Chapter 12
Jasmine willed the little helicopter to go faster and for a tailwind to speed them along. It didn’t matter; the aircraft could only go so fast compared to a jet airplane.
Demopoulos would arrive well before they would.
She worried that Demopoulos would steal Eli from Bertolli and use him as leverage to get the copper scroll.
The rumble of the engine eventually lulled her into an exhausted sleep.
A hand on her arm woke her hours later.
Ace pointed out the window.
The helicopter descended toward an island. The mainland wasn’t far away. Lights shone from both.
When the helicopter slowed over the water and dropped low, Jasmine gripped Ace’s hand. What was Dmytro doing? He couldn’t land in the water.
Lights blinked on, illuminating a helicopter landing pad on a yacht moored off the coast of Corfu.
Dmytro sank lower, hovering a few feet over the pad before gently touching down.
As soon as the chopper landed, Dmytro killed the engine. The spinning rotor blades slowed.
Before the blades stopped completely, Dmytro’s voice came over the headset. “You need to move quickly. Demopoulos has people monitoring ATC. He knows we landed and probably has coordinates by now. My friend will see us to a boat that will take us to shore.”
Ace unbuckled his harness and then Jasmine’s. He flew out the door, turned and held out his hands.
Jasmine leaned out.
He gripped her around the waist and swung her, satchel and all, onto the yacht’s deck. Fearghas dropped out of the chopper beside them.
A deckhand handed Ace a backpack and Dmytro a satchel similar to Jasmine’s.
Dmytro held up his satchel. “These might save your lives. If Demopoulos does not know who is carrying the artifact, he might instruct his men not to shoot for fear of hitting the scroll.” The Ukrainian shrugged. “Or not. We will hope it will deter his men from shooting at us.”
The men slung the bags over their shoulders.
The deckhand waved them toward a set of stairs leading to a lower deck and ladder that dropped over the back of the yacht. A small motorboat bobbed in the water at the base of the ladder, with a man at the throttle, waiting for all to climb aboard.
Ace dropped into the boat and helped Jasmine down the ladder, guiding her to a seat on the other side of the driver”s seat.
Fearghas was next, followed by Dmytro.
“You shouldn’t come,” Jasmine said to Dmytro. “You’ve done more than enough to help me get this far.”
“And miss the action?” The Ukrainian shook his head. “I am with you until you get your son back.”
Jasmine touched his arm. “Thank you.”
As soon as Dmytro was on board, the boat’s driver released the line holding them to the yacht and swung the boat around, heading toward shore.
He shoved the throttle all the way forward, sending them bouncing across the waves.
Ace leaned forward and yelled over the roar of the engine. “Let me have your bag.”
She handed over the satchel with the scrolls.
Ace transferred the box from the satchel into the backpack he’d been given. Then he stuffed a small life jacket into Jasmine’s bag and zipped it closed. When he was done, he passed the bag with the life vest back to Jasmine.
“If anything happens to me,” she stared into Ace’s eyes and then shifted her gaze to Dmytro and Fearghas, “I expect you three to get this scroll to Bertolli and free my son.”
Ace frowned. “Nothing’s going to happen to you.”
She shook her head. “You don’t know that. If I can’t do the job, promise me you’ll free my son.”
Ace’s frown deepened.
“Promise,” she said again.
Ace’s lips pressed into a tight line. “Okay, I promise.”
Jasmine turned to Dmytro. “You, too.”
Dmytro nodded. “I promise.”
When she faced Fearghas, her brow twisted.
Fearghas nodded. “I promise.”
Jasmine stared at each of them. “Thank you.”
Then she looped the satchel over her neck and held onto whatever she could as the driver attacked the waves.
Jasmine rose off her seat several times, landing hard. She watched Ace as he was tossed about with the backpack over his shoulders.
Was she wrong to hand off the scroll to him?
With everyone searching for her, she hoped entrusting the scroll to Ace would ensure its safety. One way or another, someone had to make that trade for Eli.
Undeterred by the darkness of the early hours of the morning, the driver plowed forward, aiming for a light strip of sandy beach near a high-rise hotel.
As they neared the shore, a jet ski raced across the swells, coming at them from their starboard side. Another emerged from the darkness into the starlight, approaching from the port side of the little boat.
Bullets hit the water near the boat. Warning shots.
Ace wrapped his arms around Jasmine, shielding her body with his. Fearghas, Dmytro and the boat driver ducked low.
As the first jet ski approached, their driver suddenly veered into his path, bumping into the waver runner. The rider flew from his seat, landing in the waves. Immediately, he swam toward the jet ski.
The second jet ski zoomed up close to the boat.
Fearghas waited until the rider came alongside the boat and then launched himself out of the boat onto the rider.
The jet ski tipped over, dumping the driver and Fearghas into the water.
Jasmine cried out.
A moment later, the machine bobbed upright. A man climbed onto the back, settled onto the seat and raced off after the other jet ski.
“Was that Fearghas?” Jasmine asked.
“It was,” Dmytro responded.
