Chapter Twelve
He’d
acknowledged she knew what she was doing. Did that mean he’d lay low? She didn’t
have time to worry about it. She scampered up the last couple steps, searching
for any sign of trouble. The first deck seemed empty. Where the hell are
they?
She hurried
across the open expanse and down the steps to the stateroom level. Everything
seemed eerily quiet. She reached her cabin unseen and slipped inside. She dropped
her bag on the bed and wrapped her weapons’ belt around her waist settling the pistol
holster low on her right hip, the Buck sheath on her left. Her cell lay on the
dresser. A quick check confirmed no service. She’d tossed the worthless phone
on the bed and headed for the door when she caught a glimpse of herself in the
mirror. Sean’s wet shirt left nothing to the imagination. No bra, no underwear.
Damn it I don’t have time for this!
Jerking her
weapons loose, she threw them on the bed while she yanked on a pair of denim
shorts and a dry tank top with a built in shelf bra. Once decently covered she
strapped on her weapons again and peeked outside her door to the empty hall.
Dale’s door
was to the right of the stairway. She knocked softly and eased inside. Dale sat
on a small loveseat, a book on her lap. She looked up as Jess entered the room.
“You’re back. I didn’t expect you until almost dark.”
“Shh, we have
visitors.”
“Oh, my God. Where’s
Sean?”
“On deck,
hidden away somewhere if I’m lucky.”
“He’s never
hid from anything in his life.”
“Yeah, I
figured. Come on, hurry. I want you out of sight.”
“Where?”
“Go to my
room and get under the bed or in the closet. No one will look for anything of
importance in that room. Yours, they’ll search.”
Jess checked
the hall once more before she let Dale pass and started for the stairs.
“Be careful.”
Dale looked terrified.
Jess motioned
her down the hall. “I’ll do my best to keep him safe.”
“You, too.”
The sincere
concern had her kicking herself for having allowed the situation to progress so
far. “Don’t worry. I’ve got this. I promise.”
Did she? Too
many unknown factors could screw things up. She waited the few moments it took
Dale to disappear into the smaller stateroom before she hurried quietly to the
upper most deck. Back pressed to the wall, she checked the open area for
intruders. It remained empty.
Where are
they and where the hell is Sean?
She eased around
the corner and moved to the control room. Male voices, rough and commanding,
hit her in the chest. Sean’s brash response sucked the oxygen from the air. She
dropped to her haunches and peeked through the wide windows across the front of
the living area. Three men in T-shirts and ragged jeans scattered around the
room. Sean and the crew sat on a hard observation bench.
The obvious
leader among the pirates stood sideways to her point of view. His dark hair was
buzzed close to his narrow skull and a shadow beard emphasized the sharp angels
of his face. Each of the strangers carried a semi-automatic rifle, but the two
across the room held them somewhat casually. The one closest to Sean wasn’t so
relaxed. His finger stroked the trigger of his weapon in a dangerous caress.
Sean’s gaze
landed on her a moment before he shifted to face his captor fully. “Now that
you have an audience, what do you intend to do?”
“Wait for the
others to arrive.”
“What others?
Who are you working with?”
The pirate
rolled his eyes. “Where are the other passenger and the bodyguard? There should
be two more people on this boat.”
Merek leaned
forward with a scowl. “How do you know that?”
“I have
sources.”
“Who? Not one
of my crew.” The confidence in the captain’s voice rang true. None of his
people looked guilty. Either they were actually innocent or one of them was a
damned fine actor. Jess bet on the former.
“Shut up.”
The bandit shifted his rifle closer to his chest. “Where are they, McCloud?”
“You know my
name? Do you work for the boat rental company?”
“Tell me
where the women are.”
Sean leaned
forward with his usual, slow, cocky smile. “I left them behind to shop for a
few days. I promised to go back in a week or so.”
The bandit
glared and stepped closer. “Tell me where they are, and I won’t kill you.”
“Go to hell.”
Damn it. Don’t
piss him off, Sean!
Panic surged through her stomach in white-hot rage as the leader turned the
muzzle of his weapon toward Sean’s head. She searched desperately for a
distraction. Something to throw or otherwise make a noise.
It’s a friggin’
boat. Of course everything’s tied down.
She pulled
her Buck knife and whipped it across the deck at the solid metal rail. The blade
clattered and fell uselessly to the deck. Had it been enough or had she thrown
away her weapon for nothing?
The leader
gestured one of his men toward the door. He did not venture toward the noise
himself, but his rifle barrel no longer aimed at Sean’s head. Relief softened dread
so she could think clearly. On her hands and knees, Jess crawled to the rounded
edge of the main cabin and peered around the corner. The shortest of the three
men moved cautiously toward the rail where her knife had landed. To attack, she’d
have to move into the open with no protection.
Pistol in
hand she crept around the corner. Careful to stay well below the cabin windows,
she steadied herself against the wall to counterbalance the rocking of the
waves and leveled the handgun at her target’s back. When the thief spotted her
and turned, she put a finger to her lips and gestured to the stairs.
