Chapter 13
THIRTEEN
It just couldn’t get any worse.
Tia sat on the floor of a hurricane-ravaged hotel room, the paint peeling from the walls, the wind shifting through a ragged curtain, the bed soiled and sheetless, her mouth taped, her hands zip-tied behind her back.
She just wanted to go home.
Adventure, fresh start, whatever this was... over. She was tapping out.
If she survived.
She didn’t know who to trust, really. Not after, at zero dark thirty, she’d answered a knock on her door only to find Keon—seriously, Keon—standing in the shadows, holding a gun.
He’d slammed his big hand to her mouth, shoved her back into the room and against the wall, and said, “Don’t scream.”
Yeah, whatever. She still might have if he hadn’t added, “Or Kemar dies.”
So there was that.
Although she hadn’t seen Kemar, even after Keon led her through the compound, his gun to her back. And maybe she’d thought?—
No, definitely she’d thought that this might be one of those times when Doyle showed up, the superhero he was with his cape and quick thinking, to save her.
But nope.
Keon had loaded her into his Jeep, strapped her in, and driven her— yep. To Sebold’s resort. Look who’s back.
And when she’d made a break for it the minute Keon pulled up to the outside entrance, he’d tackled her, hauled her up, and told her not to fight him.
Whatever.
He hadn’t hit her, however, when she did exactly that, just grabbed her by the arms and twisted them behind her back and marched her into the compound by dawn’s early light.
She didn’t see Sebold on the way to her new accommodations.
“Why are you doing this?” Her words to Keon as he’d tied her up, then forced her to sit on the floor. She’d shouted at him on his way out the door.
Whoops. Apparently not the right move, because he’d returned holding duct tape, which he’d pasted over her mouth.
She’d wanted to quip something about the hospitality at this place. The words kept replaying in her head. She was probably losing her mind.
Now, her arms ached and her backside hurt. She’d been able to loosen, just a little, the tape from her mouth. Outside, the sun rose and baked the room, the ocean culling the shore.
And all she could think was...
Doyle wouldn’t know what happened to her. He’d think she’d left him, maybe.
Or not. Could be he wouldn’t notice.
“You’re so beautiful, Juliet.”
She might have overreacted to that just a smidgen. Or a lot. Because it had been a long night and he’d been tired, and the names of people we love get stuck in our heads and maybe it had just been a reflex...
“Tia!”
He’d tried to run after her. That much she could admit. Although he hadn’t chased her to her room, hadn’t knocked on her door, so what did that mean?
She’d probably talked herself into the meaning behind that kiss. Because she definitely remembered his words—clearly spoken about her. “I thought, This woman is going to drive me crazy.”
So, yeah, probably he wouldn’t miss her at all.
The door opened, and she looked over. Stilled.
Sebold walked into the room. He wore a pair of jeans, slides, a sleeveless T-shirt, and chewed on a toothpick. He took a straight chair with the wicker back kicked through and set it down near her. Straddled it, leaning on the back. Took out the toothpick and smiled. “You’re back.”
She might have responded, but she had this duct tape, see...
So she tried to communicate with her eyes something that might turn him to a pile of ash.
He grinned, then looked over at the door. “Good job, Keon.”
Her gut clenched. Keon leaned on the frame, gave a nod.
Sebold turned back to her. “See, I knew you’d find my treasure.”
She stared at him.
“You can’t hide it from me. I own this island.” He got up. “I always have.” He leaned into her space. “It’s my birthright .”
Right. Raging Rodrigo Sebold, the pirate. She shook her head.
He walked to the window, moved the curtain. “He should be here soon.”
He?
Dropping the curtain, Sebold turned back to her. Glanced at Keon. “He thinks we should trade you. But I think you’re more valuable than that.” He walked over to her, lifted her chin. “I did some homework. Daddy might pay a high price to get his little girl back.”
She yanked her chin from his grip.
“Let’s get her ready.”
Ready? Ready for what?
Sebold walked out, past Keon, who didn’t leave.
Instead, he shut the door.
