Going Overboard Read Free

down to her dark, pouty nipples.
    He shook his head in disgust.
Hell, McKay, forget about the woman s breasts.
    As he approached his stateroom, awareness prickled along his neck. Without any change in stride, he detoured down a side corridor, all his senses alert.
    Two women in expensive warm-up suits passed deep in conversation. McKay caught the words
alimony
and
hidden assets
before they rounded the corner.
    A door closed behind him. He dropped his towel and halted casually, surveying the empty corridor before and behind him as he scooped it up. None of the doors opened.
    Get a grip
, he thought in disgust. No one knew he was here except Navy chain of command and his one onboard contact. The chance of someone having him under surveillance was nil. There was no reason for him to be jumpy.
    He glanced at his watch and realized he was going to be late if he didn't get the lead out and stop daydreaming about stacked redheads with an attitude problem.
    Silence met him when he opened the door to his stateroom a few minutes later.
    “Izzy, are you here?” McKay scanned the quiet room, reining in his impatience. He had been flying blind for twenty hours since he'd been pulled from the water,airlifted out of his current SEAL training mission in the Pacific, and been given cryptic orders to board this cruise liner. All McKay knew so far was that he was to present himself as a wealthy civilian enjoying a much-needed vacation. The details of his assignment were secret, to be imparted on board, courtesy of a freelancer he'd worked with before.
    A week in the Caribbean aboard the love boat.
    All in all, it should have been a plum assignment.
    Except that he'd only left port that morning and already he was stir crazy. He was a SEAL, highly trained and fiercely motivated. He was here to work and he damned well wanted to get down to it.
    The punch caught just under his lower rib. Spinning fast, he landed a hard jab in immediate retaliation.
    He sighed in irritation when he saw his attacker's white uniform, mahogany skin, and Cheshire cat grin. “Nice uniform, Izzy,” McKay growled.
    Ishmael Harris Teague, Izzy to his friends, was smart, cocky, and well on his way to making a fortune in the private sector. An electronics genius, he had a wicked sense of humor along with a reputation for enjoying his work. “Room steward, Mr. McKay.” His smile widened. “Bringing your lunch, as ordered.”
    “Like hell you are.” McKay looked him over. Izzy was clearly in top shape, and that would make their assignment easier.
    Whatever the damned assignment was.
    Suspected terrorist assault on the cruise ship?
    Smuggling operation?
    High-profile assassination?
    “Don't try coming up behind me again. In another few seconds you would have been dog food.”
    “Dream on.” Izzy pointed to his loaded food cart. “What do you think of my cover?”
    McKay had to agree that it was top-notch. A worker in uniform was invisible to a casual observer. “Get your papers set up. I'm going to change.”
    When McKay emerged, Izzy glanced at his white polo shirt and linen jacket. “Snappy clothes for a brown-water Navy SEAL.”
    McKay shrugged. “Cover, same as yours. What have you got for me? No one would tell me anything except that the mission has top priority.”
    Izzy slid a leather case from beneath the table skirt, unzipped it carefully, and removed the contents. From experience, McKay knew that his contact was not only a genius with every sort of electronic gadget but a thorough professional. Not even a stray piece of lint got past him. As a DEA agent, Izzy had worked in hot zones in a dozen countries and had never lost his cool. His irreverence had annoyed his superiors, but McKay knew the cocky attitude helped to keep things light. Now, as a freelance security agent, he still had that same cocky humor.
    Izzy pulled a stack of grainy satellite photographs from the case. “Meet Nigel Brandon, the governor-general of Santa Marina. Our man's an Oxford