19. Levi

Chapter nineteen

Levi

I navigate the winding streets toward Grady's Tavern, my mind racing. Rick's threats are like a vice around my chest, squeezing tighter with every step. The watch on my wrist feels heavier than ever, the tiny microphone inside a lifeline and a ticking time bomb all at once.

As I approach the entrance, I take a deep breath, steeling myself for what's to come. The tavern's familiar din washes over me as I step inside. The air is thick with the smell of fried food and the hum of conversation. My eyes quickly find Rick at a corner table, his gaze already locked onto me.

I walk over, trying to project confidence I don't feel. Rick's cold eyes follow my every move. I slide into the seat across from him, my heart pounding in my ears.

"Glad you could make it," Rick says, his voice dripping with false hospitality. "Have you thought about our little proposition?"

"I have," I reply, keeping my tone steady. "I'll do it. But I want your word that Maya stays safe."

Rick leans back, a smirk playing on his lips. "You're in no position to make demands, Levi. But as long as you do exactly what we say, she'll be fine. We'll have our people with you every minute so don't even think about a double cross. Mess with us, and... well, you know the rest."

I nod, swallowing hard. "What's the job?"

Rick's expression turns serious. He leans forward, lowering his voice. "We've got a shipment that needs to be taken offshore and turned over to the buyers. You're going to meet us at a private dock on the other side of the island, load the crates onto your boat, and deliver them to a location we'll provide. Simple as that."

"And what's in these crates?" I ask, already knowing the answer will be vague at best.

Rick's eyes narrow. "That's none of your concern. Your job is to move them, no questions asked."

I nod again, trying to mask my unease. "Alright. Where's the drop-off?"

He slides a piece of paper across the table. "Coordinates are there along with the location of the private dock for the pickup. You need to be there at 0200 hours tonight. And Levi, remember—if you even think about screwing us over, Maya will pay the price."

I pocket the paper, my mind racing with a thousand thoughts. "Got it. I'll be there."

Rick's smirk returns. "Good. Now get out of here. We'll be watching."

I stand up, my legs feeling like lead. As I walk out of Grady's Tavern, I can feel Rick's eyes boring into my back. Outside, the cool night air hits me like a splash of cold water. I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. The stakes have never been higher, and one wrong move could cost Maya her life.

I head directly to a secluded spot by the marina where I can safely make the call to Detective Goodwin. "I've got the location for the pickup and the drop off.," I say, my voice low but urgent.

"Good," Goodwin replies. "We heard everything. We'll have a team ready to intercept at the delivery location. Just follow their instructions and leave the rest to us."

I hang up, feeling a mix of relief and tension. The authorities are on board, but that doesn't make the job any less dangerous. As I make my way back to the boat, I know I need to stay focused. The authorities are counting on me. I have to follow the plan without raising any suspicion.

Back on my boat, I prepare for the mission ahead. The night is calm, but my mind is anything but. I think about Maya, the team, and our mission to protect the turtles.

I glance at my watch, the tiny microphone hidden within, "I sure hope this thing is dependable," I mutter under my breath, determination hardening into resolve.

As the weight of the situation settles over me, a new worry gnaws at my mind. Maya's safety is paramount, and the thought of her being vulnerable if things go south is unbearable. I pick up my phone and call Detective Goodwin. "I need a favor," I say, my voice tense. "Can you have someone pick up Maya and take her to Sarah's? On second thought, have Sarah go with you to explain things…She's going to be really upset that she wasn't included in this operation. I don't want her alone in case things go wrong."

"Consider it done," Goodwin replies. "We'll make sure she's protected."

I hang up, feeling a small measure of relief. Knowing that Maya will be safe gives me the focus I need to see this through.

With a few hours to kill before I need to head to the private dock, I find myself wandering the marina. The familiar sounds of the sea—waves lapping against the hulls of boats, the distant cry of gulls—offer a comforting backdrop to my restless thoughts.

