Heroes of Providence Book 6
FBI Agent, Charlotte "Charley" Tate has loved only one man in her life. The one man she betrayed, Tyler Jacobsen. Tyler had given up a career he loved as a Providence police detective after realizing how easily a beautiful face and sweet smile had led him astray. Now Charley is back in his life as they fight to undo the organized crime corruption that has infiltrated the city he loves by a Colombian drug lord. Can he work along side a woman he still loves without risking his life...and his heart?
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There are worse ways to die than drowning. Of course, as Charlotte Tate stepped through the door of the pilot house deck on the one hundred and seventy foot yacht, Mystique, she couldn't think of even one.
Oh, yeah. A bullet to the brain execution-style wasn't very appealing. That would certainly ruin her day, she thought as she moved quietly, blood racing through her veins so fast she could hear her pulse thrumming in her ear. Her choices were to swim out into the bay as far as she could and likely suck water into her lungs until she was unconscious—unless, of course, she actually managed to get to shore—or sit back and make it quicker by letting Franco blow her brains out on the deck. That scenario was very likely in her immediate future if she didn't do something to prevent it from hap-pening. Like, now!
It was time to go for a swim.
Heart pounding, she slipped past the bathroom into the spiral stairway located in the center of the yacht and carefully made her way down to the main deck, secure in the fact that she had a few precious minutes to formulate some type of a plan that didn’t involve her dying. The yacht was moored about a half mile, maybe less, from shore. Who knew how bad the current was between the two to keep her from making it to the beach? Given her limited options, it seemed like the best one for her.
Instead of bolting onto the main deck, Charley waited a few stair treads up from the bottom and listened. Laughter roared from the deck above her, where Franco was having one of his infamous dinner parties. No doubt one of the other women he'd invited had slid into Charley's chair at the table as soon as she'd excused herself and vacated her seat. Charley was counting on it. It would keep Franco occupied a little while longer if some other gal had her hands on his thigh.
Movement on the main deck kicked her heart rate up and had her chest pounding. She recog-nized the voices of two crew members as their voices became louder. Flattening herself against the wall as best she could, she remained still as they walked by the landing. All it would take was for one of them to see her out of the corner of his eye, and it would be all she wrote. Goodnight, Charley!
She kept her breathing even as the chef and one of the crewmen walked to the crew's quarters behind the guest cabins. The chef was grumbling that Franco hadn't even complimented him on the dinner, which Charley had to admit had been truly amazing. She hoped this dinner wasn't her last.
When they were out of sight, she quickly decided which way to turn. She could escape by the powerboat tied to the side of the yacht. That would ensure she made it to shore, but Charley wasn't sure if she could get it freed from its mooring and get it started without being heard and shot in the process. Being a fairly notable member of the Richie Trumbella crime organization in Providence had given Franco access to a lot of gunners. Richie was gone, having been killed in a night club shooting the year before. That left his goons to find another leader in Franco.