Chapter 10 #2
“We might have given it a little help,” Steinbeck said. He held back the fencing, and Austen clambered through. Steinbeck held it open for Declan, searching the parking lot. Then he crawled through after Declan, wearing a grim look. “Let’s go.”
They ran past metal buildings, fisheries, and crouched behind boxes piled on the pier as they finally worked their way to the dock. The Invictus floated at the end. Fishing boats listed in the waves, tied to the pier side by side.
“What if she’s being guarded?” Austen said.
“Oh, she’s most certainly being guarded,” Declan said.
Steinbeck gave a nod. He still carried the tire iron and now glanced at Declan.
“Listen,” he said, “I’ll get on the boat first—see if I can create a diversion. You get on, get down to the lockers, and arm yourself.”
Then he looked at Austen. “And you get someplace safe. Lock yourself in a closet or something. Wait till I come and get you.”
“I can help,” Austen said.
“You can help by making sure you don’t get in the way.”
She recoiled. “I won’t get in the way?—”
Declan took her hand. “He’s right. Let us get you out of here.”
“Fine,” she said. “But neither one of you better die.”
Steinbeck gave her a smile. “Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it. I know you and your temper.”
Her mouth opened, and Declan smiled. But Steinbeck had already moved down the pier, staying low.
Declan followed him, Austen on his tail.
The gangway to the ship touched the dock, so clearly the Russians weren’t worried about stowaways or attackers. Steinbeck huddled in the shadows. Moonlight glinted upon the water, and the various trawlers and skiffs tied to the dock bumped against each other.
“I see one guy in the bow,” Stein said. “Looks like he’s doing rounds. We’ll wait till he goes to the backside of the boat and then we’ll board. I think we can catch him by surprise.”
It felt like they were a team again. Well, he’d never really been a team with Steinbeck, but still, it felt good to have Steinbeck back by his side.
“All right, let’s go,” Steinbeck said, and led the way as they hurried up the gangway. Steinbeck went aboard, then Declan, finally Austen.
Declan grabbed her hand and headed into the salon. It was dark, but he knew his way. He found the galley door, pulled Austen down the galley stairs. “Stay here,” he said. “Maybe in one of the crew berths.”
Then he headed down the hall to the security area. He keyed in the code, and the lock to the weapons cache opened. He found a Beretta 92XI, grabbed another and returned to Austen.
“Do you know how to handle a gun?”
“We’ve been over this. Yes.”
“Okay, hide, and if anyone shows up that’s not me or Steinbeck?—”
“To be clear, I’m not killing anybody.”
“You may change your mind if they decide to kill you. ”
Her eyes widened. Oh, he hadn’t meant to scare her. He put his hand behind her neck, leaned in, and kissed her, fast and hard.
Somehow he pulled away. “We’ll be back.”
Then he headed back up the stairs and into the galley. The boat listed in the water, just the hum of the AC units betraying life. He searched the stern. Nothing. But on the port side, Steinbeck dumped something into the harbor waters.
Oh. Declan didn’t want to know, and maybe that was for the best.
Steinbeck came in through the salon doors. “You get up to the bridge. I’ll get us off the dock.”
“We should wait for Phoenix,” Declan said.
A beat. “She’ll be here,” Steinbeck said. “Let’s get moving.”
Declan took the outer stairs to the spa deck and then up to the sky lounge and finally onto the bridge.
The console lights illuminated the darkness.
He’d been up here at least twice while Teresa had taken the boat out of dock, and before that had watched the previous captain of the Invictus , a skipper out of Grenada, take the boat out of harbor.
So he wasn’t a pro, but he could certainly figure out how to drive his own yacht.
Declan fired up both engines, saw them come to life on the monitors.
The deck cameras showed Steinbeck pulling the rope from one of the cleats.
He tossed the rope onto the boat and then ran down the dock to the other cleat.
Declan searched the console, found the reverse and forward throttles for each engine, the compass, the wheel attached to the helm. He could figure this out.
On-screen, Steinbeck threw the other rope onto the boat, then stood on the dock, his hands on his hips, staring out into the darkness.
Declan could almost feel his thoughts. Come on, Phoenix. Come on.
Finally Steinbeck scrubbed his hands down his face and turned, ran up the gangway. Then activated the hydraulics and pulled the bridge.
Oh no.
Steinbeck stared again into the darkness, clearly hoping that she would appear. He waited a second, then another, and finally he turned and ran up the stairs to the pilothouse.
Declan already knew what he was going to say when he opened the bridge door.
