by Anne Hope
“If you let us go, Pat Jenkins may be persuaded to cut a deal with you.” The man was relentless. “But if you hurt us, he’ll make sure they lock you up and throw away the key.”
No way he’d cut a deal…or go to jail. He had money, options. He just needed to make this last drop, collect his finder’s fee, then make a run for it. It wouldn’t be difficult to steer his boat north and head to Canada. He always carried fake ID on him, just in case. He could take a flight from there to the Cayman Islands, start fresh. There was enough money in his offshore accounts to ensure he lived out the rest of his life comfortably.
But first he had to get out of the States. For that to happen, he needed the cash his associate had promised him. Noah Birch was his ticket to freedom, and Zach Ryler was a thorn in his side.
They reached the bluff. His boat came into view, a hazy shadow in the damp night. Using the butt of his gun, he struck Ryler hard on the back of his head. The man instantly crumpled. He considered shooting him, then decided against it. The last thing he wanted was for the kid to freak out on him before the drop.
Ignoring Noah’s terrified scream, Neil hooked his arm around the boy’s waist and carried him down the bluff to his boat, where the vast sea rippled beneath the wind in silent welcome.
When Zach came to, he was momentarily stunned, disoriented. Rain poured over him, drenching him to the bone. A fierce ache pounded at the base of his skull. He peeled himself off the ground, flinching at the sharp throb that speared through his brain. Shaking the haze from his head, he stumbled to his feet and crested the bluff.
Dread and fury wrapped unforgiving arms around his ribs and squeezed. Neil Hopkins’ boat was gone. And so was Noah.
Fighting a wave of dizziness, he sped down to the beach, where another boat still sat docked. Martin’s yacht was nowhere in sight. What the hell was going on tonight? Where were Martin and Becca and Kristen? And where had Hopkins taken Noah?
He closed his eyes against the pain, forced himself to think. The man was desperate. He’d built his entire life on a house of cards that was about to collapse. What would a desperate man do?
Run. The answer sliced through his brain like a blade. Hopkins’ next move was to cut his losses, grab as much cash as he could and get the hell out of Dodge. But for that to happen, he needed to sell Noah to the Broken Angels.
A list of drop-off points scrolled through his mind, one in particular—an unpopulated island just south of Chilmark. The location had marked him because it was the closest to Hopkins’ vineyard. Zach was willing to bet a kidney that was where the son of a bitch was headed.
Urgency gnawing a hole through his gut, he sped across the beach, trudged through knee-deep water and jumped into the unfamiliar boat loitering there. He didn’t know much about hotwiring boats, but damn it, he was about to learn. Or not, he thought when he noticed the key in the ignition. Now for lesson two, steering this thing.
It took him a few seconds, but he finally figured out how to lift the anchor and back out of the cove. Next thing he knew, he was cutting a strip through the choppy waves.
The irony wasn’t lost on him. He’d spent nearly his whole life avoiding the sea like some lethal disease. And now here he was again, braving the snapping swells in search of his kid. He would’ve sailed through a fucking typhoon to get to Noah. He would’ve swum across if he’d had to. No one would hurt his boy. He’d die before he let that happen.
Determination rose to submerge him, more consuming than any ocean, more feral than the most violent storm. Neil Hopkins was going down, and Zach was going to be the one who drowned the bastard.
Relief doused Neil when he saw the other craft bobbing on the water, exactly where it was supposed to be. So his associate had stuck around, despite the fact that Neil was nearly half an hour late. That struck him as strange. He’d been half convinced his contact would be long gone. Still, he was too ecstatic to dwell on it. Finally, things were going according to plan. Everything was back on track.
He dropped anchor and went to retrieve the boy, whom he’d locked in a small cabin below deck. The kid’s eyes were red and swollen from all the crying he’d done. He looked like someone had punched him. Neil hoped that wouldn’t take another chunk out of his fee. Then again, most of the kids he placed with the Broken Angels looked beaten by the time the trade took place.
“Time to go.” He’d used his tie to bind the boy’s wrists. Noah Birch had proven time and time again that he couldn’t be trusted.
“I’m not going anywhere with you.” The kid tried to look tough, failed miserably.
