by Joya Fields
This time the fear that fueled him was for the one person who brought hope to his life, the one person who made him feel like he had a chance. And he’d been so stupid he hadn’t even realized it until her life was at risk.
Something moved on the water.
“There,” he yelled, pointing at the shadow of a boat pulling away from the dock. “Give me a pair of binoculars.”
A SWAT guy ran up behind them and thrust a pair into his hand.
“That must be where the GPS signal is coming from,” Hank said.
Logan stared through the binoculars, through the fog that formed over the water. Hank turned and barked orders into his radio, requesting Coast Guard backup and helicopter surveillance of the boat.
“You three,” Hank said, pointing at the closest SWAT members. “Stay put in case they bring the boat back.” He faced Logan. “If I told you to stay put because you’re too close to this case, would you listen?”
“Hell, no,” Logan growled.
“Thought so. Room for one more.”
The shadowy boat grew smaller and smaller. A tight knot clenched in his gut. This was it. He had to get to Keely and hold onto her forever.
To hell with a job offer in Texas.
To hell with his father who made him think bad blood ran through Logan, too. That was the past. She was his future.
“Let’s go.”
…
Keely’s skull pounded like it was full of exploding rocks. Her head seemed so heavy her neck had trouble supporting it. Through the open hatch, she heard a helicopter roaring nearby, saw its searchlight beaming down on the boat as if it hovered.
Two men had walked down to the lower deck. Dave and Craig. Two men she’d thought were friends. Dave directed his flashlight into the space. It was filled with women. The glare from the helicopter light dwarfed his hand-held one. Was Logan up there looking down at her?
Her heart raced. Should she continue pretending to be unconscious so Dave would leave her alone? Or use her legs to trip and fight him?
She closed her eyes to stall the decision.
“You,” he spat out, kicking a small body near the wall. “Here,” Dave said, handing a knife to Craig. “Cut her wristbands, Bittinger. We’ll use her as a shield.”
The woman whimpered, and Craig sliced the plastic cuffs and dragged her to her feet.
Keely dared to crack her eyelid open and swallowed a gasp. It wasn’t a petite woman Craig held by her armpits.
It was Melita.
Keely recognized the girl from her file photo. The little girl whose abusive father said she’d run away. The monster who had beat his three-year-old son George into unconsciousness.
Keely’s breath stuttered in her throat. She had to get the attention off Melita.
Dave held a gun in his hand.
“Hey.” Keely straightened.
Both men turned to look at her.
“She’s conscious?” Bittinger said.
She could pretend to help her captors. Maybe she’d be able to send a signal to alert the police about these other women. “If that’s a police helicopter up there, they’re likely going to fire tear gas onto this boat, and we’ll all be sucking wind,” Keely said, fighting back her fear to keep her voice steady. Had they read in the paper about the raid on the other boat? Would they see the logic in her argument since police used tear gas on the other boat filled with hostages? Hell, were they also involved with that boat of hostages from last night?
“The police know me,” she continued, desperate. “Besides, I’m a lot bigger than that little girl. If they have a sniper, they won’t be able to get to you if I’m your shield. Logan’s aboard that helicopter, and I can help convince them to make a deal.” Just saying Logan’s name gave her the confidence to lift her chin and face these men. “Or I can go up there by myself. That way you wouldn’t be in any danger at all.”
Dave backed up a step. “Think I’m stupid? You’d abandon ship if you went up by yourself. Cut her out. I’ll take her up. You stay down here, Craig, to guard the rest. Shoot ’em one by one if I yell the order, starting with the kid.”
“Yeah, I got it under control.”
Keely stiffened as Bittinger leaned closer, reeking of body odor. He cut the flexicuff and she twisted her hands to bring back feeling.
Dave yanked her hand and pulled her to her feet. Pain radiated down her body.
“I know what you’re doing with these women and children. You won’t get away with it,” she stated, defiant.
“Shut up. Don’t say a word or I’ll kill that little one you’re so bravely trying to protect. Easy enough to find another father who’s willing to sell his kids for a fast buck.”
