“On my count,” he said.
She nodded. Her father held up three fingers, and at the count of one, they waded into the ocean. Shoulders hunched around her ears, she kept waiting to get shot, but it didn’t happen. The waves were bigger tonight than when she and Logan had taken their late-night swim to safety, but the water wasn’t as cold. Her father was close behind her.
Suddenly, there was a rumble in the water. She stopped moving and her father pulled up next to her. They listened in the darkness. “Jet skis. Two of them,” she said in a near whisper. “Are they your people?”
She saw her father shake his head. “Voloshyn’s men would be my guess. They must have known we would escape this way. They sabotaged the tanks so we couldn’t be underwater.”
It was dark, which helped hide them, but it also hid the jet skis. They treaded water for another minute. She started to worry. They couldn’t stay in the water too long, and they still had a long way to swim.
Without any warning, someone grabbed her arm. She started to scream, but a hand covered her mouth. Kicking, hitting—she fought with everything she had, particularly when she saw her father had been grabbed by another man in scuba gear.
“Just relax,” said a voice in her ear. She tried to struggle some more. “Relax.” It was a command this time. The voice sounded strangely familiar, and she tried to place it. The instant it clicked, she gasped out loud. “Mitch?”
She turned toward her attacker as he pushed his mask to the top of his head and grinned at her. “Thought you might need some help.”
“Oh, my God!” She threw her arms around his neck. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy to see someone.” She turned back toward her father. Gage had removed his face mask as well.
“I’m assuming you know these two,” her father said.
“Yes. They’re Logan’s brothers. And he’s Alex’s boyfriend,” she said, pointing to Mitch. “How did you know we were here?”
Gage smiled. “We ran into a guy on the grounds and asked him a whole lot of questions and then we listened to his radio. Some guy named Omar ordered two guys out here on jet skis to scoop you all up when you came this way. We just borrowed some extra scuba gear we found in your boat house. Nice setup by the way.” He nodded to Fontaine. “Anyway, we waited ’til we saw you and then came out to meet you. We also called a friend who’s waiting in a borrowed speed boat.”
“I don’t mean to break up this reunion, but we should go.” Mitch looked around. “Where’s Logan? I thought he was with you.”
“Um, it didn’t work out that way.” They were all treading water, and Lacy turned toward the shoreline. The sharp crack of gunfire echoed toward them, and then a huge explosion lit up the sky.
“Logan!” she yelled and started swimming to shore. Her heart was a solid blockage in her throat, and her only thought was that she needed to get to him.
Mitch held her fast. “Going back is not going to help him. He’d want you safe.” He and Gage exchanged looks. “Let’s go. The sooner we get you to safety, the sooner we can help Logan.” She still reached toward the shore, she couldn’t help it, but Mitch tugged her away. She turned and swam after Gage and her father. Mitch brought up the rear. Soon they were pulled aboard a speedboat.
“Where’s Logan?” asked the man on the boat as he helped Mitch climb onboard.
“We don’t know,” Gage replied. “Get us to shore, Jake, so we can go help him.”
“Will do, boss man.” He turned on the speed boat, shoved up the throttle and sped toward safety.
Fontaine asked, “Do you have a cell phone? I have to send a text?”
Chapter Twenty-One
The ambulance lost both mirrors to the gate and the rear windows to the hail of gunfire. It was bulletproof for only so long, apparently. Logan risked a glance in his rearview mirror as he whizzed down the road, heading back in the direction he and Lacy had come from earlier in the day.
Voloshyn’s men had arrived at the gate, but it was still closing. They had to wait for it to open again, but they still fired in his direction. Muzzle flashes lit up the rearview mirror. He’d be lucky to get a minute head start.
He drove like a maniac, his foot all the way to the floor, praying that Trenthom was waiting for him somewhere along the road. He was glad there was no traffic. He didn’t think he could weave around other cars at this speed.
