Ambush in the Everglades Excerpt

Chapter One

     Kayli Heddon ground her Jeep to a halt in the parking lot at the L-28 Canal boat ramp in the south Everglades and scattered gravel in four directions. The biggest assignment in her photo-journalism career had officially tipped off to a rotten start. Bad enough she had to spend last night in that tiny and very ancient Gladestown motel room with two palmetto bugs—may they rest in peace—but the sun had barely crossed the horizon this first morning of her safari, and she was already late.

     Three airboats bobbed in the shallow water next to a short dock while three men stood in a cluster on shore and swilled coffee from styrofoam cups. A fourth man busily stowed gear in the closest airboat, and a lone figure—arms crossed over his chest—sat in the high driver’s seat of the third airboat in line. Even at this distance, Kayli could see the scowl on his face. She stifled a groan. Everyone had waited for her.

     Yanking her dark auburn hair back in a clip, she glanced in her rearview mirror. Familiar blue eyes blinked back at her. She rarely wore makeup, but now she wished she’d bothered with a tad of mascara and some lipstick. She’d take all the help she could get this morning.

     Grabbing her small duffel and camera bag from the back of her Jeep, she slunk toward the group. A thick mist hugged the shoreline with droplets so thick she could actually see them. Clad in jean cutoffs, she ignored the chill and wondered how many hours would elapse out on the boats before her bare legs felt warm again.

     You’re the one who’s late. Put a smile on your face.

     She sheepishly approached the group near the dock and set down her duffel. The tallest of the three men stepped forward to greet her and appeared unconcerned the time was twenty minutes past seven—the time she’d been told to arrive.

     “You must be Kayli Heddon,” he said and shook her hand. With his sandy blonde hair and dark tan, he looked more like a surfer. “We spoke on the phone last week. I’m Dan Graydon, Everglades Water District. Everyone just calls me Gray.”

     “I’m pleased to finally meet you.”

     He nodded at the other two gentlemen. “These guys are my field biologists assigned to Everglades Restoration.”

     Each man gave her a nod and a smile, then headed toward the second airboat in line. She immediately felt better since apparently the three harbored no hard feelings for her lack of punctuality. The scowling driver in the last boat was a different matter altogether. He stayed put, not interested in introductions.

     “And I think you’re already familiar with that guy.” Gray poked a thumb over his shoulder at the man stowing gear in the closest airboat.

     The figure straightened, and Kayli froze. Bradley Jameson. Governor Drake’s deputy chief of staff and all-round thorn in Kayli’s side.

     Brad grinned broadly and climbed out of the airboat. His designer shorts and silk shirt were tailored to fit his tall slender frame and looked completely out of place with the rest of the men. He had even styled and gelled his cropped dark hair to take the wild airboat ride. Thank goodness her attire was jean cutoffs, a denim shirt, and a drab, gray hoodie. She at least looked like she belonged. Her cheeks flooded with warmth as she hustled to meet Brad on the dock.

     “What are you doing here?” she whispered fiercely.

     His smile faded. “I flew in last night. I wanted to surprise you.”

     “Okay, you surprised me,” she hissed. “Now go back to Tallahassee.”

     “I’m coming on safari with you.”

     “No, you’re not.”

     His brows drew down. “Yes, I am. Now give me your duffel bag. I’ll stow it with mine.”

     “Brad, I don’t need a babysitter,” she said, making an effort to keep her voice down. “Why aren’t you at work?”

     “I took a couple vacation days.”

     “With the legislative session about to start?”

     “That’s right. You’re more important.”

     She eyed him warily and shifted her duffel out of his reach. “What are you up to?”

     “I’m not up to anything,” he snapped. “Stop being childish, Kayli, and give me your duffel.”

     “I’m being childish?” Her voice did raise then, and she took a step back, hating that the biologists had all turned to glance their way.