The boat’s driver pushed the throttle forward, resuming their mad dash toward the shore.
Jasmine glanced back at the two jet skis.
Fearghas reached the other device as the man was mounting and ran his jet ski into it, once again unseating its rider. He used his machine to push the other away from the man in the water and further out to sea until it was too far for the man to reach.
Jasmine watched until she couldn’t see Fearghas or the bobbing heads of the attackers in the water. Then, she focused on the shore.
Their driver didn’t slow until they powered through the waves and then only slightly as he drove the boat onto the sand.
Ace and Dmytro leaped out. Jasmine followed.
Ace was there to steady her, and then all three helped push the little boat back out into the water, and it sped back to the yacht.
The roar of another engine sounded as the little boat sped away.
A jet ski shot toward them and slid onto the sand beside them.
Fearghas leaped off and ran toward them.
Dmytro tipped his head toward the hotel. “I know someone who works here. He will know how to get to Bertolli’s summer home.”
“Will he be awake at this hour?” Jasmine asked as she jogged beside him toward the building.
Dmytro nodded. “He works the night shift. I texted him earlier to let him know we were on our way in.”
Jasmine’s lips quirked. She realized she’d only scratched the surface of Dmytro’s network. She would be forever grateful he was her friend.
As they approached the hotel, men surged out of the shadows.
Trained as special forces operatives, Jasmine’s team of four had no other choice but to meet them head-on.
“I count four coming in from our right,” Fearghas said.
“Four more from the left,” Ace said, his voice tight. “All are armed, their weapons pointed at us.”
Jasmine held up her arms and shouted in Greek. “Don’t shoot! I have the copper scroll.” She patted her bag with one hand and then raised it again.
“What are you doing?” Ace asked in a harsh whisper.
“I told them not to shoot,” Jasmine said, still holding up her hands. “And that I have the scroll.”
“Brilliant,” Fearghas said. “They can’t shoot and risk hitting the scroll. Ace, repeat what I say. It’ll be Greek for No, I have the scroll.” He held up his hands. “óchi,” he shouted, also in Greek, “Echo ton chálkino kylindro.”
Ace’s brow twisted.
Dmytro shouted, “óchi, echo ton chálkino kylindro!”
“Say it,” Fearghas urged softly.
Ace shouted in stilted Greek, “óchi, echo ton chálkino kylindro!”
The enemy moved forward, their weapons drawn, closing in on them.
“Be ready,” Jasmine whispered.
“I’ll take the two on the right,” Dmytro said in English.
“I’ve got the two next to them,” Fearghas claimed.
“I’ll take the two men on the left,” Jasmine said.
Ace shook his head. “For the record, I don’t like the odds. I’ll get the two unclaimed.” He shot a glance at Jasmine in the starlight. “You sure?”
She gave him a tight smile. “They won’t shoot. We just have to be better at hand-to-hand combat. We’re all trained to fight.”
“Did I mention I have a gun?” Dmytro said in a low tone.
“As do I,” Fearghas said, his hands still raised.
Jasmine tensed. “Only use it as a last resort. Once someone starts shooting, it’ll be a free-for-all.”
Jasmine braced for combat.
As the men closed in on them, Jasmine kept her hands in the air.
They stopped short. The guy in charge called out four names and told them to retrieve the bags while the other four men held their weapons trained on Jasmine, Ace, Fearghas and Dmytro.
The four men who moved forward lowered their rifles to reach for the satchels, bags and backpacks.
As soon as they reached for the bags, Jasmine’s team of four sprang into action.
Jasmine grabbed her guy’s rifle and slammed it upward, catching him in the nose. She shoved him backward into the man holding a gun on her.
They fell to the ground in a tangle of arms, legs and weapons.
Ace had one guy twisted in a knot with his arm yanked up his back between his shoulder blades. He was marching him forward into the man holding his rifle aimed at Ace, but now at his comrade. The man Ace had incapacitated yelled at his buddy to help him.
Short of shooting his friend, the guy could do nothing.
Fearghas and Dmytro’s targets were in similar straits. All their focus was on staying alive.
When Jasmine’s conquests struggled to rise to their feet, she planted a foot in the middle of the closest one and shoved hard. Then she kicked their rifles out of their reach.
They were angry, cursing her as they crab-walked backward, away from her, toward the stand of trees and brushes. She just wanted to laugh at their stupidity and ineptness.
Until an arm wrapped around her arms, pinning them to her sides, and something cold and sharp pressed into her neck. A voice said into her ear in Greek, “Scream, and I’ll slice your throat. Your son will never know the love of his mother again.”
She froze. Where were Ace, Fearghas and Dmytro?
“Move. Now,” the voice said. The cool metal of the knife against her throat pressed ominously.
Something warm and wet dripped down her neck onto her chest. “I’m moving,” she said, walking into the shadows made by trees and brush that the two men she’d schooled had just disappeared into.
They were waiting there, wicked knives drawn and ready to slice into her sides. They marched through the hotel gardens, through a gate marked in Greek, authorized personnel only and across a paved reception ramp, where deliveries were received by the hotel staff. An SUV stood in the middle of the pavement.
