by Gennita Low
Her breath knocked out of her, Marlena looked up at the man still on top of her, and saw the glint of familiar dark eyes in the camouflaged face. She forgot to breathe. Stash!
She grabbed him by the hair, pulled his face down. His mouth was hard and warm. Salty. And he dared to put his tongue into her mouth. Only when she went for his throat did he release her. “You’re not Stash,” she accused.
“No, ma’am,” the stranger said, and rolled over, out of her grasp.
***
“’Cumber! Take out anyone who comes down. We have a sniper out there.” Steve didn’t wait for Cucumber’s response as he ran past the large man toward the stern.
“Not easy with that beam on, Steve,” Cucumber called after him.
Steve didn’t reply. He remembered all the positions of those on board the boat shown by the thermal imager. He would bet anything that the sniper was the figure at the top to the right, on the leeward side of the boat.
From his angle he saw Marlena fall down with the guard, and fear lent him even more speed. “Cover me!” he said to Dirk.
“I’m covering Hawk. Leave the girl to him, Steve. Get the sniper. The spotlight’s going to kill them out there.”
Steve glanced up toward the high beam and watched it explode like mini fireworks, blinding him for a second. There was a momentary silence as everyone seemed frozen by the unexpected darkness. Blinking and adjusting his eyes to the deck lights, Steve turned and started to climb the steel ladder, heading for the sniper from behind.
Hell was breaking loose below him, the loud popping echoing upward from the live exchange of weapons. The sniper had used a silencer, but Hawk and the others were now involved in their own battle. Steve kept looking up, even as his mind kept seeing Marlena stumbling down over and over. He knew Hawk would get to her, no matter what.
His target had his back to him, hunched over the railings on the protective side of the boat, away from the light wind, motionless as he followed the action below him. Steve silently thanked whoever had shot out the spotlight. From up there, Hawk and everyone else would have been easy pickings for the sniper. The man lifted the weapon, sighting someone below.
Cutting loose one of the ropes that were part of the brails, Steve swung onto the landing with a soft thud and rolled, weapon ready. The man turned with one practiced move and had his semiautomatic pointing at Steve. Steve stared at the man, who unblinkingly returned his glare. They were deadlocked, weapons pointing at each other.
“You’re not surprised,” the man said.
“You gave yourself away with those kills,” Steve told him. “Both dead with the same precise shot in the middle of the forehead. Both just before they were caught. I knew you would have a military background. A simple Triple I background check confirmed my suspicions.”
“He always did underestimate you,” the man said quietly, the shadows hiding his expression, “but it’s not my job to tell the boss what to think and how to do his business.”
“I know you and Gorman went way back, but why did you agree to kill for him?”
“He saved my daughter’s life, and I owed him. He called in the favor.”
“Don’t do this,” Steve warned as he flexed his finger on the trigger. “You’ve already killed two other people for him. Isn’t that enough payback?” There was a pause as he pressed on, “I know about his saving your life in a war. This isn’t a life-and-death situation, and you aren’t saving his life now. Come on, man. I don’t know about his helping your daughter, but he even had you kill his half brother. Is that the kind of favor you thought you were paying back?”
“His half brother?”
Steve knew he had a chance now. “Yes. Cunningham is Gorman’s half brother. That’s how he had so much influence in and out of NRL, how he knew about the laptop, how he planned with his half brother until Gorman decided that he was expendable. I don’t have time to talk about this, Birman. Put down the damn weapon!”
“I can kill you,” Birman said matter-of-factly.
“Yeah, but you won’t live to jump for joy,” Steve replied coldly. “And, by the way, I have backup just behind you.”
“You’re bluffing.” Birman’s voice was taut with confidence. “I turn around and what? You’re going to shoot me in the back?”
“One of us is,” agreed Steve, “if you want to really test the theory. Right, Cam?”
“Shit, how did you see me, man?” Cam’s voice rose from the narrow catwalk about six feet below.