Dave’s words cut like a knife, slicing into Keely’s heart. Melita’s dad sold her to these men? This was America. People didn’t do things like that in America. Oh God.
“March up there and don’t talk till I tell you. You have a gun to your back, and I’ll shoot you and every one of these women and children if you try any heroics.”
She wanted to think he was bluffing. But he’d had Ben beaten and then had kidnapped her and who knew how many women and children. He had nothing to lose by pulling the trigger.
He jabbed something cold and hard in the small of her back and she arched away in pain. Holy shit. His demeanor left no doubt he would kill her. This was so much worse than she’d originally thought. These men weren’t just heartless monsters—they were without souls.
She made her way up to the deck of the yacht. The chopper whirled above, its spotlight scouring the boat’s deck. The wind from the helicopter blades kicked her hair into her face.
Logan was up there. She could feel it.
Something else twisted in the gusty wind off the starboard side. A rope ladder? She peered again. Yes, a rope ladder hung over the side, attached at the rail. Maybe the police could gain entrance to the boat that way. Stealth style. But maybe the crew on the helicopter couldn’t see the rope ladder. She had to let Logan know.
“Oh, my head,” she said. “I feel so dizzy.” She slackened her legs and pretended to stumble, twisting so Dave couldn’t see her frantic hand gestures as she pointed at the rope ladder. She could only hope Logan, or someone else in the helicopter, had noticed her signal.
“Shut up,” Dave said, grabbing her around the waist with one arm and jamming the gun under her chin with the other. “I’m going to take out my cell phone and dial 911 and tell them to patch us through to the helicopter. Tell them if they even think about firing tear gas or anything else at us, we’ll kill every woman down there,” Dave said.
Keely squinted at the helicopter, searching frantically for Logan as Dave took the gun away from her head and reached into his pocket. Her head pounded, vibrated with each beat of her heart, but even her physical pain couldn’t stop the undulating waves of pain. She might never see him again.
Dave spoke to the 911 dispatcher and then handed the phone to Keely.
“If you shoot tear gas or anything else on board, Craig will kill what looks to be about two dozen women in the hold!” Keely shouted. Could the police hear her words over the whirl of the copter?
Dave yanked her shoulder.
“Now,” he barked, struggling to hold her while pressing the gun to her injured shoulder. “Tell them I want safe passage, a car waiting for me over at Pier Six, and a jet fueled with a pilot ready to go.”
Keely repeated his demand, but couldn’t hear a reply because of the noise.
The helicopter suddenly tilted and its spotlight beamed directly in their faces. Keely squeezed her eyes shut against the light. She went slack in Dave’s arms, pretending to faint.
The way Logan had inadvertently taught her.
Her weight made him stumble.
“Get that helicopter out of here,” Dave yelled into the phone before grapping it and tossing it overboard. He hefted Keely, waved the gun in front of her face, motioned with his hand for the chopper to leave, and then planted it under h
er chin again. Pain radiated down her neck and caught in her chest. The chopper took off and faded out of sight, taking its bright spotlight with it, her last source of hope.
No. This was not the end. The police were backing off for now because her life was being threatened, but they’d be back. In time? That was the question. Until they mounted their assault, she had to figure out a way to keep all these innocent women out of Dave’s clutches.
A boat motor puttered nearby. Dave jammed the gun harder into the soft skin under her chin. She cringed, but refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing it hurt. She stayed slumped.
He dragged her to the railing of the boat. “I said everyone leaves,” he yelled. But he was panting from the exertion of pulling her inert body.
She opened one eye. The veins in his neck corded. He might be acting like he had things under control, but he had to know his choices were limited. That it was all over.
What about her choices? She closed her eyes and concentrated on keeping her body limp.
A cold breeze swept over the boat and goose bumps popped out all over her skin. She couldn’t fight two of them and their weapons. But with Bittinger below, it was one-on-one.
The other boat puttered away in the distance. The Coast Guard? Were they blocking his exit from the harbor?
“Stupid woman,” Dave grunted as he staggered to support her dead weight. He shook her, setting off ripping sensations through her pounding head. She sunk her teeth into her tongue to keep from crying out, and then he dropped her to the deck.
