Page 97 of Fixed Asset

As much as I hated boats, I had to admit the moonlight reflecting off the water was beautiful as Pete navigated the rocky shoreline on our way to Tortuga Bay. I sucked in a deep breath of sea air in an attempt to quell the churning in my stomach. Now was not the time to get sick—for obvious reasons—but beyond that, I was a hundred percent sure Mason would never let me live it down. Me throwing up would give the man years of ammunition I’d rather him not have. I was good with being on the receiving end of a teasing session. Though I preferred to be the one doing the ribbing, I was a good sport and took my knocks.

I just didn’t want those to include me expelling the contents of my stomach into the water. I’d take a firefight over the rocking of a boat or a drop of a roller coaster any day of the week. And, now that Pete had slowed, the way we were rocking . . .

Gah.

Needing to get my mind off the seasickness, I asked, “How did Carlos’s men find you?”

Obviously my question was directed at Calista, and she didn’t delay in her response. “My best guess is a woman I’d been in contact with. I promised her safe passage out of Mexico for information on Carlos.”

“Come again?” Even over the whine of the engine, I could hear Mason’s incredulous tone.

“I made a deal with a woman—”

“You made a deal with an unknown?”

Calista looked highly offended at Mason’s probing.

“You do realize that ninety-nine percent of my interactions start with a cold lead. Most are ice cold. It’s my job to turn those warm, then hot, and get an unknown to turn into an informant or whistleblower. I’d assume the same goes for your profession. I’m not stupid, nor am I careless. Obviously I thought this woman was ripe or I wouldn’t’ve approached her in the first place.”

I really, really wished this conversation wasn’t taking place when my tummy was staging a revolt so I could cheer Calista on. I’d come to adore Mason in a short amount of time, and part of that adoration included me wanting to see him happy. Not that I was under any illusion it would be Calista who would be that woman for him, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t thoroughly enjoying her standing up for herself. With Mason’s good looks, he needed someone like Calista, who wouldn’t be taken in by his pretty-boy charm and would shovel shit right back at him.

“Clearly you thought wrong,” Mason remarked as he handed her back her now fully loaded pistol.

I wasn’t sure if that was smart. Calista looked like she was ready to put Mason’s bullets to good use.

“No shit, Captain Sherlock. Tell me, did you figure that out all on your own with your superior abilities of deduction or did you need help drawing that very obvious conclusion?”

Mason’s face turned to granite and suddenly this was no longer fun.

“Tone it down, woman.”

Yep. The mood shifted and Mason had gone from being mildly ticked to seriously pissed. It was time for a subject change.

“Did you get anything useful during the car ride down here?” I interjected. “Anything on who Carlos had set a meeting with?”

“You mean, who was coming to buy me?”

Well . . . yeah, but I’d been trying to be sensitive.

She’d made it clear she preferred the direct approach, so instead of beating around the bush, which I figured she’d find insulting, I answered honestly. “Yes.”

“No. Carlos and the woman mostly argued. I wasn’t sure which one of them I wanted to knock out first. Him for being a repulsive human or her for being equally as repulsive but worse, because she was a woman holding other women against their will. I had a lot of time to think on this while they fought about Carlos being a slob, to which he parried with her being a shit cook. Let’s just say the two of them were a match made in hell, and there were times I wished I had an ice pick to drive into my eardrums to silence their stupidity.”

“Which one did you pick?” Mason rejoined with a much calmer manner.

Calista’s attention went to Mason. I had her mostly in silhouette, but I didn’t miss the way she stared at him.

“Her. Women should look out for other women. So if I had to choose between the two of them, I would’ve knocked the bitch out before I strangled the life out of her. In the end, she got what she deserved. Carlos did too.”

I wholeheartedly agreed with Calista.

It was clear Mason did too. Though he didn’t verbally confirm, his nod of approval did the job. However, he did go on to ask, “Why’d you kill Stone and his pals?”

The question was mostly superfluous. One I would’ve asked her myself even though Tom had already told us why Calista had allegedly killed the men, and Jasmin’s husband Lincoln had corroborated Tom’s assertion Stone was a full-fledged douchebag.

Trust but verify . . . as the saying goes.

It was either the droning of the engine or the waves hitting the side of the boat or the rumbling in my stomach or a combination of all three that had me off my game. So, I couldn’t get a read, and Calista’s body language said one thing, but the tone of her voice said another, and her words contradicted both—that being she wore a sneer that clearly stated she gave zero fucks, her tone aggressive, her explanation foul.