“Yes,” Olivia huffed. “He−he bought lunch.” She glanced up and rolled her eyes.
Damn, she made his stomach flip. She made him want. There had been nothing to want for a long time. There were technicians. There were students. There was always someone at work who had a friend. For some reason they all felt he needed to be fixed up. What a blow to the ego. Was he that bad that he couldn’t manage it on his own?
No. He was simply focused. Straddling the line between geochemist and security analyst kept him on a tight schedule. He was at PMSC before the sun rose and well after it set.
Granted, he wasn’t a eunuch. The pleasant scenery that could sometimes be found in the labs, cafeteria, or gift shop didn’t go unnoticed by him. Every time he considered making an effort to start a conversation, his cell phone would go off, or a lab test was about to expire. Or−
“We’re going to see that sci-fi movie now. You know the one with−” her voice faded as she listened and nodded. “Yeah, that one. Okay, I’ll let you know. I’m sure Hannah will want to drag you out.”
And here in the midst of this nightmare−he found himself wanting. Wanting more. Wanting more with this woman. It was absurd and unfortunate. When this was over, Olivia McKay was going to sprint in the opposite direction, without looking back.
What about that kiss?
Adrenaline rush. Near death experience. Certainly not the solid foundation for a relationship.
Her gaze changed now. Something in his expression must have divulged his thoughts. She studied him meditatively while giving wooden responses over the phone.
“Look George. I have to go. I’ll call in later.” Her hand slipped into her hair in frustration. “Yeah, I know I promised I would call, but I got caught up—” Dark eyebrows knotted. “George,” her voice warned. A deep breath and she nodded. “Fine.”
With a sigh she shoved the phone back into her jeans.
“He must care about you a lot,” Jack mentioned quietly.
“If I didn’t answer, he would have called back—again and again…” she rolled her hand. “I know he means well—”
“Survivor’s guilt,” he said in grim tone. “You know it, and now I am becoming familiar with it.”
“No,” Olivia held out her hand as if to ward off his words. “Don’t go there. It’s futile. It didn’t take a psychiatrist to teach me that either. For whatever reason, for whatever religious belief you have−tragedies do happen. They don’t happen to individuals. People aren’t targeted. They just happen. Fate is cruel, but it is as adamant as the ocean itself.”
Heat rose to the back of his neck. “Fate didn’t take my uncle. A group of men with guns did.”
Olivia’s eyes widened. Shaky fingers lifted to her mouth.
“I’m sorry, Olivia,” he rushed, wanting to retract his words.
You’re an ass, Morell.
“You’re right,” she whispered.
Her chest rose and fell on a deep breath. Pain etched in the shadows of her eyes. “We stand a better chance against men with guns than fate.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Livvy recognized what this man was going through. Anger, disillusion, and most prominent−fear. In her past, everyone had argued that it was best to talk about it−to express your emotions. To get it all out.
To hell with that. She learned it was best to keep your mind distracted. Focus on tasks, however minute they might be. Focus on paying the bills. Focus on rigging the boat. Focus on the customers.
She glanced at the contraption seated beneath the lab floor. That’s what you need to do, Jack, she mutely encouraged. Focus on this device. Focus on getting it off this ship. Focus on the next step. There were so few idle moments in her day. And each day was designed that way.
“Olivia−”
That single word harbored angst, trepidation−and something more. Tenderness. The latter confused her, but it squirmed under her skin like a thousand glow worms, and into her stomach, lodging there. Rather than dwell on these conflicts, she fell back on old practices. Focus on the task at hand.
“So, if you can get the hoist to lift that, I’ll rig this gurney under it−”
“Olivia.” His fingers wrapped around her forearm. Strong and warm−even through the layer of wool. “I am sorry.”
She shrugged her shoulder. It was a practiced motion. “Don’t walk on eggshells around me. I’m fine. My wounds are old and healed. We need to concentrate on finding your uncle. This situation is far from over. You can’t rule out a reunion if you work fast and hard.”
