Code Name_Redemption

by Natasza Waters

  Greg shook his head, not understanding.

  “Romance novels. Historical love on the high seas. Pirates. That kind of thing. Her sexual fantasies played around that.”

  Greg shifted forward in his seat. “And that means…what?”

  “When she came to the club for the first time, I wanted her to have a positive experience. It was a busy night, and I asked my club host to introduce her to someone who might be interested in being her Dom and fulfilling those fantasies.”

  “Did you tell Montgomery this?” Austen shifted forward in his seat as well.

  She nodded. “After Aimee disappeared, I found the guy she’d been introduced to. He used to have a permanent Sub. I believe they were married. Then she stopped coming with him. For a while, he stopped as well, but then he returned.”

  Greg’s gut soured with alarm. “When?”

  “In January. He comes in on a regular basis twice a month.”

  Greg blinked. “Twice a month?”

  “Yes.” Anna swiveled in her chair and stepped to the filing cabinet behind her and drew out a folder. “I’ve never had any trouble with him. He’s handsome.” She buried a look into Greg. “Tall. Dark. Mysterious. Like you.”

  Austen rose from his chair. “Let’s see that file.” When she hesitated, he said. “I’m not asking.”

  Anna laid it on the desktop and slid the manila folder across the frosted glass tabletop toward them.

  Greg yanked open the file, and Austen read the documents just as quickly when he opened the folder.

  “There’s nothing here, other than his name and he’s a Dom.” Greg turned to the second page, and his heart sped up. A list of visits showed he’d come to the club on the 26th and the 12th of each month like clockwork beginning in January. His head turned toward the Admiral, and Austen’s severe expression told him they may be holding the answer in their hands. “Four days before the 1st and 16th.”

  “Brett has always played by the house rules,” she said in defense of her client.

  Greg closed the folder, but didn’t give it back. “Who is he? If you had suspicions, you must have looked into him.”

  “I did, and that’s why I’m telling you, it’s not him.”

  A rumble started in Austen’s throat before he said, “It’s him.”

  Surprise exploded on her face. “What? Why would you say that? When I spoke to Brett, he told me Aimee enjoyed their experience, but she’d been asked to join another scene afterward. She accepted and that was the last he’d seen of her.”

  When the girls had come to the club, hadn’t Mattie mentioned a guy named Brett? “What’s his background?”

  Austen’s cell rang and he dug it out of his coat pocket and slid his thumb across the face of the phone to answer. “Sweetheart, I need to call—” After a short pause, he said, “Where?”

  Greg vibrated with impatience as he waited.

  Austen’s gaze swung toward him. “When does it leave?”

  Leave? When does what leave? He tore the phone from Austen’s hand. “What did you find, Kayla?”

  “You don’t have much time, Greg. Hurry!” He shot a look at Austen. “I’ll call Montgomery,” she said.

  Austen trained his gaze on Anna. “Brett Blackney is the captain of the Coho ferry that runs between Victoria and Port Angeles.”

  The dominatrix nodded. “Yes. Why?”

  Austen leaned forward, his polar-colored eyes as cold as an iceberg. “Because it’s run by the Black Ball Line.”

  Greg handed the phone to Austen because Kayla had already hung up. “What the hell does that have to do with anything?”

  Austen took the folder from him and dropped it on the desk. “Kayla found something in Mattie’s notes. When she’d interviewed the old man at Market Square where Diana’s body was found, he told her the Ripper had been humming a sea shanty.” The warrior in the legendary SEAL latched onto the clue with victory in his eyes. “The Black Ball Line.”

  Greg slammed his eyes closed and tried to connect the dots. “He’s the fucking captain of the Coho.”

  Austen zeroed his attention back on the club owner. “Tall. Dark hair. Green eyes?”

  She nodded again, her gaze swerving between him and Austen. “Like I said, he looks like him,” she said, jerking her head at Greg.

  Austen marched for the door. “We need to go.”

  “Go where?” Greg asked as he followed.

  “The ship leaves for Port Angeles in forty minutes. I think Mattie’s on that ferry.”