     Two dates. Two lousy dates and Brad Jameson had decided Kayli was the girl for him. No matter what she said or did, she could not manage to unconvince him. Kayli, on the other hand, had needed only one date to realize she had chosen poorly.

     Brad had mugged for every crowd and political personality the couple had encountered on their whirlwind tour of clubs that Saturday evening, almost as though he had masterminded his exposure opportunities with Kayli. She had known better than to date anyone in politics, especially with her close personal ties to the governor, but Brad had done his charming best to get her to accept the date. His dark good looks and big brown eyes no doubt worked wonders on most women, just not on Kayli.

     A political fundraiser Kayli couldn’t get out of attending had formed the backdrop for their second disastrous date and spread the icing on the cake. Brad’s behavior that evening made it clear his intentions were motivated more by her ties to the governor than any affection he had developed for her.

     She should have forced a final confrontation with Brad weeks ago and set him straight, instead of worrying about hurting his feelings. No way could she have that confrontation now in front of the district biologists, so she appeared to be quite stuck with him for the immediate future.

     “It’s time to load up,” Gray said, moving alongside them. “We’ve got two district airboats, and our guide has his own boat.”

     Her gaze rotated to the man in the last airboat. So he was the Seminole guide Graydon had told her about on the phone last week. The guide wore his dark hair a little long, his thick loose curls shifting with the morning breeze. She expected brown eyes with that dark hair and olive-toned skin, but his were a gray-green, which she noticed as he stared intently at her. Still scowling. The skin on the back of her neck prickled, and a spot low in her belly sparked to life.

     Gray watched her stare back and rushed to explain. “The Everglades Water District uses several Seminole contractors—as sample collectors—to help with our monitoring runs deep in the Everglades. No one knows the River of Grass better than they do, which makes them the most efficient at monitoring habitat changes and returning samples quickly.”

     Even as she stared at the guide seated with his arms still crossed over his chest, Kayli could tell he was a tall man, powerfully built with broad shoulders. Also a grouchy man, from the looks of him.

     “I’m sure you’ll be more comfortable in one of the larger district airboats with Mr. Jameson,” Gray was saying when she tore her gaze away.

     The two larger airboats looked relatively new, and each had an embossed district seal on the propeller flaps in the rear. The enormous propellers must have been six feet long, and both boats had an elevated driver’s seat in front of the propeller cage and a four-foot bench seat across the front near the bow. The guide’s boat seemed dwarfed by the larger district boats and had only a single seat up at the bow besides the driver’s seat occupied by the grouch.

     “No,” she blurted, still stinging from Brad’s childish taunt. “We’re splitting up. I’m going with him.” She pointed at the guide whose somewhat sexy green eyes presently stared a hole through her. “We’ll gather more information if we split up.”

     Brad gawked at her but was too much of a politician to argue in front of state employees, and she knew it. Kayli could see him fighting back a frown, and she inwardly smiled.

     Serves you right.

     “Suit yourself,” Gray said and led her to the last airboat. “Kayli Heddon meet Skye Landers.”

     Landers made no effort to get up or extend a hand. A baseball cap rested in his lap, and his dark brown curls hung loose.

     “You’re late,” he said.

     Her cheeks grew warm all over again. Gray looked equally embarrassed by the man’s manners and reached for her duffel. “Let me help you stow that.”

     “She can get it. She was late.” Landers kept his eyes trained on her.

     Kayli wished a hole would open in the dock and swallow her whole. How dare Landers be so rude and in front of everybody? His eyes smoldered to a dark grayish-green, like cloudy emeralds, and the intensity of his gaze shook her, but not in the way she expected. A flood of warmth from the new spark in her belly warmed her from the inside out, chasing the chill from her bare legs. She could only stare, trapped by his piercing gaze. She prayed that he blinked first and hoped her neck and ears hadn’t gone telltale-pink.

