“Thanks,” she managed.
Val kissed her forehead. She was a strong woman, but it was obvious that everything was taking its toll on her. “Do you need your inhaler?”
She shook her head. “My new daily meds have made big changes. Don’t worry about me.”
That wouldn’t be possible. Val knelt in front of her and captured her cold hands in his.
“I’m sorry this happened, Val.”
“None of this is your fault.”
She didn’t look convinced.
The last of the crates were packed onto a pallet and wrapped before a mini forklift removed them.
Val leaned forward and met Margaret’s cold lips for a brief kiss. “You should stay here.”
Her eyes grew wide. “No. I can’t.”
He understood the need to witness whatever was going to happen with his own eyes, but he didn’t want Margaret anywhere near Stephan. Then again, he didn’t want her roaming the wine vault still filled with illegal drugs either. If someone who had helped them pack up the wine in record time was in with Alonzo, they’d be called out before Stephan left the dock.
Sandwiched between Rick and Val, Margaret walked with them to the charter. The heat outside was close to ninety, but Margaret still shivered. When Val moved away from the two of them to talk to Stephan, Margaret stumbled and Rick caught her.
“I’m OK. Sorry.”
She looked positively sick and there was nothing Val could do about it.
Val halted the driver of the forklift before he placed the last pallet on the overloaded boat.
“C’mon, Masini . . . get it in there.” Stephan kept a hand in his pocket, the same one Val knew held a gun.
“Only when I know Gabi is safe.”
“You don’t hold any bargaining chips.”
“Pick up your phone and call your boss. Or you can leave with a partial shipment, and once Gabi is safe, you can have the rest.”
From the expression crossing Stephan’s face, he wasn’t prepared for conflict.
“For all I know Gabi is already gone.”
A phone started to ring.
Everyone turned and stared at Margaret. She answered . . . “Gabi?”
“Move the crates onto the ship, Masini,” Stephan yelled.
Val tried to hear Margaret’s conversation and looked at Rick for a hint of what he should do.
“Where are you?” Margaret yelled into the phone.
“Time is ticking . . .” Stephan said with a laugh.
“You see the island? Can you see people?” Margaret was turning away from Rick, looking out over the ocean.
Stephan moved from where he stood, kept his back to the ship, and removed the gun from his pocket. He waved it at the forklift driver. “Move!”
The men on the dock ducked away from the swinging barrel of the gun.
Margaret moved closer to the edge of the dock. “She says she’s on a small boat and can see lots of people on a beach,” she told them. “No! Don’t. We’ll find you. You can’t swim that far.”
Val’s heart sank. He’d save his sister only for her to jump into the water, high on God knew what, and drown.
The forklift started to move.
Val’s phone rang from his back pocket.
Rick was inching his way closer to Margaret, who didn’t seem to notice any of the unfolding drama on the dock.
“You might want to take that call, Masini,” Stephan suggested.
The last thing Val needed was an interruption.
Without taking his eyes off Stephan and the gun that was rotating between them, Val answered his phone without looking. “Yes?”
“Your hour was up ten minutes ago. I expected you to take my demand seriously.”
The man who he’d once let into his home, allowed the privilege of courting his sister, now sounded deadly.
“Where is Gabi?”
“Bobbing along. Close enough to see her blow up if you don’t move faster.”
The last pallet was loaded, the driver pulled the forklift away, and the men loading the wine ran.
“Meg?” Rick called her name.
Before Val could tell Alonzo the crates were loaded, Stephan lunged between Margaret and Rick.
Rick had his gun out and pointed at Stephan’s head. “Back off.”
Stephan shook his head, slow and easy. “Not part of the deal. She goes with me.”
All the blood in Val’s brain drained to his feet. “No!”
The phone in Margaret’s hand hung loose in her fingers. The breeze off the ocean whipped her short hair into her eyes, smoky amber eyes that expressed more than any words spoken.
“Drop the gun,” Rick ordered.
“Shoot me, and Gabi is dead.”
Val hadn’t realized that Alonzo was still yelling into the phone. He lifted it to his ear. “You’re wasting my time, Masini,” he said. “Pay close attention . . . the next one will blow in five minutes if my shipment hasn’t left . . . with your woman.”
“Andare all’inferno!”
“I’m going to hell anyway, Val.” The words left Alonzo’s lips when an explosion drew all their attention to the ocean.
“Gabi?” Margaret screamed into the phone. “Gabi?”
Rick cocked his gun, took a step closer.
Val was sick, felt his life slipping away.
Margaret gasped, her knees buckled. “No, baby . . . hold on. We’re coming.” There were tears in her eyes. Her lips trembled.
“Do you get my message, Val?” Alonzo asked.
“Four minutes, thirty seconds . . .” Stephan reminded him. “Let’s go, Blondie.” He nodded toward the boat.
“Christ.”
Margaret’s feet were in motion, only she was walking onto the boat, not away.
“Margaret, no!”
“He’s going to kill her if I don’t.” She glanced at Rick, briefly. “Ask Judy what sport I excelled in when we were in college.”
When her foot stepped up to the boat, Val knew he wouldn’t see her alive again. His sister . . . or the woman who had stolen his heart?