“I’ve had enough of your insolence. Get up.”
Noah didn’t budge. He just sat there staring at Neil with blazing hatred in his eyes. Neil grabbed him by the arm and yanked him to his feet. This trade was going to happen, even if he had to fling the brat over his shoulder.
“Let go of me! You’re hurting me.”
Good. Maybe you’ll finally learn to behave and do as you’re told.
The rain had stopped. Now only a fine drizzle hung suspended in the air. Moisture beaded over Neil’s skin—he wasn’t sure whether it was the mist or his own perspiration—as he lugged the kid above board. Then, half dragging, half pushing his uncooperative captive, he mounted the neighboring boat.
“Sorry I’m late.” Neil shoved Noah a few steps closer to the bow and approached the dark shadow standing at the helm. The man didn’t turn around to face them. “I ran into some trouble.”
“What kind of trouble?” The voice was low, raspy.
Neil’s gut twisted in a series of painful knots. He should’ve kept his mouth shut. The Broken Angels didn’t appreciate trouble. Of any kind. “Nothing I couldn’t handle.”
The man stared out at the churning waves. “So what have you got for me today?”
“A nine-year-old boy, in perfect health, as handsome as they come. Your clients will be very pleased.”
“Send him over.”
The boy tried to wrestle free, and Neil tightened the grip he had on him. “Not until I see the cash.”
The man stood statue-still for the longest time. Anxiety pulsed in the air, sharp and electric. Then his associate spoke. “Do you doubt my intentions?”
“I didn’t get where I am today by taking people at their word. Nothing personal.”
Noah took advantage of the distraction and kicked Neil in the shin. Hard. Pain shot up his leg, quick and jolting. He stifled a cry, reined in his temper before he reciprocated and seriously hurt the brat. The last thing he wanted was to damage the merchandise.
Thankfully, his associate didn’t notice the commotion. Instead he bent over and retrieved a briefcase. “It’s all in here, like we agreed.”
After securing Noah to a metal rail with the tie that still dangled from his wrists, Neil approached the other man. Something wasn’t right. He could feel it. He slipped his free hand in his pocket, reveled at the cool feel of his gun against his palm. “Turn around and hand it to me.”
The man slowly pivoted on his heels. Neil took a step back when he got a good look at him—not his contact, but a complete stranger. “Who the hell are you? Where’s Carlos?”
“He couldn’t make it tonight. The Broken Angels sent me instead.”
Neil’s fingers twitched, and he prepared to withdraw his Glock at the slightest move. “How do I know I can trust you?”
“Trust is cheap.” The man opened the briefcase and flashed several thick wads of hundred-dollar bills. “This suitcase isn’t. Hand me the documents and the boy, and it’s yours.”
Wetting his lips, Neil studied the cash. “All of it?”
“Yes.”
“Even though I don’t have the girl I promised you?”
Something glinted in the other man’s eyes—a hesitation, a flicker of doubt. “What happened to the girl?”
“She got away. Don’t worry. She’s as good as dead.”
Another hard look. “Accidents happen. I’ll just tell my superiors she died
in transport and I threw her body overboard.”
Why did Neil feel he had a rattlesnake uncoiling in his stomach, spilling venom? “I didn’t expect you to be so…understanding.”
“I’d like to keep doing business with you.”
From the rear of the vessel, Noah let out an ear-splitting scream. “Help! Somebody help me! I’ve been kidnapped.”
Neil rolled his eyes. The kid just wouldn’t quit. “Shut up. There’s no one out here but us.”
The boy kept right on screeching.
“Let’s get this over with,” Neil told the other man. Letting go of his gun, he opened his briefcase and pulled out the manila envelope. “The paperwork is all in order.” He handed his new associate the documents. “Now the cash.”
The man kicked over the briefcase that held his finder’s fee. The moment Neil’s hand closed around the handle, the traitorous bastard reached for the weapon holstered at his waist. “Freeze.” He pulled out a compact firearm—a SIG-Sauer from the looks of it. Neil knew his guns, and this one was of military caliber. He’d gotten a similar one for Raymond York.
