Facing the seaplane again, he carefully lifted the pull-up handle. A strange ticking noise came from the door, like the sound of a failing car battery trying to make a spark.
Reacting on pure instinct, he dropped the handle and ran.
He was diving for Obie and Molly when his brain registered what he was running from.
Bomb.
His right arm curled around Obie as he tackled Molly in the chest, shoving them both backward over the side of the dock. The seaplane exploded in a massive red-orange ball of flames as they splashed into the water.
He lost his hold on Obie when they hit. Reaching through the dark water for the boy, he found nothing but empty space. Molly was beneath him, struggling to reach the surface. He pulled her up and reached out again. Nothing. Anders’ heart pounded in his ears as his hand made a wide arc and then made contact with a thin, spindly arm. He pulled the boy close and all three of them reached the surface at the same time.
When the boy blinked at him through large, wet eyeglasses, Anders chuckled hoarsely. “You didn’t lose your specs.”
Molly let out a heart-breaking wail and he realized she thought Cheyenne had been inside the plane. Crying, Molly tried to climb onto the dock, but her arms were too weak to pull her up. She shrieked in frustration.
“Molly. Please, honey. You’re gonna hurt yourself.”
Obie pulled back, treading water in front of him. “I’m okay, Dad. I know how to swim.”
Anders looked at his son’s small, pale face in the water. Saw his bravery and determination and nodded with pride. “Stay close.” He kissed him on the head and then swam to Molly.
Sliding an arm around her waist from behind, he pulled her back against his chest. She fought him at first, struggling to get away from him, but he held her tighter until she finally gave up and sank against him, sobbing.
“Hush. Hush now. We don’t know for certain Cheyenne was in there.” He prayed he was right, but his gut told him no one was inside that plane.
“She was telling the truth and I didn't believe her.”
“There was good reason to doubt her story, but it’s okay. We’ll find her.”
Molly turned in his arms. The water was warm, but she was shivering. Waves lapped against their shoulders as they floated face to face, their limbs entwined.
She chewed on her bottom lip. “Do you really think she’s alive?”
“I do.”
When Molly reached up to wipe her tears away, she accidentally splashed him in the face. “Then where is she? Cheyenne never made it to the airport. Never called me again to let me know where she was. Someone must know we’re looking for her because they tried to blow us up!”
“I don’t think we were the target.”
Molly frowned. “If that wasn’t meant for us, who was it for?”
“Maybe whoever set the bomb up was hoping Cheyenne would come back to the plane. And if that’s the case, then she’s still alive.”
Molly squeezed her eyes shut, trying not to cry.
Not the reaction he was expecting. “What is it? Talk to me.”
“This just proves Cheyenne is in more danger than we realized. Someone is trying to kill her. I’ll never forgive myself for not believing her—”
“Dad, someone’s coming,” Obie whispered from the shadows.
“Come here.” Anders opened his arm and the three of them took cover under the dock.
The footsteps weren’t the frantic response from someone who’d witnessed an explosion. They were the slow, methodical tread of someone who wasn’t the least bit surprised to see an aircraft spontaneously explode in the marina. Pieces of metal and wood still burned on the water’s surface all around them. The end of the dock had been completely taken out. Only the pillars remained and maybe seven feet of pier beyond their hiding spot.
The steps stopped just above their heads. Anders put a finger over his mouth, gesturing for quiet. The boy nodded. Molly pressed her lips together tightly, and a fat tear leaked out of her left eye. He pressed a kiss to her forehead.
“It’s done,” Mr. Slow-tread said. “I doubt the girl will speak to anyone else. Not when she thinks her mother is coming for her. Once I find the girl, there will be no witnesses left to tie us to the scientist’s death.”
Molly tensed. Anders gave her a reassuring squeeze.
There was something about Slow-tread’s voice that made the back of Anders’ neck prickle. Proper. Articulate. Rhythmic. Anders’ musical ear was too well trained for him not to recognize where he’d heard it before. They’d met the owner of that voice only a few short hours ago at the airport.
