Overboard (A Crow's Nest Novel Book 2)

by Natasha Raulerson

  “I know her. I care about her,” Miguel said in a soft tone as he pulled on his shirt, turning to look at his sister so she could see just how serious he was.

  Maricela took a step back, as if she’d been physically hit by that blow. Miguel didn’t understand why it bothered her. If anything, he thought Maricela would be happy. She always wanted him to settle down, start a family. Not that he knew things would go that far with Cassidy, but he didn’t understand why she was so upset by this.

  “Christ, Miguel.” Maricela ran fingers through her disheveled wet hair and shook her head. “You’re willing to sacrifice everything for her?”

  He nodded. “Si. Hermanita, I would do the same for you.”

  She blinked by tears. Confusion swept over him. Sure, he understood her fear, but she’d known who he was his whole life. That hadn’t changed.

  “Damn it, Miguel! Why can’t you stop? Why can’t you just be my brother?” A tear slipped down her cheek.

  “Maricela?”

  She slapped his chest. “Why can’t you stop making us worry? Making me worry? Do you know what I went through when you were gone? When you came back?”

  Guilt washed through him, and he ignored the shot of pain that ran through his side. No, he didn’t know, because he hadn’t been in their shoes. He only knew what he’d been through, and the last thing he wanted was to put his family through pain. Only he didn’t have a choice. Maybe, if he could change who he was, things would be different. But if he turned his back, turned a blind eye at all, Miguel couldn’t live with himself.

  “Why can’t you just come home?” she asked, her voice tight with pain.

  Sighing, Miguel could only shrug, his hands held out in helplessness. “I am home, hermanita. This is where I belong.”

  Scowling, she shook her head. “You are a selfish man, Miguel.”

  “No, he ain’t,” Hunter interjected. “He’s about as selfless as they come.”

  “Hunter,” Miguel said in a warning tone.

  “No,” he said. “This damn well ain’t right. I understand a family achin’ over choices. I do.” He looked at Maricela. “But you ought to be proud of your brother. He’s a man willing to sacrifice anything, even his family, to do the right thing. Ain’t many willing to do that anymore.”

  “Hun—”

  “He’s right.” Maricela looked at Miguel.

  Something in her gaze made him uneasy—and he couldn’t put his finger on what. Miguel always trusted his gut, having learned the hard way when he hadn’t listened to it originally.

  He sighed. They didn’t have time for this. As much as he would like to finish this, Cassidy was in danger.

  “I have to go. We have to find the boat.”

  “He’s heading for Key West,” Maricela said.

  The pain in Miguel’s heart outweighed the pain from the shrapnel. Yes, Honey said that Ivanov used an uninhabited key, but Key West certainly wasn’t that. That feeling of unease grew heavier—all eyes were on Maricela.

  “Now, how do you know that?”

  She scoffed again and shook her head “Do you really think he left us out of the kindness of his heart?”

  Miguel tensed all over. Pain thrummed through his side, but he ignored it. “What did you do?”

  Tension seeped into her shoulders, raising them next to her ears. Her jaw ticked, and she lifted her chin, crossing her arms over her chest. “What I had to do to ensure that my estupido brother didn’t die!”

  The red around his vision grew, now silhouetted with black. “Maricela.” He clenched his fists. “What. Did. You. Do?”

  Each word came out chalked in a low tone but filled with venom that he wasn’t sure he could contain.

  No one dared breathe too loud. The drum of his heart banged in Miguel’s chest. He knew there were a lot of dark things in the world, but if there was one thing he never expected to happen, it was for his hermanita to betray him. The wall he had built to keep the darkness out of his day to day life cracked just a bit.

  “He approached me,” Maricela said. “While I was out picking up Mami’s medicine. At first, I thought he was going to try to take me as leverage. So, I attempted to hit him.”

  “Take it that didn’t go well,” Hunter said.

  “No. He caught my hand, gave me a black eye, and put a gun to my ribs. Said we could talk civil or he could kill me as a message to my brother.” She looked at Miguel, desperation in her eyes. “He said if I took him to you, that he would take Cassidy and go. He wouldn’t harm us.”

