Chapter 10
TEN
“I’m not going anywhere without Austen.” Declan had said that at least twice as Steinbeck threw his pants at him in the hotel room and made to sneak out into the corridor.
“I get it. But we need to act as a decoy and get the hounds away from here. Then Phoenix can grab Austen and meet us at the airfield.”
“Why the airfield?”
“Phoenix, as it turns out, is a pilot.”
Of course she was.
“How did you even know where to find us?” Declan said as Steinbeck opened the door to the stairwell. Darkness seeped up from the unlit lower floors. Steinbeck flashed on his Maglite and cast its beam down the steps. Declan headed down, Steinbeck after him, flicking off the light at the bottom.
“Hold here.” He slid outside.
Declan braced his hand against the cement wall and looked up. He should go back for her. Mostly because her story about Margo now circled in his head. She’d think he’d abandoned her.
Never.
“I need to go back,” he said.
“Dec, you gotta trust me.”
Declan stilled, gave Stein a hard look. “Do you trust me ?”
Stein’s jaw tightened. “I think so,” he said quietly. “I want to. But mostly I want to get my sister off this island, so let’s go.”
He reached out as if to make a grab for Declan, but Declan swatted Stein’s hand away. “I’m right behind you.”
They slipped out into a back alley. Streetlights lit the entrance, but Stein ducked into the shadows, toward the back of the building. They cut through an alleyway, and then again through another narrow passage between houses.
“How did you survive the jump off the boat?” Declan kept his voice low.
“It wasn’t a long jump, so that wasn’t the problem.” He didn’t add any more except, “It’s a long story. We get out of this, maybe I’ll tell you.”
Steinbeck led him out into a lonely street, only one streetlight illuminating their path. Then he pointed to an old Russian Lada, a small sedan about the size of a Volkswagen. “Best I could find. Hop in.”
“Where are we going?”
“There’s an airstrip outside of town that isn’t monitored. If we get there, we can get off this island.”
“How—”
“I’ll tell you later.” Steinbeck pulled out.
“How did you know someone was after me?”
Steinbeck wore a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, not what he was wearing when he jumped off the boat, but Declan didn’t ask. Except—“Are you wearing flip-flops?”
Stein glanced over. “Didn’t want to run through Cuba in my bare feet.”
Oh, of course not. Declan shook his head.
“Listen. Phoenix and I’ve been following you for hours.
We saw you outside the embassy when you left and watched you check into the hotel.
I wanted to duck in and have dinner with you, but surveillance had a pretty good eye on you.
And then they doubled their efforts at the square.
We think there’s a group of Russians here waiting to grab you.
Probably first thing in the morning, but it could be anytime. ”
“Do you think we were betrayed?”
“After you left, so did your consulate buddy. He headed back to the wharf, where, surprise, surprise, our friends from the yacht pulled up. They met with him, so my guess is that whatever you told him and maybe whatever you paid him, they matched and raised. He sold you out. And it’s just a matter of time before your security is called away and you’re unprotected. ”
Stein turned onto a street that headed out of town. “They want that obsidite. And I wouldn’t be surprised if they want Austen too. Because if they have to, they’ll use my sister to put a little pressure on you.” Stein glanced at him. “And I just can’t have that.”
“Me either.” The thought pressed a fist to his gut. Especially after...
Well, he’d stood at the window a long time after they’d returned to the hotel, staring at the darkness, thinking about how she’d felt in his arms.
Thinking about his lame joke?—
“And your wife? What is she doing all this time?”
“Swimming with the sharks?”
Sort of kidding. Because the longer they’d strolled, her hand in his, the fragrance of her presence loosing the dark knots inside his soul, the more he’d realized that he was falling for her. Probably had been for a while now.
“For the record, I care for her.”
Steinbeck nodded. “I figured.”
They drove without speaking. Steinbeck finally turned onto another road that led up a hill into the outskirts of the city. “Just to be clear, if you hurt her?—”
“I won’t,” Declan said.
Steinbeck’s jaw tightened.
Declan looked behind them. “I don’t think anyone followed us, so I’m not sure your decoy plan worked.”
“Phoenix will get her out of the hotel without anyone seeing her.”
“You really trust that woman?”
Steinbeck made a low sound deep in his chest. Declan couldn’t tell whether it was agreement or not.
They had left the city, driving past coffee and tobacco plantations, and he spotted the airfield in the distance. The moonlight shone off the rounded top of a row of Quonset buildings. A handful of small planes sat tied down, some of them covered with tarps. Darkness hovered over the runway.
Steinbeck pulled up to the far Quonset building. They got out and worked their way around the building to the front, facing the tarmac.