She scooted away from him as he came over and crouched in front of her. Lowered his voice. “I’m sorry, Miss Tia.”
She kicked at him.
He held up his hands. “I know you’re angry. But everything is going to be okay.”
She stilled. In what world?
“Mr. D is on his way with the gold, and then it will all be over. You need to trust me.”
Except everything inside her had frozen.
Doyle was on his way? With the gold?
Oh no. She shook her head. Please don’t let him ? —
Except of course he was on his way. And had a trick up his sleeve. Okay, yes... She nodded.
“Just... do whatever Sebold says.” Keon reached for her arm and pulled her up. “I promise, it’s all going to work out.”
Yeah, it would. Because Doyle would figure it out. She knew it in her soul.
Keon walked her through the house, down the stairs, and out through the lounge area, where a few men sat, some eating, others smoking cigarettes. Most of them young, skinny. They watched her with dark eyes.
A couple bony dogs got up and barked at her.
Keon led her out to the sunshine, and she stood in the yard next to the pool, the algae in the green water rising to poison the air. Patio furniture had been shoved around a firepit, the ash spilled out onto the broken tile.
Sebold leaned against a gate, threw down his cigarette, and stood up.
Beyond the gate, she spotted the old green Ford.
No.
But what else was he supposed to do?
She swallowed, watching Doyle pull up. Two men sat in the back?—
North and Skeet. The security guys from Jones, Inc. Yes, there was certainly a plan here. She glanced at Sebold, twisted her hands against the straps.
“Stay calm,” Keon whispered.
She wanted to kick him.
Doyle got out and put up his hands. He wore dirt on his shirt, his hands, his jeans. And fury in his blue eyes.
That was new.
“Walk her out here,” he said, looking at Sebold, then at Tia, hard emotion in his eyes.
Keon pushed her forward.
Sebold put up his hand. “Not yet.”
Doyle took a step forward. Pitched his voice low. “I have sixty million dollars’ worth of gold sitting in a bag in the back of my truck. If you want to have any hope of seeing that, you let her walk out here.”
Sebold pulled a gun from under his shirt, and she didn’t know guns, but it seemed lethal enough when he pointed it at her.
“Show me the gold.”
A muscle moved in Doyle’s jaw. “Or we can put you down right here. Right now, I have a sniper aimed at your head. I raise my hand, you die?—”
Sebold turned the gun on Doyle, marched out to him. “Give me my gold.”
Keon’s hold on her arm tightened. “Not yet.”
What—?
Doyle didn’t move. “Go ahead. You shoot me, they drop you right here.”
And that’s when North and Skeet each dropped a duffel bag on the ground in front of them.
Sebold looked at them, then Doyle.
Looked back at Keon and nodded.
Keon walked her outside the gate. She looked at Doyle, but he’d motioned to the guys to bring the bags in.
They set them inside the gate, went to retrieve more.
Doyle pushed the gun aside. “Step back and you’ll get your treasure, Rodrigo.”
Sebold held up his hands and watched as the men delivered two more bags. He glanced at Keon. “Open them.”
Keon let her go but leaned into her ear. “Go to Doyle.”
What?
But as soon as he released her, she took off.
Maybe it was her imagination, but it seemed as if Keon stepped between her and Sebold.
She tucked herself behind Doyle.
He moved back, his hand reaching for her arm, gripping it. Then he backed her up to the truck. “Get in.”
She slid into the front seat.
“Get down.”
See? This was when he would do something amazing. One of the bags would explode, sending ink or even sand everywhere, and then they’d make their mad escape.
Or maybe Skeet and North would simply turn on Sebold, take him down while Doyle whisked her away?—
“Look at this, boss,” Keon said, lifting two of the gold bars. Smiling. “We got it.”
No. That wasn’t ? —
Doyle couldn’t possibly have just given away sixty million dollars’ worth of gold to a pirate...
Skeet and North delivered the last of the bags and jumped in the back of the truck.
Doyle got in. Glanced at her. “You okay?”
She nodded, and he put the truck in reverse.
And backed out.
What? That was it?
She fought her ties, her gag, and he glanced at her. “Hang tight.”
