Navy Seal Survival. Elle James
o’clock.”
Two women who couldn’t be a day under fifty strolled by.
Duff nodded. “I bet they know a lot more about passion than the girls headed for the beach.”
“What about her?” Sawyer tipped his head toward the woman who’d just stepped out of the resort building. She wore a one-piece black swimsuit, the front cut in a sharp V down past her navel, her blond hair loose around her shoulders. Pausing for a moment at the door, she slipped sunglasses onto her nose. Then she strode across the concrete, her bare feet tipped in bright red polish.
His pulse quickening, Duff couldn’t take his gaze off her. Now, this was a woman. She couldn’t be much older than the college girls, but she carried herself like a model, placing one foot in front of the other, emphasizing the sway of well-rounded hips. As she passed in front of Duff and Sawyer, Duff’s jaw dropped.
A low whistle from the lounge at his side said it all.
The woman’s one-piece dipped low in the back and wasn’t much more than a G-string, exposing a lush bottom with tight glutes.
Another chuckle sounded beside him. “I’ll take that as a yes. And if you don’t go after that one, I will,” Sawyer said.
“Who said anything about going after her?”
“Not interested?” Sawyer swung his legs over the side of the lounge and stood. “You might want to lie in the sun all day, drinking Pain Killers...” He raised his hands. “And there’s nothing wrong with that. But I want to feel a woman beneath me, calling out my name in the night. And I believe she’s the one.” Sawyer touched two fingers to his temple in mock salute. “See ya later.”
“Good luck.” Duff leaned back and closed his eyes. Yes, she was gorgeous and made his blood hum through his veins. He wouldn’t mind seducing her into his bed. If he wasn’t so darned tired, he’d follow her out to the beach with Sawyer and give the poor boy a little competition.
A yawn crept over him and he set his cool drink on the table beside him. Later.
Besides, he was on vacation and had no intention of working too hard. Women tended to be high-maintenance and time-intensive. After he got a satisfying nap, he might consider striking up a conversation with the sexy blonde. Until then...
He yawned and stretched. The sun warmed his skin and soothed his soul. Duff fully appreciated this nice place free of gunfire and explosions.
Yeah, this was the life.
As soon as he settled his body against the lounge chair, something bounced off his head.
Duff jackknifed to a sitting position and faced a small child, her big brown eyes round and frightened. “I’m sorry, mister.” Her gaze darted to the beach ball rolling beneath his chair.
Duff reached down and extracted the ball, handing it to the child.
“Thank you.” She smiled and ran back to the pool where what appeared to be her sister and two brothers stood near the edge, all under the age of ten.
“Last one in is a rotten egg,” the tallest brother called out. The girls squealed and all four children launched themselves into the water, splashing Duff.
They came up talking and squealing.
So much for peace and quiet. Duff couldn’t blame the kids. They were having a great time. He would have done the same.
Instead of grousing over a missed nap, he rose and followed Sawyer out to the beach. If he had to be awake, he might as well enjoy the scenery on the beach. Sawyer was sure to strike out with the blonde, and Duff would ask her if she’d like to have drinks later.
The worst she could do was say no.
* * *
NATALIE LAYNE STEPPED onto the Cancun beach, her toes curling into the warm, white sand. She’d followed her sister’s footsteps as closely as possible without having her sister there to guide her. A week ago Melody had come to the resort with her Kappa Delta sorority sisters. Six young women with nothing but fun in the sun on their minds.
As Melody’s only living relative, Natalie had asked her younger sister to report in each day. Melody had happily complied, texting each evening, letting Natalie know she was okay and having a great time. Until the fourth day.
Natalie’s chest tightened. She hadn’t received the call until late that night when a heavily accented voice came over the line announcing, “We are most sorry to report that your sister, Melody Layne, disappeared on a dive this afternoon at approximately three o’clock.”
Having lost their parents two years before to a ten-car pileup on Interstate 10, Natalie hadn’t been able to grasp what the man was saying.
Her sister? Disappeared? “What do you mean disappeared?”
“She was diving with a boat operated by Scuba Cancun. When she didn’t come up with the others, the dive boat operator searched but could not find her.”
A hundred questions had raced through her head as she’d held the phone to her ear. “What else has been done to find my sister?” she’d asked, her voice sounding as if it came from someone else down a long tunnel.
Her sister. Gone.
Natalie had given up the highly volatile and extremely rewarding career she loved as a special agent to return to New Orleans to see her sister through high school graduation and the start of college. Someone had to be there for her after their parents died.
Now this.
No way.
Natalie had taken the information from the Cancun police officer and hung up. Stunned and numb, she’d turned to her computer. She’d been leery of her sister traveling to Mexico. The endless reports of corruption in the Mexican government and law enforcement had been enough to convince Natalie it had been a bad idea.
Melody had insisted Cancun was insulated from the corruption and had its own security to protect the thriving tourist industry.
At the time Melody was making arrangements to go, Natalie should have put her foot down. Not that it would have done any good.
Melody had a mind of her own and the money their parents had left. She had reached the age of majority and could make reservations without her sister’s consent. And she had.
That gut feeling had proved right.
Within minutes of receiving the call, Natalie had hit the number for her former employer, Royce Fontaine, and asked for help.
As the head of the Stealth Operations Specialists, he could help her as no one else could.
“Natalie, are you ready to come back to work for us?” He’d chuckled. “Travel journalism too tame?”
“Royce, I need your help.”
The laughter ceased. “Name it. We’re here for you.”
She’d explained the situation and paused for him to digest the information.
“I’ll run a scan on the area to see if there are any other occurrences of missing women,” Royce told her. “You’re right to be suspicious.”
“Let me know what you find. In the meantime, I’m headed to Cancun.”
“Will do,” Royce said. “I’ll send Lance Johnson out on the private jet with the equipment you’ll need to keep you wired so that we can find you if you run into difficulty.”
“Thanks, Royce. I knew I could count on you.”
“Anytime. I had Lance lined up to take on another mission tomorrow, but I can take it myself.”
“I hate to pull you from other important assignments—”
“Nat, we’re talking about your sister. Family comes first. That’s why I’m sending Lance. Technically he’s