  Once outside the office, they bolted for the car, weaving their way through the parking lot.

  “Where am I going?” Austen said while driving well over the speed limit, racing past a line of parked cars.

  “Belleville Street. In front of the Pacific Grand Hotel.”

  Austen hammered the rental car’s gas pedal to the floor. “Just fucking tell me which way to turn.”

  Greg’s heart thumped hard with adrenaline. “Turn right!”

  Austen cranked the wheel, cutting off a car as he exited the parking lot in a sideways slide.

  * * * *

  Kayla thrust open the glass entry door to the Coho Ferry Terminal. Panting, her heart thumping, she swept the sweat from her forehead with a sleeved arm. Greg’s place was a five minute run to the harbour where the ferry berthed. She threaded her way through the people milling in the congested terminal. Before making the sprint, she’d called Montgomery. Without much of an introduction, she quickly wove the clues with her theory and waited. He didn’t waste a second agreeing with her and said he’d send the entire task force to rendezvous at the Black Ball Terminal.

  She knew there was only one way to get on the ferry, and charged through the crowd to the ticket booth, digging in the purse strung across her shoulder for some money.

  “Ma’am, you’ll need a passport as well,” the attendant said, his hand on a small printer that ejected a ticket in jerky movements into his palm.

  “Have one. Where do I go?” Kayla looked behind her through the throng of people for the first uniformed police officer to appear.

  The Coho was registered in Seattle, Washington, property of the United States. She wasn’t sure if the police would have any jurisdiction to stop its departure. A large round clock with black iron hands sat high above the glass walls in the terminal. Three-fifty p.m. The ship would sail in ten minutes. In single file, the cars loaded through an open hatch amidships on the hull from the parking lot below. The ferry was over three hundred feet long and carried more than a hundred vehicles.

  Following the sign to customs, she waited calmly while her pulse switched into overdrive as an elderly woman hooked her walking cane on her right arm and heaved a large purse onto the counter while the sombre looking customs agent asked something as he perused her passport. Satisfied with her answer, he stamped a slip of paper and gave it to her.

  Kayla’s heart banged heavy as she approached the uniformed customs agent standing behind the counter like it was his exalted throne. Her best plan of attack was to get on that ferry where she believed the Ripper, aka Captain Brett Blackney had Mattie hidden somewhere onboard. If she blew the whistle now, she may not stop the ferry from sailing, but if they thought she was a lunatic, they’d stop her from getting on that ship.

  “Reason for your visit to the US?” the guy asked, his ball cap pulled low, shielding his eyes.

  She offered a smile. “Staying one night. Shopping in Port Angeles.”

  “Alone?”

  He was one of those customs agents. The kind that took his job seriously and saw everyone as a potential criminal wanting entry into the great US of A. “Yes, alone.”

  “You have dual citizenship,” he said, flipping the pages of her passport with a thumb.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Where do you live?”

  For the love of God! “Hawaii.”

  “What are you doing here?

  “Visiting with friends.”

  “Why aren’t your frien
ds with you?”

  She felt like screaming at the guy, but he knew what time the ferry departed. He wouldn’t hold her up longer than he had to, but no one waited behind her so he took his sweet-ass time while getting his rocks off asking fifty questions.

  “He’s with my husband. They’re not fond of shopping.”

  He chuffed a compliant sound, but the next sound was the one she wanted to hear, when he stamped the slip of paper and handed it back to her.

  “Thank you.” She tucked the paper into her jacket pocket. Strolling, because she didn’t want to attract attention to herself, she headed toward a sign posted for foot passengers to follow.

  Kayla darted a glance over her shoulder before leaving the main terminal. The wailing siren in the distance could be an ambulance, but she prayed it was Montgomery and the Task Force. If the Coho sailed, or if red tape got in the way, Kayla was prepared to call in a bomb threat to the Coast Guard.

  Whatever it took she’d do it, but first she had to find Mattie.

