Nutmeg eyed the waves like they were friends just out of reach.
"Okay, Nutmeg. I'm going to let you off the leash. Don't make me regret it."
He darted to the water, chasing an outgoing wave. Then the tide turned, literally, and chased him back onto the beach.
Nash's deep chuckle carried over the salty breeze. "Furball wants to play chase but doesn't want to get wet."
Lena padded from dry ground to the wet, squishy sand and finally into the waves. Her toes sank into the ocean floor.Why does this feel so good?Maybe it was soothing. Or grounding. Or maybe it reminded her that the Creator of the vast, violent, overwhelming ocean was also very close and calming.
Nash shed his shoes and joined her.
The perfect beach setting felt like utopia for a full two minutes until she sensed Nash's silence held something serious.
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah." He waded farther into the water, almost knee-deep. "It's gorgeous out here. This was a good idea. We have some time to kill today. Might as well enjoy the beach."
He was going for casual and positive, but she wasn't buying it.
"You can be honest with me, you know?" She side-stepped a piece of driftwood riding on an incoming wave. "You seem worried. If you lie to me about what you're concerned about, it only scares me more. I'd feel better if you just told me."
A confusing combination of appreciation and sadness swirled in his gaze. "Everything is fine, Lena, really." The receding waves dragged the driftwood back toward them. He picked it up and threw it onto the beach. "Didn't mean to worry you. Sorry. I'm just thinking through the plan for tomorrow. Nothing to worry about."
She was sure that wasn't the whole story, but she sensed his confidence again—the unwavering, efficient, skilled warrior. And that was enough. For now.
Chapter 12
"Do you have to wear a tux?" Knox asked.
"No." Nash swallowed his groan. "I'm glad you're so entertained by this plan."
"Parties can be fun," Knox said. "Parties on a superyacht can be very fun."
"Did you call to ask about the party, or do you actually have information?" Nash asked.
A few feet away, Lena tossed Nutmeg's ball, over and over, keeping the pooch sufficiently occupied.
Nash decided not to put the call on speaker. If Knox relayed any disturbing updates, Nash could sugarcoat it for Lena later.
"Yeah, I have news," Knox said. "The pictures you sent over. Rowan ID'd your Jane Doe. Didn't take too long because she'd been arrested a couple of times. She was in the system."
"Who is she?" Nash asked.
"Her name was Kara French," Knox said. He could hear Knox tapping on a keyboard. "Or maybe that was one of her aliases. Anyway, what's important is that her occupation was safecracker."
"Safecracker?"
"Yep. She was arrested three times. In the US, the prosecutors couldn't make the charges stick. But in France, she did six months for aiding in a home invasion, as the team's safecracker. And Allie's friend at the FBI said your victim is the suspected safecracker in two other ongoing investigations." A squeaky desk chair screeched through the connection. "You mentioned it was a shallow grave."
"Yes," Nash said, not wanting to rehash the details in front of Lena. "Whatever happened wasn't planned."
"I hear you," Knox said. "Is there a safe in Emil's house?"
"Yes. In the study. And she was found just outside the window of the study."
Knox made a sound of acknowledgement. "Well, that doesn't take much imagination."
"No. But it doesn't explain who killed her."