     So what if Landers was handsome in a rugged sort of way? She could kick herself for opening her big mouth and insisting on riding with him. Something told her taking off with that man on an airboat headed deep into the Everglades would be a dangerous venture in more ways than one. One glance at the smirk on Brad’s face kept her from changing her mind. She could always switch boats the first time they stopped for a break.

     Gray’s voice jolted her back to the task at hand. “Do you want to go over the maps before we take off? Once we get underway, we can’t really talk with the engines running.” He withdrew a large aerial map from his backpack and smoothed it out on the bow of the District boat.

     “Sure,” she agreed and stepped down into Landers’s airboat to shove her duffel and camera bag into the opening under the bow.

     As she straightened, her gaze ricocheted to Landers again. His didn’t smolder this time. Kayli wasn’t sure, but she thought his lips twitched with the hint of a smile before she tore her gaze away and stepped up onto the gunwale to climb back onto the dock. Her sneaker slipped. Her body lurched forward, smashing her shin against the hard aluminum edge of the boat. Her gaze darted to Gray as she tumbled, but he was two steps out of reach. Yet, strong hands grabbed her before she hit the rivets on the bottom of the airboat.

     A gasp caught in her throat as she felt her body crushed hard against the muscular chest of the guide. All her senses flashed to high alert. The warmth and strength of his body caused every available nerve ending in hers to shudder with tiny electrical charges. The aroma of after-shave and rugged man created an inexplicable urge to turn her face and breathe in his scent. All this in the span of two seconds. Her always-telltale cheeks had to be flushed hot-pink by now.

     Gray’s eyes went wide. “Are you okay? Your shin? I heard it hit.”

     Brad flew off the first airboat and barreled down the short dock, almost knocking Gray in the water. “Kayli, honey. Are you okay?”

     More cheek-flushing chagrin destroyed whatever sensual pleasure remained from her rescue. The field biologists stared from behind Brad and Gray, all intensely interested in her dramatic rescue. Her shoulders still pinned, Kayli could only catch a glimpse of her shin, already swelling with an ugly purple knot. The pain caught up with her the second she spied the knot, and she let loose a low moan.

     The large, strong hands released their hold, and she reached down to rub her shin.

     “Jeez, Landers,” Gray said, “you vaulted out of that seat so fast you were a blur.”

     Kayli shot a thankful glance back at the guide, but he had already climbed back to his pinnacle atop the airboat.

     “Thank you, Mr. Landers,” she called after him.

     His response was but a curt nod.

     Brad reached out both arms. “Let me help you.”

     She heaved a sigh and allowed him to pull her up onto the dock. He tugged her in close.

     “Kayli honey?” she hissed. “Was that for everyone’s benefit?”

     “I was worried.” He blinked his brown eyes at her and followed it with a squeeze. “Okay now, honey?”

     She gave him an eye roll, and her peripheral vision caught Landers’ fierce scowl. She reconsidered the wisdom of choosing his boat. Brad may fuss over her in front of the other men to stake his claim, but at least she could trust him not to throw her overboard. Landers . . . she wasn’t so sure. Maybe he didn’t like having a woman in charge, and letting him think Brad was her boyfriend might give her an extra buffer that could come in handy on the safari.

     She heaved another sigh. “Let’s have a look at that map.”

     Gray traced out their morning journey for her. “From here at the L-28 Canal public ramp, we’ll head through a series of canals, sort of a right and left maze of waterways, to get to the reservoir areas.”

     “What’s in there?” Kayli nodded at the silver box holding the map down on the bow of his airboat.

      “Tool kit,” he said with a smile. “We don’t want to break down. To walk a mere five miles out in the Glades would take six hours to wade, and in some places, you’d have to crawl through knee-deep muck and water.”

     She shivered.

     “The mosquitoes come out at night so thick that stranded fishermen paint themselves with engine oil for protection.”

     “No wonder drug runners find the Everglades the perfect place for their hiding spots,” Brad interjected, in one of his condescending tones Kayli hated.