Winston Wade.
Who the hell was Wade talking to? Sabato Banton? Or someone else?
“Yes, sir. I understand. I take full respons—” Wade’s icy coolness evaporated as whoever was on the other end of the line laid into him. Sounding stiff and strained, he placated the guy in charge. “Yes, sir. I understand I can’t afford any more mistakes. I promise you, there won’t be any.”
Obie sneezed. It was quick and low, but loud enough to possibly be heard above. The boy opened his mouth to say something, but Molly covered it.
Wade was listening.
No one moved a muscle as Wade came to stand by the edge of the dock. His shadow reflected on the water, which meant the moon had re-emerged from the clouds.
Another soft growl of thunder rumbled in the sky and then fat pellets of rain began to pelt the water. Wade turned on his heels and jogged up the pier toward the mainland. The moon sank behind a stout, dark gray cloud as the storm kicked into high gear.
“Stay here,” Anders shouted over the deluge. “I’m gonna make sure he’s gone.”
Molly grabbed his shoulder. “Be careful.”
“I will.”
Gripping the edge of the pier, he hoisted himself up out of the water and knelt on the sodden wooden planks. He ducked down as headlights swung around in the parking lot. Wade was leaving in a hurry.
Things didn’t move quickly in Jamaica, but the local authorities would be along sooner or later. It would be better for them if they weren’t around when the cops showed up.
Dropping down on his stomach, Anders poked his head over the side of the dock. “Coast is clear. I reckon we should get the hell out of here.”
He pulled Obie up first and plopped him down on the dock before reaching for Molly. When she hesitated, he said, “What’s wrong?”
“Isn’t there a ladder I can climb?”
“No. It was blown to bits. Come on now. Give me your arms.”
“But I’m too heavy.”
“Darlin’, I can deadlift twice my own body weight. I’m pretty sure I weigh more than you but if you want me to do the math, you’ll have to tell me how much you weigh.”
“That’s not happening.” She glared at him but moved closer, offering her arms.
He caught her and lifted her up. She was heavier than he was prepared for, but only because she was wiggling like a tarpon trying to break away from a line. She landed on top of him, thigh between his legs, breasts pillowed against his chest. A solid, compact little weight that was distracting enough to make him forget about the rain blowing up his nose and stinging his face.
Molly looked up at him with a bemused expression. “She’s alive.”
“Told you so.”
Rather than climbing off him, she climbed up him until they were face to face. She cupped his cheek, beaming at him. “Thank you, Anders.”
“For what?”
“For bringing me here. For saving my life. For calming me down when I started to lose it.”
He shrugged. “Sometimes you just gotta blow off a little steam.”
“You’re right.” She bent her head and kissed him.
The kiss was sweet and firm and way too short, but it sent an electrical current zigging through his bloodstream. His hand slipped under her mass of soaked hair and cupped the back of her head, pulling her back for more.
“Uh, Dad.
Someone’s here.”
Shit! He’d totally forgotten about the kid. Pulling away from Molly, he sat up fast, flipping her over as he positioned himself in front of her and Obie.
An elderly Jamaican man holding up a broken umbrella came toward them on the dock. “Mek haste, mon,” he said, motioning them to hurry. “You no want to be here when dey police come.”
“No. We don’t,” Anders said matter-of-factly. “Come on. Let’s get outta here.”
Ducking to shield themselves from the rain, they followed the old man around the whitewashed building.
When they reached the partial cover of the short awning, the old man stopped and turned around. “The girl who come off de iron bird dis morning, she flee on a bicycle.”
“You saw my daughter?” Molly stepped closer to the man. “Was the girl tall and thin with dark brown hair?”
“Yes. Yes. Yer girl flee toward de port. Go now before dey come.”
“Thank you, sir. Thank you so much!” Molly grabbed the man and hugged him.
The old man pushed her away with a deep, husky laugh. “Mek haste now.”
