with nothing but a mule-headed historian and a pissed-off jeweler? Not his brightest idea. He just hoped to God none of them got killed.

      Once out of sight from the road, Finn tossed his duffle bag on a picnic table by the back patio door. Dusk had settled in, and the shadowy tree line made it even darker. With two miles to walk between here and the pirates, there was plenty of time for the necessary cover of darkness to set in.

      “All right,” he said, “let’s get changed and go over the plans.”

      Chloe tossed her bag up next to his and dug out the black outfit she’d bought at the market earlier today. Then she turned her amber-eyed gaze his way and frowned.

      He just quirked a brow at her and smiled.

      “Don’t do that.”

      “What?” he asked innocently.

      “Smile. I’m not used to it.” She gestured her fingers in a circle. “Now turn around. Both of you.”

      Jonathan laughed at his niece, but both men obliged.

      “Your niece is a bit bossy,” Finn said.

      “It’s inherited. Her mother and I used to battle it out regularly while growing up. That didn’t stop as adults either.”

      Sounds drifted over Finn’s senses, teasing him. The slide of fabric as Chloe lifted her flowery shirt over her head, a belt unbuckling on those dainty little cotton Capri pants she wore. The temptation to turn around and peek was overwhelming. If they’d been alone, he would have done just that. Instead, he forced himself to focus on her uncle and not think about the feminine curves unveiling right behind him. Damn, but she was a dangerous distraction.

      To change the path of his thoughts, Finn began taking a mental evaluation of his gear. Flares, flashlights, semi-automatic with extra clips, navigation chart, and sunglasses for the days aboard the Fire sailing north. For the heist of the century, he carried surprisingly little.

      “So you’ve done this before and succeeded, right?” Jonathan asked him.

      “Bearding pirates in their den?”

      “Yeah. I’m wondering how much to worry about our survival.”

      “It’s not going to be easy, if that’s what you’re asking. But if you start thinking about bullets and bloodthirsty criminals, you’ll choke. Keep the focus on getting to the Emerald Fire and sailing her out of here.”

      “It’s not me I’m worried about.” Jonathan jerked his head toward the distraction behind them. “She’s too persistent for her own good. I made a promise to watch over her. Of course, at the time, I had no clue what I was getting into.”

      “Hey,” Chloe piped up. “Stop worrying about me. I told you I can take care of myself.”

      Finn had serious doubts about that. But she was right about one thing—time wasn’t on their side. Options were limited, and every minute that passed chipped away at the chance of recovery. It was strike now or go home empty-handed.