Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Cap throttled down, but the cigarette boat kept coming toward them. It moved fast. Too fast.
He waited for it to peel off between him and the shoreline, but it didn’t adjust course. In a few seconds, it would plow straight through his lines.
Was the driver freaking drunk?
A man in the back jumped up and down, waving his arms as if he were trying to flag down a rescue chopper.
The bright yellow boat slowed hard. Its stern dropped, water rolled over the back, and the man lost his footing. He went down, popped back up, and their hull settled squarely onto Cap’s inside planer board.
“What in the hell are you doing? You just cut my lines.”
“I need to get on your boat. You have my bag,” the guy on the back of the boat yelled.
“What?”
“I just need my bag.”
“Jonathan. Get out of here!” Emma yelled.
Dammit. This guy was her ex, the one the dockmaster had told him about. For chrissake, he didn’t need this kind of drama.
Cap glanced down. All four women clustered along the port rail. Emma leaned forward, arm outstretched, finger aimed at her ex.
“I mean it. Get away from me!” she yelled.
“Sorry, buddy, but you’re not getting on this vessel or getting anything off this vessel. Do not come any closer. Whatever you need, you can get when we’re done fishing, and we get back to the dock.”
“I need it now!” he yelled back.
Cap risked a glance at the driver of the other boat and his female passenger. The man looked like he’d regretted his decision to drive this idiot out to him. Did Jonathan know this guy? Did he pay him to take him here? It didn’t matter. He wasn’t getting on this boat.
The driver of the cigarette boat gunned it, tearing through the rest of his lines on the port side.
“Dammit. Get away from my lines!” Cap shouted, though it was of no use.
All the lines, boards, and equipment on that side of the boat were probably ruined already.
Hundreds of dollars gone. He forced himself to take a calming breath.
The ladies seemed to enjoy themselves, and he would not let this mishap implode the charter.
The other boat veered away. Jonathan screamed something at the driver, but he couldn’t make out what he’d said, and he didn’t care. All he cared about was the fact that they were driving away from him.
Cap looked at Preston. “Reel in the port side lines. Let’s see what we’re working with now.”
“You got it.”
Cap looked to the starboard side of the boat. The boards and lines looked good.
“Jonathan! No!” Emma yelled as she leaned over the back of the boat.
Cap followed her line of sight. Jonathan floundered in the water.
Cap could not believe his eyes. Was the man crazy?
It didn’t look like he knew how to swim, and he wasn’t wearing a life vest. That, and the fact that the water temperature hovered around sixty degrees at best, meant he’d probably experience cold water shock.
The cigarette boat roared away at full throttle.
“Dammit. Can he swim?” Cap yelled.
Emma’s head snapped in his direction. “Yes, but not well.”
As much as he didn’t need this drama on his boat, Cap couldn’t leave the floundering man in the chilly waters of Lake Michigan.
“Preston, clear the lines. We’re circling back. Ladies, help him.”
His first mate nodded at him, then instructed the clients to reel fast.
Cap swung wide so as not to mess up the lines on the starboard side of the boat. Another glance at Jonathan’s thrashing arms let him know that they’d better hurry.
Preston threw a life ring, and Jonathan latched onto it. Then, Preston pulled him toward the boat.
The man’s eyes went wide. “Ow!” Jonathan yelled.
“What?” Preston asked.
All eyes were on the man in the water.
“Something just bit me.”
“Nothing is going to bite you out there,” Cap informed him.
“It’s pulling on me!” Jonathan yelled back.
What the hell was this lunatic talking about?
“I’m serious. It hurts, and it’s pulling on me.”
Cap supposed he could play along with this little game.
“Where is it pulling on you?” Cap asked as he and Preston reached down, each grabbing one of the man’s hands to pull him onto the boat.
Once standing, Jonathan twisted his body around, attempting to see the backside of himself. Then, he pointed at his ass.
“Right there.”
Cap stepped around the man to look.
Laughter burst out before he could stop it. This couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy.
“What’s so funny?” Jonathan asked.
“Looks like you’ve been caught.”
Preston and the ladies crowded behind Jonathan to look.
Chuckles filled the boat.
“What?” he asked again.
“Looks like the only line you didn’t ruin caught you instead.”
Cap watched Emma as her ebony gaze followed the hook, lure, and line attached to her ex’s ass to the rod she gripped in her hands. A hint of mischief flashed in her eyes when realization set in. She gave the rod a slight jerk.
