Chapter Eight
Quinn stiffened, but managed to keep the pleasant smile plastered on her face even as alarm bells clanged in her head. How did this man know the name of her and James’s supervising officer at the CIA? Until she knew what the hell was going on, she wasn’t going to give him anything. “I’m sorry. You must have me confused with someone else.”
James was already out of his chair and coming around the end of Quinn’s lounger. She folded her legs up to make room for him. He sat next to her, his muscles rigid with tension.
“I don’t believe I do, Quinn.” The man’s eyes darted to her husband. “Don’t worry, James. I’m not going to hurt either of you.” He sat straighter and smiled. “I understand congratulations are in order. Aldous tells me you two are on your honeymoon. May you enjoy a lifetime of love, joy, and happiness together.” She caught a Texas twang in his words.
“Thank you,” James said, his voice tight. The man’s affability had in no way diminished the tautness in James’s posture. He was coiled and ready to pounce on the interloper at the first sign of ill intent. “You have us at a disadvantage. You seem to know all about us. We don’t know anything about you. Care to share?”
“You bet. We should talk someplace a little more private.”
The hair stood up on the back of Quinn’s neck. “We’re not going anywhere until we know who you are.”
“The name’s Dave Flores. I used to work with Aldous Meyers.” He took his phone from his pocket and held it toward Quinn. “Go ahead and call him. Ask him about me.”
Her nostrils twitched. “How do we know you aren’t with some kind of cabal who kidnapped him and are just waiting for this call? He says you’re his BFF only because he’s got a gun to his head.”
“Fine. Call him yourself,” Flores said, returning his phone to his pocket.
James reached into Quinn’s beach bag sitting on the sand between their lounge chairs. He retrieved his secure phone and touched the screen. “I’ll call his office. If he’s not there, his assistant should be able to verify his whereabouts.”
James put the phone to his ear. After a brief pause, he said, “Good afternoon. Is Aldous Meyers in? This is James Anderson.” He turned to Quinn and snapped a nod. “Thank you.”
Internally, Quinn stepped down one DEFCON level.
From the look of concentration on James’s face, Quinn knew Meyers was speaking.
“Yes,” James said. “He just contacted us.”
Meyers never was one for idle chitchat.
While James listened to their boss, Quinn kept her stare pinned on Dave Flores. To her surprise, his eyes never drifted lower than her face. She was wearing a bikini, after all, and an admittedly skimpy one at that. She always wore shorts and a T-shirt whenever she and James walked from their hotel room to the beach. Even then, she garnered open and long stares from the male population. And yet now, here she sat with very little fabric covering her and Dave Flores’s gaze never dipped once.
“Yes, sir. We’ll take it under advisement.” A small smile formed on James’s lips. “We’re having a great time. Thank you.”
And now Quinn lowered to DEFCON 3.
James ended the call, but kept the phone in his hand. Like her, James had relaxed some, but his undercurrent of wariness remained. “Meyers says we can trust you. He also said we have every right to remind you we’re on our honeymoon and tell you to take a flying leap.”
“He said that?” Flores asked.
James stared hard at him. “I embellished the last part. But the sentiment is the same.”
“Fair enough. And I get you’re on your honeymoon and all. I wouldn’t be bothering you if this wasn’t really important. Please”—his voice turned pleading—“give me a half hour. That’s all I ask. If you can’t or won’t help me after you hear me out, that’s fine. I’ll go away and you won’t see or hear from me again. I promise.”
A wordless conversation comprised of raised eyebrows, shrugs, pursed lips, and nods took place between James and Quinn. After they’d exchanged winks confirming they had come to an understanding, James turned to Flores. “Whatever all this is about, it’s not an imminent threat to national security. Otherwise, Meyers would have told us to drop everything and help you. So, we’re not going to interrupt the rest of our day for you. Come to our hotel room tonight at twenty-one-hundred hours. We can talk freely there.”
The relief from Flores was palpable. “Thank you.”
James dipped his chin in acknowledgement. “And now if you’ll excuse us, we have some important snorkeling to do.”
Without another word, Dave Flores stood and strode off.
Quinn watched his retreating form and let the tension leech from her muscles. “We had a normal honeymoon there for a little while.”
“We did.” James put his finger on her chin, turned her face to his and gave her a kiss. “But then again, with the way our first date went, would you expect anything less?”
She smiled. “It was a doozy, wasn’t it?” After another kiss, she added, “What you’re saying is normal is overrated.”
“Exactly.” After one more kiss, he stood and pulled Quinn to her feet. “Now come on, Mrs. Anderson. Let’s go swim with the fishes.”
* * *
James handed Quinn an unopened bottle of water and flopped down on the sofa next to her.
“Thanks.” She twisted off the cap and took several long pulls. Being out in the sun and salt water all day gave her an epic thirst. Her cells soaked up the water like a dried-out sponge.
James guzzled down half his bottle in one breath. He set it on the table, angled his body toward her, and rested his arm across the top of the back cushions. “We have no idea what this guy wants from us. So if he asks us to do anything you’re not okay with, that’s good enough for me.” He rubbed lazy circles on her shoulder with his fingertips. “I don’t want this to ruin the rest of our time here.”
“That goes for me, too. If you’re not fully on board, we pass.”
A knock sounded at the door.
Quinn glanced at her watch. “Nine o’clock straight up. The guy’s prompt.”
James went to the door and opened it.
Quinn stood when Dave Flores entered the room carrying a wine bottle with a red bow wrapped around the neck. After they exchanged greetings, he handed the bottle to Quinn. “My wife insisted I bring you a gift since I’m crashing your honeymoon.”
