One of them wasn’t making it out of this alive.
He gritted his teeth. “You killed her for the treasure? Is that what this is? You greedy bastard. Ten percent of half a billion dollars isn’t enough for you?”
“Is that what you think this is about?”
Brent’s brows drew together, confused. “Isn’t it? Cut me out of the picture and you get the full twenty percent, or do you intend to keep it all? Shit Donald. This isn’t you.”
“Says the golden boy who never had to work a day in his life.”
“I’ve worked.”
Where did that come from? A successful law practice contributed to his family’s wealth, but he didn’t lay claim to any of it. He hadn’t followed in his family’s footsteps, choosing instead to chase his passion and pursue his dreams.
“No. You’ve had your entire life handed to you on a silver platter. I’ve watched you get everything you’ve ever wanted, even when you took from me. Me! Your best friend who had to fight for every scrap. You took everything from me.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
Donald had gone out of his mind.
“Do you remember Charlene?”
“Who?”
“You took Charlene from me in high school. I told you I wanted to ask her to prom, then you swooped in, stole her, and took her virginity. Then you had the audacity to brag to me all about it.”
“Charlene from high school? Are you crazy? What does that have to do with anything?”
That was bringing up ancient history, and didn’t matter in the bigger scheme of things. It was nothing but a blip on the radar, and frankly not worth mentioning.
“Then there was Marie. You took her to homecoming after I told you I was going to ask her out, and let’s not even talk about Trisha. You stabbed me in the back and twisted that knife hard.”
“Trisha was a disaster.” He had no memory of a Marie. “I saved you from the worst mistake of your life.”
“By taking the girl? You always took the girl. You couldn’t even wait a day before taking Brie.”
“Brie? You’re fucking insane. You never had a chance with Brie.”
“Not with you around.”
Brent fingered the trigger on the spear gun and wondered if he had enough strength to lift and hold the gun steady enough to shoot Donald in the heart.
“This isn’t about girls, Donald. Think about what you’ve done. It makes no sense.”
“What doesn’t make sense is spending a lifetime as your best friend only to have you stomp on me every chance you get. This wasn’t supposed to go down like this.”
“How was it supposed to go down? And you can’t steal something this big. You won’t be able to sell it, not Spanish gold. The word will get out. Shit Donald. This is fucked.”
Chapter 22
Brie
Brie surfaced from her near-death experience at the bow of the Pendragon. During her ascent, she found a way to control the fear racing around her body. She calmed her breathing, slowed her heart rate and channeled her fear into justifiable rage.
Two goals figured prominently in her mind. The top of that very short list was to save Brent, then make Donald pay.
The water lapped against the ship's hull and the gentle susurrations of wind and wave almost had her convinced this was one of any number of normal days. The truth said otherwise and she needed to get to Brent before Donald had a chance to kill him.
The men's voices carried to her ears, but they were muffled and unintelligible. Sound traveled strangely on water. It could travel far, amplifying as it went, or blur into incomprehensible noise up close. It did that now, but there was no mistaking the anger coming from the deck of the Pendragon.
Careful not to make a sound, she glided alongside the hull and made her way to the stern.
Donald's shouts could be clearly heard. Brent responded, his tone guarded. They were talking about the satellite phone.
"What did you do?" A long pause followed Brent's demand.
"You're not going to use that." A hint of fear laced Donald's voice, but madness stirred there too.
"Don't make me." Brent's harsh tone said otherwise. Whatever Donald feared, Brent's tone said he fully intended to do exactly that.
She couldn't see the two of them and debated her next move. Climbing on board would make noise, and she didn't want to tip Donald off that she survived. Not until she could assess the situation. There was the matter of her gear: BCD, fins, mask, and a very empty tank. All would not only make noise, but their weight would slow her down.
Not liking her options, she decided to ditch her gear. There was no way to do that without making a lot of splashing noises. Unless she sank a couple feet underwater. That would mean letting go of the boat, but there was very little current to draw her away and she still had some air left in her bailout bottle.
“We could have talked this out,” Brent said.
She couldn't let Brent think she was dead, but this could be to their advantage. Brent faced Donald in a weakened state. No doubt, Donald had been behind the fouled air in Brent's tank, precisely to take him out of the equation.
Not happy leaving Brent with Donald longer than necessary, she let out the air from her BCD, and sank three feet under the water. She worked quickly to remove her fins and attached them to the BCD. Then, she slipped off the weights from around her waist.
Hooking everything up, her lungs burned with the need to breathe. She took a breath off her bailout bottle, secured all her gear, and watched it sink after she let it go. Then, she debated her next move.
Blowing out slowly, she surfaced beneath the dive ladder. Fighting the urge to race up to help Brent, she forced herself to think. If she didn't keep a head on her shoulders, she could wind up a liability, and she couldn't afford to distract Brent.
She placed a foot on a metal rung and lifted herself out of the water. Moving at a snail's pace, water streamed off her body, making little noise. As the hull rose and fell, the boat slapped against the water. The noise hid any sound she made.
