“Yes, but not getting as many miles in as I’d like. Can you talk my boss into giving me better hours?” I joke as Castillo leads us over to a seating area next to a bar.
Oliver and Castillo chuckle at this. “Thank you for the ride down to our event. I can’t believe the private airline cancelled our flight without any help rebooking to another carrier. Never using them again, let me tell you.” This is our cover. Really, we wanted a chance to stake out Castillo’s vessel. He may be hiding the black-market arms here. Or we may be able to see where the boat has been or where it is headed to. Any evidence we can find. Oliver called in a favor.
“Of course. Happy to help an old friend,” Frank Castillo says as he takes the final sip of champagne in his glass. Vallus, Castillo’s company, is a major sponsor for FIRE. And for any major sporting event. Depending on the demographic, they either promote the front-facing e-commerce platform, or, for high-earning athletes that race with FIRE, they promote Vallus web hosting and servers.
When Charlie read through the dossier, she immediately asked the obvious question.Why are we allowing Castillo to sponsor our events if he is a bad guy?I reminded her that he wasn’t always a prick and that it’s best to keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Also, wehighly suspecthe is a bad guy. No damning evidenceyet.
“Charlie, have you ever been to Key West before?” Castillo turns his attention to her fully, using all his billionaire charm. Charlie sets down her champagne and doesn’t notice as Frank Castillo’s eyes travel up her arms, down her chest, to her hips, and waist.
His leering is troublesome. Charlie is artwork, meant to be admired, not eyed up and down.
There is a constellation of freckles on Charlie’s arms. She is certainly showing a lot more skin on this yacht than she ever does in the office. Her professional attire has been swapped for a remarkably chic bathing suit and wrap. Her arms, shoulders, and legs are on display. The bright red fabric is clinging to her hips as well, demanding attention. And her other . . . assets . . . are also accentuated, her cleavage visible. I have to remind myself that this is a job and we have to work together on Monday. Also, I don’t want my boss – her uncle – to catch menoticing. Castillo is ogling enough as is.
“No, I’m so excited to go. Hopefully I can sneak away and do a little sightseeing. I’d love to visit Hemingway’s House. And T. S. Eliot had a place there too, though it’s supposed to be more off the beaten path.” Charlie is giving Castillo every breadcrumb he needs. I’m not sure how much is genuinely her or how much is a show for the mission.
“Do you like to read? You know books are where it all started for me.” Castillo begins to wax poetic about the origins of his company as the yacht sails through Tampa Bay and out into the open gulf waters. The day is bright, the reflection of the sun on the water dazzling and blinding. The salt spray of the waves hisses as we fly over the water.
A man in a crisp uniform with sea-battered wrinkles and a Caribbean accent approaches and introduces himself as Captain John. After shaking hands, he offers to give Oliver a tour of the bridge.
This is the first wrinkle in our plan. With Charlie being so new, we wanted her to get the tour of the bridge with the captain and the ship’s crew. Chances are none of them know the depths of Castillo’s involvement with the Order, but they would know where the ship has been and where it is going. Oliver was supposed to keep Castillo talking and distract him while I search for information.
“Sure thing,” Oliver says, taking a sip of his champagne.
We agreed before the mission to go with the flow and let the plan be fluid. Charlie doesn’t jump in and ask to join. Oliver doesn’t decline the captain’s offer.I guess this is our new plan.
“Fair warning, I’ve been thinking of investing in my own ship, so I have a lot of questions,” Oliver jokes and the captain offers a good-natured chuckle as the two walk away.
We’ll all be thinking on our feet from here on out. I do my best to avoid eye contact with Charlie, not wanting Frank Castillo to pick up on any signals.
We hit one wave, then two, as the yacht speeds along. This is my cue to excuse myself and check out the interior of the vessel.
I stand and set down my champagne, which I haven’t touched. “I’m so sorry. I’m feeling a little seasick. Where is your nearest restroom?”
Castillo points me in the right direction without a second thought; he’s too busy chatting up Charlie. Given the switch-up, she’ll have to take over Oliver’s role: keep Castillo talking on the deck. Distract him.
I’m not comfortable leaving her alone with a man who may have purchased millions of dollars’ worth of black-market weapons. But we have a mission to stick to.
I head into the interior hallway and see the bathroom, but I don’t go in.
I spent eight years in the navy; of course I’m not seasick. But Castillo doesn’t know or doesn’t remember.
Now is my time to snoop around and see what I can find.
I can only hope Charlie can hold her own out there.
19
CHARLIE
I hate to admit it, but I spent all last night scouring my wardrobe, thinking,What does one wear on a yacht? A flipping yacht?!
When nothing appeared to be good enough to wear, I thought,What would Celine do?Because, surely, she has some kind of yacht attire. That led me to Ana, who helped me out with this black one-piece bathing suit with cut-outs and a red wrap halter dress. The pineapple bun updo was her idea too. So are the wedge sandals that make me feel like I’m on stilts. I told Ana a half-truth, only as much as she needed to know.
“Charlie, why don’t I give you a tour?” Frank Castillo offers.
His gaze is not meeting my eyes. It is on my cleavage. The plunging neckline of this bathing suit gives me no way to hide the girls. They’re on display.
With the captain giving Oliver a tour of the bridge, I’m now responsible for distracting Castillo. While no one expressly stated that distracting Castillo would require me to flirt with him, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out his greatest motivating factors: power and ego. Letting him flirt with me plays into both. I’m glad Uncle Ollie is on the bridge, otherwise this would be even more awkward and cringey than it already is.