Tentative triumph surged through her, gave her a shot of adrenaline that kept her acting from becoming reality. Dave nudged her shoulder with his boot, and then stalked toward the cabin. He called down to Bittinger, “This one’s unconscious again. But they won’t stop us as long as we have her and the others as hostages.”
The boat rocked on the waves and Keely inhaled the fishy scent of the harbor. She squinted at Dave’s back as he moved to the helm and turned the key. The engine sputtered, but didn’t start.
“Bittinger, get the hell up here. We need to leave the harbor before the police come back. To hell with meeting them at Pier Six.”
This was her chance. She might only have seconds before Bittinger came on deck. Her gaze fell on a fire extinguisher. She inched her body closer and took a deep breath. Time to knock out Dave and get his gun. She’d kill both of them before they harmed the innocent women below.
Logan thought they were so different from one another, but they weren’t. They both fought for victims. He’d understand why she would risk her life to fight for the women below. People like her and Logan couldn’t work desk jobs. Couldn’t go into management. Probably could never retire.
They were driven to protect.
Damn it. She’d fight with everything she had to keep these awful men from getting away with what they’d done.
She unlatched the clasp with shaking fingers, and then clutched the extinguisher. Dave turned the key and banged on the steering wheel when nothing happened. “Bittinger!” he yelled.
Keely’s chest hurt. She crawled on the wet floor on wobbling arms and legs, and then stood behind Dave. Her arms felt weak. She lifted the red metal canister by the nozzle, feeling nausea reel in her stomach.
She raised her arms. Pain pierced through her nervous system from the weight. Dave turned to face her. The dark night couldn’t hide the surprise and then hate in his eyes. He raised his gun and pointed it at her chest.
…
As Logan treaded water next to the hull of the boat, the sound of the shot still echoed in the night, bouncing off the water’s surface and sending chills down Logan’s spine. His heart thudded. God, he hoped the shot hadn’t hit Keely. He knew he’d broken protocol by leaping out of the helicopter to follow the two SWAT guys in wet suits, but he had to get to Keely. Besides, it didn’t matter if he got fired or not. The chilly water was nothing compared to the fear that heated him. He followed the two SWAT guys over to the rope ladder. He needed to get to Keely now. She’d been brave, risking herself to point out the rope ladder hanging off the starboard side. Oh God, he prayed, please don’t let her be dead. He scurried up the swim ladder, pulled his gun out, and crouched low on the swim platform. The helicopter returned and drowned out the sound of the other SWAT members scrambling up behind him.
He squinted into the darkness with only the light of a half-moon to illuminate the boat. Keely lay inert on the wet floor, blood pouring from a wound on her shoulder. Her chest rose and fell slowly. Very slowly. Pain ripped through his heart. Dave stood over her, gun drawn. Logan fought against the need to surge forward and kick the man to the ground and away from Keely.
Please keep her alive. He nodded to the SWAT members.
The chopper moved closer, and Logan laid low with his gun pointed at Dave.
Bittinger crested the top step of the companionway and scowled at Dave. “Why’d you shoot her? She was our ticket out of here.”
“They don’t have to know she’s dead. Throw a blanket over her so it looks like she’s just unconscious.”
Logan’s breath caught in his throat. Dead? No. She couldn’t be dead. Maybe he’d imagined her chest moving. Maybe she really could be…
As if sensing them, Craig Bittinger turned.
“Drop your weapons, now!” One of the SWAT guys shouted. Logan hunched low on the swim platform with his gun pointed at Dave’s head. The SWAT members trained their guns on Bittinger.
“She’s not dead,” Dave shouted, waving his gun in the air. “But if you shoot me, she dies.”
“Drop your gun, Dave. Step away from her.” Logan ordered, inching aboard, climbing carefully from the swim platform to the deck He needed to get to Keely and itched to shoot Dave.
“If I’m not getting out of here alive, then neither is she.” Dave cocked his gun and flashed a smile at Logan.
Somebody was going to die, and it sure as hell wouldn’t be Keely.