Gunfire interrupted his thoughts, and the dashboard computer exploded next to him. Sharp pain seared his face as he was hit by shards of plastic. Ignoring the fiery sting, he fought to keep the ambulance upright and on the road. He managed to get it back under control, but the blood dripping down into his eye, making it hard to see.
He saw something reflected in his headlights as he rounded a curve, but there was no time to react. He went over the strip of spikes, and suddenly all his tires went flat. He lost control of the ambulance and it went over on its side. He was tossed to the passenger side as the vehicle slid along the ground, and he banged his head, arms, and legs on the dash and the door before the airbags exploded and knocked him around some more.
When he opened his eyes, he found himself staring into the dark, deadly barrel of a pistol.
“Get out,” a voice growled. He couldn’t recognize it because his ears were ringing. The gunman was crouched down in front of him where the windshield used to be, totally concealed by darkness. Logan groaned and made an attempt to move. After an eternity of struggling, and fierce battle to control his nausea from the pain of his head injury, he finally cleared the vehicle and stood. He staggered a few steps and then walked in front of the headlights and came around the other side.
There, lit up by the headlights of four vehicles parked in a circle, stood Voloshyn, Omar and Trenthom. There appeared to be other gunmen behind them, but they were outside the scope of the lights, so it was hard to tell. He had no idea who was in charge of the scenario. Or whether this meant Trenthom was against them after all.
“Where are Fontaine and his daughter?” Trenthom demanded.
“I have no clue.” He ran a hand down over his face, feeling all the cuts while wiping some of the blood away. Now that he was standing, all the hurts on his body roared in a blazing cacophony of pain. His ribs and one leg were killing him, his shoulder was bleeding profusely from a bullet wound, and his head was about to explode. Only his force of will kept him from gagging.
“Come on, where are they?” Omar raised his gun and pointed it at him.
He shrugged and then immediately winced in pain. “I don’t know. We split up back at the house. They didn’t mention their plans. Just that there was no room for me.”
“Liar!” Voloshyn howled. “You will tell me!” He started forward with his hands outstretched, obviously intent on strangling answers out of him, but Trenthom brought up his gun.
“Stay where you are, Voloshyn.”
Voloshyn stuttered to a stop and stared at Trenthom with venom in his eyes. “You will not stop me. I will have my revenge. Where are they?” He started forward again. “They must pay. They must—”
The sound of the gunshot was so loud in the otherwise quiet night that Logan jumped. He watched as Voloshyn crumpled to the ground. He stared at Trenthom, but the CIA agent was staring at Omar.
“He was becoming annoying.” Omar shrugged. “He promised me money, but it turns out he didn’t have it. He stole his people’s money to chase his revenge. There wasn’t enough left to buy weapons. The Russians won’t help. I suspect Fontaine had something to do with that.” He gestured to Voloshyn. “He was no longer of any use to me, and quite frankly, I was tired of listening to his ranting and raving.”
Logan swallowed. Hard. That answered that question.
“Now, Trenthom, what do you say we get down to negotiations, hmm? I am taking over Fontaine’s business now that he’s dead.”
Logan must have made a sound because Omar turned his attention to him. “Yes. Fontaine and Lacy are dead. Did you think I didn’t know about the tun
nel plan?” He smiled. “I know everything. I had men on jet skis waiting for them after I had them wreck the scuba gear.” Still loosely pointing his gun in Logan’s direction, Omar turned back to Trenthom.
Logan’s heart was ice. He couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t be dead. There was no way. He would know…wouldn’t he? Surely, Fontaine had been one step ahead of Omar. He must have had another plan. He tried to rein in his fear. His body started shaking. Deep breaths. Deep breaths, but Omar’s words were echoing in his mind, making it hard to focus.
Omar stated, “I know your people don’t care who’s making the deals as long as they can call the shots when they want to. I want in. I will be happy to work with your people. I know Fontaine didn’t always do what you wanted. He always had too much of a conscience for this business. Fortunately, I am not burdened with such a thing. I will—”
Omar’s head exploded into pink mist. The sudden sound didn’t startle Logan as much this time. He was too caught up with the notion that Lacy might be dead. He fell against the ambulance. He slid to the ground and stared up at Trenthom.