With a knife pressed to her jugular, Jasmine didn’t dare move. The man holding it to her skin only had to dig it in, and her life ended. Eli would be an orphan because she hadn’t told anyone his father was Ace Hammerson.
She cursed herself for being so stupid. Ace deserved to know Eli was his son. At least then, if she died, he’d have one parent to see him through life. Jasmine believed with all her heart that Ace would make Eli a wonderful father.
She was shoved into the SUV. The man who’d held the knife to her throat had to release his hold long enough to push her into the vehicle.
Once the knife was removed from her throat, Jasmine dove into the SUV, scooted across the seat and tried to open the opposite door.
The door was locked, apparently with the child lock feature. She was trapped inside the SUV.
The door she’d attempted to exit through jerked open, and one of the men who’d attacked her back in Jordan slid in.
Bunching her hand, she shoved it upward, hitting the man in the nose. Blood erupted from his nose and spilled down her face and into his mouth. He roared, grabbed Jasmine’s hair and slammed her face into the back of the driver’s seat.
Though the seat was cushioned, the blow made her dizzy and her head spin.
Another man slid into the seat on her opposite side.
When she turned toward him, she looked down the barrel of a pistol aimed at her face. The man holding it had salt-and-pepper gray hair and looked very much like Christos Demopoulos.
“Just give me the scroll, and you can go free,” the man said.
“Athanasios Demopoulos,” Jasmine breathed.
He nodded. “You have caused my people and my son a lot of trouble. Give me the scroll, and I won’t let my man pull you apart, limb by limb.”
Jasmine glanced at the man she’d hit hard in the nose.
His eyes bulged, his cheeks flushed a ruddy red and he clenched his fists, ready to slam them into her face.
She lifted the satchel strap from around her neck and handed it to Demopoulos. “Here. Take it. I only wanted to get my son back from Bertolli. Now, let me out of this vehicle.”
She glared at the man with the bloody nose, hoping that, by staring him down, it would somehow make him open the door.
Ha!When she’d hit him in the nose, she’d made an enemy out of the guy, and nothing short of beating her into a pulp would make the man happy.
“Not yet,” Demopoulos said. “Before you are released, I want to see the scroll for myself.”
Jasmine bent over as if she needed to tie her running shoe, which she did. At the same time, she removed the ceramic knife from the sheath around her ankle and slipped it up her sleeve.
If they didn’t let her go, she’d have to fight her way out of captivity in order to find and rescue Eli.
Thankfully, Ace had insisted on taking the scroll. If she’d had it with her, Demopoulos would have taken it back to his home near Athens.
Then she’d be stuck on Corfu empty-handed. Bertolli wouldn’t have accepted her sob story about how she’d lost the scroll to his former friend, and now rival, Demopoulos. In which case, she might as well have said, Just shoot me.
She prayed Ace, Fearghas and Dmytro had succeeded in subduing their attackers and that the scroll was safe.
No matter what happened to her, Ace would go after Eli. He wouldn’t give up on the little boy.
“What is this?” Demopoulos blurted. “This is not the copper scroll.” He pulled the small life preserver out of the bag and flung it across the interior of the SUV. He shook the bag as if it might contain more. When he accepted it was empty, he flung it aside as well.
His lips curled back into a feral sneer. “Where is my scroll?”
“I don’t know,” Jasmine said.
Demopoulos gave a slight chin lift.
The man behind her wrapped his arm around her throat and squeezed hard, cutting off her air.
“You’d better know,” Demopoulos said. “Otherwise, you are useless to me.”
“I... don’t... know,” she eked out, barely able to force air past her vocal cords. With the ceramic knife gripped in her hand, she could shove it into Demopoulos’s neck or stick it in the ribs of the man behind her, but that would only make it worse. She was trapped inside the SUV with a bigger man who would rip her apart as his boss had indicated.
For another long moment, Demopoulos stared at her as his thug squeezed her throat.
Little oxygen made it to her brain. Jasmine’s vision blurred. If he didn’t release her soon, she’d pass out and maybe die.
Demopoulos’s eyes narrowed. “Your man will give me the scroll in exchange for you.” He lifted his chin. “Don’t kill her,” he said to the man whose arm remained tightly locked around her neck.
For a long moment, the man didn’t loosen his hold.
Light faded from Jasmine’s vision.
“Let her go,” Demopoulos said as if from the end of a tunnel.
The arm around her neck loosened.
Jasmine dragged in huge gulps of air, oxygen filling her lungs. Her vision cleared.
Demopoulos nodded. “You will be my bargaining chip. But I will need you alive to negotiate.”
Jasmine slumped back against the seat, breathing air into her lungs, thankful to have a little more time to figure a way out of captivity and get back to her son.
Then she realized that in the process of being choked half to death, she’d dropped the ceramic knife. She felt around on the seat but couldn’t find it.
Now, with no weapon to defend herself and a pissed-off crime boss with all his henchmen, she’d have to be more creative to make her escape.