by Tess Oliver
I knew without looking back that Slade had positioned himself behind the nets near the cargo hold. One thing was for sure, I was already in a pissed off mood and these yahoos cutting into my work day and most importantly my profit was making my mood that much worse. My patience was thin, and I was ready to split some fucking skulls in two.
Ace’s face was the first to peer over the stern. His new, unwanted sidekick was right behind, trying hard to keep his gun out of view. Ace shot Colt and I a look that let us know trouble was on the rope ladder behind him. I decided I didn’t need more than one unwanted visitor on the Durango. It was time to pull the rip cord on this clumsy-ass heist.
As the guy was busy pulling himself over the side of the stern with one hand, while still trying to conceal his weapon, I stomped to the back of the boat, drew out my gun and leaned over. My hunch had been right. The second guy, squid, had just put his hands on the rope ladder. He had his gun still, which meant he’d double-crossed Ace. He was obviously even dumber than he looked.
“Permission to come aboard denied,” I said as I pointed my Smith and Wesson directly at him. With a gun barrel staring straight at him, it took him a second to put together what I’d said. He retreated back into the inflatable while I kept my gun pointed at him.
Ace held up his hands. “Guess I don’t need to tell you guys that this asshole behind me has a pistol jammed in my back.” Ace looked at Colt and me, and the glint in his eyes told me that he trusted us to get him out of this mess and deal with the pirates any way we saw fit. And with my mood, that wouldn’t be a problem.
The guy behind Ace glanced my direction. He looked uneasy but determined. “Let him come up or I put a bullet in this man,” he snarled.
I shrugged. “Go ahead. He’s nothing to us, and when your human shield falls to the ground, I’ll have a clear shot at your head. Works for everyone.” I motioned toward Ace. “Except him. Sorry, dude.”
Ace nodded. “Nope, perfectly understandable. Just make sure to get a clean shot. I wouldn’t want him to get away with just a massive brain injury or some bullshit like that.”
Our casual, macabre conversation was making the fool with the gun more nervous. He shoved Ace forward with his pistol. “Then move toward the cargo hold. I’ll collect what I came here for and be on my way.”
Colt nodded slightly at Ace, letting him know he should move toward the cargo hold.
“Keep a gun on squid man down in the inflatable,” I told Colt. He moved to the stern and I followed Ace and the gunman to the hold. In order to see down in the hatch, they had to circle around and stand directly in front of the nets, which was the plan.
“Open this up,” the guy demanded. As I stepped forward, Slade walked out from behind his hiding spot. The deck creaked beneath Slade’s feet just as he raised his gun arm. The gunman had better reflexes than I would have given him credit for, especially in his agitated state. He swung his arm and knocked Slade’s gun clear. My brother was infamous for moving like fucking lightning in a brawl. He grabbed the man’s shirt and shook him hard enough that the asshole stumbled back and fell into the nets. Somewhere in the stumble, his gun went off. The loud shot and the searing pain in my shoulder were almost simultaneous. I grabbed my arm. Blood trickled through my fingers, but I could tell instantly the bullet had only grazed me. Ace, no longer captive, swung around and kicked the man’s arm so hard, I could hear the bones in his wrist crack. His gun bounced on the deck, and Slade grabbed it.
Colt was the first to notice that I’d been hit. “Hunter, what the hell?” He stared down at the puddle of blood on the deck.
“Just a flesh wound, I think.”
“You’re leaving a big mess on my clean deck.” Slade walked toward me. “Guess I better check to see if you’re going to live.”
“Hey, Ace, do you care if I make your raft into Swiss cheese?” Colt called from the stern. “His buddy is heading back to your boat. It would be fun target practice.”
Ace waved his hand. “Be my guest. I’ve got another one.” With his attention diverted, the gunman took the opportunity to kick Ace’s feet out from under him.
“I’m fucking done. Excuse me, while I escort this piece of shit off our boat.” I strode right past Slade. Ace was just pushing to his feet with the same rage in his expression that I was feeling.