  Security took the customs slip before allowing her to walk across the gangway joining the terminal to the main deck of the ship. As she boarded, she stared up toward the darkened window of the bridge. December brought an early sunset, and there was little light left.

  The Ripper thought he’d get away with this. He could have already killed Mattie, but Kayla had her doubts. The handsome gentleman who’d escorted Mattie into the Dark Angel that night was a psychopath, and he’d want to torment her before he ended her life.

  Or maybe his twisted mind already decided Mattie was the woman he’d been looking for. Abducting her had been nothing but dark luck on his part, but he still had to keep up his professional appearance to the world he slithered through.

  Kayla quickly scooted down the starboard hand side of the ship. She dug in her purse for her phone and called Thane.

  “Almost there, Kayla. Are you at Greg’s?”

  “No.”

  “Kayla,” he yelled and she squinted. “Are you on the fucking Coho?”

  “Yes, hurry the hell up.” Looking toward Belleville Street, the red and blue flash of police lights gave her a reason to breathe a little easier. They slowed and made the turn into the ferry parking lot. The whine of a motor caught her attention and the white metal foot passenger gangway rose. “They’re taking up the gangway.”

  Her husband wasn’t talking to her when he said, “Go, man. Get on that ship!”

  Kayla ran to the railing and looked over as the last cars slowly boarded. Jesus, Greg, where the hell are you?

  Her eyes darted across the paved lot, now empty of cars. Crewmen stood near the vehicle ramp, preparing to take it up.

  There! After knowing Greg for so many years, she recognized his stride, even though he wore a crew uniform as a disguise. He approached from the left, behind a building where the customs officers cleared the vehicle passengers. Greg waved at someone, and then he disappeared just before the sound of grinding gears raised the vehicle ramp.

  She’d forgotten her husband was still hanging on the phone and lifted the cell to her ear. “Greg made it onboard.”

  “Kayla, for the love of God,” Thane begged. “For the love of our children, let Greg take him down. Don’t put yourself in danger.”

  Striding past the passengers as they leaned against the railing waiting to watch the Victoria waterfront slip by, she said, “Don’t worry. I’ll leave the heavy lifting to him. What’s Montgomery doing?”

  “He’s surrounded by customs officers.” Thane paused. “Telling them they suspect the Ripper is a crewmember onboard the ship. He’s keeping his hand tight to his chest. Don’t think he wants to accuse the captain of the ship. He wants the ferry to stop her departure.” Thane went silent for a few seconds. “Shit! Doesn’t look like they’re complying.”

  “You think this is chest beating between agencies?”

  “Don’t think so. Only the Coast Guard can stop that ship.”

  “The Canadian Vessel Traffic Services can’t stop her, only Transport Canada can, and they’d have to have a good reason. Once the ship is halfway across Juan de Fuca Strait, she’ll be in

  American waters.”

  “Kayla.” His voice turned hard as granite. “A trapped man is lethal. Don’t go near him.”

  Her pulse thrummed, seeing the last line released on the dock. Three long blasts of the ship’s whistle echoed through her hope. Even with Greg on the ship, she missed her husband’s presence. Was it the Ripper’s hand that sounded the signal and what he thought was his freedom?

  The ship slid away from the dock as the Coho went astern. The police couldn’t stop the ship’s departure, but she knew who could take command of this ship—and Greg would—but first they had to find Mattie.

  Kayla gripped the cold handle on the steel door to get out of the icy blast of winter wind. Her instincts told her to look up, and she did. On the bridge wing, where the captain of the ship could steer from a secondary set of controls and get a better visual from the small platform attached to the main bridge, she saw a daunting figure in a dark coat with a white cap, and binoculars aimed toward the parking lot and the police cars.

  Shit.

  As if he’d heard her, which was impossible, he dropped the binoculars and turned his gaze toward her. Kayla yarded the door open and rushed inside.

  Chapter Thirty

  Mattie’s nightmare cycled in her mind. Nausea threatened as bile rose in her throat, but she couldn’t escape the dream. Every time she swam near the surface of consciousness, someone grabbed her and pulled her back into the sharp claws of fear.