I sit on a bench overlooking the water, the cool breeze ruffling my hair. My mind inevitably drifts to Maya. Despite the chaos swirling around me, thoughts of her bring a sense of calm. I close my eyes, letting the memories of the past few weeks wash over me.

Working with Maya has been like a breath of fresh air. We've been thrown together in this intense, high-stakes project, and yet, somehow, it feels like we've slipped back into a familiar rhythm. Our teamwork, our late-night conversations, our shared laughter—it all feels so natural.

I lean back, letting the memories wash over me. My thoughts drift to the night Maya and I decided to blow off some steam and went out dancing. The music was loud, the lights were bright, and for a few hours, it felt like we were the only two people in the world.

I can still feel her hand in mine as we moved to the rhythm, her laughter ringing in my ears. Her infectious energy filled the room, drawing me in completely. The way she lit up when she was having fun, her eyes sparkling with joy—it was impossible to look away. Dancing with her felt effortless, like we were in perfect sync, and I found myself lost in the moment, forgetting about everything else.

That night, I felt a happiness I hadn't felt in years. It wasn't just the dancing; it was being with her, seeing her so alive and carefree. It made me realize how much I missed her, how much she still meant to me. Every laugh, every touch, every glance—it all brought back the feelings I'd tried to bury. Those shared moments together reminded me why I fell for her in the first place.

Thinking about that night now, I feel a pang of longing. Being with Maya again, even amidst the chaos, has brought a new light into my life. She makes me feel alive, makes me believe that maybe, just maybe, there's still a chance for us.

There's a connection between us that's as strong as ever, maybe even stronger. I wonder what life might have been like if she hadn't left all those years ago. Would we have built a life together, fulfilled those dreams we once talked about? It's hard not to imagine the possibilities, to think about what could have been.

I take out my phone, my fingers hovering over the screen. I want to text her; to tell her how much she means to me, how much I value every moment we've spent together. But then I stop, realizing it wouldn't be smart. Not now, with everything that's going on.

Instead, I pocket my phone and take a deep breath, letting the cool night air clear my mind. The thought of Maya's safety is what drives me, what keeps me focused. I have to see this through, for her sake.

As the minutes tick by, I resolve that if we make it through this night, I'll tell Maya everything. No more holding back. She deserves to know how I feel, how much she still means to me. Some risks are worth taking, and this is one I'm willing to face head-on.

For now, I need to stay focused. But knowing she's out there, safe, gives me the strength to move forward. The night ahead is filled with unknown dangers, but my thoughts of Maya give me a sense of purpose, a reason to see this through to the end.

I check my watch and realize it's time to get back to the boat. The tranquility of my thoughts about Maya vanishes, replaced by the grim reality of the mission ahead. I head back to the marina, each step heavy with the weight of what's to come.

As I approach the boat, I see two men moving toward me, their figures cutting imposing silhouettes against the dim light of the docks. Their purposeful stride and the hard glint in their eyes tell me all I need to know—they're the poachers' men, here to make sure I follow through with the plan.

"Levi?" one of them calls out as they close the distance.

"That's me," I reply, trying to keep my voice steady.

"We're here to escort you to the pickup site," the man says, his tone leaving no room for argument. "You've got the coordinates?"

I nod, patting my pocket where the paper with the coordinates lies. "Got it."

The second man, taller and more menacing, steps forward. "Before we go anywhere, we need to make sure you're not wired. You understand."

Without waiting for a response, the man begins to pat me down, his hands rough and methodical. My heart pounds in my chest, the hidden microphone in my watch feeling like it weighs a ton. The man's hands hover near the watch, but he moves on without further inspection, seemingly satisfied.

"Alright," the taller man grunts. "Here's how it's going to go. You'll follow the instructions to the pickup site. We'll load the crates onto your boat, and you'll head to the drop-off location. No funny business. We'll have eyes on you the whole time. Understood?"

"Understood," I reply, keeping my expression neutral.

The first man smirks, a sinister glint in his eyes. "Good. Let's get moving."