Southern Comfort - Fern Michaels [77]
Tyler seemed to ponder Tick’s words. “So, what you’re saying is in all the years you’ve spent on this secluded . . . island, you haven’t seen or heard anything remotely suspicious going on at that place?” He pointed to the stretch of beach behind him.
Tick shook his head. “You’re asking me if I heard anything? Okay, well . . . yes, I’ve heard voices, seen the Coast Guard there a few times. If you’re asking me if I’ve heard or seen anything significant, unusual, my answer is still the same.”
Tyler leaned against the railing. “I’m not sure I believe you. You were a homicide detective. Aren’t detectives supposed to have some sort of sixth sense or something?”
Kate took a step toward Tyler, then Tick gently grabbed her by the elbow, pulling her beside him. “I told you he isn’t worth it.” Tick directed his steely gaze in the annoying man’s direction. “I think you have your answer. I want you to leave, and I’m only asking once. You gettin’ it, Special Agent Lawrence Tyler?”
Tyler stuffed his hands into his shorts pockets, then used his foot to propel himself forward from the post he’d been leaning against so casually. “Yes, I do believe I’ve got it.” Turning his back on Tick and Kate, Tyler started down the steep steps, then stopped and looked over his shoulder. “We’re not finished, Miss Rush, I promise you, we are not finished.”
Tick hiked a foot high in the air, aimed it at Tyler’s back, preparing to kick him down the flight of steps, then slowly lowered his leg. “I’ll take my own advice; you’re not worth it.”
“We’ll see about that,” Tyler tossed back as he practically skipped down the remaining stairs. “We will see about that,” he repeated in a whisper meant for his ears only.
Chapter 17
Kate wanted to chase Tyler down the stairs and kick his butt all the way to Cuba, but now wasn’t the time. She had a young girl who required her immediate attention. Tyler was like an old shoe; he’d likely be stuck in a corner desk somewhere in some dank little office for years. Kate would find him when and if.
Tick opened the screen door for Kate. “If I’d had to work with that bastard for more than a day, I would’ve killed him.”
Kate stepped inside. “Trust me, I’ve had to use all the restraint I could muster. My saving grace, rather his saving grace, was that both of us moved around a lot. Otherwise, I think I would’ve killed him a year ago, when he assigned me to do surveillance here on Mango Key after making me wait hours and hours before he showed up at the meeting place.
“That’s when I finally realized I’d had enough and turned in my resignation. Something he said made me so mad that I snapped and pummeled him real good, letting him know it was for what he had done to good agents over the years. So much for my restraint.”
Pete called out as they entered the kitchen, scratching any chance Tick had of responding.
“Hey, you two, breakfast is getting cold.” Rosita was still seated at the table, a plate of scrambled eggs and a bagel in front of her. Pete nodded toward the child. “This is her second helping.”
A slow burn crept up the back of Kate’s spine and came to a halt at the base of her skull. The son of a bitch who did this to this helpless girl had better say his or her prayers, because when and if, no, when she got her hands on the slimy worthless piece of humanity, she was not going to restrain herself. She forced a smile as she sat down beside the little girl.
“Hi, Rosita.”
Rosita dipped her head, but her gaze found Kate’s. She offered a slow smile, then lifted her head so that she was looking directly into Kate’s eyes. “Who was that man?”
Taken aback, Kate took a few seconds to gather herself. “I used to work with him, honey. He’s nothing to worry about. Is there some reason you’re afraid of him?