  Last night when she’d walked out of the supermarket with her bag of groceries, Brett caught up to her. She figured he was going to ask for a date or return to the Dark Angel with him sometime. After she’d popped the trunk, he’d taken the grocery bag from her arms and placed it inside. With a gloved hand, he’d closed it and stared into her eyes.

  “I can’t believe my luck, running into you.”

  She’d shrugged. “Victoria isn’t all that big. Do you live around here?”

  “I have a place to stay if I need it,” Brett said.

  She didn’t want to be impolite, but if Greg got up and found she was gone, he’d have a heart attack. “I need to go. Nice seeing you again.”

  In the low lights emitted by the lampposts, Brett’s eyes scanned the small parking lot. Only a large, black Ford truck was parked beside her. “You too, Mattie. I knew we’d meet again.”

  Her veins chilled with ice crystals. Surely, his words were coincidental, but he knew her real name. She decided to ignore the warning and the hair rising on the back of her neck. “See you.”

  With her senses heightened, she stepped around Brett. One muscled arm shot out and wrapped around her middle. Stopping her with a tug and holding her hostage, while his other hand cupped her mouth and nose. She couldn’t escape the pungent odor in his glove. She held her breath and fought to free herself at the same time. With her first breath darkness came from all angles, and her legs wilted beneath her.

  “Your mine now, Mattie,” he whispered next to her ear.

  She woke with his gravelly voice calling her name. The scent of diesel fuel filled her nose as she opened her eyes. The muscles in her arms complained, and she tried to pull them from behind her back. Restraints cut into her wrists, and she stopped fighting.

  Brett crouched in front of her wearing a wry smile. “You’ll have to wait here for me. It’s a short trip, and then we’ll have time to explore each other.”

  “What the fuck!” Panic struck deep, and she yanked at the metal cuffs, causing them to clang against the pipe he’d secured her to.

  “You can make all the noise you want. We’re below deck next to the engine room, no one will hear you.”

  Staring into his amazing green eyes and handsomely rugged features, some of the clues snapped into place. His ability to draw any woman would be easy. At the Dark Angel, he’d told her he was a captain. And she was mo
st definitely on a ship. Which ship, she didn’t know, but if it was a bulk carrier headed for the orient, she had zero chance of escaping.

  This is how he’d evaded capture.

  “You’re the Ripper?”

  The serial killer of Victoria squatted too close for comfort. Mattie’s heart wanted to clamber from her chest. This was real. No one knew where she was. No one could save her.

  “I’m not the monster you’ve made me out to be, Mattie.”

  Did she even have the tiniest hope of freedom? “You murdered nine women. Why?”

  He caressed her cheek with the back of his finger. “I was looking for you.”

  “Someone else loves me.” Greg had never said those words to her, but Brett didn’t know that. “He doesn’t share and he’ll want me back.”

  Mattie expected a villain. The Ripper was supposed to be gruesome, heinous and ugly, not someone who could advertise men’s cologne. When he chuckled, she expected her body to chill with fear, but it warmed, his alluring features the worst kind of deception.

  As he spoke, his voice held a possessiveness over her. “If you’re speaking about the military man, I doubt he has any feelings for you. When I took his knife at the club, he was quite enamored by the blonde he was fucking and licking a brunette’s pussy at the same time. I watched for a while. He has skill as a Dom. I hope he taught you something.”

  Anger broiled, making the thump in her head a pounding overture. Sweat covered her skin and she pulled at the restraints, trying to slip her hands free. “He didn’t teach me anything.”

  “Then I will.”

  Brett’s gaze was like staring into the eyes of a cobra, waiting for the poisonous fangs to strike out at her. “You lost someone and you’re trying to replace her, aren’t you?”

  A flicker of unrest shot through his expression.

  “Why leave all your victims at the historical sites?”

  He nodded slowly. “You have a lot of questions. Understandable.”

  She hung her head and wished the damn migraine would stop. When she raised her gaze to meet his, she said, “I want the answers before you slaughter me.”