  “But there’s more,” Miguel said. “You know where Ivanov is going. The Cleaner wouldn’t have told you that. What else do you know and how?”

  Maricela blew out a breath. “I told them no. I wasn’t about to lead them to you. I’m not stupid. So, they took me to his yacht. Told me what Cassidy had done. Trying to kill Grigory Ivanov. The woman is clearly insane.”

  “Maricela!” The sharp look Miguel gave her put her back on track.

  “He promised me that if I helped him, I wouldn’t be betraying you.” She swallowed thickly. “I’d be saving you from Cassidy…”

  The darkness pulled to the surface as Miguel thought about the many things he wanted to do to these men. The Cleaner would die, a slow and painful death. As a sniper, he’d been assigned many targets. He killed each one with a precision kill shot, unless orders changed, and sometimes, they did. But The Cleaner manipulated his sister and threatened his family. That called for a slow death.

  “But how do you know where they’re headed?” Cap asked.

  “I speak Russian.” She said in the same language.

  “Among other languages,” Miguel said. “Including French, German, and Sign Language. She’s always been a great linguist.”

  Even though it was a compliment, the words tasted bitter on his tongue. Maricela, had she wanted to, most likely could have found a way to warn him that it had been a set up. At the very least she could have told him sooner.

  “Grigory took a call, saying he was picking up several men in Key West. Then, they would head to their final destination.”

  “Which means the uninhabited key is probably not too far from there,” Honey said. “I’m on it.”

  She left the room, and Miguel could only glare at his sister. If she had been an unwilling person on this, he wouldn’t be angry, but she made the choice to do this—and to keep the truth from him.

  Thinking she’d save him, his sister had actually betrayed him.

  “Miguel, please.” Maricela took a step toward him, but he held up a hand to stop her.

  “We don’t have time for this. We need to get to Cassidy.”

  Pain flickered across her face, but for now, Miguel had to block it out. Yes, Maricela had to lead The Cleaner to them—and honestly, he didn’t begrudge her that, but she had withheld vital information..”

  “Jax,” Cap said. “Escort Ms. Cortez home.”

  Jax nodded, and before Maricela could say anything else, Miguel walked out with his men, intent on saving his Sirena.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Cap led the Doc to Cantrell. He was in the barracks—to the outside world it looked like another boat hangar, but for the Crows, it was a sanctuary when they had nowhere else to go. The others were preparing to go after Ivanov, and soon Cap would be with them, but first he needed to check in on the kid. After sleeping it off, Jason Cantrell had one hell of a hangover. It did nothing to help the kid’s busted ribs—and considering the blood in the latrine, Cap was guessing there might be a few bruised internal organs. When he’d first met the senior Cantrell, Cap wouldn’t have pegged him for as the physical type. More like someone who would have the dirty work done for him.

  Cantrell sat on the edge of the bed, head in hands, probably still nursing some of the ache from the booze and from his father.

  “Jason?” Cap said.

  The kid jumped, looking around with wild eyes for a moment, before his face went stoic, anger replacing the wildness. “Don’t worry.
I already planned on leaving.”

  “You’re not going anywhere,” Cap said in a firm tone. “You’ve got nowhere else to go, and bottom line? You’re safe here.”

  Cantrell set his jaw but didn’t say anything. “Who’s the babe?”

  Doc rolled her eyes. “If that’s the best you got kid, I’m amazed you’ve got any kind of game.”

  He blinked, confusion settling on his features as she walked over and sat next to him on the bed.

  “Shirt off. I need to see just how bad your injuries are.” She set her bag on the bed and opened it, rummaging inside for something.

  “What?” Cantrell looked from her to Cap and back again.

  “Jason Cantrell. This is the Doc.” He nodded from one to the other. “Doc, this is Jason Cantrell. He’s a huge pain in the ass, so do your thing if he gives you any trouble.”

