Chapter 19 #2
“Going after these people, it’s like searching for a needle in a haystack if you don’t know what you’re looking for, which is why it was helpful I’d had someone early on to get me on the right path,” Rory explained.
“When I discovered a large order had been placed online to be sent out of Douala International Airport, I followed the trail, and it led me to Carter Dominick. It took several contacts to find his property, but I shouldn’t have been so arrogant.
I found him too quickly. A man like Carter was only found because he wanted to be found.
He doesn’t actually live in the lavish home he lured me to. It was a ruse.”
Fuck if he was impressed, though. And admittedly, this was all a little over his head. He was used to taking down smugglers, but not identifying and tracking their whereabouts in the first place.
“Well, consider my mind blown.” Harper clapped twice. “Could have used you at the Agency, woman. And don’t beat yourself up about Carter’s trap. He was trained by the Farm to do shit like that, and you are self-made.”
“So, uh, when you got to Carter’s home, and he asked you to help him identify and find Danny, and you told him he’d died, what’d he do?” Chris whispered, his nerves still pretty shot.
“I have no idea what led Carter to believe that Danny was the murderer since he refused to tell me, but I told him Danny would never have done such a thing. And with Danny dead, what could Carter do? Bring him back to life and question the guy? So, Carter got pissed, gave me a warning about The Italian, and sent me on my way after a day. I highly doubt he gave up his pursuit for justice, though.”
Chris didn’t even know how to begin processing everything Rory had just divulged, but he could understand her reluctance to share her story with anyone.
He’d always thought he lived life on the edge, but this woman had taken enormous risks pitting herself against the likes of pirates and smugglers.
All without a team of trained covert operatives and the weight of the United States government backing her.
She’d gone after bad guys because it was the right thing to do.
Her love for animals, her experience . . . chasing wildlife smugglers, it made sense in an odd sort of way. But would she truly be satisfied training canines after the life she’d led?
“So, are you upset that you’re in this mess because of me?” Rory’s voice was unsteady as though she were nervous about what they all thought of her. But he knew Harper, and he could tell she now saw Rory in a new light. Someone who could hang with their team, no problem.
And she could, couldn’t she?
“We might be able to take down some major bad guys with your help if you’ll let us, so we should be thanking you.
” Harper stood and started poking the wood in their firepit with a stick.
They’d need to douse the flames soon. Better to be safe than sorry.
The fire would be great to signal for help, but it could also draw unwanted eyes.
“You want to go after The Italian? I mean, it’s obvious to me that’s the only way I’ll ever be safe, more importantly, my family, but I wasn’t so sure if you’d—”
“We’ll do whatever it takes to ensure your safety, and taking down a criminal is a byproduct of that,” Roman said, speaking for Chris since his emotions had him all tangled up.
Proud and fearful at the same time. It was a lot to wrap his head around.
“Hey, guys,” Roman said a moment later with his back turned, eyes on the ocean. “We’ve got company.”
Chris abruptly went to his side to follow his gaze.
A red and white, commercial-grade fishing trawler that looked to be about an eighty-footer was anchored off in the distance, not too far away.
They weren’t more than twenty-five feet above sea level in their current spot.
The rock wall was easily scalable, plus there was a small area of sand at the base for a starting-off point.
“They must have come out after the storm cleared. You think they could be our ride out? Save us the rest of the trek trying to get to the ranger. They’re fishermen, so we should be good. ”
“No, it doesn’t make sense for them to be here.” Rory stood alongside Chris, taking in the view. “No one anchors alongside these cliffs. Too dangerous for fishermen, even for that kind of vessel.”
“You’re sure?” Chris peeked at her, and she nodded.
“They’re not here for fish. All that equipment is most likely a cover,” Rory went on.
“Pirates?” Chris asked a question that sounded absolutely absurd, but after the weekend they’d had, why not?
“Just as bad.” Rory’s mouth pinched tight.
“Smugglers.” She spat the word out like she’d tasted something rotten.
“Probably taking advantage of the storm, knowing the waters wouldn’t be as busy out here today.
I’d venture to say they’re here to rendezvous with another vessel. Or they’re here for us.”
“Let’s not be sitting ducks, then.” Chris turned to see Roman and Harper putting out the fire.
