Chapter 1 #2
Kenzie maneuvered the Blue Fantasy through the five-foot waves, gaining as much speed as possible with the sails and engine, but the speedboats were gaining ground.
She’d heard her share of stories about pirates in these waters.
They wanted goods, not lives. They’d take valuables, whatever the owners had stored and locked away in the citadel below—a safe room that should have been available to the crew, but the owner had installed a separate lock so she couldn’t get in.
Maybe the pirates wanted the boat. Surely, they’d leave Kenzie and her crew unharmed—albeit floating in a lifeboat. Kenzie could use the lifeboat’s radio to reach the Coast Guard. She needed to make sure Barn and the others grabbed their ditch bags. She had a radio in hers.
She checked to make sure her cell phone was in her cargo pants’ pocket, then buttoned it closed. Just in case.
Surrendering felt like failure, but she could think of no other way to protect her people.
“Lord, guide me.”
Knowing she could trust Him to lead, she grabbed the Sig, which she always kept nearby. Dad had insisted he train his daughters in self-defense. That training had proved invaluable for her once before.
Safety engaged, weapon in her hip pocket, she switched the radio to the on-board channel. “Crew. Report.”
“We’re midship in the crew lounge,” Barn said.
“Good choice.”
In retrospect, she should’ve balked when she’d discovered the citadel locked. The owner of this vessel was more concerned with his stuff than with the people transporting it.
The crew lounge was the next best place to take shelter.
“I’m heading back to you,” Barn said.
“Negative. Stay with the crew.” She didn’t need him going full Blackbeard on her instead of following her plan to surrender.
The pirates would probably underestimate Kenzie, but one look at Barn, and they’d see a man ready to fight. He’d be the first to die.
“Cap’n, you need—”
“I need you to follow orders and trust me.”
She didn’t wait for a reply, just switched back to the emergency frequency. “Coast Guard, this is Blue Fantasy. Two vessels approaching, armed men visible. They’re closing in at—“
A deafening crack cut her off. Something whizzed past her ear, so close she felt the displacement of air. Kenzie dropped to the deck, heart hammering against her ribs like it wanted out.
They’d shot at her.
She crawled behind the port-side cockpit coaming, then pressed her back against it.
The polished wood felt cool against her sweat-soaked shirt.
She still held the handset. “Coast Guard, this is Blue Fantasy. Situation update: we are under fire. Two boats approaching. No injuries yet. Request immediate response!”
“Blue Fantasy, roger,” the voice said. “Assistance en route.”
She barely heard the rest of the Coast Guard’s instructions. Maintain course. Stay in communication. Do not engage.
Easy for them to say.
No more shots came. Maybe the pirates thought they’d hit her. Kenzie waited, her breath ragged, ears straining for any sound over that of the approaching engines and her own. Cautiously, she peered over the coaming.
The boat was aiming to come alongside, its pilot matching the yacht’s speed despite the choppy waters. Four men, all armed, all wearing black.
She had seconds to act. She grabbed the flare gun. One shot might buy them time—if she could hit something vital.
Kenzie rose just enough to aim at the approaching boat’s engine housing and squeezed the trigger.
The flare shot across the narrowing gap between vessels, trailing brilliant red light. But the enemy boat pitched and dipped on a wave. The flare arced over the speedboat and splashed into the water beyond.
She flattened herself on the deck, covering her head. Gunfire erupted again.
Bullets splintered wood, flying fragments stinging her arms and back. She tossed the flare gun aside and clutched her Sig.
“Dear God.” There were too many of them, and the second boat was closing in. Men would be reaching for lines, pulling themselves aboard.
She was surrounded.
There was nothing for it now. Kenzie crawled to the helm and put the boat on autopilot. It wasn’t exactly safe to leave the cockpit of a moving sailboat. But at the moment, safer than staying put.
The cockpit sloped gently toward the stern, open to the swim platform behind the vessel. A dodger threw a long shadow across the aft deck, a pocket of darkness in the bright daylight. Forward, the helm and companionway bulkhead—where anyone boarding would look first—gleamed in the sun.