He hesitated
but must have decided the whole thing wasn’t worth dying for. He moved silently
toward the steps instead. Jess hurried after him with a prayer his boss looked
elsewhere. She took a moment to grab her knife and stick it in its sheath then caught
up and hurried him along with her Smith & Wesson pressed between his
shoulder blades.
“Don’t kill
me.”
“Would you
have listened if the people you’re holding hostage pleaded for their lives?”
“No one’s
supposed to get hurt. We take their stuff and insurance replaces it. No harm
done.”
Images of
Sean playing the hero spun through her head as she jerked a rope from the
storage locker under the stairs. “What if they don’t give up that easily?”
“They do.
Rich people don’t care about their things as much as they value their lives.”
That wasn’t
true. At least not in her experience. Rich or poor, people protected their stuff
with little thought to personal safety. “And if they don’t?”
“I don’t
know. They always do what they’re told.”
“Until now.
Mr. McCloud doesn’t play well with others.” She gestured for him to turn his
back to a support post. “Put your hands behind your back.” It didn’t take much
to tie his hands and ankles around the pole. “Now yell for your partners.”
He laughed. “Why
the hell would I do that?”
“If you do,
you might get out of this alive. Otherwise, who knows?” She double checked the
clip and safety on her pistol, deliberately caressing the gun in front of him. “I’m
waiting.”
“Should I
care?”
She stepped
close. The smell of sour sweat and seawater rolled off him in waves. Ignoring
his stench, she nuzzled the barrel of her gun against his balls. “I can make
you yell with or without your cooperation. Which would you prefer?”
He grew pale
beneath his dark skin and twisted to escape the pressure of the pistol against
his manhood. “Crazy bitch.”
“Insulting a
woman with a gun pressed to your privates is arguably not the wisest course of
action here, my friend.”
Before he
could respond she heard footsteps on the deck above. She grabbed a rag from the
tool kit and stuffed it in his mouth. If his partner was already on the way, she
didn’t need her prisoner to warn anyone of her presence.
Once assured
she would have no further problems with the thief, she listened for the
footsteps again. Everything had grown quiet. Why the hell was no one checking
on the guy tied behind her? She crept up the stairs, alert and ready for
whoever might jump out at her.
Her heart
pounded in her ears but she pushed the fear and anger that drove it into the
background. Dale was safe. One thief was out of the picture. The crew wouldn’t
cause trouble so they’d be all right. Only Sean remained an issue. His mouth
and size could create a situation she might not be able to get him out of.
She reached
the top of the steps and peeked around the railing. The leader had ushered Sean
and the crew into the open. He stood with his back to the control room, his
rifle at the ready. The other man was nowhere to be seen. Sean watched the
stairwell on the opposite side of the deck. The missing thief was either
searching for loot or looking for her and Dale. He had to feel helpless as he
faced the remaining gunman without a weapon of his own. His ridged stance and
clenched fists screamed his anger and frustration. Damn it!
Praying Sean
could hold his own for a bit longer, she spun and rushed back down the stairs.
Her bare feet flew across the deck and down to the stateroom level. She reached
the hallway as a man slipped into her cabin. Be still, Dale. Please.
The door to
her room stood open. The thief knelt in front of the safe a master key in hand.
He stuck the key into the center of the lock to override the combination. Jess
crept closer. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
The man fell
on his ass and dropped his rifle as he scrambled to face her. “You must be the
missing bodyguard.”
“That’s me.”
She motioned him to his feet and toward the desk chair. “Have a seat.” He
glanced toward his gun, but she kicked it under the bed before he could dive
for it. “Move.”
He sat on the
small chair and stared at her chest insolently. “Now what, honey?”
“You answer
some questions for me.”
“Don’t think
so.” Dirty blond hair fell over one eye, and his Alabama accent gave him away
as an American.
“Let’s start
with your name.”
“Want my
phone number too? I hear you like ‘em young.”
Jess stepped
closer and dropped her voice so only he could hear. “Listen, you little prick,
answer the questions before I lose patience and castrate you right here. Where
does your information come from?”
“I watch the
news on occasion, but I reckon most of what I know I get from the Internet. I
like findin’ things out on my own time.”
Jess pulled
her knife and drew the blade across her thumb in a slow slide. “Let me clarify.
I need to know who funds your group.”
“Nobody. Rafe—”
“The guy
upstairs?”
“He calls the
shots.”
“Bullshit. I’m
not that dumb. Try again.”
“I ain’t
sayin’ nothin’ else. Rafe runs the show.”
“Does he know
you would throw him to the wolves to save yourself?”
He shifted
nervously. “I wouldn’t do that. Jorge’s searching for you, you know?”
“You mean the
guy I have tied to a pole on the second level? Don’t count on it.”
She recognized
his intention before he leaped and grabbed for her knife. She spun out of the
way, but his hand closed over the blade. She felt the smooth pull of the honed edge
through flesh. His grunt of pain confirmed it as he staggered and found his
feet. Blood swelled slowly into the cut then ran down his arm in a red trickle.
He seemed dumbfounded.