Rick uncocked his gun, lowered it.
“Anyone follows us,” Stephan said as he backed into the boat behind Margaret, “and this one’s dead.”
Left without choices, Val stood beside Rick as Stephan released the rope holding his ship to the dock and jumped onto the vessel.
Stephan took hold of Margaret’s arm, pulled her phone from her fingers, and tossed it onto the dock. “Wouldn’t want you to trace a phone.”
He shoved her inside, where he maneuvered the ship away. It didn’t take long for him to clear the dock and find speed.
Rick slipped away and all Val could do was stare.
Alonzo was still on the phone.
Frustrated rage built and boiled. Once again, Val was yelling into a phone. “Harm her, and you’re a dead man.”
“Murder is messy, Masini. Not that I mind it. Now go find my wife and keep her safe. I’ll be in touch.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
So hot . . . escaping the sun wasn’t possible. And how did she end up on a two-person dinghy?
Her head hurt, but it wasn’t bad . . . not as bad as it would be.
Gabi grabbed her head with both hands and started to rock. If only she could sleep. That would be better than waiting for the pain to worsen.
She stood, and felt the boat tip under her bare feet. The white dress she wore at her wedding was hanging off her shoulders. When was the last time she changed clothes?
And a shower . . . she wanted a shower.
The boat tipped again. She slid to the floor, curled into a ball, and closed her eyes.
“Do we have a trace?” Rick asked into the phone.
Val rushed beside Rick as he jumped into a golf cart and released the emergency break.
They were speeding toward the island airport.
Lou stayed behind with orders to lock all employees down. It was obvious there was more than one accomplice
on the island. Who they were and what they could tell them might be the difference between life and death for Margaret.
Rick spoke quickly, most of the conversation lost on Val. When he hung up, he relayed their plan.
“I placed a tracking device on your charter when I came over. There’s another one on the inside of one of the crates. If the boat and drugs divorce, we’ll trace them both.”
Some of the tension in Val’s head started to relax. “How will we know where Margaret is?”
Rick, who always seemed to have a smile, didn’t have a hint of one now. “She’s my wife’s best friend. Losing her isn’t an option.”
Val could beat that . . . “She’s my future.”
Rick offered a nod. “How well do you shoot, Masini?”
“Well enough. I wouldn’t take a shot with someone I cared about close by.”
They skidded to a halt in front of the airstrip and jumped out. Rick reached behind his back and stopped short. He patted his belt line, removed his jacket to reveal the holster he had strapped to his shoulders. “Son of a bitch.” Rick was smiling now.
“What?”
He held up a finger and removed his cell phone. “Hey, babe. No time to explain. Tell me, what sport did Meg excel in during college?”
Val shuffled his feet as he watched Rick listen to his wife. He started to laugh, the sound in complete contrast to the emotions inside Val’s stomach.
The sound of a helicopter on approach drowned out the call.
“Love you, too.” Rick hung up, smiled. “Learn something new every day.”
“What?”
The wind kicked up as the helicopter spun around to land. Val moved back, found himself turning away to avoid the blowing sand.
“Meg was part of a marksmanship team her sophomore and junior years,” he yelled. “I had no idea.”
“What good is that without a gun?”
Rick kept smiling, reached around his back, and removed an empty holster. “Decent pickpocket skills.”
For the first time in hours, Val felt his heart lift.
The pilot waved outside the window for them to jump in.
It wasn’t until they clicked their seat belts and were in the air that Val realized they were in a military helicopter.
Neil sat next to the pilot and handed earphones to Val.
Once the earphones muffled the sound of the chopper, and the voices of the men on board could be heard without yelling, Val said, “I thought you were both retired Marines.”
It was the pilot who answered, “Once a Marine, always a Marine.”
“Let’s find your sister,” Neil said.
Val looked in the direction Margaret sailed. “What about Margaret?”
Rick tapped on a device that sat in the center of the helicopter. It reminded Val of a submarine gauge, or maybe something air traffic control used to keep track of what was in the air. There were blips and dots . . . “The red one is Meg.”
“The others?”
“These two are Blake’s, positioned to avoid detection . . . and these three”—Rick winked—“friends.”
“Looks like a small army.”
“Close enough,” Neil said.
Rick shoved a pair of binoculars into Val’s hands and they all peered out over the ocean.
Time ticked slowly.
Val scoured the ocean, glancing into every boat, every personal watercraft. The only redemption was not finding an empty boat. Even though frustration made his foot tap, he kept looking. Gabi was out there.
An hour into their search, Neil called out and pointed. “There.”
The pilot circled around and moved with purpose.
All Val saw was a small boat and a pool of white resting on the bottom of it. The closer they approached, the more hopeful he became.
Dressed in a dirty white dress, her limbs bright red with the sun, Gabi lay with her arm over her head. She wasn’t moving.
“How low can we get?”
The pilot moved away from the small craft, but even then, the waves rocked the vessel enough to worry Val that it would tip. Without thought, Val removed the earphones and stripped his shirt over his head.
Understanding transferred from Rick with a look.
Val kicked off his shoes and removed his seat belt.