“Let’s go,” Steinbeck said. “It won’t take them long to figure out what’s going on.”
“Phoenix?”
Steinbeck shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“We should wait.”
“No, we should go. She can take care of herself.” But his jaw tightened as Declan maneuvered the yacht off the dock and out into the shiny black harbor.
Declan didn’t blame him at all when Steinbeck walked outside and slammed his fist against the rail.
Then Declan motored them out of the harbor into the dark ocean water, the moonlight glistening on the waves ahead, the yacht gaining speed. Now they just had to get out of Cuban waters.
Steinbeck came in, his expression still strained. He stood with his arms folded, staring into the darkness. Declan glanced at him. “Um... maybe someone should go get Austen?”
“Right.” He turned to head out the door.
Stopped.
Out of the corner of Declan’s eye, he saw Steinbeck put his hands up, take a step back.
Austen appeared in the room, her hands also raised. Behind her, Sergei held a gun to the nape of her neck.
“Ach,” he said. “Welcome back.”
* * *
She’d frozen.
Austen wouldn’t even call it staying calm. Her body had simply shut down and stopped working when the Russian opened up the door to the crew room and stared at her.
Sure, she’d held a gun, but she didn’t lift it, didn’t point it at him, nothing . She’d just stared, and of course the man had reached out and grabbed the gun, which left her with no recourse except to scream.
Only, even that reaction hadn’t surfaced.
He’d lunged for her. Then somehow she’d come to life and kicked him, but by that time it was too late. He’d shoved the gun up against her neck and said, “Welcome back.”
The same words he’d said to Declan and Steinbeck when he’d used her as hostage fodder to keep them from jumping him, and then as he’d marched them down to a stateroom on the spa deck to lock them inside.
That had been their last chance before the rest of his crew woke. Because apparently, the boat wasn’t unoccupied. And they’d added a few crew members since their last excursion. So it was a Russian party on a hijacked boat, and she, Declan, and Steinbeck were the unwelcome guests.
Thankfully nobody had gotten hurt, unless she looked at Steinbeck and Declan.
She wouldn’t call their dark expressions hurt .
Fierce, angry, frustrated, maybe helpless.
Although, she knew both of them enough to know that they weren’t actually helpless .
Regardless of what he’d said in the plaza, Declan might be the least helpless man she’d ever met.
He always had a plan, something up his sleeve, and even now as she looked at him, the dawn cresting into the locked stateroom, he seemed to be thinking.
He’d spent most of the last hour pacing the room, occasionally glancing out the massive windows that overlooked the dark sea. She could practically see the steam churning inside his brain as he tried to figure out how to get them out of this.
And note to self. Next time she was taken hostage, she’d prefer not to wear her pajamas. That thought conjured up Phoenix pulling her out of bed to drag her up to the airport. Which led to Phoenix setting up a fiery blockade so they could make their escape.
Steinbeck’s entire body resembled a coiled rattler, his tail practically buzzing as he sat on the other sofa. She’d never seen him quite so miserable. Okay, maybe when he’d returned from Germany, both of his legs wrapped after having both knees replaced.
This felt different, though.
She knew better than to suggest that maybe it was a good thing that Phoenix hadn’t joined them. But then again, why hadn’t she shown up? That horror sat like a burr deep in her heart.
That and the fact that, well... “I’m really, really, really sorry that I didn’t shoot him,” she said into the quiet.
Both men turned and looked at her, frowned. “Seriously?” Declan said. “First, I’m just glad Sergei didn’t kill you. And second, of course you shouldn’t have shot him. Because if you had, who knows what they would have done with us? You might have saved our lives.”
“I completely froze,” Austen said.
“You did fine,” Steinbeck said quietly.
She did not do fine, and she didn’t want to admit it but, “I was just in the way. I’ve been in the way this entire time. If you hadn’t had to find me, you would have been safe in port and?—”
“Stop,” Declan said and walked over to her. Sat on the bed. “Austen. You are not in the way. You’re the reason. The light in the middle of the dark ocean.”
“Oh brother,” Steinbeck said. Then he looked at her. “But yes, you are... Well, there’s no one like you, sis.”
Her eyes filled, and she pulled up a pillow from the bed to hold on to. “What’s going to happen now?”
Declan hung a hand behind his neck. “Well, they’re tracking my last ship, the Santa Maria , so I guess when they find it, they’ll take it.” He looked at Steinbeck and lifted his shoulders.
Her eyes widened. “And then what? Are they going to kill us?”
“They might not kill Declan right away. After all, he has what they want,” Stein said.