A rally of gunshots behind me told me Colt was shooting holes in the inflatable raft. The guy scooted back as if a man eating tiger was stomping toward him. His foot tangled in a net, and as he lost his balance, I grabbed him with both hands. He tried to beat off the hold I had on him, but it was a pretty pathetic attempt. My arm hurt like hell as I clutched the guy’s shirt and dragged him across the deck. He fell to his knees and couldn’t get his feet under him. He grabbed at my hand, but there was no fucking way he was going to free himself. My week had been shitty, and this guy had decided to jump aboard the wrong boat.
“No, wait, no” he pleaded like a worm on a hot, dry sidewalk. I lifted him up by his shirt collar and waistband and tossed him overboard. His arms and legs splayed out to the side like a flying squirrel, and he belly smacked the water with a grunt.
I turned around to my audience.
“Feel better now?” Colt asked.
“As a matter of fact, I do.”
“Uh, except for that blood river pouring from your arm,” Slade said. “Looks like you need some stitches to match the ones on the back of your head.”
I looked at him. “And how do I explain it to the doctor?”
“Super glue.” Ace walked over and looked through the hole on my shirt. “Yep, a little super glue will patch that gash right up.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard of that too,” Colt said.
“Great. As long as I get to take some good long whiffs of the stuff to give me a buzz and forget that glue is holding together my flesh, I’m all for it.” I looked at Ace. “What the hell happened? Never would have expected you to end up in front of some two-bit pirate’s gun.”
“Let my guard down. Brick, the old guy with the squid tattoo, was working against me. Who knew he had those kind of balls?”
“Don’t know if I’d call it balls or fucking stupidity,” I said.
“They’re clinging to the last bit of canvas,” Colt called from the stern. “Their partner has already bailed. He’s coming around on their speed boat to pick them up. Should I put some holes in the hull?”
I glanced once around with my binoculars. Aside from the clowns clinging to the deflated raft and their partner in his zippy little boat, we were still very much alone out on the water. “Go ahead.”
“Wait.” Ace walked over to Colt. “Allow me.” He took hold of Colt’s gun and fired several rounds. The guy ducked down as bullets pinged off the fiberglass hull. Ace fired straight at the outboard motor and it sputtered, smoked and died. He handed the gun back to Colt. “There, now I feel better too. Let’s move this rust bucket closer to my boat so we can get on with our business.”
“Hold on,” I said. “First, since I’m going to be the one that has to deal with Rincon, why don’t you tell me where the hell this all fell apart, eh?”
Ace looked pissed. “You accusing me of something, Stone?”
“Yeah, I guess I am. But I’m not accusing you of a double-cross. I’m accusing you of being fucking careless.” I waved toward the small motorboat that was slowly taking on water even as its two frantic passengers were tossing the water out. “I mean, what the fuck? I’d heard you were moving on soon. Maybe you’ve already checked out of this job. If that’s the case, then let someone who gives a fuck take your place. I don’t want to run into this again.”
Ace’s face reddened as he walked closer to me, but he wisely kept himself out of range of my fist. Colt and Slade moved in on him, but I shot them a subtle shake of my head. I wasn’t planning on this thing escalating. My arm was already numb from the bullet slicing me, and I didn’t need anything else to add to the irritation. I just wanted some details to take back to Rincon
.
“Stone, you know I like you, but don’t push because I can push back hard.”
“I just need to know what to tell Rincon when he asks.” I relaxed my stance some, and it seemed to make him do the same.
“You want to know the truth,” he said, “I think someone’s playing dirty on his side. I always send him those coordinates at the last possible minute, and I’m the one that comes up with them. No one else on my side knows where the drop will be.”
Yells from out on the water let us know that the small boat was slowly sinking. I looked over at Colt. “Get out the life vests.”
Ace’s brow creased. “What the hell? Are you going to save their sorry asses?”
“No need for them to drown. Just like us, they’re trying to make a fast buck. I’m not letting them onboard though, and I’m using the vests as a lure.”
Colt came back out with three life jackets. He and Slade had already figured out my plan. The three of us always thought the same when it came to shit like this. Slade grabbed a vest and held it out over the railing like bait for a hungry shark. “Here you go,” he teased.
