Covert Cargo

She finally found her voice after being stunned into temporary silence. “When would you want to move into the tower?”

“Tyler should be here tomorrow evening, so for tonight it’ll be just me staying with you.” He checked his watch. “Let’s get back to the lighthouse so I can measure the tower room for equipment. I’ll have Carl deliver it later on.”

“How long do you think this will take?” Beth desperately wanted to know when the acid taste of fear would leave her mouth and when she could return to her normal life again. “How close are you to catching these cartel guys?”

Dillon pressed his palms together and brought them to his face with a sigh. Before he could give an answer, a crashing sound cut through the air, carried from the open kitchen door of the Salty Dog, which could easily be seen from the high vantage point of the vet’s parking lot. The noise was quickly followed by angry, raised voices and the banging thuds of a brawl. Dillon took Beth’s hand.

“I should go check that out,” he said, pulling her from the seat, close to his side. “But don’t leave my sight, whatever you do.”

Beth glanced over to the Salty Dog, the last place on earth she wanted to go. But she steeled herself, took a deep breath and allowed Dillon to lead the way.

* * *

The restaurant was busy, yet nobody was prepared to step in and separate the two fiercely fighting men, seemingly fused together in a ball of flailing arms and legs. One of the men was wearing a white T-shirt and jeans. And the other guy was taller, leaner and fitter, wearing navy blue clothes exactly like Dillon’s.

“It’s Larry!” Dillon exclaimed, guiding Beth to stand by the wall out of range of the ruckus.

“The other guy is Kevin,” Beth said, wide-eyed. “He owns the place. He and Larry are brothers.”

Dillon pressed her against the wall. “They sure don’t seem to be feeling any brotherly love right now. Stay here while I pull them apart.”

He approached the men with a barking order. “Break it up, guys. That’s enough.”

Neither man made any attempt to stop brawling, so Dillon was forced to grab Larry by the collar and yank him away sharply. Larry continued to throw wild punches and kick the air, forcing Dillon to place him in an armlock. Larry cried out but immediately stilled under the firm grip of his superior. Dillon pushed the subdued man to an empty chair and made him sit while his brother hauled himself to his feet with a groan.

Dillon quickly checked that Beth was still standing against the wall. She had wrapped her arms around her waist and bowed her head as if trying to hide away. But nobody’s attention was on her anyway—it was on the two breathless men glowering at each other with wild, dark eyes. The explosion of violence was jarring against the family-oriented restaurant, busy with people enjoying a quiet lunch. This was definitely not the kind of place where brawling was commonplace.

“Okay, everyone,” Dillon called out to the crowd of onlookers while righting some upended chairs. “Show’s over, folks. You can all get back to your meals and eat in peace.”

Amid murmurings and mutterings, the diners gradually pulled their gazes away and resumed their lunches, while Larry and Kevin regained their composure and breath.

“Now,” Dillon said, looking between the pair. “I understand that you two are brothers. So what on earth has turned you into enemies?”

Neither man spoke. A tall, dark-haired woman stepped out from behind the serving counter. “Larry came bursting in here about five minutes ago,” she said, “and he was mad as a hornet at Kevin. I’ve never seen them fight like that before.”

“And who might you be, ma’am?” Dillon asked.

“I’m Mia,” the woman replied. “Mia Wride-Ford. I’m a waitress here.” She looked around the restaurant, and Dillon noticed her do a double take on seeing Beth standing just a few feet away. She turned and smiled at Beth, giving her a small wave. Beth raised a weak smile in response, obviously embarrassed to be in public view.

“And what was the argument about?” Dillon addressed the question to nobody in particular, hoping that someone would give a straight answer.

“You know Larry,” Kevin replied, straightening out his rumpled clothes. “He’s always got a beef about something. He’s a loose cannon.”

“I’m a loose cannon?” Larry said, widening his eyes and letting out a snort. “That’s rich coming from you.”

Kevin narrowed his eyes at his brother. “You had no right coming in here, shooting your mouth like that. If we weren’t family, I’d call the police and have you arrested for assault.”

Larry rose to his feet and, in a theatrical gesture, pointed to a pay phone attached to a wall. “Go right ahead, Kevin, call the police and file a report.” He crossed his arms. “I won’t stand in your way.”

