Take Me Back

by Meghan March

  Luis shot out of his chair. “Hell yeah, I will. I’m ready. Let’s do this.”

  “See,” Rome said. “We got it covered. Get your ass home to your wife.”

  Forty-five minutes later, I arrived at the gate where my flight would board. Ten minutes to go. I pulled out my iPad, connected to my encrypted network so I could watch the feeds from the headsets the guys wore, and plugged in my earbuds to hear the comm chatter.

  But when I pulled up the screen, instead of seeing a smooth extraction, all hell was breaking loose.

  “Taking fire!”

  “Get the fuck out!”

  “Get to the exfil location!”

  Rome must have been in the lead, jogging through the jungle. Tanner was next, then the husband and wife, and Luis carrying the kid. Concord and Fields took positions at the rear and fired back at the cartel assholes who had just got fucked out of the ransom.

  The clients slowed, the husband and wife not up to sustaining this kind of pace, but Tanner kept up with Rome. Gunfire came out of the jungle to the left, and Luis yelled for them to follow him. He took the kid and ran down a game trail.

  Fuck.

  Tanner turned when he heard the gunshots and Luis’s yell. He laid down fire before going after them. Tanner yelled and Luis turned his head, missing what he should have seen right in front of him.

  I watched on both feeds simultaneously as the unthinkable happened. Luis went over the edge of some kind of hole. A sinkhole?

  The kid screamed and Luis cursed. His feed went black.

  Tanner’s camera caught the wife as she threw herself over the edge after them. The husband yelled out in agony as Tanner bolted toward her, but was too late. When Tanner looked over the edge, three bodies lay at the bottom of a gaping hole in the jungle floor.

  “LP is down. So are packages two and three. I repeat, LP is down, so are packages two and three.”

  The cartel reloaded and sprayed bullets in Tanner’s direction. He dived at the husband and covered him.

  “I’m hit!” he yelled, but it didn’t stop him from firing back.

  Concord, Fields, and Rome came into view, firing and eliminating the threat.

  Speakers above me announced my flight was boarding, but I couldn’t move.

  Two clients and Luis. Tanner got hit.

  I should have been there.

  It should have been me. I wouldn’t have let this happen.

  I waited for the last call for boarding because I had to force myself to watch as Rome and Concord rappelled down to retrieve the bodies.

  I shouldn’t have left my team.

  I walked out on them, and for the first time in the history of Rome’s outfit, they lost not one but three lives on a mission. None of the team came out and said it was my fault, but I shouldered the blame all the same.

  Rome gave me three weeks before he asked when I was coming back in the field. When I told him never, he was stunned at first, but I think he finally understood. I didn’t deserve to be there with them.

  So I sentenced myself to purgatory, watching over missions and handling everything that needed to be covered from the States.

  Tanner called. Concord called. Fields called.

  I didn’t pick up any of them. I knew they’d just want me to come back, and I couldn’t.

  * * *

  Present day

  Rome probably shouldn’t have answered my call just now, but I’m thanking God he did.

  It’s time I make peace with all of it, but first, I need Kat.

  Genie-in-a-bottle island. I don’t know what the hell that means, and my only shot is finding a local who does. Belizeans have fished these waters for generations, and plenty of them know all the islands by name.

  I pick out the nearest island with the most lights, and move in. It’s not Sweet Water, though. The resort must be close, but I’m not going back there. There’s no telling how many of the employees are in on it, and I wouldn’t trust them to tell me where anything is, even with a gun to their heads.

  I throttle back the engine as a large bright yellow vacation house on stilts with white trim and a red tile roof comes into view. Dozens of solar lights illuminate both the main house and a smaller matching caretaker house sitting about fifty feet from the dock, where a boat like the one I’m driving is tied up.

  Someone is definitely here, and I’d lay money on it being the caretaker and not the owners, given that it’s low season. You can’t have an island in these parts without a caretaker if you want to make sure what you leave on the island is still there when you get back.

  I rev the engine to hopefully wake whoever is in the smaller house. When I approach the dock, a set of motion lights come on at the end.

  The interior of my boat is lit up, revealing splatters and smears of blood, as well as the asshole’s hat that escaped the carnage.

  I reach for the hat and pull it on before picking up the line attached to the stern and pulling closer to the moored skiff.

  “Hey! Hey! You better not be fucking stealing anything out of my boat. I got a gun.” A man bursts out of the caretaker house and jogs down the dock, the gun he warned me about in his hand.

  I turn the boat so the side with the name and the engine slide through the shafts of light. Not only do locals know the islands, they know the boats by sight too. It’s a gamble, but one that pays off.

  “Ricardo, that you? What the fuck you doing out here in the middle of the goddamned night? Don’t tell me you’re trying to find packages in the water again. You were supposed to tell me when the runs were happening. We agreed we’d split whatever you found.” Under his breath, he mumbles fucking asshole.