The fingers were gone. A deep chill drilled into her flesh.
He tucked his chin and seemed to struggle to curb his words. Eventually he pressed his thumb on the remote as the hoist whirred back into action.
It was going to take all of their respective concentration to move this unwieldy machine.
“Alright, step back a bit,” he instructed. “I’m going to try this. Watch out for any sway.”
“Maybe I can sport matching black eyes,” Livvy offered with a grin.
A playful glint sparked in his gaze. “Your eyes are pretty. I don’t want you getting another shiner.”
Coughing self-consciously, she concentrated on the metal skeleton slowly emerging from the floor. Aluminum tendrils spilled from its spine and the clawed pedestal reached its talons out towards her as the appliance swung freely in the air. It was like raising an extinct leviathan from the bottom of the sea−a creature that might have once hunted man.
***
The squeal of the gurney wheels echoed through the corridor. Warily Livvy searched each barren doorway they passed.
“What about the crew?” she blurted. “Your uncle wasn’t out here alone, was he?”
Jack glanced back over his shoulder, but didn’t slow down his pace. The alarm on his face said it all. His uncle was not the only one missing.
“There was a captain, Gordon Schneitz, who has been working with Warren for many years. There was also an engineer, Klaus Bohner. Both were found in one of the Achilles inflatable boats on the shore of Great Wass Island. They were unconscious when they were discovered and claim no knowledge of how they got there. I spoke to each privately and their frustration seemed genuine. They said that bad weather was coming in on the radar. All they can figure is that the Algonquin ran into problems and they sought escape in the inflatable boat.” He glanced back and added, “Each sustained trauma to the head. The theory being that the storm knocked them over and they hit their heads on the outboard or something.”
Livvy swung the cart wide as they took a narrow turn. “They don’t remember being on the Algonquin when this supposed storm struck? They don’t remember what happened to your uncle?”
“No.”
The severity of that response echoed her suspicions.
“Amnesia is probably fortunate for them,” he said, turning backwards to wheel through a doorway. “If they did remember, I’m sure they would be with my uncle right now.”
It was a sobering notion. Each chewed on the thought for a moment before Livvy frowned.
“So there is another one of these Achilles boats on board? I didn’t see one. Maybe it’s more stable than the Odyssey’s dinghy?”
Jack shook his head. “It’s on the port side, and our crane is on the starboard, where we boarded. We want to get this done as quickly as possible.”
“Right.” She nodded and wove her arms through the tangle of aluminum to reach the corner of the gurney, “Let’s go. I’m starting to feel creeped out.”
***
Truth be told, he was feeling a little creeped out as well. The shrill cadence of the metal wheels in this hushed environment was enough to unhinge the most stable person.
“What’s that?” Olivia stopped abruptly.
Jack released the gurney and reached for the Glock, his finger tickling the safe action trigger.
“I don’t hear anything?”
Neither moved.
Without the subconscious dro
ne of the motors or ventilation system, it was easy to hear the ocean—a steady groan of conflict between this stalwart structure and the relentless pressure of water. Beyond the door to the deck tenacious waves hissed their presence.
Clang.
The metallic clash with nature struck a note of discord. It was hard to tell where it came from. It could be as innocent as a soda can rolling around.
Jack’s eyes met hers. Don’t move.
If only her knees listened to the command. Surely anyone could hear their jack-hammering.
How long did they stand still? A minute? Ten?
When her knees stabilized and Jack’s taut shoulders began to sag Livvy drew in a long breath. What now?
He splayed his hand, cautioning her to remain silent. Raising the gun he retreated a step until his back was planted against the wall. Glock extended, he leaned over to peer out the porthole window in the door.
“It looks clear,” he whispered. “I’m going out there to check it out.”
“But—”
“I’m armed. You stay here with this thing,” he waved at the metal patient on the gurney. “I’ll be right back. If I’m not, find some place to hide.”
“Jack,” her voice cracked.