Kevin stood for a few seconds, hands on hips, looking between Larry and the pay phone.

“Would you like to report this matter to the local sheriff?” Dillon asked. “If Larry attacked you without provocation, you have a roomful of witnesses to back up your story.”

Kevin bent over and rested his hands on his knees like a deflating balloon. “No. There’s no need to involve the police. We’re family. We’ll deal with it our own way.”

Larry began to walk to the door. “If it’s all right with you, Captain, I’ll get back to the station.”

“Sit down, Larry,” Dillon ordered. “I want some answers from you before you go anywhere.”

Larry stopped and cast a sly eye over to Beth, who had partially hidden herself behind the large wooden menu that stood by the front door. Dillon guessed that the next words out of Larry’s mouth would be mean. He was right.

“Well, I figured that you’d want to get back to your date,” Larry said with a curled lip. Then, under his breath, he muttered, “Looks like somebody managed to thaw the ice queen.”

Dillon rested his hands on the waistband of his pants. “What did you just say?”

Larry shrugged. “Nothing, sir.”

Dillon walked to within a couple of inches of Larry and pulled himself up to full height. “You’re sailing very close to the wind, Chief Petty Officer Chapman,” he said in a low voice. “I expect a better standard of behavior from an officer of the coast guard. Get yourself back to the station and I’ll deal with you later.”

Larry saluted, spun on his heel and strode from the restaurant.

The door leading to the kitchen then swung open and a petite blonde woman came out. “Has Larry left?” she asked, darting her eyes around.

Kevin put his arm around her shoulder. “Yeah, he’s gone and good riddance to him.” He turned to Dillon and held out his hand. “I’m Kevin Chapman, owner of the Salty Dog, and this is my wife, Paula. I’m guessing you’re Dillon Randall, the new coast guard captain.”

Dillon shook Kevin’s hand and smiled warmly at Paula. “That’s right. I’m pleased to meet you both. I only wish it was under better circumstances.”

“I’m so sorry for the trouble, Captain Randall,” Paula said. “It’s normally really quiet and peaceful in here.”

Dillon looked around the restaurant. The nautical theme was a little overwhelming. There were fishing nets, helms and plastic crabs attached to the wooden walls and overhead beams. Even the tablecloths had anchors on them, and the salt and pepper shakers were tiny fisherman.

“Yeah,” he said. “This isn’t the kind of place I’d normally expect to break up a fight.” He turned his attention from Paula to Kevin. “Are you ready to explain to me what that was all about?”

Kevin rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “Larry’s a hothead. It was nothing. Just a stupid argument about nothing.” He pointed to the kitchen. “I’ve got to get back to my stove.” He gave himself one final brush down, as if dusting off his brother’s fingerprints, and walked through the swinging door, sending the aroma of garlic and herbs blowing into Dillon’s face.

Paula smiled nervously. “Thanks for dealing with those two, Captain Randall. Would you like some lunch on the house? It’s the least we can do.”

“Thanks for the offer, Mrs. Chapman,” he replied. “But I’ve got some business to attend to. I’ll come back another time.”

“Please do,” she said. “We don’t want to leave you with a bad impression of the town.” As she walked back into the kitchen, she turned her head and said, “Welcome to Bracelet Bay, by the way. Mia would be happy to give you a coffee to take out if you don’t have time to stay.”

The waitress smiled and picked up a paper cup from the counter. “Decaf or regular?”

“Regular please,” he said. “But you’d better make it two.”

“Is the other one for Beth?” she asked. “It’s so good to see her in town again.” Her mouth turned down at the corners. “It’s been years since I last talked to her.” She looked behind Dillon’s shoulder to the front door where Dillon assumed Beth was still waiting for him. “I wish she’d stuck around to say hello.”

Dillon spun around. Beth was gone!

He swiveled back to face the waitress. “Where did she go?”

Mia pointed to the door. “She left right before Larry. She looked a little hurt by what he said.”

Suddenly a flashback struck Dillon. He remembered Aziza wandering alone in the desert, at the mercy of those who wanted to harm her.

“I gotta go,” he said, racing for the door, hearing Mia calling after him, “You forgot your coffee!”