Logan gasped. “What the hell?”
Trenthom grimaced. “Sorry about that, but plans change, and Omar had to go.”
Logan was two beats behind everyone else. What the hell was going on?
Trenthom must have realized this because he nodded and said, “It’s not important for you to understand, just for you to keep your mouth shut. Your life will go much more smoothly that way.”
He sat stunned, but the message had been received. It was all so surreal. He tried to speak, but his tongue wouldn’t work. He took a second and tried again. “Is Lacy still alive?” His heart was double tapping a staccato rhythm against his aching ribs, but it stopped beating altogether when Trenthom paused before answering.
“Yes. She and her father are fine. Fontaine contacted me as soon as they were clear of the house.”
Logan’s breath came out in a whoosh. He tried to get up, but his legs couldn’t hold him. He was dizzy with relief. He was saying a prayer of thanks when he realized Trenthom was still standing over him. Men were coming out from behind the vehicles and carrying the bodies away.
“Uh, are you going to kill me?”
“Should I kill you?”
Logan shook his head.
“No,” Trenthom said, “I will not be killing you today. There’s no need.” He gestured toward the men disappearing in the night with the bodies. “There’s no proof of anything anyway.”
Logan blinked.
“Are you coming?” Trenthom offered him a hand. He nodded and took the help up.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Logan raised his glass toward the bartender at the Ocean Beach Resort. After receiving the man’s nod of acknowledgement, he tilted his head back and poured the rest of his drink down his throat.
“A little early, don’t you think?” Mitch sat down on the barstool next to him.
Logan shook his head. “I’ve never understood that.”
“Understood what?”
“Well, it’s eleven am. If I was drinking Bloody Marys or mimosas, that would be fine, but because I’m drinking”—he stopped and looked down at his electric blue drink—“whatever this is, it’s too early. Why is that? It doesn’t make any sense.”
Mitch shrugged, and when the bartender put another drink in front of Logan, he said, “I’ll have what he’s having.” He turned to face Logan, who was eyeing him. “What can I say? You made a convincing argument.”
Logan stared down at his drink for a moment, then lifted his gaze to meet his brother’s. “I’ve been through hell these last few days, Mitch, and I have to tell you, I have a whole lot more respect for what you do.”
Mitch laughed. “How many of these have you had?”
“Not enough, but I’m being serious. Mitch, I’ve never really given you credit for being a SEAL, for being the first one through the door, for always putting your ass on the line and not buckling under the weight of fear.”
“Thanks, Logan. You could have done it, too. Hell, from what I hear, you did it over this weekend.”
“Maybe, but I am nowhere near as good at it as I think you must be, and I have no desire to improve my skills.” He grinned and took a long haul of his drink.
Mitch laughed. “Don’t blame you there. Some days my line of work really sucks.”
“Tell me about it.”
There was the sound of approaching footsteps, and Gage said, “I’ll have what they’re having.” He sat down on the other side of Logan. “What are you having?” he asked as he frowned at the wild concoctions in front of his brothers.
“We don’t know,” replied Mitch.
“Cool.”
Mitch glanced around the pool area. “I can see why you picked this resort, Logan.” The aqua water was sparkling in the sunshine, and the pool was surrounded by bikini-clad girls.
“Yeah, well, I think I’m kind of done with women for the moment.”
Gage put a hand on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze.
“That just leaves more for Gage.” Mitch smiled at a dark-haired beauty who was walking past them. “I like this vacation thing. We need to do it more often.” Both brothers turned to stare at him. “What?” he asked, feigning innocence.
“Mr. Callahan?” said a voice behind them. The three brothers turned on their stools.
“Which one?” asked Gage.
“Mr. Logan Callahan?” The speaker was a bland-looking man of average height and build. He had a slight British accent.