He flashed an assuring grin, but there wasn’t much conviction in it. Wrenching the handle up, he winced at the noise. With one final pensive look, he shoved the door outwards and aimed his gun into the salty air.
Livvy jolted as the door slammed shut behind him. She lunged towards the metal handle, ready to haul it open for his return, but the narrow pane of glass revealed an empty deck.
Fogging up the window with her close inspection, she waged wars with the impulse to go after him. How long had it been now? Something must have happened to him.
Then she saw it…
It was an unmarked aluminum patrol boat, or so she guessed by the glimpses of its roof as it bobbed alongside the Algonquin.
Breathe.
She shifted to change her angle of view, but there was still no sight of Jack−no sight of anyone for that fact.
Ready to launch out onto the deck, she glared at the steel design collapsed on the gurney. A hasty glimpse down the hallway revealed two slim portals. She grabbed the closest doorknob and stumbled into a small galley. In the corner was a walk-in refrigerator, a necessity for lengthy voyages. Reaching for the handle, she felt the suction as she hauled the door open. Wisps of frozen air clouded around her. As the mist dissipated, she gradually distinguished the shadowy interior of the freezer. The shelves were lined with assorted frozen goods, but the narrow aisle inside was empty.
Not wasting another second, she spun and tugged on the gurney, guiding it into the galley. There was a small lip on the bottom of the doorway into the freezer. As she struggled to lift the front wheels over it, she realized it would be impossible by herself. The apparatus had to weigh a couple hundred pounds.
Tossing a desperate look over her shoulder, expecting the deck door to slam open at any moment, she wheeled the gurney backwards a few steps and then pushed forward with all her might. The wheels slammed against the lip in the floor and the device propelled forward into a jumble of metal limbs on the freezer floor. Casting an anxious look back over her shoulder, she realized the thick insulation of the cold storage unit muffled the sound.
Hastily closing the latch, she wheeled the gurney back into the hall and gave it a shove, sending its squeaky casters on a quick course for the opposite end. The mild crash must have been heard by someone on the other side. Footsteps pounded towards the deck door, and just as it flew open, she climbed an interior staircase, pausing halfway up to see a stranger in a black jacket and black jeans enter the hall with an automatic weapon extended. The man wore dark lenses and a navy blue baseball cap. He looked both ways, not noticing her draw her feet up one more step. Discovering the gurney at the far end of the hall, he moved to investigate.
Livvy sprinted down the steps and out the open doorway, slamming it shut behind her. There was no exterior lock, but she had enough time to round the corner and climb a ladder to the upper deck before the door banged open. She tucked behind the mooring of the hydraulic crane and watched with her breath held as the man paced back and forth below her and then finally began to scale the ladder.
There was a familiarity to his profile against the afternoon peek-a-boo sun. Of course! Sloped shoulders. Close-shaved hair. Immediately after the attack she had forgotten these traits. The man had not been as tall as Jack. Why hadn’t she realized that when she first met him? Too much panic. Too much distrust.
Realizing that this stranger was responsible for her black eye chased away some of her fears. In fact, she was downright pissed.
He climbed steadily up the ladder towards her with his automatic weapon extended. Livvy’s gaze swept the deck floor. A carousel of pipes was affixed to the crane by a hook and rope. The carousel sat on the deck rather than hanging freely. If she could unfasten it, perhaps she could grab a pipe and use it as a baseball bat. Or maybe even shove the whole carousel to block the top of the ladder.
Stretching as far as she could, she reached for that hook and quietly detached it. Breath held, she tried to gauge the man’s approach.
Hell, there was no time to gauge. Only time to react.
Leaning in with her shoulder, Livvy shoved the pipe closest to her. It was heavy enough to do some damage at least.
Expecting more resistance by the legion of pipes, she tipped forward and nearly cried out at the raucous noise that ensued.
In a bizarre domino-effect, the entire carousel of metal cylinders cascaded off her perch into the stairwell. The clash of metal against metal created a clamor that drew more men onto the deck. Their pathway to reach her was obstructed by no less than twenty solid pipes. Even now her original target was trying to kick himself free of the entanglement.