He burst out onto the street. He saw Larry ambling back to the station, but no sign of Beth. How could she have been so stupid to have left without him? He had expressly warned her to stay close. The stone in his pocket jumped around with his movement, reminding him of the level of danger she was facing.

He ran to his truck in the vet’s parking lot and his heart leaped with relief on seeing her standing by the passenger door. He found it difficult to contain his frustration when he reached her side.

“You shouldn’t have run out on me. You can’t go taking risks like that.” He heard the harshness in his voice and tried to soften it. “Anybody could be lying in wait for you.” He quickly checked their vicinity as if his words might be proven correct.

Then he unlocked the truck and opened the passenger door for her. “I’d feel a lot safer if you weren’t out in the open. Get in and I’ll take you home.”

Once they were both settled in their seats, Dillon started up the engine and pulled out onto the quiet street that ran through the town. Bracelet Bay’s location, a couple of miles from Highway One, put it off the beaten track, and it retained a quaintness that had surprised him. He loved the way the narrow, winding streets of the town’s center suddenly opened up onto a wide road that ran alongside a vast and crystal-clear ocean. The sandblasted, weathered houses in varying pastel shades reminded him of picture postcards, and the seven hundred or so residents were fortunate to live in such idyllic surroundings. Yet he guessed that, at this moment in time, Beth felt anything but fortunate to be among the Bracelet Bay inhabitants. She was silent, staring into the distance through the windshield, lost in her thoughts.

“I apologize if I was a little hard on you back there,” he said, glancing over at her. “But I wanted you to understand how serious it is for you to put yourself at risk.”

Her voice was small. “I heard Larry call me the ice queen, and I just had to get away. I’m sorry.”

Dillon clenched his jaw. “I’ll be speaking to Larry about that. I won’t stand for bullying on my watch.”

“I don’t expect you to step in and defend me,” she said. “You don’t want to make yourself unpopular when you’ve only just arrived in town.”

“I don’t much care for popularity contests,” he said. “I prefer to do what’s right instead.”

Beth twisted in her seat to look at the town that was now stretching into the distance as they made their way to the lighthouse. “It was hard being back in the Salty Dog,” she said. “I guessed I might get a nasty reaction like that from somebody.”

“Don’t let Larry’s childish comment get to you.” Dillon remembered the waitress and her kindness. “There was a young woman in there named Mia who was pretty happy to see you. Is she an old friend of yours?”

Beth nodded. “She was my bridesmaid.” She tried to laugh, but the sound seemed to get stuck in her throat. “Or she was supposed to be my bridesmaid anyway. It turned out that she wasn’t really needed.” Her voice became high and strained. “Actually it turned out that I wasn’t really needed either.”

Dillon wasn’t sure what to say. “I know about your wedding,” he said gently. “Carl mentioned it.”

Beth let her head fall back onto the headrest with a long exhalation. “I’m sure he did.”

“From what I’ve seen and heard in the town, everybody wishes you well,” Dillon said, switching on the wipers as the light drizzle became heavier. A dense and moist fog often rolled into the town, and the damp air clung to everything it came into contact with. The air in this town seemed to brush gently against the skin like a caress, and he liked it. He reckoned that Bracelet Bay was a place that worked its way into your heart and took up residence pretty quickly.

“Mia was sorry that she didn’t get to talk to you today,” he continued. “Once this situation is behind you, maybe you should think about contacting her.” He smiled, unsure if he was overstepping. “She clearly misses you.”

Beth looked out the window. “I miss her too sometimes, but my life is different now. I’m happier this way.”

“As a recluse?”

She didn’t answer.

“No man is an island, Beth.”

She turned her head from the window to face him. “What does that mean?”

“It’s an old poem from England,” he said, quoting the lines, “‘No man is an island entire of itself. Every man is a piece of the continent.’”

“I never knew you were so cultured,” she said in a teasing tone. “But I still don’t know what it means.”

The truck hugged the shoulder of the road as they neared the lighthouse, shrouded in swirling fog. “It means that we all need connections to others to make us strong and healthy. God made us as individuals, but that doesn’t mean He intended us to be alone.”

The teasing tone disappeared from her voice. “I don’t know what God intends for me, but right now I’m happy alone.”