Really?
He drove them away from the resort, turned onto the highway, then pulled over and reached for her. “Let’s get that tape off you.” He eased it off her mouth, his expression wrecked, swallowing hard.
“Doyle—”
“It’s going to be okay.”
Someone had thumped on the roof, and he turned and opened the window to the back end. North handed him a knife, and he turned her, cut the plastic ties. Handed the knife back to North.
She rubbed her wrists as he put the truck into Drive.
And lumbered down the road.
“Wait—what—you’re not... Where’s your trick? Your sexy MacGyver move that saves the day.”
Doyle glanced at her, frowned. “There is no sexy move. You were the priority, Tia. Getting you back. That’s all that mattered.”
At least he hadn’t called her Juliet, but—“No. Doyle. What? You just gave away sixty million dollars in gold.”
He nodded, his eyes on the road, drew in a long breath. “You’re going to need to trust me.”
“I’m tired of people saying that! No—I don’t want to trust you. I don’t want to trust anybody. I want...” Her eyes filled. “I want this to be over. I want it all to be over. I want to stop turning around to find the world exploding and kids missing and bad guys showing up and—and life imploding around me and I can’t do anything about it!”
“Of course you can’t!” He glanced at her, his jaw tight. “We can’t control anything that happens, Tia. That’s the point. It’s not what happens to us—but how we deal with it.”
“It just feels like...” She shook her head. “It feels like nothing I do is ever enough.”
“Enough for what?”
She looked away. Her voice dropped. “Maybe... enough to matter to God.”
“Get in line,” he said.
She stared at him. “What?”
He glanced at her. “My fiancée died on our wedding day. And I was going to be a missionary. So what does that say about mattering to God? Clearly, not much.”
It took a minute. “You believe that?”
“Not for a minute.”
Oh.
“But I did. Or I wanted to.” He sighed. “But the truth is that bad things happen to good people. To God’s people. And it’s not because he doesn’t love us or we don’t matter to him.”
She wiped her face. “Feels like it.”
He glanced at her, then, “Yep.”
Oh. She’d sort of hoped...
“That is exactly what evil wants us to believe. That somehow God doesn’t care and we’re better off without Him.”
She looked out the window.
“But the truth is, I’m not. I desperately need God’s grace to carry me because I can’t do it on my own. Even though I’ve spent years trying.”
She nodded.
“And God does care. He says, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Sufficient strength, sufficient hope. Sufficient. So, somehow, when I wake up to a new morning, God’s grace is just enough to carry me through. I just have to hold on. At least... that’s my new game plan.”
They’d reached the road to Esperanza, and he hit the brakes.
Skeet and North piled out and joined their other security guy, along with Hamilton and Ranger. She spotted a number of Jeeps and cars on the side of the road.
“What’s going on?”
Doyle put the truck back into Drive and left them there.
“Doyle.”
He bumped up the road toward Hope House. “When I woke up and found you missing...” He glanced at her. “ You , not Juliet, I... I lost it. I couldn’t believe Sebold had won. After everything, evil won.”
“Evil did win.”
“The Jamesons showed up about then. They wanted to talk to me about Kemar and how they wanted to adopt him, but I was... I was frantic. Rosa found a note in the kitchen that said they’d trade the treasure for you, and of course... Yes.”
She shook her head, her mouth tight. But what could he have done?
He pulled into Hope House and put the truck into Park. Turned to her, his voice low. “You remember Hunter Jameson?”
“Of course.”
“Do you know what he used to do for a living?”
“No.”
“He was a JSOC tactical operator.”
“I don’t even know what that is.”
“He planned and executed secret missions for the military. He did his twenty and is now retired. After that first night, he found out about Sebold’s attack on the medical clinic and reached out to the local police. They’ve been trying to figure out how to arrest Sebold for years. They never had any hard proof, anyone who would agree to testify against him. They had even sent in a man to join his crew, hoping they might be able to catch him in something. Then last night, we found the gold.”
“And?”
“Ethan. He went back to Declan’s place, angry, drinking, and told Hunter everything.”