She could get belowdecks, hide with the others. But she wanted to see what was happening and look for an opportunity to fight back.
Ignoring the harsh voices of men intent on violence, Kenzie flattened herself beside the dodger, where the canvas and clear panels would hide her.
Let the shadows cover me like the feathers of Your wings.
How many were there? Seven, eight? More?
Within seconds, the Spanish words were clear enough for her to understand, if not translate.
Sig in her hand, she dared a peek around the dodger post. Two thugs were in the cockpit just a few feet away, heads and shoulders mostly blocked by the cockpit structure. One stood at the helm, the other crouched beside the companionway bulkhead, probably searching for her.
She felt a change in the vibration beneath her feet. The man at the helm must’ve cut the engine. The boom sagged as the mainsail eased.
The yacht slowed.
She ducked back into the shadows.
Heavy footsteps pounded across fiberglass. She held her breath. Without the engines rumbling, it was too quiet. The yacht pitched as it turned into the waves, and she grabbed the edge of the dodger to steady herself.
“Busca abajo!” The command was issued in a rough male tone. Search below. He added, “Encuéntrala!” Find her.
A bead of sweat trickled down her temple.
The boat lurched as a large wave hit. The movement raised her into the light, exposing her for a split second.
“There!”
The man at the helm looked her way, his face hidden behind dark sunglasses and a black bandana. He raised a weapon.
Kenzie aimed her Sig and squeezed the trigger. The recoil jolted through her arms as the gun’s report echoed across the water.
She didn’t have time for the horror that churned nausea in her gut.
He staggered backward.
The second man stood to look, and she shifted and fired at him.
He collapsed.
Two were down, but she’d given away her position.
She dove toward the companionway hatch and shoved aside the wounded, perhaps dying man who blocked it. She was desperate to get below, to hide. She grabbed the sliding door handle and yanked.
It slid about an inch, then stopped.
Panic surged.
She tugged again. The door was jammed. The thug must’ve sabotaged it to keep her from going down. Or to keep the others from escaping.
She shoved her gun into her waistband and used both hands, pulling with all her strength. The door moved another half inch, then caught.
She had to get through. It was her only chance. She braced her feet on the coaming and tried again.
The door was grinding over the ruined track, a tiny bit at a time.
The hair on the back of her neck prickled.
Kenzie turned, fumbling for her gun, but she wasn’t fast enough.
A pirate stood a few feet away. He leveled his weapon at her chest.
This was it. This was how she died.
The gun didn’t lower, but he didn’t shoot it either. His lips spread in a cruel smile. “Un juguete para jugar.”
A toy to play with.
Dread dripped down her back.
Lord, please! She couldn’t live through what would surely happen between this moment and her inevitable death.
The crack of a gunshot reverberated off the fiberglass walls. Kenzie covered her head, waiting for the pain to hit.
Instead, a thud sounded. The sound had her peeking.
The disgusting pirate lay a few feet from her, eyes open. Dead.
What happened?
Barn must have joined the fight.
Gunfire erupted all around, along with surprised shouts, orders yelled in Spanish, too fast to translate.
Had the pirates found her crew? Were they being murdered, one by one?
But no. The shots were coming from the deck. And…far away?
The Coast Guard couldn’t be here already, could they? Or had the second boat been filled with help? Or maybe just enemies of the men in the first boat?
Did that make them good? Or just a different breed of bad?
She had no idea. She set her gun beside her where she could grab it quickly and continued working the hatch, trying to get it open.
And prayed the good guys—assuming there were good guys in this fight—won the day.
The bullets sounded closer now, like firecrackers being set off right beside her ear. Kenzie was still fighting with the companionway hatch. If she had the courage to stand, she could probably get it open. But standing could also get her killed.
She heaved a breath, giving herself a couple of seconds to rest before she tried again, not attempting to make sense of the chaos erupting around her.
Her world had gone insane. Simple as that.
