Southern Comfort - Fern Michaels [32]
Sandy gaped at Kate. “Well, damn, Kate, what’s with the tank suit? They’re going to think you’re hiding something in that suit.” At the stunned look on Kate’s face, she hastened to say, “Whoa, I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. You look like dynamite. Why not show it off a little more? One-piece suits are so not in, Kate. Don’t you look at the fashion magazines. Trust me, tank suits are long gone.”
Kate shrugged. “I’m just more comfortable in a one-piece. The truth is, I’ve never worn a bikini and don’t own one. Look, it’s not like we’re trying to entice that guy and his brother or whoever he is. We’re just going in the water to cool off. Period. End of discussion. C’mon, I’ll race you to the water. Last one in stinks! Oh, God, what was that?” Kate dived to the ground, her face smashing into the sand.
Sandy, who’d hit the sand at the same moment, raised her head and looked around. “It’s that crazy-ass parrot that has been dogging us is what it is. I bet he belongs to that guy up the beach,” she said, getting to her feet.
Bird, his eyes bright, was perched on a piece of driftwood, eyeing the two women. He tilted his head, and said, “Oh, baby! How’s tricks. Bacon and eggs. Pretty boy! Bang! Bacon! Bang! Bullshit! Hello, Dolly, hello, Dolly!”
“What the hell!” Sandy exploded. “It talks! That damn bird talks! I bet that cop sent it here to spy on us. Say something, Kate, and say it right now!”
“You’re right, it talks! You want to send a message back to his owner, assuming the guy owns the bird? It could belong to someone in the village, you know. Think about it. What would be your message?” She started to laugh then and couldn’t stop. “You have to admit, Sandy, it’s a great pickup move.” A second later, Kate hit the water, her strong arms propelling her forward, Sandy in her wake.
Tick yanked at his newly purchased binoculars on the cushion where he was sitting and brought them up to his eyes. He watched both women dive into the water. But what really drew his attention was Bird, perched on the driftwood. He passed the binoculars to his brother, who was grinning from ear to ear. “Strong swimmers. Very strong swimmers. Extraordinary breast stroke. Olympic potential. And there’s Bird in the thick of the action. Is he due to report in soon?” Pete asked with a straight face.
Tick grinned. “Go ahead and laugh. Bird knows what he’s doing. I sent him there to spy, and that’s exactly what he’s doing. What he will report is another story entirely. I think I’m going to put him in my next book. I can see it now, The Case of the Foul-Mouthed Parrot.”
Pete lowered the binoculars to take a better look at his brother to see if he was putting him on or not. Nope, he looked serious as hell. Then he laughed. When he calmed down, he said, “So, clue me in on all that stuff you bought in Key West. You preparing for war or what?”
Tick shrugged. “For the most part everything I bought was stuff I used to pack around in my car back in Atlanta. I more or less just replaced everything. Except for the Uzi and the other guns. I wish to hell I knew what happened to all that stuff and my car.”
“Why are you bullshitting me, Tick? You didn’t carry scuba gear and oxygen tanks in the trunk of your car. What’s up with that?”
Tick slapped his bare feet down on the porch floor. He reached over for his brother’s glass and headed inside to get a refill. “Strictly recreational, Pete,” he called over his shoulder.
Pete snorted. “Recreational, my ass,” he muttered. He knew in his gut the two of them would be out in the ocean on the first dark night, trying to figure out what was going on down the beach. His heart kicked up a beat at the thought. At least Tick appeared to be coming out of the fog he’d been living in. He said a silent prayer that whatever was happening down and around them would affect his brother only in a good way and not send him into a funk.
When Tick returned