“Yes?” Logan wondered what fresh hell was about to unfold. His attitude had not improved after catching up on sleep and food. He couldn’t stop thinking about Lacy, and it didn’t help the whole Drake thing was still hanging over their heads. He didn’t need any more shit in his life.
“Mr. Callahan, if you could please come with me, sir? Mr. Fontaine is here,” he said, gesturing toward a few private cabanas beyond the pool, “and he would like to speak with you.”
Logan sat there for a solid minute before climbing off his stool. He would like to tell the guy to go to hell, but he still wasn’t totally sure where he stood with Trenthom after the way shit had gone down. Maybe Fontaine could fill him in. And, there was always a possibility he’d catch a glimpse of Lacy.
His brothers exchanged a look and then immediately got up and stationed themselves at better vantage points around the pool area.
The man walked him over to a private cabana. All the tent sides were down, so he had to push a flap aside to step in. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dimmer light. Disappointment ran through him when he realized Lacy wasn’t miraculously waiting inside.
Armand Fontaine was the sole occupant. The man was short and sported a large belly that reminded Logan of Santa Claus. He shoved the ludicrous thought aside and finished his evaluation of Fontaine. His hair was the same color as Lacy’s, but he had the fringe effect going and his bald spot was well tanned. He was sitting at a small table with a bottle of water in front of him. He was wearing a cream-colored suit that was still crisp in the suffocating heat and shoes that had been polished to a high shine.
“Would you like some water?” He gestured to the water, then reached into the ice bucket beside him and pulled one out. “With all those drinks you’ve having at the bar, you should probably have one of these.” He handed it to Logan and then gestured toward the chair opposite him.
Logan sat, opened the water, and took a swig. “So, what can I do for you, Mr. Fontaine?” He leaned back in the chair, biting the inside of his cheek to stop begging for news about Lacy. He had his pride, such as it was.
“Lacy told me what you did for her. And, of course, your brothers are the ones who got us away from my home alive. Your brothers’ arrival was well timed. I am very grateful. Lacy is as well. She is fine by the way. No worse off for the ordeal.”
He tried to school his features, but the alcohol was starting to take effect. He didn’t want the man to k
now how much he cared, but he was pretty sure it was written all over his face.
“I owe you and your brothers a great deal. To pay that debt, I took the liberty of asking around about your little problem, or should I say Jameson Drake’s problem? It’s interesting. There are not many things in life that I do not succeed in but finding this buyer is one of them.”
“Great. Still a mystery. Why am I not surprised? Things have had a way of going sideways ever since we took Drake on as a client.”
“Mr. Callahan, it is very odd that I did not turn up any information. I asked a great many of my sources. Sometimes they chose for one reason or another not to share information with me but,” Fontaine leaned forward and tapped the table with his finger to emphasize word, “not once in my entire career did they truly not know. This is very disturbing and distressing to me.” His gaze locked with Logan’s. “Whomever this buyer is must have an incredible amount of power and resources. They are not someone to be trifled with.”
A coldness wrapped itself around Logan’s heart. He recognized it for what it was—fear. If Fontaine took the lack of information this seriously, then whoever or whatever was after the software was far more dangerous than they ever imagined.
“I still owe you for saving my life. Please don’t hesitate to ask, if you need my help,” Fontaine said as he stood.
“What will happen with Trenthom?” Logan blurted out.
Fontaine looked slightly confused. “What do you mean?”
“Well, you know, Omar, Voloshyn, what’s he going to do about the whole thing?”
Fontaine shrugged. “Have you not seen the news today? There was a nasty shoot-out between drug kingpins last night. Whatever is this world coming to?” His smile didn’t quite make it to his eyes.
“As for Trenthom? It will all be handled. If you are worried he will come after you in the future, fear not. There is no threat to you. There is nothing for him to gain by bothering you. Especially now that he has what he wants. You can rest easy, my friend.”
Smash and Grab: Action-Packed Thrilling Romantic Suspense (Callahan Security Series Book 2) Page 21