I looked down on the three fools who were now clinging to the side of their boat. The other side was completely submerged.
The one whose bullet had grazed my arm swam closer to the Durango. With a major dose of suspicion in his expression, he reached up to catch the vest. Slade let it dangle overhead.
Ace and I walked to the railing.
I looked down at the guy in the water. “Tell us who the turncoat is on Rincon’s side, and we’ll drop three vests down. You’ll have a better chance of staying alive. Otherwise, the storm that’s rolling in is going to take all of you out to sea and you’ll be swimming in Davy Jones’s locker in no time.”
The guy stared up at me. “Fuck that. I can’t tell you. It’ll be the end of all of us.”
Slade laughed. “I guess you pick your poison then. Either you become fish food or target practice for the guy you’re protecting. Personally, I’d take my chances with the target practice. You’re at least three miles from shore and swimming in this rough water will make it feel like ten. That is— if you even head off in the right direction.”
Colt held out another vest. “Well, you going to talk?”
The guy was already getting tired just treading water for a few minutes. He had no chance without the vest. He looked back at his partners. They were in full panic mode as the last side of the boat started slipping below the surface.
“How do I know you’re really going to drop those vests?” the guy asked.
“All I can give you is my word,” I said. “Either way, you’re screwed.”
“I think I’ll take my chances with the sharks.” He turned to swim back toward his friends just as the boat took its last breath. The water churned into a whirlpool as the suction of the sinking boat drew it down. A hurricane of froth and bubbles followed. The three men were completely stranded in the storm current that grew worse with each passing minute.
“Shooting them all in the head would be the merciful thing to do,” Ace suggested. “I’m glad to do it.”
I stared at him. “Remind me never to cross the desert with you.” I looked at my brothers. “Pull the vests out of view. One of them will crack for sure.”
Slade and Colt pulled the vests back in.
“It was Nelson,” one of them yelled from the water. “Nelson is behind it.”
Colt shook his head. “Shit, Rincon’s right hand man. It’s always the last person you’d expect. I guess that’s why it’s best to work with your brothers.”
I motioned for them to toss the vests over.
“I’d have let them drown,” Ace said.
I nodded. “Yep, that’s where you and I are different.” I leaned over the railing. “See the way the tide sort of meets in a line right there.” I pointed to the water. “The waves look like they’re running into each other.”
“Yeah, I see it,” the guy said as he struggled to put on the vest.
“Follow it and you’ll end up on land. And keep moving or your done for.” I straightened and looked over at Slade. “Let’s get Ace and this cargo over to his boat. I’m finished with this fucking sea adventure.”
Chapter 9
Amy
I clutched the tiny square of paper in my hand as if it was the solution to all my problems. It wasn’t, of course, but every time the doctor gave my mom some new meds to try or changed a dosage, it gave me a small sliver of hope that it would be the magic potion we were looking for. I’d considered the taping of the cupboards extreme until she’d made cookies with snail poison. While I hadn’t given the doctor any of the truly alarming details of her last few episodes, I’d mentioned that I was concerned she was hearing voices more frequently and that I thought a medication adjustment was in order. He’d reluctantly written out a new prescription with the warning that it probably wouldn’t help and might possibly make things worse. I had to promise that if things didn’t work out with the new meds, I would bring her in for an evaluation to be placed in a hospital setting.
The only bright side of having to deal with some major Mom problems was that I hadn’t had much time to think about Hunter. Not that I’d pushed him completely from my head but, for a change, he wasn’t front and center.
The local coffee shop was right next to the pharmacy, and the obsessed coffee patrons had lined up to taste a free sample of some fancy, frothy new coffee drink. There was one parking spot left open. As I headed toward it, a shiny black convertible Jaguar with the top down and a surfboard jutting out the backseat came toward me. The guy behind the wheel had long sun-streaked hair¸ a typical surfer hairdo, and black Oakley sunglasses. Before I could turn my shabby little junkster into the spot, he swept in with his slick convertible. The surfboard loomed over the back of the car, seemingly laughing at me for losing the spot. But I wasn’t in the mood to be ridiculed by a damn surfboard or have my spot snaked by a rich, salt-coated surf dude.