He had to act fast. With lightning quick reflexes despite his advanced years, he whipped out his Glock and shot the son of a bitch in the shoulder—nerves made his hand shake and threw off his aim. Then he raced across the deck and practically threw himself into his boat. No shots rang out behind him. The man obviously didn’t want to risk injuring the boy. Wasting no time, Neil wound in the anchor, gunned the motor and backed out. Next thing he knew, his vessel sprang forth, leaving froth and waves behind.
A spray of bullets rained over the waves. The man had inched his way to the stern and was shooting at him. One hand gripped his SIG, the other, his injured shoulder. Far away on either side of them, two ships lined the horizon, draped in mist.
What the hell was going on tonight? The tides seemed determined to sweep him away. But he’d worked too hard for too long to surrender now. Spinning around, he shot a few holes in the hull behind him. Last thing he wanted was for the traitor to follow him.
Then, still stunned by the betrayal, he steered his boat north and swiftly melted into the fog.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Zach fought to control the unfamiliar vessel and stay on course. In the quickly receding distance he made out the hazy outline of land. At least he hadn’t gotten lost. But would that be enough? He didn’t know how long he had before Noah was carried away, his identity stripped from him, his future destroyed. Like so many others before him. The thought sickened him. So many children, so many faces. Those faces kept flashing across his mind—a repulsive slideshow.
At least Kristen had escaped, but where was she now? Had Becca and Martin found her or did she lie in the shrubs unconscious, struggling for breath?
Acid scalded his gut. Everything had spiraled out of control, and he was fighting to hold it together. Memories of the past month unspooled in his head…and heart. Maybe he didn’t know shit about being a father, but he loved these kids with everything he had. Loved them so much he no longer knew how to function without them. They’d somehow crept under his skin and carved a permanent place for themselves within him. No one else could fill that space. It was theirs and theirs alone. And right now the large chunk of his soul that belonged to them throbbed with an emptiness that was painful.
The wind moaned as the boat picked up speed. Fog lined the horizon, eerie tendrils that rolled across the sea like the ghost of some long-extinct sea creature. To Zach’s surprise, a boat sprang from the depths of its smoky belly. The night rumbled as the craft speared through the waves. Someone was in a real hurry to get away. He recognized the vessel. It belonged to Neil Hopkins.
Urgency flooded Zach’s system. He couldn’t let him get away, with or without Noah, so he did the only thing a man could do in this situation. He pushed the motor until it sputtered from the effort, then plowed right into the other craft. A thunderous crash rent the air as both boats came to a sudden halt. Wasting no time, Zach boarded the other vessel and launched himself on a flustered Neil Hopkins. The two men plunked to the ground in a twisted splay of limbs. The lawyer swiped his fist at him, but Zach managed to dodge the blow and land one of his own.
“Where’s my kid?”
Hopkins didn’t answer, so Zach hit him again, harder this time. Blood spurted from the bastard’s nose. “What did you do with him?”
“You’re too late.” Fury tinged with satisfaction contorting his face, Hopkins cuffed Zach on the chin. “He’s gone.”
Zach had had enough. He dragged the bag of shit to his feet and kneed him in the gut. The lawyer doubled over, so Zach followed through with a swift uppercut to the jaw. “That’s for my sister.” He rammed his fist in the son of a bitch’s plexus. “That’s for my brother-in-law.”
Just a few short weeks ago he’d told Noah that violence wasn’t the answer. He’d been a goddamn moron. Sometimes violence was the only answer. It was the only thing scum like Hopkins understood.
“Now, I’ll ask you again,” he said between clenched teeth. “Where. Is. My. Boy.”
“Put your hands up and turn around.”
The unexpected sound froze Zach solid and filled him with confusion. Releasing Hopkins, he rotated his body and peered out to sea. A Coast Guard patrol ship rapidly approached, ghostlike in the gray gloom.
“I said put your hands up,” the Coast Guard cried through a bullhorn again. Zach did as he was told and moved away from Hopkins toward the stern.
Seconds later, a swarm of law enforcement officials spilled into the sinking ship, rifles raised. Hopkins didn’t seem to care. With the look of a man who had nothing left to lose, he pulled out a gun and tried to shoot his way out. Bullets whizzed past Zach’s head. Before he had time to register what was happening, spasms shook Neil Hopkins body, and he collapsed on the deck to swim in a sea of his own blood.