“Thank you,” she said and took the bottle. “Is she here with you?”
“No, she’s home with the kids. This is business, and she never travels with me for that. Most of the time I’m in parts of the world she’s better off not being in.” He breathed a quiet laugh. “When she found out I was coming to Turks and Caicos, though, it was a little harder for her to stay home.”
“I’m sure. It’s a beautiful place.” Quinn indicated the armchair with her hand and set the wine on the table. “Have a seat.”
“Thanks.”
James and Quinn settled on the couch again. She nestled into his side when he draped his arm around her shoulders.
“What can we do for you, Mr. Flores?” Quinn asked.
“Please, call me Dave.” He rubbed his hands together nervously. “I don’t know exactly where to start, so I’ll just dive right in. I’m former CIA. That’s how I know Aldous Meyers.”
“We kind of already had that part figured,” Quinn said.
“Yeah, sorry. I left the agency a couple of years ago, after an op where . . .” He stopped and took a deep breath. “Where we ran across a human trafficking ring.”
Quinn flinched. “That’s awful.”
“I left the agency and founded a non-governmental organization called Rescuing Lost Innocents. We work to rescue people caught in human trafficking. We also go undercover to compile evidence to bring down these rings and their exploitative customers.”
“That’s admirable work,” James said, “but I’m not sure how we can help you.”
Flores scooted forward in his chair and sat on the edge of the cushion. “Here’s the thing. There’s someone here on Provo we believe uses the services of one of these rings. And you’ve met him.”
“Rhys Townsend?” Quinn asked, her pitch rising.
Dave’s head bobbed from side to side. “Maybe? We’re not sure what his deal is.”
“You’re focused on Gibson Honeycutt,” James stated.
“Yeah. He popped up on our radar recently. That’s why I’m here in Turks and Caicos.”
“You were at the casino the other night,” James said. “That’s how you knew we’d met Honeycutt.”
“Yup.”
“But how did you know we had a connection to Meyers?” Quinn asked. “You couldn’t have looked at us at the casino and thought, ‘Hey, I’ll check in with my CIA buddy and see if they’ll work with me.’”
“You’re right. I had no idea. Before I came here, I talked to Aldous to get intel on local Provo police. Are they on the take? Would they be willing to help me if needed? He told me they’re on the up and up. He also made this opaque statement that if I got into a jam while I was here, I should call him. He said he might be able to help me out.”
Quinn craned her neck and looked up into James’s face. “He must have been talking about us. He knew where and when we’d be here.”
“Mm-hmm.” James asked Dave, “Did he give you our names then?”
“No. I had no idea who or what he was talking about. I filed his offer away in my head and kept following Honeycutt around, trying to pick up any intel I could. Then I heard Townsend and Honeycutt invite you to that fundraiser at the estate. I figured that was a great way for me to get inside and scope things out. Perhaps the ‘employees’ on his estate aren’t there willingly. If I couldn’t get in as a guest, maybe I could as a bartender or something. I called Meyers again and told him I’d heard a young couple on their honeymoon get invited to a shindig inside Honeycutt’s estate. I hoped he could pull some strings to get me to get into the party somehow. There was this long pause on his end of the phone. Then he described you both to a T. He only gave me your first names and permission for me to approach you if I needed to.”
“I get why he told you about us, given he’s helping you and all,” Quinn said. “But why didn’t he warn us?”
“He didn’t want to intrude on your vacation if it turned out I wasn’t going to need your help. I’m only talking to you now as an absolute last resort. The leads Meyers gave me didn’t pan out. The party is strictly invite only. And the company catering the event only hires locals. That’s obviously not me.” The passion in Dave’s voice grew. “Believe me, if I could do this myself, I would. But I don’t want to let this chance at collecting some solid intel one way or the other slip away.”
Quinn could certainly see why he felt like he needed to seize the opportunity.
“If we agree to help you, what exactly do you want us to do?” James asked.
“All I’m asking is for you to go to the party, scope things out, and report back. No secret audio or video recordings, nothing other than keeping your eyes and ears open.” Dave’s knee began to bounce.
Quinn said, “We don’t have authority to do any of that other stuff anyway.”
“Exactly,” Dave replied. “Intel. That’s all I want.”
James looked from Quinn to Dave. “We may not find anything. Gibson might not be involved with a forced labor ring at all.”
“You might not. No one would be happier than me to find out there’s nothing hinky going on.”
“And if we do find something?” Quinn asked.
“I figure out how to rescue whoever needs rescuing and take the bad guys down.”
When Quinn gave James a questioning look, Dave leapt to his feet and headed for the door. “Let me give you some time to talk. I’ll wait outside.”
And they were alone.
She turned toward James and draped her legs over his thighs. Searching his eyes, she asked, “What do you think?”
“He’s not asking for us to do much.”
“No, he’s not.”
James brushed at the hair framing her face with a finger. “I can’t walk away from this now that we know what might be at stake.”
“I know. Neither can I.”
“I guess that settles it.”
“Good.” She gave him a kiss and a hug before jumping up from the sofa and bounding to the door. She yanked it open and invited Dave back inside.
When the door was closed again, she said, “We’ll help you, but on one condition.”
She looked over at James and smiled at the adorable way his brow furrowed in confusion.
“Yeah? What’s that?” Dave asked and regarded her with a wary eye.
“You promise to bring your wife here for a second honeymoon. And soon.”
Dave grinned and blew out a breath. “You got yourself a deal.”