Above her, the men's argument continued.
"Put the gun down." Donald's words came with a lethal growl. “You’re in no condition to fight me.”
Her gut clenched thinking about Brent dying. She couldn't lose him, not after finding him. As corny as it sounded, she'd been waiting for Brent her entire life. He was her one.
“Is that the plan? Kill me and take the treasure for yourself? You won't be able to do anything with it."
"You're wrong about that. I have buyers teed up to make me a wealthy man."
Brie took the last step off the dive platform. She kept herself hidden, hunching behind the rear transom. Until she could figure out where the men were relative to her position, she hid from view.
"Did you plan on getting rid of Gus as well?" Brent said with a sneer. "Or just Brie? Are you that hung up on the past that you've gone insane?"
“It wasn't supposed to go down this way.” Donald's voice shook with anger. "If she hadn't snooped around my cabin..."
Her heart skipped a beat. That explained much. She told Donald about giving the phone to Brent. Had there been more messages? He'd been communicating with someone.
Their situation could get much worse depending on whether Donald sent any more messages. She stole a glance to the horizon, looking for any boats closing in.
"How was this supposed to go, Donald? There's no way I would ever let you get away with something like this."
"My friends were going to take you and Gus out, but then you brought Brie on board."
"Take us out? You've obviously been planning this for some time. I thought we were friends. Shit, you’re like a brother to me."
"No one had to get hurt." Donald's voice rose. "Brie fucked that all up giving you my phone."
"And that justifies killing her?"
“I had no other choice.”
"This isn't about Brie," Brent said. "It’s not even about any of those other girls.
You wouldn't do something like this over a girl. What's really going on?"
She couldn't help herself and took a peek over the transom. Donald stood with his back to her. Brent sat on one of the storage boxes; spear gun aimed at Donald's chest.
"I called the Coast Guard. They're on their way. You'll be seeing the inside of a jail for what you've done."
"I seriously doubt that. They won’t be here fast enough. My associates are already on the way.”
“Your associates? Are these business partners or something else?”
She couldn’t see Donald’s expression, but from the way his body jerked, Brent seemed to have hit a nerve. Still out of sight, she placed herself directly behind Donald. She placed her fingertips on the top of her head to form an O with the curve of her arm. The universal dive sign for Okay, Brent would understand.
She shifted, ever so slightly to the right, exposing herself to Brent’s line of sight. His gaze shifted, not enough for Donald to notice, and his lids pulled back in surprise.
She tapped her head, telling him she was not injured, then she placed her finger to her lips. She prayed he didn’t overreact.
He recovered quickly and lifted the tip of the spear gun. “Exactly what kind of associates do you have that would contemplate murder?” He then paused and sucked in a breath. “Are you in trouble?”
“I won’t be.” Donald took a step forward. “Now, give me the spear gun.”
“The Coast Guard is on its way. Your plan is a bust. Give yourself up and let’s see how we can work this out.”
“I don’t think you understand.”
Over the waves, the rumble of an engine sounded. Donald looked over his shoulder, and she didn’t duck fast enough.
“You!” He launched at her, trying to vault over the transom.
A loud pop sounded and a solid thunk vibrated through the ship.
Donald shrieked and doubled over, pinned to the transom.
She pulled back, nearly falling off the dive platform, but Donald didn’t move. He gripped his leg. The bloodied tip of the spear poked through the fiberglass, pinning Donald in place.
She moved.
In three breaths, she wrapped her arms around Brent.
“Are you okay?”
“You’re alive.” On shaky legs, he buried her under a flurry of kisses.
Meanwhile, Donald screamed. He wouldn’t be going anywhere, but they weren’t out of danger.
That low approaching rumble had not come from a US Coast Guard vessel, but rather a sleek cigarette boat.
Chapter 23
Brent
Still weak, but feeling stronger, Brent’s entire world lit up and his heart swelled until it felt like it would burst out of his chest.
“You’re alive!” He clutched Brie, his arms shaking with lingering weakness.
She grabbed at him and her body trembled, either with fear, cold, or adrenaline spiking through her veins, maybe all three.
His imagination had run wild, thinking about what Donald had done.
How she had suffered.
How she had died.
Shock had turned to anger and anger into a blinding rage. He hadn’t been aiming at Donald’s leg. Despite Erika’s comments not to kill anyone, he aimed square at Donald’s chest. He’d been so weak, the tip of the spear gun dipped.
His attention went from Brie, to Donald, and then over the waves. Donald’s friends would arrive within the next few minutes, giving him and Brie very little time. As for the Charles Sexton? There was no sign of the US Coast Guard cutter.
Brie saw the fast-approaching boat and her grip tightened.
“What do we do?”
He lifted the spear gun, discharged after releasing its one and only spear. They had nothing on board to repel invaders. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out Donald’s phone and dialed Erika.
She picked up on the first ring. “Hey there. What’s your status?”
“There’s at least five armed men approaching on a cigarette boat.”
“We’re ten-minutes out.”
“They’ll be here in five.”
“Can you break anchor?”