He knew this wasn’t true. He knew it was an act, perfected in order to push people away and bolster her lack of confidence. But if that was her choice, he wouldn’t push the matter.

“If you’re happy to put your faith in God’s path,” he said, “then you can’t go wrong.”

She smiled, and the way she tilted her head to brush hair from her neck reminded him of Aziza. It was just a flash of something, a split second of familiarity that transported him back four years to a hot and arid plain in Afghanistan. At that time, he was driving along a dusty road to Kabul with a young woman escaping certain death. And now he was back in the same situation, forced to choose which innocent lives to save. As soon as Tyler arrived, he would relinquish Beth’s safety to his good friend and fellow SEAL. Then he could get back to work.

As the truck neared Beth’s home, Dillon saw that the fog surrounding it appeared thicker than before, curling around the tower like smoke. When an acrid smell began filling his nostrils, he realized that it was smoke.

“I think we may have a problem,” he said, hitting the gas pedal hard to pick up speed.

Beth placed her hands on the dash, leaning forward and letting her mouth drop open in confusion and disbelief.

“My cottage,” she exclaimed. “It’s on fire!”

THREE

Beth kept her hands on the dash of the truck as Dillon sped to her home.

He handed her his cell. “Call 9-1-1.”

She fumbled with the phone, barely able to form her words in coherent sentences. How could this day be any worse? It was like all her most terrible nightmares rolled into one. She managed to give her details to the operator, all the while watching her lighthouse come into clearer view. A pungent smell of burning wood invaded her nostrils, and as soon as the truck skidded to a stop on the graveled parking area, she flung herself from the passenger seat and started to run to the cottage. The front door of the keeper’s cottage was fiercely ablaze and smoke was eddying around the tower, rising and falling with the wind. Yet the windows were intact, with no smoke leaking through—this meant she might be able to save the contents inside. Her entire life was in the cottage, including all the handcrafted furniture she had spent hundreds of painstaking hours making.

She felt a strong arm curl around her waist and pull her back. It was Dillon.

“Stay back,” he ordered. “I’ll try and stop the flames from spreading.”

She felt helpless as she watched him pick up one of the buckets she kept by the front door for retrieving small pieces of wood from the beach. The buckets had filled with rain overnight and he threw the water at the door, dousing the flames as best he could. She noticed that the door had almost burned away and she could see right through into her living room.

“It looks like somebody dumped a bunch of trash by your front door and used gasoline as an accelerant to set the whole house on fire,” he shouted. “The fire’s taken a hold of a china hutch along the wall.”

“No!” Beth said, hearing the sound of her plates cracking and dropping to the floor as the wooden shelves gave way. “That was the first piece of furniture I ever made.”

She tried hard to stop herself from sinking to her knees. It felt as though the whole world were against her.

Dillon saw her distress. “I’ll see if I can save what’s left. At the very least, I should be able to do enough to stop the fire from spreading.”

Dillon picked up the second metal bucket by the door and briefly turned to her. “Now, stay as far away as—” He stopped as the bucket flew out of his hand, sending the water splashing across the stones. In an instant, he threw his body toward her and tackled her to the ground.

“Somebody’s shooting,” he shouted. “Keep down.”

Beth’s mind was awash with confusion. She was dazed. Dillon sprang to his feet but crouched low. He pulled out his gun with one hand and grabbed her arm with the other. Together they crawled to the truck and Dillon positioned Beth against the driver’s door.

“Are you okay?” he asked, kneeling beside her, checking her over.

“I’m fine,” she said breathlessly.

Another shot rang out, zipping through the air and hitting the roof of the truck. Dillon shuffled to the front wheel and used it for protection while he tried to spot the shooter.

“I see him,” he yelled. “Do you still have my cell?”

She slipped the phone from her pocket with shaking hands. “Yes.”

“Call 9-1-1 again. Tell them that the fire truck will need police protection.”

Another shot hit the truck’s hood and she let out a yelp. The fire looked to be taking tighter hold inside her house. Smoke was billowing out the door and the sound of smashing crockery falling from her china hutch made her jump. She found it hard to believe what was happening. It was like the scene of a movie. She watched the smoke sweeping out over the bay and imagined her quiet, sedate life being carried away with it.