The doors had been rolled open, but the hangar remained empty.
“So now what? We liberate a plane?” Declan asked.
Stein stood in the darkness, scanning the airfield, and even as he spoke, they heard the low drone of a motor behind them and a scooter pulled up. Steinbeck looked back along the Quonset hut. “It’s Phoenix and Austen.”
Declan wanted to take off in a run toward Austen when he saw her disembark from the back of the bike. He drew in a deep breath. “Okay, let’s get outta here.”
Phoenix came walking up, Austen with her.
Austen looked at Declan, hurt in her expression. “I thought you left. Phoenix said you’d already gone.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “Steinbeck thought we could lead the people watching us away. But I think we all got away without incident.” He stepped up to her. “Are you okay?”
She glanced at Steinbeck, then back at him, and nodded.
And he didn’t care what Steinbeck thought. Declan put his arms around her and pulled her against himself. “I’m so sorry I got you into this,” he said quietly. “But I am going to make sure you get out safely.”
“Let’s find some wings,” Phoenix said. She jogged out toward one of the untarped planes.
“Come on,” Steinbeck said and started off at a jog toward the plane.
Gunfire ripped out of the darkness. Bullets strafed the plane.
Declan, who had followed Steinbeck, whirled around, grabbed Austen, and threw her to the ground.
Phoenix dropped too.
“Are you hit?” asked Steinbeck, now crouching, running toward Phoenix.
Gunfire shredded the plane’s wings and body, but Phoenix rolled away and launched herself behind a nearby cart. So, still alive.
“Run!” Steinbeck shouted as he reached Phoenix. “Come on, let’s go!”
Declan scrambled to his feet, pulling Austen with him. Of course whoever was shooting caught their movement. Shots peppered their wake.
He stopped behind a nearby truck, parked between them and the Quonset hut. Steinbeck and Phoenix scuttled in beside them.
Steinbeck looked at Declan, his expression strained. “You need to get her out of here.” Steinbeck picked up what looked like a tire iron.
“I’m not leaving without you, Steinbeck.” Austen, of course.
“Look what I found,” Phoenix said. She had disengaged the nozzle of a portable gasoline tank and now clutched the hose. “You guys go. I’ll stop them.”
“Where are we going to go?” Steinbeck said.
“The yacht,” Declan said. “We saw Captain Teresa down in the square. You said you saw it?—”
“Yes,” Steinbeck said. He looked at Phoenix. “We get to the harbor, then.”
Their gazes seemed to catch. A beat, then Phoenix nodded. “Go. I’ll take the scooter and be right behind you.” Then she stepped out from the truck, spraying gasoline onto the tarmac.
Declan grabbed Austen. Steinbeck rose, his gaze hard on Phoenix, something in his eyes that probably matched Declan’s own desperation when Steinbeck had told him he’d have to leave Austen behind.
“You’d better show up,” Steinbeck shouted.
Phoenix waved her hand. “Go! I’ll be right behind you! I promise!”
Steinbeck let out a growl. “Let’s go!”
They took off running. Bullets pinged around them, but they crossed behind the Quonset hut and dove into the Lada, Steinbeck at the wheel.
“Was that—” Austen said, climbing into the back seat.
“Our Russian friends?” Declan said. “Maybe.”
“Or it could be local police,” Steinbeck said. “I’m not gonna stick around to find out.”
As he pulled out, however, Declan saw him angle the rearview mirror, glancing at it as they headed down the dirt road.
“Come on. Come on,” he muttered.
They’d reached the gravel when an explosion lit up the night, a plume of orange and red that blew apart the sky.
Austen put her hands over her head, ducking before she looked back. “Oh no, I hope Phoenix got away.”
From the look on Steinbeck’s face, that was an understatement.
“Should we go back?” Declan turned, searching for her form in the glow.
Steinbeck shook his head. “We need to get to the boat. She’ll be there.”
They hit the outskirts of town and wove their way through the darkened city streets, losing themselves in the tangle of neighborhoods until they finally reached the harbor.
A chain-link fence cordoned off the entire area, locked from the outside.
But inside, along the pier, Declan made out the Invictus .
Beautiful. White. Hope glistening under the moonlight.
Steinbeck parked in the shadows, and they got out, crouched, surveying the area. “Phoenix and I came through some rusty gates. Down this way,” Steinbeck said. “Stay low.”
Declan ducked as he followed, Austen right behind him. They reached the fencing some fifty yards away from the opening in an area of shrubbery and overgrown brush. Steinbeck pulled it back and crept in, the chain link broken from the pole.