by Meghan March
“Yeah, yeah. Got it. He said he’d be here soon, so anytime. Now, we wait.”
“I’m not the kind of woman who waits. Where the hell is he?”
The sound of an approaching engine answers her question.
“Finally. How long is it going to take him to get to the port?”
“A few hours, ma’am.”
The port has to be Belize City.
The motor quiets as it comes closer, and I finally open my eyes a sliver to see. It’s still dark, but the vessel is docking.
Again I wonder how long I was out. Hopefully because it took longer for me to go down and I’m already coming back to normal, that means I didn’t lose too much time.
“Get him loaded up. These fucking bugs are eating me alive.”
I really wish I’d known what a toxic human being Anya was before I saved her ass from drowning. Maybe that was karma trying to step in early, but I had to be the good guy.
Not again.
The motor shuts off, and I have to make a choice. My hands are tied in front of me, and I work through my options. Normally I wouldn’t hesitate to take on two men and a woman, but I’ve still got nothing but tingling in my legs. My other choice is letting them haul me onto the boat as dead weight, and waiting until my body cooperates so I can take them out once we’re on the water.
I decide to bide my time.
“Hey, man!” the guy on the beach calls out.
Another male voice returns a volley of what I know is Kriol, a language spoken by some Belizeans. I can’t understand a fucking word they say.
When the man on the beach responds in kind, Anya snaps, “You know I can’t understand that, so knock it off. Speak fucking English. Or Spanish. Or French. But not whatever the hell that is.”
“Sorry, ma’am.”
“Just get him in the boat. I’m sick of waiting out here.”
“Ricardo, come get his feet.”
A few moments later, hands wrap around my shoulders and ankles, and I’m lifted off the ground. My body swings a few moments later, and I’m tossed in the air before crashing into the bottom of a boat. My shoulder connects hard, sending a jolt of pain through me.
“Careful. I get more for him alive than dead.”
Who the hell is she delivering me to that’ll pay more for me alive than dead?
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You know where you’re going?” she asks, and I’m assuming the question is directed at the captain.
“Yes. Got my instructions.”
“If you don’t call me to confirm delivery on time, I promise we will hunt you down and you won’t live to see the sunset. Do you understand?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Radio if you have any problems.” This comes from the man.
“Got it.”
“Then what are you waiting for? Go!” Anya orders.
Her voice grates on me, and I promise myself she’ll get hers.
Ricardo grunts and fires up the engine. A wet rope lands on my face as he shifts into gear. I wait a minute or two after we pull away from the dock to open my eyes. It’s still pitch black, and I can’t see a fucking thing. I reach out, feeling around with my hands, searching for any kind of weapon. I latch onto something wooden. A mop handle, maybe? A spear? I work it down between my bound hands so I can feel the other end. I’m hoping it’s something I can use to cut the rope.
When I get to the end, I realize it’s not a spear, but a thick barbed hook. A gaffe?
Whatever it is, I’m going to use it.
It takes about ten minutes of painstaking sawing to cut one rope and loosen the bonds. I’ve also got feeling back in my legs. I have no fucking clue why they didn’t tie them, but their lack of attention to detail is going to save my ass, and Kat’s.
Now that I’ve got a weapon in my hands and only one man to take down, I let all the thoughts of Kat and how fucking terrified she must be rush through my brain.
Now, it’s time for the rage. I need the fury.
Adrenaline dumps into my system.
Ricardo’s attention is on the ocean in front of him, no doubt a route he’s taken hundreds of times if he doesn’t even need a light to find his way. But still, in the dark, his attention is focused.
I use the blackness, the wind, and the crash of the waves to cover my movements and any noise I make.
Ricardo doesn’t hear or feel me rise up to a standing position behind him. And that’s his mistake.
When I reach around and jerk the hook across his throat, he gurgles his last breath before he tips over the side and hits the water with a splash.
The boat jerks to the side, slowing without a hand on the throttle. I grab the steering wheel and whip it around in what I hope is the opposite direction of where Ricardo was heading before hammering it down again.
Looking up, I get my bearings with the North Star. I can’t go back to Sweet Water, but I have to find the genie-in-a-bottle island. There are over a thousand tiny islands off the coast of Belize, and Kat is headed to one of them. The clock is ticking, and I have to find her before they move her again.
I need my team. Some of the best former operators Uncle Sam ever trained are somewhere in Central America right now, and the best shot I have at getting Kat back.
Anya told him to call. He has to have a phone.
It better not have been in his fucking pocket.
I slow down, and working by feel, open a compartment just under the helm. The first thing I touch is a flashlight. Praying for a stroke of good luck, I flip the switch. It turns on.
Thank fuck.
Ducking down, I shine it into the compartment. Two small dry bags rest against the back wall. I grab them both. One contains a radio. Not ideal, but better than nothing.
The second one . . . bingo.
A wallet, phone, lighter, and a pack of cigarettes. A human trafficker’s basic essentials. There’s only one thing missing—a gun.
Opening the bag, I pull out the phone and dial a number I’ve had memorized for a decade.
“Cabo Wabo Cantina. How can I help you?” a female voice answers.
