Southern Comfort - Fern Michaels [55]
“At least we agree on that,” Sandy replied. “You’re human after all.”
“I never said I didn’t think they weren’t attractive.”
“No, I don’t believe you did.”
“Come on, Sandra, let’s get our butts in gear. If we keep this up, it’ll be morning before we’re out the door.”
Sandy strapped her shoulder holster on. She slipped on a dark blue windbreaker to hide the gun.
“You’ll suffocate with that on,” Kate admonished.
“Then I’ll suffocate, I’m getting used to it. I’m not strapping an ankle holster on. What if it gets wet on the way over?”
“Shit, Sandy, let’s stop with the twenty questions! It isn’t going to hurt a damn thing if the gun gets wet. I don’t plan on going for a midnight swim unless I have to. I’m leaving now. You can come along or not.”
“Okay, okay! I’m in on this, too.”
“Then move your ass. I don’t want to spend all night in that godforsaken place, do you?” Kate demanded.
“I haven’t been there yet, so how would I know? They could have all the amenities we’re lacking in this metal shell that’s supposed to be livable. Like a bathtub and a real shower. And an air conditioner that actually cools.”
They’d both known going into this gig that the accommodations weren’t going to be ideal, but Sandy hadn’t stopped complaining. They had to make do with a handheld shower attachment connected to a freestanding sink for showering, and the windowunit air conditioner did little more than circulate hot air. Sandy was right. Their accommodations stank, but Kate knew this might be her last case as a bona fide DEA agent, on the book or not. She wanted to prove to Jellard, and to herself, that she still had the guts to do whatever it took to see a case to its end, win, lose, or draw.
Kate knew that Jelly had taken a huge risk when he asked them to go undercover while under the radar. She would not make him regret his decision. Besides, complaining about their lack of amenities wouldn’t look good on her or Sandy’s record if something more came of this opportunity. It would be looked at, they’re women, they were born to complain, that kind of thing.
“Then don’t forget to pack a bath towel and shampoo. Seriously, Sandy, we’re working here, not lazing around at some luxurious spa. Now come on, or I’m going without you.”
“All right,” Sandy said.
Both women checked their guns for ammunition, then each added an extra clip/magazine for good measure. Neither knew what they were likely to encounter.
With no visible moon, the darkness concealed them as they made their way to the stretch of beach directly in front of their quarters. The night air was balmy, the humidity still near the hundred percent mark. A light rain continued, the only evidence of the earlier storm. Even though it was close to midnight, the warm breeze sweeping in from the Gulf did little to ease the oppressive heat.
Sandy slapped at her legs. “These bugs are the size of moths. I can’t believe how many times I’ve been bitten since we’ve been . . . marooned. If this keeps up, my legs are going to look like a leper’s.”
Kate shook her head. “You should’ve used the repellent like I told you. This area is a natural habitat for bugs.”
“Isn’t that just grand?” Sandy replied. “Anyway, you stink. Scent travels, you know that. That’s why I didn’t use the repellent. What if we see our neighbors? I don’t want to smell like I’ve bathed in chemicals.”
Kate laughed. “We don’t have a bathtub, remember? I may stink, but I don’t have ugly red bumps all over my legs. I told you, it’s highly unlikely we’re going to run into our neighbors. Like I said, if they’re smart, they’ve had one too many and called it a night.” What she really would’ve liked to do herself, but she was on a mission, and personal comfort wasn’t considered a high priority on a stakeout, sanctioned or not.
“I’m not taking any chances. It’s not every day we’re stuck on a beach with two hunks. I’m going to do whatever I can to make sure the odds are in my favor,” Sandy snapped.
“Since when did