“Beth!” Dillon’s voice brought her out of her trance. “Make the call.”

She punched the numbers into the keypad and waited for an answer. She saw the lights of the Bracelet Bay Fire Department truck flashing some distance away. They were on their way already.

“Dillon,” she said, her voice betraying her rising panic. “The fire truck is coming.”

“I can’t let them drive into an ambush,” he said. “I’ll go take care of this guy myself. Stay right here and wait for me to come back.”

Then he was gone. The emergency operator on the end of the line had to repeat her question twice before Beth remembered what she was meant to do. She requested officers from the sheriff’s department in the town of Golden Cove, the closest law enforcement station. The operator said there would be a wait of twenty minutes. Beth wondered if that would be too late. But there was no other choice. She hung up the phone and watched the fire truck making its way toward the lighthouse. Sporadic shots pinged through the air, but none seemed to be close. She pressed her hands together, closed her eyes and said, “Please, Lord, keep Your servant, Dillon, safe as he faces the forces of evil.”

She kept her head bowed until she heard the sound of the fire truck’s siren become louder. Then she lifted her head, realizing that she could no longer hear the gunshots. Somewhere down on the beach, beneath the cliff, the sound of a power boat or maybe a Jet Ski roared to life. Then the motor streaked over the water, echoing across the bay.

The fire truck was within a half mile of her home. She didn’t know whether to run and stop it or to sit and wait. She couldn’t make a decision. She was overwhelmed with a sensation of helplessness and despair, a feeling she had not experienced since her ill-fated wedding day.

“Come on, Beth,” she said out loud, rallying herself. “You’re tougher than this.”

With renewed strength, she rose from her position behind the coast guard vehicle and began running toward the fire truck, waving her arms to flag it down. She couldn’t allow the firefighters to drive into a gun battle. She had to take control. The truck stopped right in front of her and one of the men jumped from the vehicle. It was the long-serving station chief, who had known Beth since she was in elementary school.

“Beth,” he said. “We need to get to your home. You’re blocking our way.”

“No, I can’t let you pass,” she said, realizing that she sounded crazy. But what did it matter? They all thought she was crazy anyway. “It’s too dangerous.”

The fire chief spoke to her in a gentle tone as if she were a child. “We’re specially trained for this. We’re used to the danger.”

“This is more than a fire,” she said. “Somebody is shooting a gun. The police are on their way, and we should wait for them.”

Then she heard Dillon’s voice behind her. “It’s okay, Beth, you can let them through.” She turned around and saw him standing at the side of the road, looking disheveled and covered in sand. “The guy escaped on a Jet Ski.”

He walked over to the fire chief. “The fire is in the living room. Please be careful and save everything you can.”

He steered Beth to the side of the road and they watched the red truck rumble past. He then turned her toward him and put both hands on her shoulders.

“I’m sorry the guy got away,” he said. “I really wanted to catch him this time.”

Beth found herself unable to contain her emotions any longer. “Why me?” she asked with a wavering voice. “Why would somebody hurt my dog and try to destroy my home?” Tears began to flow, and she was powerless to stop them. She gritted her teeth. She hated to cry. She’d spent too much of her life crying, and she was done with it.

Dillon pulled her into an embrace. His skin was warm and slightly damp from the exertion of running. He smelled like a mixture of wood smoke and soap, and it was strangely comforting. But she hadn’t been in the arms of a man for a very long time and she stiffened against his touch. This only caused him to draw her in tighter.

“We’ll figure this all out together,” he said. “I’ll find you a safe place to stay in the town while the damage is repaired.”

She pulled away in one quick movement, her mood swiftly changing from fear of the unknown to a fear of returning to live in Bracelet Bay. “No. I don’t want to move into the town.”

“Beth,” he said. “Your home isn’t secure.”

She wrung her hands together. In her peripheral vision, she saw the firefighters bringing the smoking remains of her china hutch out onto the gravel. “I don’t want to move into the town,” she repeated. “Even for just one night. I can’t. I really can’t.”

“I’m afraid there really is no other choice.”

A thought struck her. “I have a friend who lives close by. Her name is Helen. I’ll stay with her.”