“I need a cab.”
She pauses only a moment. “Can I ask who’s calling?”
“Delta Charlie One Seven Four.”
“Hold, please. I’ll transfer you.”
A wave of relief sweeps through me when the next voice picks up. “I thought you were on a fucking vacation, DC.”
“I need the team. Someone took Kat.”
Chapter 29
Kat
The vibration of the engine changes, and I take that as a clue we’re turning and hopefully coming back near Sweet Water.
My brilliant—okay, terrible—plan is ready for action. Carefully and with as little movement as possible, I’ve loosened the rope on my wrists, but not enough to free them. I’m still working at it, but I’ve run out of time.
I focus on the stars above before I shift to see the lights coming from an island in the distance off to the left. It’s so much farther away than I hoped.
Thoughts of the shark in the water yesterday almost deter me, but what other choice do I have? Don’t try to save myself?
This might be my last chance.
I say a quick prayer before rising to my feet and launching myself over the side.
The men are already shouting when I break the surface of the water, and the drone of the motor silences immediately.
Tugging hard at my wrists, I free one and then the other, and needles of sensation stab into me as I attempt to take my first stroke.
Oh fuck, I didn’t plan on this. Being locked in one position has all my muscles freezing up when I try to use them. My thigh cramps as I kick.
My lungs burning and the roar of blood filling my ears, I keep kicking. Gotta get to the island. By sheer force of will, I start to stroke.
There’s a splash in the water.
Someone else jumped in.
Noise comes from behind me. Saltwater stings my ey
es as I focus on the light of the island and try to swim faster than whoever is coming after me.
Something grabs my ankle and I kick out, hitting the person behind me. Vander? I don’t even care. I stroke again and again, but I’m not fast enough.
An arm wraps around my waist, yanking me back against a body. “You’re gonna pay for this.”
The voice belongs to the other man. Not Vander. I thrash against his hold in the water. A wave crashes into us, and I inhale at the wrong moment. Coughing to try to expel the liquid, I lose all forward momentum.
The motor starts again, coming closer.
“Get her to the boat. I’ll take her.”
I kick and struggle, trying to escape his hold, but it’s a losing battle. My elbow connects with his ribs, and the man grunts before burying his fingers in my hair and dragging me facedown.
Can’t breathe.
Finally, he lifts my head, and I suck in a breath just as he hands me off to Vander.
“Fucking idiot. Could’ve killed yourself. Now I’m going to make sure you wish you had.”
I struggle as Vander yanks me over the side and drops me onto the bottom of the boat. The other man climbs in, spilling water over me. Chills rack my body as I shake, not only with cold, but fear.
What the hell are they going to do to me?
Something, maybe a fist, connects with my jaw, and everything goes dark again.
* * *
“She’s fine. Real fine.”
My head aches, pain coming from my temple this time, but through the pounding, I feel someone stroking my hair.
“I like ’em blond.”
“And so do the rich dudes with money,” another voice says. This one is more familiar.
“Fucking perverts. Probably gonna chain her up and fuck her until she can’t take no more, then buy a new toy.”
What the hell are they talking about?
Who are they?
Toy?
What they’re saying doesn’t make any sense. I want nothing more than to let myself slip back into the darkness, but something keeps me from losing consciousness again. Fear.
Where am I now?
Think. Think.
It’s almost impossible to force my brain beyond the suffocating terror.
I’ve been kidnapped. This isn’t a nightmare. This is real.
Tears threaten to escape my lids, but I can’t let them fall.
Hold on, Kitty Kat, just hold on. It’s Benjie’s voice in my head this time, and it soothes me. You got yourself into a clusterfuck of epic proportions. Whatcha gonna do about it?
I’m losing my shit if I’m hearing a dead man talk to me, but his voice helps me pull it together.
They were taking me to another island. They had to wait for someone.
“Maybe no one will want her with that shiner, and we can keep her.”
“Not a chance.” Vander stomps into the room, his tone harsh. “Get the hell away from her before I fucking kill you myself.”
The hand in my hair disappears, and I keep my eyes closed.
“Sorry, man. Never touched a real blonde. I hear she’s got blue eyes too.”
“Get the hell out of this room. Now.”
“Hey, I’m the one saving your ass while you wait for your boat. This is my island. I’m the king here, and no one talks to me like that.”
A metallic click comes next, and I flick my eyes open because I can’t identify the sound.
Shit.
A gun.
Vander’s hand is steady as he trains his pistol on the man standing a few feet from the bed I’m on. “For as long as I’m here, you answer to me or you die. Understand?”
The man nods, and Vander’s gaze shifts to me.
“Ah, Katerina, you’re finally awake.” False cheerfulness enters his voice, but it can’t cover the malice. “Hopefully you’ve learned your lesson on stupidity so I don’t have to injure you again. Damaged goods aren’t nearly as valuable, and trust me, your life depends upon you retaining your value.”
I swallow back the lump rising in my throat. I don’t know how to answer him.
It seems Vander doesn’t want or need an answer from me, because his attention cuts to the man at the other end of his gun.
