Page 115 of False Flag

“We don’t have any.” Beau turned off the trolling motor and lowered the big engine. “We weren’t planning to take the boat out today and didn’t prep for it.”

Staci glanced at the storage bin at the stern. “No towels or blankets in there?”

“Just life jackets.” He hit the start button, and the engine sputtered.

If they had to row back to the marina, Staci would lose her mind. And possibly her life.

She’d made a huge mistake in choosing her clothing for the day. Now she had the phrase cotton kills on repeat in her mind. She hadn’t worn real field clothing because this wasn’t a real expedition day. Instead of moisture-wicking field pants and a top, she’d worn jeans and a flannel shirt. Jake’s—or rather Lloyd’s—flannel shirt. The Burns tartan.

A foolish choice. She’d wanted to feel close to Jake, and instead, she was going to freeze to death because cotton kills.

Gerard handed her the oversized windbreaker, which was, for the moment, dry. She pulled it over her head as the engine finally roared to life.

“Hang on,” Beau shouted, and a moment later, they were speeding across the sea. Her wet clothing quickly dampened the windbreaker, and the cold wind was now worse than being submerged in frigid water.

She curled into a ball in the bow and considered stripping naked beneath the jacket.

Ten minutes to the dock. Surely, she could survive ten minutes if she stayed low, out of the wind as much as possible. Her teeth chattered uncontrollably as she reached into the windbreaker’s hidden pocket in the front pouch and discovered the burner phone was gone.

Goddammit.

Now she’d never know what Freya or Vicki or Jake had wanted to tell her.

An hour later, she was in her suite, naked except for a fleece blanket, sitting in front of the gas fireplace. The chill had eased but wasn’t gone.

Would she ever be warm again?

Tossing her in the sea had been a crime of opportunity. No way was it planned, not when the boat had been her idea. Was Beau the one who took the phone, or had that been Gerard?

Hell, it could even have been Felix, although she had the sense this was work-for-hire for him. She might judge him for taking a grifter’s money, but she was living in a glass house in that regard.

What had the incoming message said? Had it been from Freya? Had Jake made an attempt to explain himself?

He’d left without looking back. She’d watched the boat leave the harbor, but he hadn’t seen her on the hillside. He’d never once turned.

He’d said he’d protect her, then broken that promise faster than should be possible.

He had a good reason. He had to. But she didn’t understand what could be so urgent that he didn’t have time to leave a note. This doubt brought up all her insecurities.

She pulled the blanket tighter as she inched toward the fire. She might never be warm again, but she didn’t know if the icy water had frozen her core, or if she remained chilled because in the twenty-four hours since he’d left, she’d gone from believing he had a good reason to feeling a little betrayed.

Her mind wandered dangerous paths, including wondering if he took the computer because it contained evidence Lloyd was a Truther. Did he hope to cover up his brother’s crimes?

No one from NSWC had told her why he’d been given leave to join the expedition. She only knew Jake’s version. He could have his own motives for wanting to be here. To get close to her.

It could be as simple as sibling rivalry. Or as nasty as spying for Gerard.

It was also possible he was still on her side. She had no way of knowing, given that he hadn’t said a fucking word.

The surge of anger almost warmed her.

Almost.

She took a deep breath, the heat from the vent below the gas flames practically searing her lungs. Still, her heart remained cold.

She closed her eyes and reminded herself she’d signed up for this as a solo mission. It had never been meant to be a team effort. She would do this alone, just like she’d planned.

She’d find Casper’s fake biotoxin and find out how it had been administered to Lloyd.