Steve gave a grim smile, but his eyes never left his target. A weapon was still aimed at him, after all. “Your teeth, man. Every time you chew that gum of yours, your teeth show. What do you say, Birman? Weapons down, and let this finish between Gorman and me.”
“He’ll never let you take him alive,” Birman said.
“Then you needn’t worry about dying for him,” countered Steve. “Either way, I’m not going to let you take out Marlena.”
“You’ll die for her,” Birman stated rhetorically, lowering his weapon a few inches.
Steve kept his weapon up. A marksman was a marksman, after all. “Yes.”
“Funny how many men would die for that woman. Pierre du Scheum stood to her left throughout the whole evening, blocking my view most of the time. I thought it was coincidence but now I’m not so sure. Funny what you’d do for people you love.”
“Drop the weapon,” Steve ordered softly.
His heart thudded as he waited for Birman’s decision. It’d been a while since he had faced danger head-on, but his grip on his weapon was still steady, his mind in that special place, separated from emotions. He understood that the other man was weighing the same thing. Over a year out of combat action. Long enough to lose the reflex and state of mind of a soldier.
He didn’t think. Just reacted. The glint of Birman’s ring caught the light as his fingers moved. Steve fired his weapon without any hesitation, and the other man crumpled.
“Not a SEAL, man, never a SEAL,” Steve told the injured man as he stood over him. “Not a STAR SEAL. We’re a standing and ready force, and we’re always prepared.”
He crouched down. It was never easy to fire a weapon at a fellow human being, but Birman had made the choice when he could have surrendered. Steve felt regret, but no pity. The man had murdered two people for money and would have killed Marlena, too.
“He’s all yours, Cam. I’m heading down.”
“Ten-four.” Cam climbed up from the catwalk. “I’ll take care of things up here now. Is he dead?”
“Not yet.”
“How did you know he was going to fire at you?”
“You don’t wear a wedding ring when you’re in the sniper business. In this case, it’s you who’s gone rusty, Birman.”
Before Steve stood up, the sniper pulled at his arm, groaning as he did so. Their eyes met. He gave the same nod he always did, then closed his eyes. Steve studied him grimly for one more second. Then, he got up and pulled on the metal hook that extended a retractable wire from his nylon belt. He nodded at Cam before strapping it to the rope to rappel down to the deck.
***
Damn du Scheum! If he hadn’t listened to du Scheum’s plan to use Marlena, he wouldn’t be here now, without his ability to see everything around him. But that damn Frenchman had convinced him he needed Marlena to negotiate the item since she’d already made it known at that function that she had it. Without her the authenticity of the laptop would be questioned. That made sense then, and he’d followed du Scheum’s advice. He’d known the man was trying to negotiate Marlena’s freedom, but he’d thought he was in control, that he would show them who finally needed whom.
Now he was standing there like Napoleon watching his Waterloo, hearing the reverberations of gunshots down on the deck. He had an idea who was out there. How did that sailor locate his boat? He clenched one hand, crushing the cigarette he was smoking, barely noticing the sting as the tip of it burned his palm.
He watched as the man responsibl
e for his downfall fell out of nowhere like a spider dropping from the ceiling, hanging by a seemingly invisible thread, shooting and not missing. How could his men miss him? He could see him as clear as the dawn breaking, and his stupid crew seemed to be shooting at nothing. There couldn’t be that many intruders on board, could there? From the amount of firepower being used, it sounded like a dozen men. Surely his own well-trained crew could contain a dozen men.
With sudden fury, he turned on his captain and first mate. “We are in the middle of the ocean. How could twelve men get on board and you two not know about it?”
As expected, they didn’t have any answer. He struck the first mate, then flexed his arm. He hadn’t used violence in a long time. He left that to his minions.
“We have another boat approaching, sir. What are your orders?” The captain was nervous, sweat popping out on his forehead. He looked as if he’d rather be somewhere else.
Drawing out his 9mm from inside his jacket, he pointed it at the captain. “Start the engine and head toward that boat at high speed.” When the man hesitated, he cocked the weapon. “Ram it. Or you die.”
