Ove Sven Rapp suddenly tensed and cursed loudly. A shadow jumped in front of him and the icy slug that had just fallen on the young man's feet dripped onto the sand.

"Oh! I'm so sorry!"

A French girl, of course... Ove was trying to relax on one of the many beaches in the Cayman Islands, and it took a French to walk right up to his palm tree – the Swede's white skin didn't take kindly to the bite of the tropical sun – step right up to his lounge chair and spill her damn strawberry ice cream all over his feet. Ove had lived and worked in France for eight years, but he still couldn't stand the arrogance and lack of savoir-vivre that characterized these people. As if she couldn't find another palm tree to throw her ice cream on!

"For fuck sake!"

"Hey! No need to be rude! I said I was sorry!"

"Yeah, sure", Ove mumbled as he got up to wash the sticky ice cream in the sea.

He took the opportunity to tower over the little brat who was fluffing her feathers. The brunette was small, but Ove corrected himself in the back of his mind: she was a woman, not a child. Absolutely not a child.

"Do you think you're scaring me?!" he shot at the crazy French woman. "Don't push me!"

Ove laughed and ruthlessly pushed the little rascal back, whose ice-cream cone landed miserably in the hot sand.

"The Cayman Islands... I swear there's gonna be payback, Bosede..."

Jonah Bosede was Ove's boss back in France. It was him who had sent Rapp to the Cayman Islands to investigate a crooked businessman. When the case was closed and over, Bosede had 'offered' Rapp a week's vacation. The young man had been tricked: his boss, afraid that his Swedish investigator would kill himself on the job as he refused to take any type of vacation, had done everything in his power to get Rapp to take a vacation, and had finally succeeded. Detective Ove's return ticket was non-refundable and the plane that would take him back to Paris via Miami left in eight days. The problem? Ove hated the sun. The beach. Colorful cocktails. Dancing tourists. The itchy sand. The sticky – yes, sticky – salt of the ocean. Half-naked chicks, on the other hand, he wouldn't say no to. But those crazy French girls armed with ice cream cones in one hand and a bad attitude in the other, no thanks. The Swede walked towards the waves that were caressing the shores of the island, with the vague intention of swimming back to Europe.

"Hey! I'm talking to you!"

"How much longer are you going to bust my balls?!"

The Frenchwoman had followed him into the sea. She was shouting. Her tanned skin and almost black hair betrayed her Latin origins. Her current reaction, on the other hand, betrayed a tendency to impulsiveness.

"It was just ice, do you think you'll get over it, chérie?!"

"Oh, we're that close now? Great, tell me more!"

Suddenly, an explosion ripped through the air. Rapp, driven by his military instincts, jumped on the woman, who only had time to open her dark eyes wide. The Swede's muscular body slammed into her, sending her plummeting into the warm waters of the Atlantic, and a bullet split the waves.

Exactly where the Frenchwoman had been moments before...

*

Heeeey! 

I am trying to translate my books (I published in French initially but I would like to step up and reach the English-speaking readers... call me crazy) and this one seems to be the easiest one to translate for me. A quick FYI: for now anyone could read that, but I'll switch to Mature Contents when... well when some more mature content will appear. ^^

Thank you for your time!

Don't hesitate to post some feedback!

Sea