Chapter Twenty-Nine
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T J was partway back to Bristol’s car when his phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, stopped walking when he saw an image sent from Bristol’s number.
When he opened the picture file, his heart seized.
It showed Bristol, sitting in a chair in what looked like the cabin of a boat, with her hands tied behind her and a strip of duct tape across her mouth. Her face was pinched with fear, her big blue eyes wide with it.
His guts clenched. Then a message came through beneath it.
Bring Jon out to the Sea Siren in the next thirty minutes or she dies.
“Jesus Christ,” he breathed, raw panic tearing at him.
Mother fucker . This was his fault. He should have pushed Bristol away harder in the beginning. Then this never would have happened. But he hadn’t. Deep down he’d been too fucking selfish to sever contact, and now she was facing torture and execution by one of the cartel’s enforcers.
Beside him, Jon stopped too. “What?”
“They’ve got Bristol.”
Jon frowned. “Who?”
“Someone connected to me. The message says to bring you to the boat she’s on within thirty minutes, or they’ll kill her.”
Jon’s face tightened. “An enforcer.”
“Yeah. No one else is close enough to get to her in time. You gotta come with me.”
“No way in hell.”
“You have to. She’s an innocent civilian, she’s got nothing to do with any of this.”
“Fuck that. I go anywhere near that boat, I’m dead.”
TJ whipped out his weapon, aimed it at him. He wasn’t fucking around. “ Move .”
Jon stared at him for a long, tense moment with a cold expression. “I’ll get you close enough to board the boat. But that’s it.”
“Just move. Go .” Keeping his weapon in one hand, he dialed CPS with the other as they ran for the marina. CPS were way closer than the DEA team, and they were the only ones he trusted to provide backup. He wasn’t going to risk Bristol’s life by waiting for the cops to respond. “I need to talk to Ryder, Callum or Walker immediately,” he said when the receptionist answered. There was no time to explain. “This is an emergency.”
“Putting you through to Walker now,” the woman said without asking questions.
“Walker,” a deep voice answered a few moments later.
“It’s TJ Barros. I need backup at the Shelter Cove Marina ASAP. Bristol Moreau has been taken hostage on a boat by a cartel enforcer.”
“Ah, shit.”
“Yes.” He quickly ran through the rest of the pertinent intel, his weapon still trained on Jon’s back.
They skidded down the slick grassy slope leading to the marina parking lot, the wind whipping over them. “This way,” Jon said, heading left.
TJ followed, giving Walker updates as they went. Together they ran down the wet dock, then Jon jumped aboard a speedboat and checked the ignition. “Here,” he called out, and began fiddling with the wiring.
TJ jumped aboard, steadied himself in the stern and gave Walker the name of the boat. The engine roared to life. He and Jon quickly untied the lines from the cleats on the dock, then Jon eased them out of their berth and started through the marina.
“Do you have a visual on the target vessel?” Walker asked TJ.
“Negative.” He wiped the rain from his face, gaze sweeping the open water beyond the harbor mouth. Where the hell was it?
There were no boats out there, no surprise given the stormy conditions. Beyond the breakwaters at the mouth of the harbor, the waves churned, restless and angry as they rushed at the shoreline. The storm was already more intense than predicted, the winds whipping over the water from the southwest.
Jon picked up speed as they exited the harbor, the rain hitting TJ’s face like needles. Squinting, he spotted a vessel ahead. He saw a pair of binos near the helm, grabbed them. The vessel bobbed in the waves, moving slowly out to sea. He tightened the focus on the stern.
Sea Siren .
“I have a visual. About half a mile out of the harbor, heading out to sea.”
“Roger that. I’ve got a team of four en route to the marina now, including Cassie.”
“Copy. We’re in pursuit. Request you contact the DEA.”
“Wilco. Watch your six.”
“Roger.” He ended the call, shoved the phone into his back pocket and adjusted the binos. The Sea Siren appeared to have stopped. “He’s waiting for us. Hit it.”
Jon opened the throttle. The bow of the boat lifted, bouncing hard enough on the crest of each wave they hit to jar TJ’s bones. His watch said they had less than ten minutes until the deadline.
They closed in fast, nearing the other boat in minutes. Jon cut the throttle when they were about a hundred yards away, the bow plunging down with the sudden shift in momentum. “Closer,” TJ ordered.
“No way.”
“I said closer ,” he growled, feeling the seconds slipping away.
“Are you fucking insane?” Jon gave a humorless laugh. “That’s Angel out there. He never misses.”
“Neither do I.” A meaningful pause followed. “And if he’d wanted to kill us, he could easily have taken us out with a rifle already at this range. He wants us alive.”
“Yeah, so he can torture us for information about what I just gave you, then kill us.” He shook his head. “This wasn’t part of the deal. I held up my end already.”
Bristol’s life was hanging in the balance. TJ had no choice.
He snatched his weapon from the holster and aimed it at Jon’s chest. He could still deliver Jon to Angel with a bullet wound. “Get me to that boat. Now .”
Jon’s jaw tightened. For a moment TJ thought he might try to disarm him. But then he reached for the throttle, resentment burning in his eyes. “You wanna die, that’s your choice. But I don’t. I’m not coming within pistol range.”
“ Go .” Poised on the starboard gunwale, TJ eyed the distance to the target vessel. There was no sign of Angel yet, but the danger didn’t matter. He had to get to Bristol.
“It’s your funeral, man,” Jon said.
TJ kept his weapon steady on him as Jon reluctantly turned the bow toward the Sea Siren and started forward slowly. Their boat hit a trough between waves, plunging the bow down sharply. TJ shot out a hand to catch the edge of the gunwale.
Jon hit him full force in the back, knocking him sideways over the side.