Jonathan screamed like a little girl.
“Cap, this one’s not a keeper. Can we toss him back?” Emma asked sweetly.
Everyone but Jonathan roared with laughter.
Though it was tempting, he couldn’t grant her request. If the ladies chose to finish their charter, Jonathan would stay with them. He ran his gaze over Jonathan. The guy looked soft—harmless enough.
“It’s not funny,” Jonathan snapped.
“Oh, it is,” Emma replied.
“Preston, help Jonathan get unhooked,” Cap ordered.
“Yes, sir.”
“Ladies, the lines on the other side of the boat are active. Keep your eyes on them and let’s catch some fish.”
Emma handed her rod to Preston, then fixed her gaze on the set lines. Shoulders tight, but steady.
Since the ladies had caught a couple of fish, their interest in fishing peaked. Just like any other customer. Once you catch one, you want to catch more.
Cap climbed back up into the wheelhouse.
“Ow, ow, ow!” Jonathan exclaimed.
He supposed that resulted from his first mate pushing the sharp hook through the man’s flesh so he could snip the barbed end and then pull it back out.
Unfortunately for Jonathan, that was the best way to release the hook from him.
Pulling the barb backwards would cause more pain and damage.
This wasn’t the first hook he or Preston pulled from a person, but usually, if someone got hooked, it was in the hand, not the ass.
This ass-hooking seemed appropriate, though.
Cap didn’t bother to look in the direction of the whining. Instead, he focused ahead. There were other fishing vessels off in the distance, but none obstructing his pathway.
“Emma, where’s my bag?” Jonathan asked.
Cap had forgotten about the bag the drenched man mentioned. The one that caused all this chaos and was important enough for the man to jump into the frigid waters of Lake Michigan.
“I don’t have it,” she replied.
“I know you do, and I need it.”
“Well, I don’t have it.”
Morgan snorted.
“Morgan, what do you know? This isn’t funny. Where is it?” Jonathan asked.
The raised octave of Jonathan’s voice caused Cap to focus on him from up in the wheelhouse.
Jonathan’s arm flung out and latched onto Emma’s bicep. He yanked her to him. Instinctively, Cap leaped down onto the deck.
“Release her, now!”
Emma’s eyes were wide. Jonathan’s nostrils flared.
What the hell was with this bag that it was so important?
Cap closed in on Jonathan. “I said release her.”
After a bit of a stare-down, he released Emma, and she stepped away from him.
“I need the bag,” Jonathan stated firmly.
“She told you she doesn’t have it.”
Jonathan refocused on Emma. “Where is it?”
Cap risked moving his gaze from the angry man to Emma, whose attention was fixed on the deck.
Cap felt it like a punch. Lie. Lying was the one thing he detested most.
The taste of it dragged him backward—five years, a wedding canceled, his fiancé and best friend’s deception. Lie. They made him a laughingstock of the town when their affair was revealed. Women. All liars. Except maybe for Hannah, his brother’s new wife. He liked her. If only she had a sister.
What the hell am I thinking? Women—bad.
Cap raked his hand over his face. Seeing what his brother Hunter and Hannah shared made him rethink his attitude.
He would be thirty-seven soon and was thinking about the lonely future ahead of him.
It would probably help if his mother didn’t remind him of that regularly.
He could hear her now. “Capricornus, you don’t want to grow old alone, do you?
I can’t imagine how lonely I’d be without your father and you children.
You need to let go of the anger you harbor.
It’s not healthy. Blythe was…let’s just say she wasn’t the right woman for you, anyway. ”
“Dammit, Emma, just give me the bag,” Jonathan demanded again.
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“I threw it overboard.”
“You what?” Jonathan said as he lunged toward Emma.
Cap flew down from the wheelhouse and pushed his way in between the two of them. He tucked Emma behind him and placed his palm on the angry man’s chest, hard. The other three women and Preston stared at them wide-eyed.
“Why are you so angry? It’s just a bag of fishing equipment,” Emma asked.
Her voice shook, and he could feel her trembling behind him, but he didn’t look at her because he didn’t want to take his eyes off the overly-angry man.
“Son of a bitch!” Jonathan yelled as he pulled away from Cap and paced the deck.
Cap turned to look at Emma. “Tell me you didn’t throw something off my boat.”