“Thank you.” Anders waved as he ushered Molly and Obie to their rental car. Only one of two vehicles in the parking lot. The other was an old pickup truck with a rusted hood. Their sedan was clearly a shiny new tourist mobile. Wade had probably followed them from the airport to make sure his trap worked.
Anders turned on the heat as he sped out of the parking lot, heading in the direction of the port. The temperature outside was too warm to catch a chill but being soaked to the bone was no picnic.
“You okay back there, Cowboy?” He glanced over his shoulder at Obie, who looked like a half-drowned owl, blinking at him through those ridiculously large specs.
The boy nodded and his glasses slid down the bridge of his nose. He pushed them back up. “Just wet.”
A smile tugged at the corner of Anders’ mouth. “You’ve got clothes in your backpack. You can change back there if you want?”
“I’m okay.”
“He’s tougher than he looks,” Molly observed with an affectionate smile for the boy. She sat in the passenger seat, untangling her hair. “I can’t believe that man tried to trick us into giving him information at the airport.”
Anders glanced at her. “You picked up on that too?”
“Wade has a distinct voice. I’m so stupid for wanting to trust him.” She spoke through chattering teeth. “And he tried to kill us!”
Anders cranked the heat up to full blast.
“Thanks.”
“You were just desperate. Don’t be so hard on yourself. We’ll figure this out.” Spotting a sign for the cruise ship port, Anders hung a left.
She glanced at him suspiciously. “Why aren’t you telling me to call the police? We were almost blown up back there.”
Anders gripped the steering wheel tighter and squinted against the glare of the rain-soaked windshield. The wipers were crap. “Because I reckon Cheyenne was right. She’ll be in more danger if we contact the police. We don’t know who Wade was talking to on that phone.”
Molly wrapped her arms around herself and sat back against the seat. “There’s probably a lot of American tourists hanging around the cruise ship terminal. Maybe she went there looking for help.”
“Maybe she got on a cruise ship.” This suggestion came from the back of the car. Obie sat forward between the seats.
Anders caught his son’s image in the rearview mirror. The kid had been so brave earlier. Strong and steady in the hands of danger. He might be small and timid on the surface, but deep down where it counted, he had his mama’s brass and his father’s grit. Anders’ heart swelled with pride. “Put your seatbelt on, son, and sit back.”
Molly smiled at Anders with a tenderness that made his heart thump against his chest. He wasn’t sure why she was looking at him like that, but he liked it too damn much.
She shifted sideways to look over the seat at Obie, who’d put his seatbelt on. “I don’t think they’d let Cheyenne on the ship without a ticket and passport.”
“She might’ve snuck on,” Obie suggested.
Anders glanced over his shoulder. “Like a stowaway?”
“Yeah.”
He gazed at Molly, trying to gauge her thoughts. She stared back at him with a question in her eyes.
Then she shrugged and sat forward again. “At this point, anything is possible.” Tucking her long, wet hair behind her ear, she reached for her backpack on the floor between her knees. “I’ll check to see if any cruise ships left port today.” She pulled her phone from the bag.
“Good thing you left your cell in the car, mine’s toast.”
Looking down at the screen, she stiffened and pulled it closer. Grabbing his forearm, she exclaimed, “There’s a text from Cheyenne. A video message.”
Anders slowed the car down so he could glance at the phone while she held it up and pressed play.
Cheyenne was seated at a table in what looked like a Mexican restaurant between two little girls who were giggling and leaning into the shot. The teenager looked happy, healthy, and safe. She waved to the camera. “Hi, Ma! I’m okay. I’m on a cruise. The Templeton family rescued me from Falmouth. They’re letting me stay in a cabin with their daughters.”
“Hi, Mrs. MacBain!” The youngest girl waved into the camera before bursting into more giggles.
“This is Mr. and Mrs. Templeton.” She turned the phone around, panning past a table full of at least a half dozen kids and landing on an attractive middle-aged couple with kind faces.