A shadow moved at the edge of her vision. She whipped her gun up, finger tensing on the trigger.
“Don’t shoot.” The man lifted his hands, though one held a gun. “It’s me.”
The voice was familiar, but she’d never seen the face before. She kept the gun steady.
“It’s Jaz. Don’t shoot.” The man’s gaze bored into her as if he could convince her with eye contact.
Her mind raced to reconcile the voice she recognized with the stranger she saw. Gone was the polished playboy with the perfect blond hair and designer clothes. This man’s hair was long and black, pulled back in a ponytail. A beard and mustache hid his face.
But the eyes. She’d noticed them at dinner the night before. Gray like the smoke from a campfire.
“Jasper?” She shook off her confusion, keeping the gun trained on his chest. “What’s going on?”
For a split second, he looked confused, but his expression shifted to all business, warrior mode.
It made no sense.
His gaze darted past her, scanning the deck. “We need to move.”
Before she could protest, he crossed the space between them and grabbed her arm. His grip was firm but not painful as he pulled her away from the hatch. “Come on. We have to get out of here. Now.”
“My crew is below.” She pulled back against his hold. “I can’t leave them.”
His eyes narrowed. “Why aren’t you down there, too, then? What are you doing up here?”
She glared, not bothering to defend herself.
The gunshots seemed to be tapering. Boots thumped on the deck. An engine roared.
Jaz had a better vantage point and scanned the deck, then eyed the hatch. “Lead the way.”
“It’s jammed.”
He sighed, actually sighed, as if she’d asked him to open a too-tight pickle jar.
He positioned himself beside it and yanked.
The stupid thing opened on the first try.
“I guess you loosened it for me.”
Irrationally, she wanted to slap him. Stupid men with their stupid muscles.
Also, he’d saved her life. So maybe she should tell that irrational part of herself to shut up and do what he said.
He moved out of the way. “Go.”
She took the steep staircase down two stories to the crew’s quarters. Jaz must’ve closed the door because suddenly it was quiet here, the gunshots muffled. On deck, they’d sounded like fireworks. Here, they were more like distant drums.
It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness after the too-bright deck. It felt like they’d entered a different world.
She moved along the hall, Jaz following so closely she could feel heat radiating off his body.
She turned the knob on the door to the crew lounge. Locked. She rapped her knuckles against it. “Barn, it’s me.”
The door swung open, and her first mate yanked her inside. Then he must’ve seen Jasper because he straightened, blocking the doorway with his wide body.
“He’s safe,” she said quickly to his back. “It’s Jaz. He saved my life.”
The man turned and gripped her shoulders. “What’s happening?”
“I’m okay. They—”
“You ever give me an order like that again and I’ll defy it.” He sounded furious. “Make me hide down here like a coward when—”
“That’s enough.” Jaz stepped between them, facing Barn. “We don’t have time for this.”
She couldn’t see what transpired between the two men, but a moment later, Barn said, “What now?”
“We get off this ship.” Jaz spun and looked past her to where the rest of her crew were standing beside a table.
They had gathered ditch bags from the cabins, including hers. One of the men handed it to her, and she slipped the backpack onto her back. It wasn’t everything she’d brought onto the boat, but it had her passport and wallet.
“We’re going out the forward hatch.” Jaz leveled his gaze on Barn. “Lead the way. I’ll bring up the rear.”
“Wait.” Kenzie strained to listen. “No more gunshots. I think they’re leaving. I heard an engine—”
“We’re leaving, too,” Jaz said. “Now.”
“No. The Coast Guard must be—”
“Now, Kenzie.” Jaz pointed toward the door.
She crossed her arms and glared. She’d been hired to transport this ship. To protect it. She’d fought too hard to make a name for herself in this industry. She wasn’t going to lose it now because she’d abandoned ship for no reason at all.
“You go. All of you.” She shifted to take in the crew. “I’m staying with the boat.”
She ignored their protests, focusing on Jaz.
Fury and frustration warred on his face, but she wasn’t giving in.