He backed up, kicked the cabin door shut, and locked it. When the captain still didn’t make a move, he pointed the weapon at the first mate and pulled the trigger. The man screamed. The captain went pale and started the boat.
“Speed it up!” he ordered, looking at the horizon, at the oncoming boat. Here was something he could see. “Napoleon never backed down.” He lit his last cigarette.
***
Whoever this man was, he’d chosen the perfect spot for cover. They were just inside the doghouse, the protective construction over the entrance from deck level to below decks. This way they could see whether anyone was coming up from behind them. The shooting was sporadic, as if Gorman’s crew was confused. She wondered how many there were on board.
“Where’s Stash?” Marlena demanded, between bursts of gunfire. She kept glancing at the man a few feet from her. He had Stash’s build, maybe a bit stockier, but with the camouflaged streaks on his face, he could easily have been Stash. “And who are you?”
The man emptied his cartridge in one direction, then turned around, his back against the thick canvas on the side of the doghouse. “Your turn,” he said, pulling out a cartridge to reload. His eyes gleamed at her in the dark. “Unless all you want to do is kiss.”
The guy even talked like him! Marlena took position, firing in the direction where bullets were coming at them. “Where’s Stash?” she yelled again, getting impatient. She needed to know that he was safe, before she went after Gorman. “Is he all right?”
He peered to the left and fired his reloaded weapon. There was a howl of pain. “Right now, we have a more immediate problem, lady. Like an unknown number of shooters after us.”
“Seven,” Marlena informed him. “Five, actually, now that you got one. I took out one before that.”
He slanted her a glance again. “Wait here while I get rid of them.” When she glared at him, he shrugged and tossed her his weapon. He pulled out two others from behind him. The man obviously thought he was Rambo. He asked, “How fast can you run? Are you as good at dodging bullets as I am at kissing?”
He was trying to scare her. Marlena gave the stranger a mocking grin. “Kissing isn’t my only talent,” she assured him, then moved to his side. “There are two behind that stanchion, the other three are to your right. I’ll take them out first. They’re using semis and we can count the reload patterns, whatever-your-name-is.”
This close to him, she could see the corner of his lips quirking. He nodded and said, “Besides kissing, Steve must be giving you sailing lessons, too.”
Did he say lessons? Marlena emptied her cartridge, blasting one of the decorative railings to pieces. “Before I kill you, you had better tell me where Stash is and who you are.”
The man cocked his head. Their counterpart in this shootout was returning fire, so Marlena waited as she watched him mentally count the number of shots coming from each weapon. He lifted his heavier weapon to his shoulder and said to her, “On the count of thirteen, those two will reload and we go after them. Ready?” When she nodded, he said, “I’m Steve McMillan, too, by the way. So you kissed the right guy.”
Marlena frowned. Two Steves? She didn’t have time to deal with this right now; he had started counting. She yelled at him before they headed out of the doghouse, “But you aren’t Kisser of the Millennium Steve, SEAL boy.”
Gunshots and the cranking sound of chains and cables drowned out his answer. She didn’t wait for him as she disposed of the two men behind the stanchion. Mr. Other Steve had better be taking care of the other three because he was on his own. The boat was moving, so that cranking sound must be the anchor cable being hoisted, and she knew exactly where Gorman was.
There were rubber-suited men everywhere! Or at least it seemed like it, because every time she turned at the sound of gunfire, there were Gorman’s crewmen being rounded up like cattle. She was pretty sure they were SEAL commandos now. Only they would look this good in rubber. That big one over there looked like he could take down the whole crew himself. Well, let them handle these guys. She wanted Gorman for herself.
To her relief, the big intimidating guy seemed to know her and stepped aside, allowing her to pass. She was afraid that he would shoot her. Well, T must have briefed these guys.
That imposing cabin door was nothing against the firepower that Mr. Other Steve had given her. It took only one shot. The kickback almost had her on her ass. She didn’t have time to admire the destructive beauty of her handiwork, but instead peered in, expecting return fire. Sure enough, she quickly retreated when she saw Gorman. The bullet whizzed past her, hitting the wall harmlessly.