“I’m Karen and this is my husband, Alan. Cheyenne told us she was lost so we invited her to stay with us. We’re on our way to the Bahamas and due in port Tuesday morning at eight a.m. We’ll keep her safe and fed until we can hand her back over to you.”
The phone whipped back around to Cheyenne. “Please don’t worry, Ma. I’m okay. Really. I’m actually having fun. Oh, and the Templetons are from Oklahoma, so they’re practically family. Love you, bye!”
The tension that had been cramping Anders’ shoulders since the explosion eased from his body. “Well, that’s a relief.”
Molly nodded and stared at the phone in her lap. “They look like good people. Do you think they’re good people?”
“Cheyenne seems to think so. You can hear it in her voice. She sounds relaxed.”
“She said she’s okay.”
“Trust her. She’s a big girl.”
Molly swiped at her eyes and nodded.
“What’s the matter?”
She shook her head. “Nothing. I’m fine. Just relieved she’s alive and healthy.” She smiled at him, but then her smiled faltered and she put her face in her hands. “I’m a terrible mother.”
“No, you're not.”
“My daughter’s life was in danger and I didn’t believe her.”
Anders reached over and threaded his fingers through her mass of damp red curls. Rubbing the back of her neck, he said, “You’re here, ain’t ya? You came when she needed you, despite your doubts. You’ve put your own life at risk to save hers. If that don’t make you a good mama, I don't know what would.”
Pulling the car off to the side of the road, he waited for another car to pass then he made a wide turn and headed in the opposite direction.
“Where are you going?” She pushed her hair away from her tear-stained face.
“Back to Montego Bay. No sense getting a hotel here. I reckon we could all use a good night’s sleep before we head on over to the Bahamas.”
“What about Wade?”
“The way I see it, he thinks we’re dead. And he either doesn’t know where Cheyenne is or, he does know, and he can’t get to her. We just need to beat him to that port on Tuesday morning and be there waiting for her when the ship arrives.”
Molly shook her head with frustration. “What if Wade gives us trouble? He tried to kill us! I can’t ask you to put yourself or your son in any more danger than you already have.”
/> His knee-jerk reaction was to say it was no trouble at all, but he wasn’t free-styling it up Everest alone, he was putting other people’s lives at risk. A good climber calculated his routes and recognized his limits. Anders was man enough to admit he couldn’t handle this situation on his own. “I’ll call Mitch Thompson. See if he can help us deal with Wade.”
“I’d like to deal with Wade,” Molly grumbled. “Five minutes in a locked room with him is all I need.” She punched the car door with the bottom of her fist for emphasis.
“Easy there, mama bear. We’ll get your cub back. And one way or another, Wade will get what’s coming to him.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
“We’re not staying here,” Molly announced when Anders turned into the parking lot of the beachfront resort. Water surrounded the high rise on three sides. A modern oasis plunked down in the middle of a tropical paradise, it appeared ritzy and expensive even in the darkness. By daylight, it would look like one of those fairytale places in travel magazines that made you wonder who the heck could afford to vacation there.
“What’s wrong with this place? It’s the best hotel in town.”
She couldn’t swing a dinner at a five-star restaurant let alone a stay at a five-star hotel. She bent to read the sign. “The Crystal Blue Resort and Spa. Yeah, the motel up the road is good enough for me. You can drop me there.”
Anders cocked an eyebrow at her as if he was questioning her sanity.
She bowed her head and exhaled heavily. “I can’t afford this place, Anders.”
“Good thing you don’t have to pay for it then.”
“You’ve already done enough for me. I don’t know how I’m going to repay you for the flight, let alone everything else.”
“Just so you know, I accept neck massages as currency.”
A laugh bubbled up Molly’s throat but it came out in a cough. Was he intentionally flirting with her or just trying to be cute to distract her from the point she was trying to make? “I’m being serious.”
“So am I.” The rain had stopped but the moon was still playing peekaboo between the clouds as he drove under the hotel portico and parked the car. He rubbed the back of his neck. “I think I pulled something when I dove in the water earlier.”
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