Her nod came slowly, and she averted his gaze.
“That’s illegal, you know,” he said through gritted teeth.
“It’s just…”
“No, just stop. There’s no excuse. I knew this charter was going to be trouble.”
Jonathan stopped pacing and stood statue still. Slowly, he turned to face him. His face drained of color.
“Trouble is too mild a word for what is about to happen,” Jonathan said.
Dread coiled in the pit of Cap’s stomach, and he feared asking the looming question. “What is really in the bag?”
Jonathan just stared at him.
Memories of his drug investigator days bombarded his brain, and his instincts now told him that the bag was not full of fishing equipment as Emma probably thought it was. Jonathan planned to use this charter as a drug drop.
His brain flew into drug investigator mode as if it hadn’t been over a year since he’d worked in that field.
Did the man standing before him have a weapon?
Judging from the cargo shorts he wore, it was possible he could conceal a weapon.
Cap had one too, but it was locked away in the cabin.
That seemed pretty dumb right now, but in all his time as a charter captain, he’d never needed a weapon.
“Preston, radio the Coast Guard and Sturgeon Bay Police Department. Get them here now. We have a drug drop about to happen,” Cap instructed his first mate without taking his eyes off Jonathan.
Preston moved forward.
Jonathan grabbed him by the shirt and flung him back.
The kid fell, smacking his head hard on the side of the boat.
Cap tackled Jonathan.
Chaos exploded.
“Stop! Please stop fighting!” Emma demanded.
Until Jonathan was subdued, he couldn’t stop.
“Preston isn’t moving,” one of the other ladies cried out.
Jonathan’s fist caught Cap’s cheekbone. White-hot pain flared. He hadn’t expected that out of this city slicker, but then again, the man was fighting for his life. If he didn’t produce the drugs he’d promised, there would be hell to pay. Possibly on both sides, the supplier and the receiver.
“Girls, one of you needs to get on the radio and call for help!” Cap ordered as he struggled with Jonathan.
“That won’t be necessary,” a gravelly, deep voice replied.
The man’s accent was thick and Colombian.
Both he and Jonathan stilled.
Unease snaked up his spine, and he knew before he looked what he’d see.
A tall, dark-complexioned man with pitch-black hair and a mustache stared down at him. He wore a black T-shirt and pants. His build was muscular, and he would probably be a challenge to fight. The bigger issue was the semi-automatic weapon tucked into his waistband.
“Get up!”
Cap and Jonathan rose slowly.
A second man jumped from their speedboat onto his vessel.
“We just want the bag.”
Jonathan’s body went limp, and he collapsed onto the deck.
Coward.
Not one person made a move to see if he was alright. The ladies were probably scared and frozen in place.
The man in black zeroed in on him.
“What bag?” Cap asked.
“Don’t fuck with me.”
“It was thrown overboard,” Cap replied.
“That’s what should have happened, but didn’t, so hand it over or else.”
Cap believed the or else would not be good.
The meaning of the Colombian’s words struck Cap. That’s what should have happened, but didn’t. Did the bag have a beacon that was supposed to be activated so they could find it?
“I threw it overboard a long way back. I thought it was just Jonathan’s fishing equipment,” Emma stated in not much more than a whisper.
The woman had more balls than the wimp, who passed out from fear on the deck.
The man made a move to get around him toward Emma.
Cap sidestepped into his path. There was no way in hell he’d let the guy get any closer to Emma.
The Colombian pulled his weapon from his waistband and waved it in Cap’s face.
“She’s telling the truth.”
The guy stood so close to him that his wretched, hot breath washed over his face.
“Where? We need it, and you’re going to take us there.”
A mumbled groan sounded. Cap didn’t want to take his eyes off the guy in front of him, but he wanted to know if it was Jonathan or Preston who hadn’t moved or made a sound since he’d fallen and hit his head.
“Preston. Are you okay?” one of the women asked.
Another groan sounded from behind him. That had to be a good sign.
“Preston. Preston,” the same woman said.
No response.
“He’s out again. He needs medical attention.”
“As soon as we find the bag, he can get the attention he needs. Until then, his life is in your hands,” the man said, looking Cap square in the eyes.
Cap had no choice. He needed to make an effort to find the drugs until he could think of a way out of this mess.
Though the reality of the matter was they’d all be dead before the end of the day. He wasn’t ready to be dead, and he suspected his passengers weren’t either.