  His little speech tells me a hell of a lot about the man I killed and the one approaching me. Both are willing to do whatever they have to do for money. I don’t fault either man for eking out a living in a country where poverty is endemic, but I do fault them for crossing the line into human trafficking. Those fuckers can go straight to hell.

  I shift into phase two of my plan by tossing him the stern line. He catches it and pulls me in. Too close, and he’ll realize I’m not Ricardo.

  “If we’re gonna go chasin’ drug runners around, I need my shit. Some warning woulda been nice.”

  With both hands, I yank the stern line back and the man loses his balance, falling forward off the dock and landing half in and half out of the boat. His gun clatters across the fiberglass floor.

  “What the—”

  Jumping over to where he landed, I grip him by the collar of his shirt, jerk him up, and deliver a right cross to his jaw. His entire body goes limp.

  Good.

  Chancing that no one else is coming after him, I use the stern line to tie him up, ankles and wrists together. I’m not fucking around. Shifting the boat into gear, I get far enough away from the island so that no one will hear him yell.

  After I put the engine in neutral, I flip on the flashlight. He’s out cold, but not for long. I didn’t even hit him that hard. Glass-jawed, wannabe drug-runner-package-recovery expert.

  I retrieve the gun, a shitty 9mm pistol that’s only a step above not having one at all, and tuck it into the back of my shorts before reaching over the side to scoop up some saltwater and splash it on his face.

  He sputters back to consciousness. “What the fuck, man!”

  I shine the flashlight beam at my own face for a beat and then back at his. “I’m not fucking Ricardo. Right now, I’m your best friend if you help me, or your worst fucking nightmare if you don’t.”

  “What—”

  “Don’t ask another motherfucking question if you want to live. Get me?”

  His mouth slams shut so fast, his teeth clack together.

  “Good. Now you’re going to help me find an island, and if you don’t fuck me over, you get to live.”

  He squints into the bright beam of the flashlight. “Okay. Okay. Jesus. Just don’t fucking kill me. I didn’t do anything.”

  “Genie-in-a-bottle island. Whe
re is it?”

  “Genie-in-a-bottle island? There isn’t one.”

  I haul him up by the collar again. “Are you fucking sure?”

  “Been fishing these waters my whole life. Know them all. Genie in a bottle . . . wait, Genie Caye? The research island?”

  Thank fucking Christ. I might finally get a break.

  “Where is it? Close?”

  He nods. “Yeah. I can get you there, man. I can. No problem. Don’t have to kill me. We’ll be all good.”

  I stare into his eyes, hoping he understands exactly how serious I am. “I have general directions to get to it. You point me in the wrong direction, and you’ll be dead before you hit the water. You do me right, and I’ll make sure you’re taken care of and you’ll never hear from me again.”

  He nods violently. “I get you. Not gonna fuck you over. I know the caretaker over there, and he’s a dick. Tried to rape my cousin. I sure as fuck don’t owe him anything.”

  Well, that’s one point in his favor.

  I grab him by the shoulders and haul him up to sit in front of the center console where the steering wheel is mounted, and turn off the flashlight.

  “Which way? There any lights to use to guide me?”

  The man looks out into the distance, waiting a few moments, presumably to let his eyes adjust, and then points in the direction I would assume Sweet Water is located.

  “See right there? That cluster of lights and then the gap and then the next cluster? Green light further out?”

  “Yeah, I see it.”

  “That’s Sweet Water Caye. Fancy resort. We need to head that way.”

  The directions jibe with what Anya said.

  “And after that?”

  “Then we’re gonna go a little right. Head toward the cell tower in Dangriga. We should be able to see by then, if the clouds ain’t too bad. About ten minutes after that, you’ll see the lights of Genie Caye. They got a little research station set up off the beach of the island, so the lights are separate. You can tell them in the dark.”

  My gut says he’s telling the truth, so I go with it. “Okay. Hold on.”

  I slam the throttle down and we rocket out of the choppy water in the direction of Sweet Water’s lights. More than anything, I want to go back to the island and drag Anya along by the hair to make a trade, but if Vander is the kind of man I think he is, the cost of human life means nothing to him. He’d just as soon shoot her himself. Piece-of-shit bastard.

  The thought of what he could be doing to Kat has me drawing on every bit of horsepower this engine has.

  I’m coming for you, baby.

  Chapter 31

  Kat

  The room is empty. And by empty, I mean empty.

  There’s a bed with sheets that appear relatively clean, but nothing else. No bamboo stool to use as a weapon, even if my hands weren’t bound.

  Nothing.

  I curl up on the bed that’s tucked into the corner of the room, my head still aching from however they knocked me out.

  Where did they take Dane? What are they doing to him?

  I squeeze my knees tighter, curling into a smaller ball as I try to hold it together.

  Vander’s words keep haunting me. There are plenty of men who will pay more for the privilege of breaking a headstrong woman.

  Is this really my future? It can’t be possible.