“Let’s move out.” Roman reached for the sidearm he’d taken from a guard on the yacht, and Harper had a weapon in hand as well.
“Go ahead. We’ll be right behind you.” Chris needed one second with Rory before they left.
Chris retrieved the second pistol he had on him and handed it to her once Roman and Harper started for the trail. “You should be armed. They could have already sent men after us.”
She took the gun and checked the mag like a pro.
Sexy as fuck.
Life was short, and tomorrow wasn’t promised, so Chris leaned in and stole a kiss.
When her lips softened against his with a moan, his heartbeat soared, and he got a little light-headed.
He knew she’d been worried about sharing her truths, letting down her walls, but he needed to reassure her that it didn’t change a damn thing between them.
“You’re incredible,” he whispered after a much too short kiss. A small smile formed on her lips, but when she began to pull away, her eyes darted off to his side, and she flinched.
Her hands slowly went up, still clutching the gun.
Chris lowered his head, disgusted with himself for losing focus.
He now had two choices: go for his gun, or slowly turn to see who the hell was behind him.
Option one could get Rory killed. Option two, possibly both of them.
But he couldn’t take the chance. So, he turned to face whoever was there and shield Rory with his body.
Not even two feet behind him were five men. Five armed men.
Harper and Roman will come for us, he told himself. They’d get out of this mess. They had to.
“I’m sorry,” he heard Rory whisper, and he hated that she was blaming herself.
He should never have built a fire, not even for food. Never allowed his guard to drop. It was his job to always be aware and ready, and this was on him. Not her.
“Guns. Hand them over. Or you get a bullet to the head,” the man second from the left of the line of five said.
“The Trott brothers.” Rory’s identification took him by surprise as she handed over her weapon, and Chris begrudgingly did the same.
“Do we know you?” the dark-haired guy in the middle of the pack asked. Probably the leader. The alpha of the group. Maybe the captain of that fishing trawler. Judging by the accent and the flag inked on his forearm, he was Brazilian.
“No, you don’t know me,” Rory said, now standing alongside Chris, hands still above her head. Why didn’t she remain behind him, damn it? “But I’m familiar with your work. Guns, weapons, treasure. You steal and deal in it all.”
The fact Rory had ever gone near this kind of trash had him wanting to step forward and deck all five of them, take the risk of bringing fists to a gunfight. If they laid a hand on her, what choice would he have?
“Kneel so my men can bind your hands behind your backs,” the man standing alongside the leader said. Was he Trott brother number two? Similar bone structure, same long, dark hair pulled into a ponytail, and green eyes. Hell, maybe they were twins. Ugly and uglier.
Where were Harper and Roman? Did they have eyes on their location, waiting to make their move for a rescue?
He did his best not to scan the area in case the men weren’t also dumb and dumber.
Chris put a knee to the hard ground, and Rory followed suit.
Two men rounded them and swept Chris and Rory’s hands behind their backs.
He calculated his odds. He was good at hand-to-hand, but there were way too many firearms on the opposing side. And the odds were not in his favor tonight.
The leader crouched before Rory and held his iPhone in front of her face, showcasing an image of her on the screen.
“You’re worth a pretty penny, Rory McAdams. I happened to be in the area when I got the call to track you down.
See if you were here and alive. Thanks for the fire, couldn’t have found you without it.
” He winked at her, then turned to peer at Chris, the sky growing darker now that it was approaching Rory’s favorite time of day, twilight.
“We’ve got two more, boss,” a voice said over a radio clipped to the leader’s waist. He stood upright and swapped his phone for his radio.
“Looks like we got all four of you. They weren’t sure how many of you survived.” Those words were a knife to Chris’s heart.
But they got away while at sea yesterday, and they could do it again.
“Take them to the ship,” the leader announced over his radio. “We’re right behind you.”
“They were a bit feisty, boss. I know they’re supposed to remain unharmed, but they were carrying weapons when we surprised them, and I had to punch the woman. And the man lost his mind, and I had to stick him with my knife like he was a rabid dog to try and put him down.”
Chris lunged forward at the words, unable to stop himself, but he was met with a hard punch to his right jaw, and when Rory began to resist, he stilled—terrified someone would set a hand on her.