“Give it up, Gorman,” she called, putting one hand in her jacket pocket. “It’s just you and me now. Isn’t that what you want?”
There was a loud spray of bullets and a crash from inside. She muttered a short curse and peered in again. Someone had smashed through one of the windows and landed on top of the other occupant. Gorman wasn’t paying any attention to her as he seemed determined to jam the steering wheel a certain way. Here was her chance. She ran at her captor. He turned, gun in hand. She raised hers. Someone pulled her by the ankle, tripping her, and Gorman’s shot missed by a couple of feet. She pounded a fist on the floor in frustration. Damn it. She would have gotten Gorman first, the idiot.
She clenched her hand around the special ballpoint pen in her hand and yelled, “I don’t want him dead, you idiot. He has one of my men.”
She looked up to see Mr. Other Steve wrestling with Gorman, who was no match for this kind of tussle. She had the satisfaction of seeing her enemy getting the daylights punched out of him. There was a painful-sounding crack to the jaw. Gorman passed out.
“Hey!” she yelled as she was unceremoniously pulled up on her feet.
The man had no manners! He grabbed her by the hair, and she kicked his shin. “Look, you tongue me again, SEAL boy, and I’ll make you into shark bait.”
He tongued her anyway.
“Stash,” she murmured against his lips. Stepping on tiptoes, she palmed his face, pulling him closer. She couldn’t get enough of him. How she’d missed him!
His mouth moved over hers possessively and she responded fiercely, forgetting everything for the moment except the fact that he was alive. She’d been so afraid for him, had never been so fearful of losing anyone. He was her Steve, all familiar sexy masculine musk and heat and...the boat was still moving! Shaking off her protesting mind, she released his face and tried to talk to him while she pushed at the hard wall of his chest.
Steve reluctantly lifted his head. God, the woman drove him nuts. He wanted to shake her and make love to her at the same time. What was she thinking, running at Gorman like that? And what did she mean, he had one of her men?
Hawk had been right behind her, so Steve knew she hadn’t been in any danger, but damn it, hadn’t he told him to get her out
of the way? So why was she running ahead of him?
He looked over Marlena’s head to ask his cousin, who was standing there eyeing them silently. Steve wasn’t worried about Gorman. Hawk would take care of him if he so much as opened an eye. He narrowed his eyes as he zeroed in on a smear of red on Hawk’s lips. He knew his cousin’s bad habits like the back of his hand. “That’d better be a new line of camouflage makeup and not what I think it is,” he warned.
Marlena twisted around to see what he meant. She didn’t see anything important about Hawk’s makeup, so she turned back to Steve. “Let go. We have to stop the boat.” She was facing the water and could see exactly where they were heading. “Stash! Stop the boat! Look over there!”
Steve didn’t turn around to see the disaster ahead. He had what he wanted—Gorman out and Lena in his arms. “Why did you kiss my woman?” he demanded.
“She kissed me. She preferred me to shark bait.”
“You didn’t kiss him, did you, Lena?”
Marlena stared up at Steve. Had they both gone crazy? This wasn’t the time to play kissing games! “Stop the damn boat or we’re all going to kiss something goodbye!”
“Okay,” Steve said and snapped his fingers. He did that to annoy Marlena; she didn’t know he had wired the propellers. A rolling rumble shook the boat under them, rocking it sideways. He opened his arms as Marlena fell against him, then closed them possessively around her as he braced himself against a wall. It felt so good to have her in his arms again. He didn’t want to let go. The past forty-some hours were some of the worst of his life.
The way the boat came to a stop in time seemed like magic, but of course it was the timing device that had taken care of everything, and he had the operation clocked to perfection. That was why he’d chosen that moment to crash through the window, but Marlena’s appearance had distracted him a little bit. Just a little. He placed a kiss on her forehead and met Hawk’s mocking eyes. He glared at the smear of red again.