Going Overboard Read Free Page A

graduate with honors in medieval history. He spent four years with a merchant banking firm in London, then two more in Asia overseeing start-up energy companies.”
    McKay stared at the urbane face in the top photo. “Hardly your usual Caribbean functionary.”
    “It's in the family. Impeccable bloodlines. The Brandons have been running Santa Marina for generations.” Izzy shrugged. “But now the governor has trouble in paradise.”
    “What's the emergency? Santa Marina is a perfect example of modernization in action. They've got a solid economy, a stable political system, and a satisfied population—not to mention thousands of well-heeled vacationers who hit their perfect beaches every year.”
    “Maybe not so perfect.” Izzy held out a thick envelope. “These are your official orders, direct from D.C. In the last six months Brandon has been receiving death threats. They also target his family, including a woman whom he adopted ten years ago. Since she's legally still a
    U.S. citizen and usually off island working in the States, he contacted an old friend in the State Department and called in a few favors. He wants this kept low profile, but he wants her safe.”
    “Personal protection?” McKay bit back a curse. “I was hauled out of an important training mission, outfitted with designer clothes, and raced across the country to become a high-society baby-sitter?” He scanned his written orders in disgust and found them exactly as Izzy had outlined. McKay had heard about his getting assignments like this. The favors were usually discreet, but very much a fact of life in the military, where politics greased the wheels that kept appropriations flowing.
    And orders were orders, even if they stank.
    McKay snorted and tossed Brandon's photo back onto the cart. “I can tell from your face that there's more.”
    “What Brandon wants, he gets. The man's got solid-gold contacts. His country has been key to maintaining stability in the Caribbean. Ours is not to question why.”
    “But why a SEAL?” McKay snapped. “Why didn't they just pull in some spit-and-polish type from Georgetown or one of the Caribbean embassies?”
    “Because Brandon is picky. He wants the best of the best, someone who can keep the woman safe, no matter what. He wants skill and substance, not polished charm.”
    “Hell.”
    “I agree, but a job is a job. The high-tech boys at Langley figure we don't need to know any other details until they have more intel on who's behind the threats. Meanwhile, our orders are to protect the woman in question. Brandon has his own people protecting the rest of his family and staff.”
    McKay scowled out the window at the islands strung against the shimmering blue water. “Let me get this straight. The State Department and Langley pulled me out of a training mission and drafted you from the private
    sector so we could be baby-sitters?” He shook his head. “Brandon's friend in State must be a regular top gun.”
    “As high as they get,” Izzy said cheerfully. “Our mission, whether we choose to accept it or not,” he quipped, “is to provide round-the-clock protection for one Carolina Sullivan. She's very close to Brandon's daughter, who is safely tucked away in the family compound on Santa Marina.”
    McKay rubbed at the back of his neck in frustration. “Why doesn't State just put her into protective custody on the mainland until everything blows over?”
    “Too overt,” Izzy said. “Brandon asked that this be handled quietly, without any discernible break in routine that might alert the bad guys. He's sensitive about a bunch of spooks running around his country, too, so your only job is one-on-one protection.”
    McKay heard the tension in his voice. “But what?”
    “My guess is that something else is going on, and it's bigger than a few personal threats. If this blows up into a political situation, the State Department will be glad to have a man in place inside.”
    McKay had already figured