Rick handed him a chunky radio. Val assumed it was waterproof and held on.
Val felt the wind kick when Rick opened the sliding door.
“We’ll move closer,” Rick yelled.
Val estimated the height, knew his limits. If there was one thing living his life on an island had taught him, it was cliff diving. With his feet on the skids, Val pushed off, and sliced into the water seconds later.
Once he bobbed over the surface, he gave a thumbs-up, held the radio in his teeth, and swam to his sister’s side.
He was winded when he peered over the side of the boat. “Gabi? Tesoro?”
She moaned.
He hoisted himself on board, nearly pulling her into the ocean twice before he managed to climb in.
Seawater dripped on her as he leaned close to get a better look.
Her face was drawn, red, with dark spots under her eyes. She’d aged ten years in the week she’d been out of his sight.
Her lips were cracked and bleeding, her hair matted. “What has he done to you?”
Val lifted her arm, felt for her pulse, and noticed all the bruises. Some were angry and swollen. Others were yellow and fading.
She moaned again, but didn’t open her eyes.
“What do we have down there?” Val heard Rick through the radio.
He lifted the device, pressed the button. “Alive. Barely. She needs a hospital.”
“Do you see any explosives?”
Merda, he’d forgotten about that. He looked under the one seat and noticed a device stuck to the underside. He knew nothing about bombs, but assumed it was. “Yeah. About three inches in diameter, a few wires . . . a light.”
Val stroked Gabi’s brow as he spoke.
“I’m coming down.”
An eternity later, Rick was lowered in a harness. The boat barely handled the three of them, but Val countered wherever Rick stood to keep the vessel upright.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Rick laughed when he saw the explosive. He reached for it.
Val stopped him. “Careful.”
Rick pushed his hand away. “I built better shit in my teenage backyard.” He pulled two wires and the light went out. “Amateur. Alonzo might run drugs, but he knows squat about bombs.”
Val didn’t realize how fast he was breathing until that moment.
“Let’s get her out of here.”
Val followed Rick’s instructions and helped secure his unconscious sister to Rick’s frame.
Once they were ready to go, Val said, “Don’t come back for me. Get her to a hospital.”
“One step ahead of you, Masini. There’s a boat on its way to you now.” Rick reached into a pocket and handed Val his cell phone. “In case Alonzo calls you directly.”
“Got it.” Val kissed the top of his sister’s head. “Keep her alive.”
Rick winked, shot his thumb in the air, and was gone.
To say she was scared shitless would be an understatement.
Meg watched Val’s island sink away without any trace of anyone following. She considered her options. She could jump overboard and swim away, but outrunning a bullet was impossible. And swimming more than a few hundred yards wouldn’t be smart, not with her set of lungs. Then there was the fact that she had no idea if Gabi was safe.
Meg trusted Rick and Neil, knew of their abilities to track and to find. She had to bank on the fact that Alonzo and his shit-pot of men knew nothing about her friends.
How would Alonzo take a two-thirds shipment of goods? Would he shoot her on the spot, or negotiate a swap? Rick had alluded to the cost of each pallet. Close to a million dollars in its current state, triple that after it was refined.
“Wh
ere are you taking me?” she finally asked after the sight of Val’s island disappeared completely. Jumping overboard now would be suicide.
Could she shoot the captain and take over the boat?
Maybe if he was threatening her with more than a look. Cold-blooded killer, she wasn’t.
“You’ll find out soon enough.”
Asshole.
“How does it feel to know your friends abuse women?”
Stephan didn’t comment and continued to man his boat.
The quiet was killing her, so she kept talking. “Alonzo seemed like a complete putz to me. Too stupid to pull all this off.”
The captain shifted on the balls of his feet.
“I bet there’s someone else waiting to take delivery. Maybe even cut you out of the pie.”
Stephan’s eyes swung her way, then back to the horizon.
“How well do you know Alonzo anyway? I bet he’s not even Italian.”
“You talk too much.”
And you’re fidgeting.
“I’m new at this held against my will thing. Am I supposed to sit here and be scared? Is that what Gabi did?”
“Gabi wasn’t smart enough to be scared.”
That burned.
Sweet, innocent Gabi would never be the same. “You fixed her, didn’t you? No chance she’ll trust anyone ever again. You must be proud.” Meg bit out her last words.
“I never touched Gabi.”
“And that makes it OK in your head? Men can justify anything.” It was strange how anger took away the fear. With that anger came clarity and the ability to think.
A radio on the control panel offered static and then she heard a male voice. “Alpha to Beta, you there?”
Stephan picked up the simple radio and answered. “I’m here. On target with cargo.”
“Any trails?”
“None in my visibility. Yours?”
“We’re clear. Continue to target and hold your position once in sight.”
Stephan discontinued the call.
Meg found herself squirming. “Alpha and Beta? That makes them the boss and you their bitch.”
She didn’t see his fist coming until it was on her. She went with the punch as best she could. Pain exploded in her jaw, her teeth cut a nice gouge in her cheek.
“Shut your mouth.”
Yeah . . . that sounded good to her.
Seduced by Sunday Page 24