She had been trying to make him believe all along that he was not his father. He was not a beast. He was a man doing a job. In Afghanistan, on the force, and tonight. He’d do what needed to be done. It didn’t make him a monster. He knew that now.
Keely believed in him. And she’d taught him to believe in himself.
Calm overtook his body. A calm that came with knowing he was doing the right thing.
Dave aimed his gun at Keely’s head.
And Logan fired.
Dave’s head snapped backward. His gun clattered to the floor and he fell onto the seat.
The two SWAT members scrambled toward Bittinger. He dropped his gun and put his hands in the air.
The first SWAT guy kept his gun trained on Bittinger.
“I’ll check below,” the second guy called out.
Logan shoved Dave to the side, noting a small bullet-hole in his forehead. With his foot, he slid Bittinger’s gun across the floor to the SWAT guy, then bent next to Keely.
She’d been shot in the shoulder and was losing a lot of blood. His hands shook with fear. The helicopter loomed closer, spotlighting the boat. Logan needed to stop Keely’s bleeding. He tugged off his wet T-shirt, wrung it out, and flung it aside. Too much risk of infection. Instead, he pressed both palms on her wound.
She gasped, flickering her eyelids open to look up at him.
“Logan. I-I hit him…not hard enough…deflected his shot,” she said. “Melita is down there. The missing eight-year-old.”
Just like Keely. She was bleeding to death, yet worried about somebody else. “We’ll take care of the girl.”
“Good…” Her voice trailed off.
She had to be okay. She just had to. He’d known shoulder injuries to collapse a lung, or worse. It was a good sign that she was conscious, though.
She groaned.
“Medics better hurry up,” he said between clenched teeth. He looked around and spotted Bittinger, who sat handcuffed on the port side of the boat while one SWAT guy guarded him and the other guy used the
boat radio and attempted to start the engine.
Logan leaned closer to Keely. “Listen to me, Keels. I know it hurts, and know it’s hard to stay awake, but I want you to look at me. Can you do that? Look at me and stay awake.” He pressed harder, applying more pressure, and she flinched. He hated to hurt her, but he had to keep her awake and alive.
“Ambulance meeting us at Pier Six,” a SWAT member said. “Coast Guard’s gonna tow us. Engine won’t start.”
“D-down below…Melita…and other women,” Keely whispered. Her lids fluttered closed.
“They’re being taken care of, Keely. They’ll be fine. Keely?” Worry gnawed at Logan’s gut. Her eyes remained closed.
Leaving only one hand on her wound, he reached for her limp wrist and felt for a pulse, relieved to feel it. Faint, but it was there.
“Keels,” he said, applying a little more pressure to her wound.
Whipping her eyelids open, she frowned and looked up at him. “Ouch,” she said.
He shook his head and a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “That’s all you have to say? Ouch?”
“I d-don’t cuss like you do,” she said, her bloodshot gaze meeting his. “At least, not as much.” Her eyelids fluttered closed again.
Holding his hands against her wound, knowing she was fighting for her life, he realized he’d been so stupid to be afraid of his feelings for her for so long.
He knew her so well, ever since they were kids, playing in the same neighborhood. Knew her well enough to know she asked a lot of questions and wanted a lot of answers. Maybe her curiosity would keep her hanging on until they got her to the medics.
“Keels.” He bent down so his head lay close to hers. Her shaky breaths puffed out against his chin. “You asked me why I didn’t return your phone calls when you left me messages a few years back. Want to know why?”
She blinked several times at him. “W-why?” Her voice became steadier, as if his words had roused her.
He’d do anything to save her. Anything. He’d give his life for hers. But right now, the only thing he had to give her was complete honesty.
Holding her feather light hand in his, he massaged her palm. “I loved you too much to stand in the way of what’s good for you.” Her hand grew warmer as he caressed it. “I thought I wasn’t right for you. I had anger issues…a bad temper. I couldn’t talk to you or see you because it would hurt too much to have you close but know I couldn’t be with you.” He shook his head, relieved she remained focused on him. “I stayed away to give you room to find someone who would be right for you.”