  “What? What thing?” He pulled away when the Doc took his arm.

  She let out a sigh and tucked a strand of red hair behind her ear. “Boy,” she said in a firm tone. “Don’t know your story, but I know your defense mechanisms. Right now, you’ve got two choices. You can either take off your shirt and let me check you out—or you can fight me, I’ll sedate you, and I’ll check you out anyway.”

  Jason’s face pinched. “I…” He trailed off, and Cap could see the myriad of emotions flickering across his face.

  Doc waited patiently, arms crossed over her chest, never wavering from his gaze. Cap didn’t interfere. Doc knew what she was doing. Like the other Crows, she’d once been in the military. Army. That’s where she’d received her training. Cap met her at a military bar in downtown Fort Lauderdale. She hadn’t mingled with the others, but instead, sat in a back-corner booth, sipping her drink quietly. When a fight broke out, she’d been the one to take command, forcing the soldiers to stand down and stitching up the one who’d gotten a bottle smashed over the back of his head.

  Cap had watched it all with ease, and after everything settled down, that’s when he’d gone in and talked with her. Their relationship was strictly professional, and Cap didn’t know much of what the Doc did outside of this setting. All he knew was when his men were injured, or they had a situation where they couldn’t get the authorities involved, he called the Doc. She got the job done, and the men didn’t stand a chance against her.

  Jason deflated and shook his head. “Whatever.”

  Doc nodded. “Good. Let’s get to it.”

  He went to take off his shirt, wincing from the motions.

  Without hesitation, Doc leaned over and helped him, her voice changing to a soothing tone. “Easy.”

  The shirt came off, the deep purple bruises revealed. Doc didn’t show any pity or anger.

  “All right,” she said. “I’m gonna be as gentle as I can, okay? You let me know if something is too painful or uncomfortable.”

  Jason nodded.

  “I have to go prep for the mission,” Cap said. “Cantrell, I fully expect you to have your ass planted in this bed when I get back.”

  “And if I’m not?” he challenged, but kept his gaze averted.

  That was the trouble. As much as Cap wanted the kid to stay, he couldn’t force him. Yes, he’d been adamant before, but ultimately, the choice had to be Cantrell’s.

  “Then you’ll have to face whatever comes your way alone,” he said. “At least here, you’ve got people who will watch out for you.”

  Doc continued her exam while Cantrell just glared. “Why would you watch out for me after what I did?”

  Cap shrugged a shoulder. “Stick around and you’ll find out. If you decide to leave, at least let Doc patch you up first.”

  “He’s not going anywhere until I give him the clear,” Doc said. “And I haven’t given that yet.”

  Cantrell just looked flustered, and Cap chuckled. “We’ll hopefully be back by tomorrow. Ida and Honey will be here if you need anything.”

  Without waiting for the kid to reply, Cap walked out to get ready for the mission.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The sun began to set as Cassidy walked to the dining table in the main cabin of the yacht. Light reflected off the water, and even at the late hour, she wished she had sunglasses. Ivanov did, and he didn’t bother to take them off when she approached, so she couldn’t gage his reaction to the dress he’d had made especially for her.

  Form fitting was putting it mildly, and now, for the second time, Cassidy wore a dress she would otherwise never wear for this man. But she had decided not to put on the heels. On a boat moving through the ocean, she didn’t want to risk falling overboard again. The coastline was on Starboard side, and it was barely visible on the horizon. Somehow, she didn’t think she’d be lucky enough to cling to a buoy again.

  Even if she were able to, Miguel wouldn’t be there to save her this time. Her heart constricted. Tears should have come but they stayed distant, as if she weren’t actually convinced he was dead. A fool’s hope, she knew. After all, Cassidy had held out the same hope when her sister had disappeared. There had been no body—until there was. But until that moment, Cassidy had believed she’d find Meredith alive. With Miguel, she had seen the boat blow up with her own eyes. He was gone, and so was Maricela.

  And with Miguel gone, so was Cassidy’s hope.