“I told you to get the hell out. Don’t come back in here until we’re gone.”
Another man shifts behind Vander, and a flare of recognition shoots through me. Anton, the manager of Sweet Water Caye who met us at the dock the day we arrived.
My first thought is maybe he’s here to save me, but that’s naive. The set of his jaw tells me everything I need to know.
He’s in on it. How is that even possible?
He won’t meet my eyes, looking everywhere around the room except at me. Fucking coward.
Was this all planned? My brain can’t comprehend how anyone could possibly do this to another human being.
Vander lowers the gun as the chastised man storms from the room. Once he’s gone, Anton turns to follow him.
“Keep him out of here or you’ll both regret it,” Vander says to Anton, who pauses but doesn’t respond before following the other man through the doorway.
Vander walks toward me slowly, tucking the gun out of sight behind him. “There are plenty of men who will pay more for the privilege of breaking a headstrong woman. You do not want me to sell you to one of them.”
How could I ever have thought this man was remotely charming? Every word out of his mouth scares the living hell out of me.
My voice shakes when I speak. “Why are you doing this?”
“Why do you think?”
“I don’t understand.”
“Money, Katerina. That’s the best reason to do anything.”
“Why me?”
He crouches beside the bed and lifts a chunk of my tangled hair out of my face.
“Ah . . . haven’t you ever heard the phrase curiosity killed the cat? I feel like it applies here, Katerina. How much do you really know about your husband?”
Chapter 30
Dane
“Who the fuck took your wife?” Rome Hennessy asks. His real name is Romeo, but I’ve seen him pull a gun on a man for using it.
“Some asshole named Vander Iman and his bitch of a sidekick, Anya. I don’t have anything else to go on. They separated us and tried to take me to the port in Belize City. I gotta get to Kat. I need the cavalry, man. I wouldn’t ask if—”
“You don’t need to explain. We’re wrapping up down south of you. Got the bird. Could take me a few hours to get your way, though.”
By down south, I hope to hell he means Guatemala or Honduras, because I don’t have a fuck of a lot of time.
“As fast as you can, man. As fast as you can.”
“Do you know what we’re up against?”
“Not really. She said something about a genie-in-a-bottle island. I don’t know where the fuck that is or if that’s what it’s really called.”
“Fuck.”
“Then they’re moving her to a boat. Don’t know where, but apparently it’s late. She mentioned the guys on Plan B needing a Plan C. Can you run that?”
“Sure thing. Let me round up the crew and get shit wrapped up, and then we’re on it. This a good number for you?”
“Only one I’ve got right now.”
“I’ll try to pull coordinates from the call and find you. Your vacation details in the system?”
“Yeah. Everything’s there.”
“We’ll find you, man. We’ll get her back. Don’t do anything stupid that could fuck this up worse.” He pauses. “Not that you’re going to listen to me, since you never fucking do.”
“I don’t have a choice. I’m not waiting. Would you if it was your woman?”
“There’s a reason I don’t have a woman. Too many fucking enemies. There any chance this is coming out of the past, man?”
“Maybe.”
“Think that shit through while you’re at it so we know who we’re up against. I’ll pull
up my handy list of human traffickers and try to narrow it down on my end. Hold tight, DC. We’re coming for you.”
Rome hangs up and I’m left in the same situation I was before—in a boat in the middle of a dark ocean with no fucking clue where my wife is. Except now my team, the one I walked away from, is coming.
This time, there’s no way in hell I’ll sit back and watch.
* * *
One year ago
“He’s gone.”
Kat’s voice came over the line in a broken sob, and instantly I was on edge. She had never called me crying before, and certainly not on my emergency number.
“Who’s gone, baby?”
“Benjie. He’s . . . dead.” Through hiccups and sobs, she told me what happened. He didn’t want anyone to know he was sick.
If he were here right now, I’d kill him for hurting her like this.
Rome jerked his chin, calling me over to the screen where the faces of three American tourists stared back at me. The rest of the team was ready to get final orders so we could move out.
Except I knew there was no fucking way I could do anything but get my ass to the States and Kat. I have to be there for her.
I thought back to when Benjie tracked me down in the bar a couple of months back. Fucker was trying to warn me. It all made sense.
“I’ll be there in five hours, baby. I’m so fucking sorry. I wish I was already there.”
“Are you sure? I know you’re busy.”
“Five hours. I’ll be there.”
“Okay.” She sniffled before she hung up.
I shoved the phone back into my pocket and crossed the room to Rome. With one more look at the husband, wife, and six-year-old boy on the screen being held for ransom by the cartel, I shook my head.
“I’m so fucking sorry, but I gotta go. Kat’s best friend is dead. He was like a brother. She’s shattered, man.”
Rome nodded. “Family comes first. At least, yours does. Go.”
“You sure you got this?”
He crossed his arms. “Of course we do.” He turned and looked at a dark-haired man sitting at a computer in this shitty borrowed office space in Mexico City. “Luis will take your spot, won’t you, Luis?”
Luis had been begging to get into the field for months. Maybe it would be okay. He would hang back and let the guys do the job, and provide backup if needed.