Cara Lockwood - Shelter In The Tropics

Adeeb had been right about everything from that day forward. He knew the bad guys from the good guys, he was smart, he was a fantastic read of people and he’d saved more marines than Tack could count, all by giving them lifesaving intel. He was worth his weight in gold.

But it didn’t take long after that before the threats from the Taliban came in. Phone calls, notes left at his house. They saw him as a traitor and planned to cut off his head. They said they wouldn’t stop there. They’d kill his entire family, all of his relatives. But nothing ever rattled the man, not the threats, not gunfire. He held firm in his beliefs. He told Tack that he believed the Taliban was ruining his country, and that he’d risk his life if need be to stop them. Let them do what they wanted, but he wasn’t going to let them ruin his country without a fight.

Tack respected the position. It was exactly what he would do if a group of extremists took over his own country.

The marines promised Adeeb and his family a visa to come to America, but they’d reneged on their promise. Scratch that. The marines hadn’t reneged on their promise, Tack’s sniveling coward of a commanding officer, Derek Hollie, had.

He checked his phone and found a message from Adeeb. Relief flooded Tack’s body. He only heard from the former translator a couple of times a week, when the man went close enough to town to get a signal.

We are fine. Wanted to let you know. Medeeha says thanks for the candy.

Medeeha was Adeeb’s little girl, who’d just turned three. Tack had sent a care package, as he did every month, filled with dry goods and treats. None of it would do any good if the Taliban found them. Tack quickly messaged back.

Keep safe, man. I haven’t forgotten my promise.

Tack had promised to bring Adeeb to the United States, and he wasn’t giving up on that. He’d left Helmand Province years ago feeling like he’d left one man behind, something he’d vowed never to do.

Adeeb had saved Tack more than once. Had saved all the men in his company more than once. And he helped the Americans at great personal peril after the Taliban labeled him a traitor. Tack knew better than anyone that the Taliban didn’t make idle threats.

Tack had lobbied his senators, wrote letters, did all he could think of to do to get a visa for his friend. Then he had found out that Rick Allen, major donor to political causes, might be able to get him the visa Adeeb so badly needed. That’s why Tack couldn’t fail. Not to mention, the ten-million-dollar reward money could help Adeeb and so many more resettle in the United States.

Tack breathed a sigh of relief that Adeeb and his family fought to live another day, and focused on the case at hand. Already, he’d taken too long in looking for the missing woman. Every day that went by was a day that Adeeb didn’t have.

He glanced at his watch. Time had slipped by, and he realized he ought to get a move on if he wanted to get to the dock for the promised tour. Better watch your back, Tack. She gets one whiff of who you work for, and she might throw you overboard.

He grinned at the thought. Let her try. He’d faced more cunning enemies before. But maybe not prettier ones, he thought, remembering her clear green eyes. He had to admit that.

He stepped into some swim trunks and an old tee, and then grabbed a baseball cap and shoved it on his head. He reached for his mesh bag where he kept his own flippers, mask and snorkel—he’d been scuba certified since even before he enlisted in the marines—and headed out of his room, maneuvering down the stairs and out to the lobby. The ocean was just past the resort pool and down the short stairs to the smooth, nearly white sand. He saw the twenty-foot boat with the blue canopy floating at the end of a long, wooden dock and headed that way. He expected to see a crowd of tourists but found the dock empty, except for Cate.

She wore a pair of worn cutoffs and a tank, the bright teal bikini strap tied at the back of her neck poking through. Her back was to him, and she was bent over an old red plastic cooler, working to lug it to the boat. For a few seconds, he watched her struggle with the heavy old red plastic box, admiring her muscled, tanned legs. The sound of the ocean and the rush of waves hitting the beach made it easy to sneak up on her. He put down his mesh snorkel bag.

“Can I help?” he asked, and watched her jump nearly a mile.

“God, you scared me,” she said, pushing her oversize sunglasses up on her nose and flattening the other hand against her chest. “Where did you come from?”

“Iowa,” he joked. “At least, that’s where I was born and raised, before I moved to Seattle.” She sent him a wry smile as she went back to her work with the cooler.

“Here, let me.” He easily lifted the cooler, packed with ice and drinks, and she stepped back, a little surprised.

“Uh...thanks,” she said, and he noticed she kept her attention focused on him. Good, that’s where it needed to be. “Just put it there.” She pointed to the stern, where a carved out little indention fit the cooler perfectly. He set it in. She hopped in after him and fastened straps around the cooler to make sure it didn’t fall overboard.

“I’ve got snorkel gear if you need it...” she began, turning to one of the seats of the boat. She flipped up the cushioned top to reveal mounds of flippers, snorkels and diving masks.

“I came prepared,” he said, nodding back to the dock. He hopped off the boat and grabbed his gear.

“Oh, I see.” She glanced anxiously about, looking unnerved and clearly distracted, or she would’ve noticed he already had gear. She glanced at the sports watch on her wrist and then back at the hotel, as she kept one foot on the dock and one resting on the stern of the boat.

“Where is everyone?” Tack asked, glancing around the empty boat.

“We were supposed to have at least one more couple join us today,” she explained. “The others have already dropped out, which is unusual, but...it happens. Did you see anyone else in the lobby on your way out?”

He shook his head. “No one in the lobby.”

“We can give them a few more minutes,” she said, biting her lip. Then her phone dinged with an incoming message and she pulled it out of the back pocket of her shorts. “Dammit,” she murmured, and then she glanced up apologetically. “Sorry. I...uh...” She peered at the screen of her phone. “Just one minute.”

She tapped her screen and then put the phone against her ear as she made a phone call. “Carol! It’s Cate. Are you sure they canceled?” She stood and anxiously paced the boat, putting a hand on her head and looking unnerved. “You’re sure that they canceled?”

The intonation wasn’t lost on Tack.

“Carol...if...” She stopped, listening. “Yes, but...maybe we should just reschedule the trip?” Tack, on high alert, listened in. She let out a long, defeated-sounding sigh. “All right then. Fine.” She hung up and angrily tucked the phone back in her pocket. Then she grinned at him sheepishly. “Looks like it’s just us.”

“Don’t sound so disappointed.” Tack grinned, and Cate barked an uneasy laugh. He slung his mesh diver’s bag onto the floor of the boat and as he did so, brushed her arm ever so slightly. She jumped back and almost toppled onto the bench. He reached out a hand to steady her, and he could just make out her wide-eyed surprise behind her tinted lenses. Oh, yes, this would be an interesting morning, of that he had no doubt.

“Uh...thanks.” She withdrew her arm and rubbed it, now looking anywhere but at him.

“Can you get that rope, please?” She tried to be all business, but he could tell she was rattled. He hopped off the boat and easily untied the line holding them to the dock. He stepped back on board and gave the boat a shove with his foot as Cate kicked on the motor and took the boat out to sea. She handled the controls with confidence. The waves slapped against the bow as the ship moved across the green water, sparkling in the sun.