I threw my car in park and, piece of shit that it was, it choked and coughed and stalled. I didn’t care. Surfer dude was just getting out of his fancy car as I climbed out of mine.
“Hey, Malibu,” I called, “that was my damn parking spot.”
He turned around. He’d pulled a shirt on over some nice muscles. His board shorts still looked wet. He pushed his sunglasses up on his head and looked at me in a way that made me feel as if I’d stepped out of the car in my underwear, and I didn’t mind. He had nice blue eyes and a strong jaw. I was always a sucker for a strong jaw.
It might have been the Jaguar talking, but suddenly, a little voice in my head suggested I flash one of my famous, come hither smiles. It had been so long since I’d felt free to flirt, I’d almost forgotten how. But this guy didn’t know me and he didn’t know Hunter, and I was going to go for it.
I shoved my hands in my back pockets but brought my shoulders forward to push my somewhat underwhelming boobs into view. “I just think if you’re going to snake a girl’s parking spot, you should at least buy her a cup of coffee.”
He stepped toward me, and he didn’t lose any of his appeal on closer inspection. “I am sorry about that. I guess I didn’t notice you.” He looked down at my body and then back up at my face. “But I’m definitely noticing you now. And I think you’re right. I owe you a cup of coffee.” He glanced around the parking lot. “Looks like the free coffee offer is over and some spots are opening up. I’ll go in and grab a table.”
“Sounds good.” I pointed back to my car. “I’ll just go park.”
“I’m David, by the way.” He reached out his hand.
I shook it. “I’m Amy.” He had a firm grip, but there was no exchange of those weird little electrical charges I always felt when Hunter touched me. I brushed that silly comparison from my head. If I wanted to try this, to be on my own to meet men and maybe even fall in love, I was going to have to stop measuring other men up against Hunter.
I parked and went into the ph
armacy to turn in the prescription. I didn’t want to appear too anxious for my coffee date. The pharmacist raised his fluffy gray brows as he read the doctor’s writing. Never a good thing when a medication request made a pharmacist do a double-take.
I left the pharmacy wondering how on earth I could ever meet someone and bring them home to meet my family, a family that consisted of one loony woman who spent her entire day trying to keep out of the grasp of invisible aliens. Between my mom and my menacing neighbor, there was no way I could ever bring anyone home, or, for that matter, let anyone pick me up for a date. Pick me up for a date— what a foreign notion that was for me.
I headed toward the coffee shop. I was slightly nervous, and that really irritated me. No big deal, Amy. A nice looking surfer with a spiffy, expensive car asked you to sit and have coffee. He was probably going to turn out to be a jerk anyhow. I seemed to be a magnet for jerks, especially oversized, hard-edged ones. Once again I had to push Hunter from my head. The Stone brothers had sort of warped my view of the world, and of men in general, but I was ready to branch out. I’d just be myself, and if that didn’t fly, too bad. I could always live without a guy.
David waved to me from a table in the back corner. He leaned back and watched me walk toward him with an appreciative grin. He was smooth. I wasn’t completely sure I liked smooth. In truth, I wasn’t sure I even knew what I liked.
I sat down at the table across from him.
“I’ll go up and order our coffees,” he said. “What would you like?”
“A coffee mocha with whipped cream and an extra shot of chocolate. Oh, and see if they’ll put in a drizzle of caramel.”
He smiled. “Got it. Although it sounds more like an ice cream sundae than a coffee.”
“Trust me, if they had any ice cream behind that counter, I’d be asking for a scoop of that too.”
Stupidly, I looked around to make sure no one who knew me or Hunter was in the shop. I’d had to drive to a neighboring town to get to a pharmacy that stocked the medication my mom needed, so I was out of Stone range. I relaxed back in the chair and decided to stop being so damn paranoid. Otherwise, I’d eventually be standing in an apron next to my mom making suspicious tasting cookies.