“Of course I care. He’s my son.”
“But you haven’t received a ransom demand.”
“No. He’s probably just off on another bender. A leopard doesn’t change his spots.”
Harper stiffened. “Michael doesn’t do that anymore. You should be proud of him.”
He just grunted.
“He’s in trouble, Dad. I need you to let me know immediately if someone calls. In the meantime, we’re going to keep looking.”
“Stay away from Garrett. I’m warning you.”
“Good night, Dad.” Harper hung up the phone. Her hands were shaking. She loved her father, but sometimes she didn’t like him. She’d never really forgiven him for the way he’d treated her brother, the constant verbal abuse, the relentless chipping away at Michael’s self-esteem, the humiliation. It was no surprise her brother had turned to drugs.
She glanced over at Chase, who leaned against the cabin wall a few feet away, his arms folded over his impressive chest, his eyes hooded and unreadable. “No one’s contacted him,” Harper said.
Chase shoved away from the wall and walked toward her, his dark eyes intense. “So he wasn’t kidnapped for ransom.”
Her throat felt tight. “Maybe they just haven’t called yet.”
Some of the tension eased from Chase’s wide shoulders. He reached out and touched her cheek. “There’s always the possibility. We’ll start again in the morning, figure out where they were taken. In the meantime, you need to get some sleep.”
She swallowed. He was standing close enough for her to inhale his scent: fresh air, sun and sea, combined with a sexy masculinity that belonged exclusively to Chase. She wished she could just lean into him, rest her head on his shoulder, feel those hard arms around her.
Instead she took a step back, fighting a feeling of loss. Turning, she walked into the cabin and closed the door. After another fruitless day and tonight’s crushing disappointment, she was exhausted. But no way would she get to sleep.
Chapter Eleven
Chase awoke to the buzzing of his cell phone. Rubbing a hand over his night’s growth of beard, he grabbed the phone off the floor next to the bottom bunk and swung his legs over the side of the bed.
Looking down, he recognized Tabby’s number. “Hey, Tab. What’s up?”
“You are so going to love me.”
“Yeah?” He almost smiled. “What have you got?”
“So after we talked yesterday, I got an idea. I thought I might try a different angle, see if I could find something that would help us track the boat instead of the people.”
“I’m listening.”
“I took a look at Michael Winston’s credit card, started searching for equipment he might have purchased before he left on his voyage. A few months back, he bought a GPS device called a NAV Tracker, an upscale model 2.0. It’s used to locate a boat that’s been stolen. The device tracks the vessel’s speed, heading, latitude and longitude every thirty minutes.”
Chase felt a rush of excitement. “Tell me you found the boat.”
Tabby laughed. “Yup, I did. The device reports to your cell phone, which in Michael’s case is disabled, but I was able to tap into the information that is still being sent to that number. Key this into your phone.” Tabby rattled off the longitude and latitude of the yacht, which Chase entered into the notepad on his cell.
“Got it. You’re right, darlin’, I love you.”
“The yacht hasn’t moved since it arrived at that location a couple of days ago. I looked at the satellite photos. It’s a cove off a beach in Colombia.”
“Colombia? What the hell?”
“If you’re planning to fly down there, Santa Marta is the closest airport. The cove is about ninety kilometers north and east. There’s a tiny village nearby called Punta Gato.”
“I’m giving you a raise. You’re the best, darlin’.” Chase ended the call. He looked up as Harper came in, wearing jeans and a white V-necked shirt embroidered with bright flowers, a tiny EC logo on the front.
She stopped a few feet away from where he sat on the bunk, dark smudges beneath her big blue eyes, which were glued to his naked chest. When he shifted on the bunk, her gaze went to the bulge at the front of his briefs, and her cheeks flushed pink.