“Seriously?”
“Don’t be too hard on him. Hunter went to his contact at the police and put together a plan. Called their inside man and set up the kidnapping.”
She blinked at him. “I was kidnapped on purpose ?”
His mouth tightened. “According to Hunter, that wasn’t part of his plan. He was supposed to take the gold. But it was guarded so...”
She wanted to be ill. “Keon had a gun , Doyle.”
He nodded.
“And all I could think of was?—”
“Your sister. And how she’d been kidnapped, and how afraid you’d always been that it would happen to you.”
Her eyes rounded.
“I have been paying attention. To you.” He touched her hand. She looked at it. Then drew it away.
“What was the big plan?”
“To give the fortune to Sebold.”
“Brilliant. That’s awesome. Just think of all the ways a man like Sebold might spend sixty mil.”
“Except, it doesn’t belong to him, does it? According to Ethan—and Declan’s lawyers, and the Treasure Hunters’ Rights and Compensation Act—Mariposa owns fifty percent of the treasure. Which means... he has now stolen from the city.”
It took a second. “And they can arrest him?”
“For grand theft. And since he used a gun against the deputized agents of Mariposa, that’s armed robbery.”
“That group back there was the local police?”
“On their way to arrest Raging Rodrigo Jr.”
Huh.
“God works in mysterious ways.” He reached for her hand again.
She shook her head.
“Right. Tia. Please forgive me—I didn’t mean to?—”
“I know.” She held up her hand. “I really do know. It was a mistake—you were tired. We were tired. And who doesn’t occasionally call someone by the wrong name?”
“Yes—”
“So of course—I forgive you. But that’s not the real problem.”
He stilled.
“You still have half your heart in Minnesota.”
He opened his mouth. “I don’t?—”
“And I don’t mean with Juliet. I mean with the man you were going to be. The doctor who wanted to be a missionary.”
“I don’t... That’s not?—”
She touched his chest, his heart thundering under her fingers. “But it is, Doyle. I don’t know what Juliet saw, but I know what I see. I see a man who broke in half when his fiancée died. You left part of yourself in the lake that night, and you’ve never dealt with losing that.”
“Yes—”
“Let me finish. Your future, your vision, your calling—it all died with Julia and left a hole inside you, and until you deal with that, you won’t have anything to give to...” She sighed. “Anyone else.”
His mouth opened. Closed. “Tia?—”
“Listen.” She pulled her hand away. “I can see when a man is searching for something. And when he tries to tell himself it’s me. But it’s not, Doyle.” Her throat burned. “This has been... Well, you have been more than I imagined. But maybe that’s all this was. A jumpstart—a reminder that there is more. Like you said, the fresh start. It just... it just isn’t the happy ending.” Her eyes filled. “I don’t want to be the Band-Aid or the rebound. I want to be the One. The someone you’ve been waiting for all your life.”
He didn’t move, his expression stricken.
Oh, Doyle. “You taught me how to ask for help, Doyle. And that a little fear is okay because it’s the perfect time for me to watch God show up.” She wiped the tears off her cheek. “But I probably need to learn what it means for God to be sufficient too.”
She reached for the door handle.
“Tia—wait?—”
“Doyle!”
His name lifted from a voice at the gate, and she looked up to see Declan running toward the truck. He stopped at the open window. Glanced at Tia. “Thank God.”
Then, “Doyle, I just got a call from the hospital. Stein is there—and he’s been shot. We need to go.”
She touched Doyle’s hand. “Thanks for not forgetting me.” His eyes widened as she got out. “Go find your brother.”
And then she walked away and didn’t look back.
* * *
Stein felt like he had a hot poker shoved through his body.
Which was why he gasped as he opened his eyes. Cool oxygen poured through his mouth and nose, a strap securing him at the shoulders to a gurney.
Overhead, the sky arched a dark blue.
What—?
He looked over and spotted, wait— “Doyle?” His brother wore a grimy shirt, his beard thick, concern in his blue eyes. “What’s going on?”
