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stated.
    The Czech waved the guards aside, held his hand out to Locke, and helped her up the stairs to the deck. She leaned close, and a second later, Prochaska tipped his head back and laughed.
    “I wonder what she said,” Wilson remarked.
    “Doesn’t matter. It worked. He didn’t have her thrown off,” Hutchins replied.
    Cage lowered his binoculars and exchanged a look with Delaney, who had done the same, his mind reeling at the thought of his former lover sitting nearly naked, dripping wet next to the criminal.
    He swallowed past his ire, placed the binoculars to his face, and continued to watch the events unfold. Events he had no control over.
    One minute the two were smiling and talking, the next they were kissing and rolled out of view. His sharp inhale echoed around them while his insides twisted into a tight knot. Where the hell had they gone? What was the man doing to…
    He exhaled and forced the unwanted images from his mind just as Locke stood and backed away, seductive smile on her flushed face. Marek followed, pinning her against the outside of the salon.
    Son-of-a-bitch. Was he really expected to stand here and watch this? No, his mind answered. He could always lower the binoculars.
    Like hell.

Chapter Four
     
    C age stood stalk still and watched, enduring the torture.
    Nikki twisted Marek around, ripped his shirt open, and trailed a hand down the man’s torso. Just when Cage didn’t think he could take any more, she broke the kiss, stepped onto the ledge, then turned to the shocked Prochaska and spoke.
    Intuition told him she said something suggestive. Well, intuition and the wicked smile she sent the criminal just before executing a perfect dive into the ocean. The Czech rushed to peer over the side.
    “Go for it,” Jersey urged.
    “Yeah, come on. You know you want to. Hell, I want to.” Wilson chuckled.
    Insides taut, head pounding, Cage kept his mouth shut and gripped the binoculars so damn tight they creaked in protest.
    Locke meant nothing to him. Nothing. So why did the detective’s comment bother the hell out of him?
    It didn’t.
    He refocused on Prochaska and watched in amazement as the criminal removed his shirt, stepped onto the ledge, then dove into the water before his bodyguards could stop him.
    “Yes,” Hutchins cried.
    Relief shot through Cage, easing the tightness from his body. She’d done it. Nikki had gotten Prochaska off the yacht.
    “Good girl,” Wilson crooned. “Lead him to us.”
    By the time she neared the shore, Cage’s headache had dulled and breathing had become less of a chore. He opened his trunk, and all four men tossed their binoculars in before rushing to the beach to intercept the couple rolling in the sand just under the dock.
    “Marek Prochaska, you’re wanted for questioning in the murder of Detective Andrew Johnson,” Hutchins stated.
    The amorous couple broke apart and the irritated look on Marek’s face was priceless. Almost as good as Locke’s when she sprang to her feet and backed away.
    “Whoa. Wait a minute. I don’t know this man.” She pointed to Prochaska, then held her hands up. “This is not the kind of fun and danger I was looking for.”
    “Go on. Get out of here,” Delaney said in a gruff, no-nonsense tone Cage hadn’t realized Jersey possessed.
    Locke nodded, then rushed down the beach and out of sight, looking worried and upset. He had to give the woman credit. She was good. Damn good. Even he believed her.
    Hutchins and Wilson quickly loaded the disgruntled Czech into their SUV and headed for the station. He and Delaney would catch up. First, he had to collect the half-naked NIO.
    Jersey fell into step on the way to the car. “That went well.”
    Cage grunted. Tell that to his libido. His gut felt as if he’d gone several rounds with a local prize fighter. And lost. As he approached the Mustang, he noted a familiar dark-haired woman in the backseat. He glanced at his partner. Delaney nodded and, together, they climbed in