  Part of her wanted to give up, let Ivanov do what he would. It seemed like the punishment she deserved, but another part of her knew that if she didn’t stop him, no one else would. Ivanov had murdered too many people. If she could stop him, Cassidy had to try.

  Miguel would want her to at least do that. Not give up without a fight.

  “Please,” Ivanov said. “Sit.” He gestured to the seat across from him.

  Not wanting to antagonize him, Cassidy did as he asked. The stillness of her movements surprised her. Last time she’d been on a yacht owned by this man, it was all she could do not to tremble in front of him. Now, as she stared across the table, the fear of him dissipated. This man who thought he was powerful, and yes in some ways he was, but he was also a pathetic monster. His money let him do whatever he wanted. He hired others to handle the things he needed done while he sat on his yacht, surrounded by women as he ate and drank out on the sea.

  A numbness had settled over her. Not acceptance of her fate. Just a calm that she couldn’t actually explain. Hatred didn’t even bubble up for Ivanov. That took too much energy, and Cassidy knew that she was going to need that energy for whatever he had in store. Whatever sort of sick game they were going to play—Cassidy planned on winning.

  He sipped some champagne from a flute. “Drink. Eat.” He waved over the table. “You are going to need your strength.”

  Cassidy kept her hands in her lap, watching him rip apart lobster. He dipped the meat in garlic butter and brought it to his mouth, slurping it down. The sound made her want to gag, officially destroying any appetite she should have had, considering how long it’d been since she ate. The oils slid down his hand and he used an expensive-looking cloth napkin to wipe it away.

  His steel blue eyes looked over. “Are you allergic to seafood?”

  “No,” she said evenly. “Why did you kill my sister?”

  “Technically,” he said, his Russian accent making the words thick. “I did not. I simply took her and put her on an island.” He gestured to the food again. “Trust me. You will want your energy. This may well be your last meal.”

  Something about his tone, about the way he smirked, left her uneasy. She tilted her head. “What do you mean you didn’t kill her?”

  The sun continued to set, easing the shine on the water as the sky faded into purples and grays.

  Ivanov smiled in a way that sent a chill down Cassidy’s spine. If his teeth were elongated, she’d think him some sort of predatory beast. Even without that, she knew he was, but he had different weapons. Scarier weapons that teeth and claws.

  “You know we stopped earlier in the evening, yes?” he asked.

  “Key West.” She had recognized the building
s. Cassidy had hoped someone would hear her screams from the room she was being held captive in.

  No such luck. Several men had boarded the boat. Cassidy imagined Ivanov was going to have some sort of nefarious party plans for her. That thought did make her shiver—but Cassidy had escaped once. She would find a way to do it again.

  “I run a very lucrative business,” he said. “One where gentlemen are able to satisfy certain desires.”

  Her stomach twisted. “What does that mean?”

  “We are heading toward an island. A very obscure island. When we arrive, you will be allowed to swim to shore.”

  “Somehow I don’t think this will be a tropical vacation.”

  “Seven of the men who boarded are preparing themselves in their quarters.”

  Cassidy sucked in a breath. As much as she tried to keep up the appearance of nonchalance, she knew fear was showing on her face. “So, what? You bring women to the island to be used at the mercy of rich men?”

  “Not quite.” He took a bite of his food and delicately wiped his mouth with a napkin. “We find women who are likely to participate willingly. Your sister included.”

  She blinked. Despite the sultry night, Cassidy’s skin turned cold. She felt the blood rush from her face—the world tilted, and she gripped the table to keep from falling over.

  “Didn’t know she came willingly?” He tsked and sipped his wine. “I remember her quite well. She was a fighter. Clawed and kicked and was ready to do anything to survive.”

  The smell of the lobster soured her stomach and Cassidy swallowed back the bile. “You’re lying. She wouldn’t have gone willingly.”

  “Everyone has a price, Cassidy.”

  She gave him a sharp look. “What did you offer her?”

  “The same thing we offer the other women. An obscene amount of money—and in Meredith’s case, enough drugs to last a very long time.”