     Gray didn’t notice, or if he did, he ignored Brad. “We’ll travel well into the water conservation areas via deep-water channels with stops at a number of hardwood hammocks along the way. There you can take all the pictures you want. We’ll also be stopping to collect plants and water samples. Mr. Landers knows the route we’ve selected.”

     Kayli could feel the guide’s gaze bearing down on her, but she forced her eyes to remain focused on the map.

     “After lunch, we’ll head west and end the day at a Seminole fishing camp about here.” He pointed to a spot near the Big Cypress Preserve. “Then tomorrow we’ll come back to this boat ramp by a different route. That will give you a real good feel for the habitat, wildlife species, and natural drainage patterns in the conservation areas.”

     “Will there be a lot of gators out there?” Brad wanted to know. He’d sidled closer when Gray and Kayli leaned over the map.

     “Oh yeah,” Gray affirmed, reseating his baseball cap.

     Kayli thought she caught a smirk on Landers’ face, but she blinked, and the scowl had returned. With his dark hair and tan, he certainly looked like a Seminole, but those green eyes were definitely out of place. She blinked again, refusing to stare at them for fear his tracker beam would suck her back in.

     “What about at the camp?” Brad persisted.

     “Always,” Landers shot back.

     “We’ll be fine, Brad,” she said.

     “I know,” he snapped. “I was just asking.” He stomped back to the first airboat.

     “Any other questions?” Gray asked.

     “Just one.” Kayli nibbled at her lower lip. “What about gas? Where will we get airplane fuel out in the Everglades?”

     He smiled. “We won’t need airplane fuel. Our boats all carry retrofitted Chevy 350 engines. So does Landers. They run on unleaded gas, which we can get at the fishing camp when we stop for the night.”

     She side-eyed her Seminole guide. His all-out smirk remained. Jeez, why did she have to ask?

     Because she wanted to know if she’d be stuck out in the Everglades with him, that’s why.

     Gray folded the map and turned his baseball cap around backwards. “Ready?”

     “Sure.”

     Her cell phone jangled, and she started. One glance at the screen, and she turned to Gray. “Sorry, I have to take this call.”

     He nodded politely. “Sure, go ahead.”

     She punched the send button. “Kayli Heddon, may I help you?”

     “Good morning, Kayli. This is Margaret Williams in Governor Drake’s office. The governor would like to speak to you for just a minute. Can you talk?”

     Kayli checked the service level on her cell phone. Two bars. Let it be enough.

     “Of course.”

     She waited a couple moments for the connection and stepped to the far edge of the dock, away from the waiting group. “Good morning, Governor, how are you?”

     “How’s my girl?” John Drake’s booming voice sounded loud and clear through the phone. “Why the formality? I’ve been plain old Uncle John since you were a little girl.”

     She smiled. “You weren’t the governor when I was a little girl.”

     “I promised your father I’d watch out for you no matter where I was or what I did. So I’m still your Uncle John.”

     “Yes, sir.”

     “For starters, where are you?”

     “I’m at a public boat ramp in the Everglades.”

     He chuckled. “I’ll make this quick then. I won’t keep you. Are you ready for your big airboat safari?”

     “Yes and thank you again for the assignment to do this piece. This could be my career-maker.”

     “I hope it is. I need an eye-popping photo essay out of you,” he said, then cleared his throat. “And Kayli, we need to keep this whole thing quiet for a while.”

     “We do?”

     “I’m not ready for anyone to know about the splashy press conference you and I talked about, or that we intend to push hard for the environmental vote. I don’t want anyone to know my plans just yet. I haven’t even told Hartman. It’s just you and me for now. Okay?”

     “Sure, but—”

     “Trust me on this one, my dear. I’ve got a mole in my staff leaking information to my opponent, and I don’t know who it is yet.”

     “Oh no!”

     “Now don’t you worry. I’m taking precautions. You haven’t said anything to anyone yet, have you?”

     “No.”

     “Good, good. Just stick to our story that you’re taking file photos to document our restoration.”

