Cassidy Kincaid Mysteries Box Set

who engaged them in banter, and soon they were all laughing. Cassidy couldn’t catch it all, but thought she heard something about “she’s hot,” and “the club later,” and “off tomorrow.”
“My fren,” Macho said to her in his soft accent. “You should have come to Avellanas with me. We surf the rivermouth. Muy bueno!” he added, then spun for a wave. She watched him paddle, his friends heckling him as he did, then drop in and turn the long board down the line. In an impressive display of footwork, he cross-stepped towards the nose, then held the board there for a moment until his balance failed and he fell headfirst into the water. His Tico friends all called out insults. Cassidy took a wave, its lip a beautiful lime green from the sun’s low light. She trailed her hand in the wave, the water feeling slippery, like liquid silk. On her way outside, she watched two Ticos paddle into a wave together, on the same board, then stand up. To her surprise, the one on the back lifted up the one in front, placing him on his shoulders. The peanut gallery hooted, and the Ticos riding wobbled, then crashed down, the board shooting towards the shore.
She rejoined the lineup, curious to see what would happen next. Rico and Eddie had arrived—both giving her a nod. Eddie was next and paddled into a wave. He rode it straight into the beach while doing a headstand. Cassidy couldn’t help but laugh.
“Pura Vida!” one of the Ticos called out at top volume, shoving his fist into the air when Eddie rolled off the board and quickly turned it around to paddle back out. Eddie returned the fist-to-the-sky gesture and was back in the lineup moments later.
“Okay, Cassi-dee,” he said. “Your turn.”
“What?” Cassidy replied, confused.
Eddie tapped his board. “Vámonos,” he said, “I keep you safe. Lo prometo.”
She realized that he wanted her to ride with him. “What about my board?”
“It be fine,” he said. “Just leave it here. It won’t go anywhere.”
Cassidy paused. The Ticos started a chorus of gentle heckling. “Fine,” she said, undoing the Velcro on her leash. She slipped into the water and then climbed onto Eddie’s board. He had already turned it around so they were facing the beach. They waited for a wave, and when one came their way, she and Eddie started paddling. The board was a giant, and she realized that Eddie’s chin was laying on the back of her legs, making his face only inches from her butt. The awkwardness of this disappeared when Eddie shouted “Up!” and she popped up just as the wave lifted them up and shot them toward the beach. She felt Eddie’s hands on her waist but didn’t have a moment to feel weird about it because then he said, “Listo?” and lifted her up.
Cassidy whooped with terror or maybe it was just surprise as she landed sidesaddle on Eddie’s right shoulder. Her left hand found his, which worked to balance her. The view of the beach from up there gave her a grand perspective. She could see over the restaurant to the rows of small houses lined up behind it, and into the jungle beyond.
Then they both fell off the board, Cassidy cartwheeling through space and landing in neck-deep water. Cassidy came up laughing and found Eddie standing nearby, grinning.
“Esta bien?”
She nodded, wiping the hair out of her eyes.
He offered her the board, but she decided she would rather swim back. Eddie gave her the shaka sign and jumped onto the board, paddling fast for the horizon.
Cassidy reached the outside and scrambled onto her board.
“You going out with us tonight?” Eddie said, giving her a little splash. “Hotel Simpatico is throwing a pool party,” he said with a grin.
“You must come!” Macho said, and Rico joined in. “They have diving contests. And jello shots!”
Cassidy laughed and shook her head. The sun was approaching the horizon, coating the water with a coppery sheen. Out of the shiny distance, a boat approached from the south. Cassidy followed it with her eyes as it neared—it was a small motorboat with a simple canopy, the silhouettes of surfers lining the gunnels. She realized that it was Bruce, shuttling surfers home from an excursion. Cassidy ignored the little warmth in her gut, realizing that she had been wondering all day when she might run into him again. He idled the boat a hundred yards or so from the lineup as the surfers grabbed their boards and hopped over the side.
“Cap-tain Keo-O!” Macho and Eddie and the other chanted.
Bruce replied with a shaka—his white grin visible in the low light.
Cassidy shaded her eyes and watched Bruce make sure that all of his guests were safely paddling towards the shore. He scanned the lineup, and when he spotted her, he grinned and nodded for her to approach. Cassidy paddled over and sat up on her board when she reached the boat.
“Is there anything you don’t ride?” he asked, nodding at her board.
She realized that his default must be to tease. “I just tandem surfed for the first time, actually, so I can add that to my résumé,” she said with a grin.
“Any news on Reeve?” he asked, his face turning serious.
She sighed, and rubbed the deck of her board with a scoop of seawater. “Just dead ends,” she replied. “Apparently he attacked a taxi driver.”
Bruce frowned. “Where was this?”
“Somewhere in Tamarindo.” She recalled the police report. “At night. About two months ago.”
“Huh,” he said, pursing his lips.
“He paid a fine, and that was it.”
Bruce shrugged. “Guy gets drunk, taxi driver tries to cheat the guy . . . it can get ugly I suppose.”
“Say,” Cassidy said. “When’s your next Nicaragua trip?”
“Tomorrow, actually. A bunch of repeat clients. Five days.” He looked at her strangely. “Why?”
“Do you have room for me?” she asked, feeling a weird sensation in her gut.
Bruce seemed surprised, or maybe it was something else. He seemed to think about her idea one beat too