Panic screamed through Zach. “No, damn it.” Ignoring the guns aimed at his back, he sprinted across the boat and sank to the ground next to the man who’d conspired to destroy his family. “He has to tell us what he did with Noah.”
He grabbed the lawyer by the collar, shook him. “Wake up, you bastard.” Pain laced with desperation lumped in his throat. Somewhere in the distance the rev of a helicopter punctured the dense shroud of night. “Wake up and tell me where to find my boy.”
Then they were prying him off Hopkins, dragging him away. Zach struggled for freedom, the urgency inside him reaching a dangerous high. “Noah—” His voice broke. “Noah, where are you?”
“Right here.”
The fight drained out of him at the sound of the familiar voice. “Noah?”
“Over here.”
He slanted his head to the left and saw his nephew, standing next to Pat Jenkins on a second patrol ship that had just pulled up beside them. The kid looked drawn, shaken, but otherwise unharmed. Relief arrowed through Zach, cut him off at the knees. If they hadn’t been holding him up, he would’ve surely smashed to the ground.
The Coast Guard escorted him to the patrol ship, where Pat hastened to greet him. “You all right?”
“I’ve been better.”
Noah raced into his arms. The impact sent a jolt vibrating through him. Zach held the boy tight, blinking to crush the sting in his eyes. There was no feeling in the world like a hug from his kid. Especially after the night he’d just had.
“I thought he killed you.” A bout of shaking overtook Noah’s body. “Please, don’t ever die, all right?”
Zach closed his lids tight to crush the amplifying throb in his temples. “I’m not going anywhere. By the time I’m through, you’ll be begging to get me off your back.”
The boy inhaled in broken gasps. “I don’t care. You can take away my Game Boy, send me to my room.” A sob thrummed in his chest. “I really want to go to my room.”
“That can be arranged.”
Then Noah sobered, ripped his body out of Zach’s arms. “What about Kristen?”
Za
ch shook his head. He didn’t know what to tell the boy.
“She’s fine.” Pat placed a reassuring hand on Noah’s neck. “I spoke with Tess. Wasn’t easy, I can tell you that. Reception here’s a bitch. But I caught bits and pieces of the conversation. Rebecca called and told her that Kristen’s at the Martha’s Vineyard Hospital. She’s stable.”
Zach couldn’t even begin to describe the emotion that overtook him. Exhaustion crashed over him in sheets. It was as if he’d been holding his breath for days, and he’d finally released it. “How did you find us?” he asked Pat.
“I’ve been trying to bring the Broken Angels down for years. Kept hitting one roadblock after another. Then a couple of days ago, out of the blue, I get an anonymous tip that a transfer’s about to go down here. The Coast Guard and I have been staking this place out for over thirty-six hours. We caught the scumbag Hopkins came to meet, replaced him with one of our men, but Hopkins shot him and got away. We’ve been on his tail ever since he gunned it out to sea.”
Zach folded his body onto a bench, drew Noah beside him. “Liam knew about Hopkins. That’s what got him and Lindsay killed. I’ve got a ton of evidence he gathered. There’s more at Hopkins’ winery.”
Pat’s face lit up like a beacon. “I’ll get my men on it.” Determination hardened his jaw. “It’s about time these Broken Angels got what’s coming to them.”
Rebecca’s body ached from stress and all the hours she’d spent sitting on a hard chair. The kind woman who’d spoken to her earlier had brought her some coffee. Shaking lightly, she raised the Styrofoam cup to her lips. Anxiety had taken its toll on her.
Thankfully, the doctors had reassured her that Kristen was stable. Rebecca sat beside her, holding her small hand in quiet reassurance while the girl slept beneath an oxygen mask far too big for her face.
She had yet to hear anything from Zach or Martin. Worry was a living thing. It grew inside her, squeezed out all rational thought and filled her with darkness. That darkness ate away at her now, one nip at a time, even as the night edged toward dawn. Just a few more hours and the sun would rise to streak the sky pink. A new day would begin. What it brought with it was still a mystery.