Livvy bolted to the aft deck searching for the other dinghy. She located the empty davits that would normally suspend a small boat in the air. Maybe Jack had already made good on an escape.
Would he do that?
Would he leave me here?
Spinning in a circle to scan the deck, her heart pounded so hard she thought her ribcage would explode.
Angry voices approached. Orders to circle the deck barked out around her. Panicked, she sprinted to the balustrade and looked below. The ocean lashed against the Algonquin’s hull. The Odyssey still bobbed fifty yards away. If she jumped could she swim to it?
No, I’ll probably get shot in the back.
As the discord of rolling metal died down and footfalls rushed up behind her, she realized there was little choice. Grabbing onto the railing, she hefted her foot.
“Uh-uhh,” a deep voice warned from behind.
Her shoulders stiffened.
Before her lay the ocean.
Behind her lay danger.
One leap. One vault could promise freedom.
“I wouldn’t do that,” the voice suggested.
Rationality wasn’t her strong suit when someone angered her. She pivoted around, yelling, “Why the hell not−”
Air fled her lungs at the sight of Jack with a gun to his head. Their eyes connected but the wind was blurring her vision, causing moisture to pool in retaliation.
Blinking furiously, she focused on the man holding the gun. He was slender, dressed in a black windbreaker and khaki pants. His receding hairline rested an inch or two below Jack’s bristling crown. Wire-framed sunglasses concealed his eyes. He was clean-shaven but with a ruddy complexion.
A chapped hand held a gun to Jack’s jaw.
That made this man the enemy.
“Olivia McKay,” he announced with a heavy emphasis on the Kay part. “An innocent bystander,” he drawled and then turned towards Jack. “Don’t you feel ashamed bringing her into this mess?”
“Mess?” Jack’s tone was lethal.
Forceful eyes fell on Livvy. “Olivia, listen to me,” he uttered. “Do what you have to in order to ke
ep safe. Don’t let them use me as a tool. You said it yourself−you don’t even know me. If they offer you a chance to go back home. Take it.”
“Quite admirable,” the stranger chided. “But neither of you are going anywhere. You are both tools.”
“What do you mean by that?” Jack barked.
The black windbreaker billowed and a sandy eyebrow cocked over the rim of the sunglasses. “Well, to start, I need to determine what all you have discovered on Miss McKay’s shoreline. But that is not your primary service. You will ensure compliance from Warren Pennington.”
Jack swayed slightly. The muzzle of the gun followed him.
“My un−Warren is alive?” His voice cracked.
Judging by the set of the man’s mouth, the notion did not please him. “I can only presume so. We don’t have him.”
Jack splayed a hand, channeling the wind to support him. Livvy took a step in his direction but the gun narrowed on Jack’s scalp.
“Where the hell is he?” Jack yelled. “He was trapped in the lab when he called me. I heard your men approaching.”
“Ummm, the million-dollar question.” Windbreaker-man drawled. He tipped his head over Livvy’s shoulder. “I’m guessing he used that.”
Jack spun, disregarding the gun.
The empty davits. The missing life boat.
“So if he’s alive, he’ll show up and he’ll cooperate to save you. If he’s dead−” the man shrugged, “−you’re going to tell me everything you know.”
A motion behind Jack alerted Livvy. “Jack,” she yelled.
As he attempted to whirl back, the man who she had bombarded with pipes appeared, snagging Jack’s wrists behind him and securing them with a thick nylon zip tie.
“What are you going to do,” she screamed at the assailant. “Punch a defenseless man in the face like you did with me?’
A sneer crept over pale lips. Holding her gaze he yanked on the zip tie until Jack grunted in pain.
It was windbreaker-man at Jack’s side who responded, though. “Look,” his volume carried across the clamor of the ocean. “This is all very unfortunate, but we have a situation that needs to be contained. That is my priority. That is what I am focusing on.”
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