Doyle held up a hand and the gurney slowed, and Stein watched as a nurse handed Doyle a bag of IV fluid. She patted Steinbeck on the shoulder. “You’ll be okay.”
Probably not, considering he didn’t have a clue how— wait. “Where’s Phoenix?”
Doyle bent over him. “You’re going to be okay, bro. Nearly lost you there, but they stopped the bleeding. Declan called in a chopper. We’re just waiting for Jake and Aria to join us. Then we’re scooting you over to St. Kitts for surgery.”
“Who’s Jake?”
“One of the rescuers. He got stabbed during the rescue?—”
“ What rescue? ”
“The kids—never mind. It’s a long story.”
Now Stein made out the scent of oil on a tarmac. “Are we at Declan’s helipad?”
Doyle nodded.
But—“Where. is. Phoenix ?”
“Who?” Doyle shook his head. “What happened to you, anyway? Were you caught in the landslide?”
Landslide? Stein closed his eyes, trying to roll back the film.
He’d been on the side of a mountain, his chest tight, unable to breathe, and then?—
Yeah, she’d stabbed him. He remembered nearly ejecting out of his body. Then the tube went in and?—
And he could breathe. But things got shadowy after that. A bumpy ride on a four-wheeler, he thought. And then voices—he didn’t recognize any of them.
Or, wait.
“Don’t say I never did nothin’ for you.”
He licked his lips. Felt like... No, just a scant memory. But in his mind, she was bending over him, her green eyes holding his. “Stay alive.”
Yeah, she’d definitely kissed him. Sweet, almost gentle.
He thought he remembered reaching out to her, grabbing only thin air.
A ghost.
He groaned, the pain meds not quite taking the edge off.
Doyle looked up. “They’re here.” And then a woman leaned over him. Dark hair held back with a handkerchief. She wore a T-shirt and had a stethoscope around her neck.
“So, you’re Steinbeck. I’ve heard of you from your cousin Ranger.” She patted his arm. “We’re going to get you home.”
But wait —“I need to talk to Declan.”
Doyle nodded. “Don’t worry, bro. He set this up. I think you’re approved for medical PTO.”
No, that wasn’t —“Where is Declan?” He grabbed Doyle’s arm.
Doyle put his hand over Stein’s, his mouth tight. “Declan is helping out in town. I promise, everything is okay. Everything is going to be okay .” He seemed to say that last part to himself and looked past Stein.
As if into the horizon.
And then the gurney was moving toward the chopper.
Stein closed his eyes. No, no, this was not how this was supposed to go down. “She has the program—she’s...” Of course no one was listening. But what if Phoenix was right? Please let her be wrong . Please let him not have been protecting a terrorist for the past few months.
And if she was wrong? She’d be helping America’s enemies devise a way to dismantle their defenses.
Although, the idea of the kind of AI defenses that Phoenix had described... even he wasn’t sure.... Maybe she was right to shut down Declan’s program—what she called Skynet—before it began.
They brought him to the chopper, and then hands lifted him off the gurney, bringing the backboard into the belly.
He was in Krakow all over again, on his way to Landstuhl, his career over.
Not this time.
Doyle sat down in a seat beside him.
“What are you doing?”
Doyle strapped in. “Taking you home.”
Stein stared at him, then reached up and pulled his mask aside. “You can’t go home. You have work to do here. What about Hope House? And Tia?—”
“Hope House is fine?—”
“And Sebold?—”
“Dealt with. Put your mask back on.”
“What about Tia?—”
Doyle moved the mask for him. “She’s... I don’t know.” His mouth tightened and he looked out the window.
Oh no. “What happened?”
Doyle leaned back and pulled on headphones. Someone added earmuffs to Stein, and the chopper fired up.
Across from him, Dr. Aria and another guy, moving a little slowly, strapped themselves in. The guy leaned over to Stein. “We got you, brother. Hooyah.” He gave him a tight smile.
Oh, a former teams guy.
The door closed and the chopper lifted off.
Stein closed his eyes. And all he could hear was, “I left you behind once. I’m not doing it again.”
Yeah, well, right back atcha, Phoenix .