“We’re tied in with two anchors. It’ll take too long.”
“Okay, let me think.”
“I shot Donald.” He dragged a hand through his hair.
“Shit, Brent. Is he…”
“The bastard’s alive. He tried to kill Brie.”
“Say what?”
“You heard me.”
“Okay, you need to get somewhere secure. They’ll board you. Buy us time.”
“On it.” He ended the call then turned to Brie. “Let’s get below deck.”
“I’m scared.” Brie shook in his arms and he kissed the top of her head, providing as much reassurance as he could. Fortunately, his strength was returning, if not slowly. He supported Brie, rather than the other way around, and guided her down.
“Help me barricade the door.” Like every other ship, most things were bolted down. He stood at the bottom of the short flight of stairs, looking at the back of the door. They had nothing to use as a barricade.
“We can tie it off.” She pointed to the lever and the handrail. It wouldn’t take much to rip the rail out of the wall, but it would slow them down.
“Good. You do that, I’m going to the galley.”
“Why?”
“Knives.”
Her lips firmed into a hard line. “Those men have guns. What good is a knife?”
“Better than nothing.” It didn’t escape his attention they left Donald up on deck. Donald might be bleeding out.
He couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more at play than Donald let on. He had dredged up remote history with girls, things that shouldn’t matter after so many years, as if he’d been searching for an excuse to hate Brent. Something didn’t add up.
There wasn’t time to worry about Donald, though. Not with armed men ready to board the Pendragon. Whether they took care of Donald or not was on Donald’s shoulders. Brent absolved himself of any responsibility toward his friend, and hated that he had to do that at all.
Brie showed her skill with rope, tying a self-tightening knot between the door handle and the bar. When they tried to force that door open, the knot would tighten. It wouldn’t keep them out, but it would buy time. Right now, that’s all he cared about.
A Sentinel-class cutter at over one-hundred-and-fifty feet, the Charles Sexton dwarfed the Pendragon, and would tower over the fifty-foot cigarette boat.
The cigarette may be faster than the Charles Sexton, but the US Coast Guard cutter came equipped with a 25mm Bushmaster auto cannon and four 0.50 caliber machine guns. It might be slower than those attempting to board the Pendragon, but it could shoot the hell out of that ship. It also came with a crew of over twenty, specifically trained in drug interdiction.
All they needed was time.
He grabbed a few knives, then met Brie in the hall.
“You ready?”
“Yes.” Her wide, terrified eyes stared at him. Barely blinking, her chest heaved.
He felt the surge of adrenaline in his veins. All his senses were on high alert as he prepared to fight, but first they needed to hide. The best place to do that wasn’t in the crew quarters. He took her hand and pulled her toward the stern.
“Come, we’ll go to the engine room.” Dark, tight, and cramped, he hoped he could at least hide Brie.
Once those men came down, it wouldn’t take long to find them. He planned on stowing Brie in a dark corner. From the expression on her face, one filled with determination, grit, and ferocity, he didn’t know if she would listen.
Something scraped up against the hull.
“They’re here.” He ushered her to the engine room. “Inside.”
He followed her in and shut the door. Taking a wrench out of the toolbox, he shoved it through the door handle, bracing it against forced entry.
“Get to the back, Brie.” He searched for a place she could h
ide, determined to protect her with his life. She clung to him, and stared toward the door. “Do you want a knife?”
“I’ve got my dive knife and I know how to use it. Those…” She pointed to the array of knives he gripped. “I’m not so sure about those.”
He couldn’t help the grin ghosting across his face. His girl was a fighter and hell if that didn’t turn him on, but he agreed. The knives were useless.
“I wish I had my dive knife.” What kind of idiot brought a knife to a gun fight? He glanced down at the butcher’s knife in his hand and vented a sigh. He’d be more likely to stab himself, or worse. In such close quarters, he could hurt Brie.
Bootsteps clomped overhead.
“They’re on deck.” He strained to hear what the men said, but their voices were muffled and he couldn’t make them out.
An agonized scream ripped through the air.
“Someone must have pulled Donald free.” He gave a wry grin.
“Your friend can kiss my ass.”
“Not my friend anymore.” It was a sad truth, one he hated to admit.
The stomping overhead raced forward to the door leading below decks.
“I thought you were dead.” He grabbed Brie and pulled her into his arms. “Promise me you won’t die on me again.”
“I won’t die on you.”
He had no idea what happened on that dive, except Donald had been certain Brie was dead. His girl was more than a fighter. She was a survivor, strong as steel, and sexy as shit.
Bending down, he claimed a kiss. Sweet, mixed with a little bit of sea salt, he found home in her arms and heaven on her lips. They would get out of this, because this wouldn’t be their last kiss.
A loud crash sounded, and boots stomped down the narrow stairs.
Chapter 24
Brie
Brie's heart slammed against her ribcage. Underwater she had conquered her fear, but with armed men on the way, panic once again had her in its firm grip. She stood behind Brent as he backed them up.
Brent: Military Heroes (The One I Want Series Book 2) Page 14