    “Of course, whatever you say.” Uncle John not telling Hartman, his chief of staff and Brad’s boss, seemed very odd. “You’re still going after the environmental vote, right?”

     “I know how much you love the environment, and so do I. But we live in a What have you done for me lately? society, and lately I haven’t done enough for the environment. All that is about to change.”

     “What are you planning?”

     “You’ll see. You just concentrate on those fantastic nature pictures you’re so good at, and we’ll talk when you get back. Stay away from alligators.”

     “I will, Uncle John.”

     “The Everglades Water District Chairman assured me he was sending you with his best biologists and an expert guide, one of their Seminole contractors.”

     She cast a swift glance back at Landers. Yup, still scowling. Worse, now that she was on the phone. She squelched the sudden urge to stick out her tongue at him.

     “The guide said it would be more efficient and better pictures to go farther into the Glades and spend the night at a camp instead of losing all that time traveling back and forth. You’ll be quite safe.”

     “Don’t worry. I’m not afraid.”

     “I’ll always worry about you, Kayli.”

     She smiled. “I’m glad. I’ll call when we get back on Wednesday afternoon.”

     “You do that. The minute you get back.”

     “Promise. Bye.” She clicked off and wondered for the hundredth time what she had gotten herself into.

     “Glad you could join us,” Landers said sardonically and nodded at the biologists waiting aboard their boats.

     She deserved that jab for making them all wait, but no way would she tell the jerk she was on the phone with the governor. None of his business. She carefully stepped up onto the wide, flat bow and grimaced from the stab of pain in her shin. Her camera bag had found its way to the passenger seat, and she glanced up at Landers, but he busily rummaged in the duffel under his seat.

     Her gaze darted to the front seat and back to him. “No seat belts?”

     “Bad idea,” he grunted. “In an airboat accident, you want to fly free.” He shoved a thumb over his shoulder at the five-foot-long propeller rotating a mere three feet behind his head with only a chain-link barricade in between.

     The man had a point.

     He handed her a pair of ear cups. “Put these on. Adjust the band to fit your head.”

     She tugged them snug over her ears. The other men, Brad included, had already donned their ear protection and looked like they belonged on an airport tarmac with bright orange carrots to wave a 757 toward the gate.

     The three airboat engines cranked in unison. Even at idle speed, the tinny rumble of the powerful Chevy engines running straight exhaust raised goose bumps on her arms. She pulled the ear cup away from her right ear to see if the true sound was as loud as she imagined. She guessed right—the sound of three wingless airplanes waiting to take off.

     The two district boats pulled away from the dock, but Landers’ boat bobbed in place. She twisted in her seat to look back at the guide. He pointed to the dock cleats with a frown.

     Oh boy. Some project manager I am.

     Untying the boat was her job. She quickly yanked the two bow ropes free of the cleats and hopped back aboard. Landers just shook his head, his dangerous green eyes now covered with dark sunglasses.

     The two larger boats were already moving up the channel and scuttling flocks of ibis, blackbirds, and coots off nearby emergent vegetation. Landers’ airboat bumped clumsily away from the dock, and she inwardly groaned. She should have pushed off when she climbed back on board. Though unable to see his eyes, she knew Landers glared from behind his sunglasses, and now she couldn’t even blame him. He no doubt regretted her picking his boat too.

     Landers eased up the channel in the wake of the other two airboats, Kayli glanced back and yanked off her ear cups. “Where’s the steering wheel?” she shrieked over the rumble of the prop.

     He tugged his ear protection around his neck “What?” he shouted.

     “The steering wheel,” she repeated, her voice rising.

     “Right here,” he yelled, squeezing the long stick in his hand. “I push forward to go right and pull back to go left.” He pointed at his foot pedal. “The gas.”

     Her stomach dropped.

     “Where’s the brake?” she shouted, not caring her voice had gone shrill.

     Skye Landers smiled wide for the first time. “There isn’t any.”