She pulled
her pistol and pointed it at his chest. “I don’t really want to shoot you since
the sound will carry so park your ass back on that chair and don’t piss me off
further.”
He glanced
from the chair to his hand. “I’m fuckin’ bleedin’.”
“Soon as you
tell me what I need to hear, I’ll get you something to stop it. Until then you’ll
have to bleed.”
“You’re a
woman. Can you watch me die?”
Training
differed greatly from watching a man lose a steady flow of his life fluid. Jess
swallowed the bile rising in her throat and gestured toward the desk. “I’m
waiting. Sit down and talk. Now.”
He had begun
to pale. “You’re insane.”
“Think what
you want. Who funds your little group? Funcraft Rentals? Harold Donavan?”
“No.”
Jess shifted
her wrist so the pistol aimed at the center of the man’s crotch. “I will blow
your dick off without a second thought. Some say the penis bleeds faster than
any other part of the body, but I’m not sure of that. Of course it is really
close to a major artery. If I should miss, things could get messy. Shall we
find out how good a shot I am?”
He squeezed
his fingers shut to slow the blood dripping from his palm. His hands trembled
and a sweat broke out on his forehead. “I’m telling the truth. I’ve never heard
of Harold Donavan.”
“Who have you
heard of?”
“They don’t
tell me anything.”
“So? What
have you overheard?”
“Nothing.
Come on, lady.”
“Sorry, wrong
answer.” She cocked the hammer on her pistol and steadied it toward his dick. “Care
to try again before I lose patience?”
“Shit.” He
shifted to the side trying to protect his manhood with his thigh. “Rafe calls
him Mr. A.”
Dread coiled
in her gut as she realized who besides Harold knew everything about the yacht
and its passengers. That son of a bitch! Was that the reason Harold
chose her for this trip? “Kurt Avakian?”
“I don’t
know.”
Jess edged
closer, near enough that she couldn’t miss her target but still far enough that
he wouldn’t get the jump on her. “You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?”
“I’m telling
the truth.” His voice had faded to a whimper. “Please.”
“Call me
crazy, but I believe you. Dale, are you in here?”
The closet
door slid open and the older woman stepped into the room. “I’m here.”
“Good. Find
me something to tie this one up with. The belt from my robe might work.”
The thief
turned fully toward them. “And a bandage? I’m getting weak.”
“You’ll be
fine. No one ever died from that small of blood loss.”
Dale held the
strip of satin out as she stared at the wounded man. “Are you sure, Jess? It
looks bad.”
More color
left her prisoner’s face, and Jess hid a smile behind her hand. “He’d better
hope the Bahamian Navy or whoever patrols these waters hurries to his rescue
then.” She took the belt from Dale. “Have you ever handled a gun before?”
“Enough to
know how to point and shoot.”
“Good. Hold
this.”
“Should I
shoot him in the gut or between the legs if he tries something?”
“Your choice.”
Jess walked behind the desk chair so the man wouldn’t see her laugh at Dale’s
obvious ploy. “The safety’s off and the trigger’s touchy so I wouldn’t do
anything to startle her if I were you. Just put your hands back here nice and
slow.” She lashed his wrists together and to the desk leg before she nodded for
Dale to relax.
“Two down
only one to go.” Too bad that one held the lives of five people in his hands,
including Sean’s. Jess dropped to her knees and dug the thief’s rifle from
beneath the bed. It was a lightweight semi-automatic. Still heavy but easy
enough to handle. She held the weapon out to Dale and took her pistol back. “Go
down the hall and contact the authorities. Captain Merek has a second radio in
his private quarters. When you’re done, come back here and stay put. If anyone
you don’t know comes through that door, shoot him.”
Dale cast a
nervous glance at their captive. “What about him?”
“If he tries
anything, shoot him as well.”
“Should I
bandage his hand?”
“Depends on
how nicely he behaves. I say let him bleed. A weakened man is easier to deal
with. Wrap it up if he passes out from blood loss.”
The man
groaned. “Come on. I told you everything.”
“I don’t
really want my friend within your reach even if you’re tied. You’re not cut
badly enough to die. Suck it up and be a man already.”
“Bitch.”
“Yep, no
sympathy. Remember that.” She hugged Dale quickly and headed for the door. “Get
that mayday sent and be careful in the halls. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“In case I forget
to say it later. I think you’re good for him.”
The sentiment
swelled uncomfortable pride in her chest. “Thanks.”
A picture of
Sean as she had last seen him flashed in her head. His pale blond hair whipping
in the ocean breeze, his cocky grin, his rock solid body. Images of him
bleeding or worse followed the others in a macabre premonition. Aching emotion
flooded her senses as Jess hurried to find him. He’d said she needed him as
much as he needed her, but he was wrong. She needed him more. She had to keep
him safe even if he would never be hers to hold. She could go on without him as
long as he lived and laughed somewhere in the world. The alternative tore at
her heart and left her raw and bleeding inside. She clutched her pistol as she
crept up the stairs. She had to focus or she’d get them all killed.
Hold your
tongue a bit longer, baby. Let me get us out of this alive.