  The door creaks open and the man from before, the one who was petting my hair, slides inside and shuts and locks it behind him.

  His expression unleashes a sluice of ice water through me. Untangling my bound arms from where they’re wrapped around my knees, I scramble off the bed, ready to use both hands to club him across the face if I have to.

  “Get out. He told you to stay out.”

  “He ain’t the boss of me. This is my island.”

  “He’ll kill you if you touch me.” Given the fact that Vander doesn’t have any problem with kidnapping, I’m going to bet he wouldn’t shy away from murder.

  “Might be worth it.”

  I open my mouth and scream, but at the piercing sound he strides toward me, his hands out. I spin out of his reach, run for the door, and fumble with the lock. The weight of him crashes into me from behind, slamming my face against the wooden panel. His hand comes around my head and covers my mouth, cutting off my ability to breathe and scream. I struggle against his hold, my lungs burning for air.

  My elbows barely make contact. I kick backward, trying to land a blow to his knee.

  His hot breath touches my ear when he speaks. “The girls that come here, they think they’re better than me. Oh, they’re real nice and they flirt a little, but when I get a little closer, they shy away. I’ve wanted me some American pussy for too fucking long, and I’m not passing up a chance to get a taste of you. You’re gonna be real nice. You’re not gonna fucking scream again, are you? Because I’ll snap your neck at the first fucking squeak.”

  Black spots speckle the edges of my vision, and my lungs are on fire. I need air. I shake my head, agreeing to be quiet, even though it’s a lie.

  If I can breathe, I can scream.

  “Good.” He moves his hand away from where it covers my nose and mouth to wrap around my throat, and I gulp in a breath, my chest heaving. “You’re gonna be real nice to me.”

  He yanks me back away from the door, sliding his free hand down to cover my breast, squeezing hard before loosening his grip to pinch the nipple.

  Bile rises in my throat, and my skin crawls at his touch and the bulge pressed against my ass.

  His lips hit my neck, hot and slimy as he moans. “Gonna make this real good. Gonna eat that pussy better than you’ve ever had, and you’re gonna take my cock everywhere I want.”

  He swings me around and with stumbling steps, walks us toward the bed.

  No, my brain yells. No.

  He shoves me forward, and I fall facedown onto the bed.

  No fucking way. I flip onto my back and lift both feet high to catch him in the stomach as he comes toward me. Using every ounce of power I have, I launch him back, and he falls on his ass.

  “Oh, you fucking—”

  I scream as loud as I can, the earsplitting sound impossible to miss. Someone pounds on the door, and the handle jiggles.

  “Open this fucking door!” It’s Vander.

  The door flies open moments later and Vander steps into the room, gun in hand. He points it at the man on the floor and squeezes the trigger.

  This time, my scream is louder.

  Blood and flesh explode as I turn away and shield my face. The man’s body falls to the floor with a thump.

  “Shut the fuck up, Kat. You should be thanking me that I didn’t let this piece of shit rape you.”

  Chapter 32

  Dane

  The lights of Sweet Water become larger as we near, and when we’re several hundred yards away, I slow. My unwilling navigator is already pointing off in the distance.

  “See the light high in the air there? That’s the tower in Dangriga. We need to bear right and head that way.”

  “You sure?”

  “Of course I’m fucking sure.”

  “You better be. Tell me when you see the lights of Genie Caye.”

  I jam the throttle down again and turn right before heading straight toward the light on the tower. About ten minutes later, the man yells, and I slow again.

  “What?”

  “See the lights? The red one there?”

  My eyes search the darkness until I find the red light.

  “That’s a buoy. The research station in front of Genie Caye. All those other lights are on the island.”

  Now that I know where I’m looking, it’s lit up like the circus is in town. Even more lights than the vacation-home island I plucked this guy from. But I can’t just go driving up to their dock like I did his. I need a plan.

  It seems my navigator is of the same opinion.

  “You need a distraction. I’m assuming there’s something on that islan
d you want real fucking bad.”

  I weigh my options and go with telling the truth. “My wife.”

  He releases a breath. “Fuck, man. She run off?”

  “Someone took her.”

  Both his eyebrows go up. “Shit. Okay. So, you got a plan?”

  I think about the guy in front of me, and the fact that I promised I wouldn’t kill him if he helped me. I didn’t promise him he wouldn’t get injured, though. Maybe it makes me an asshole, but I don’t care.

  “I might.”

  “Good, because you’re gonna need it. That place is lit up.”

  “What’s on the other side of the island? Where can I go in without being seen?”

  “They cleared most of the mangrove and filled it in with sand so they could build cabanas for the researchers. If I were holding your wife, I’d put her in one of those.”

  “Give me the layout.”

  “There’s a main house in the middle. Then there are probably six or so cabanas spread out closer to the shore. On the beach near where the buoy sits, there’s an equipment shed. Your best bet is going in near one of the cabanas.”

  “So I go in around the back.”

  “You only got a few minutes before someone realizes you’re there, because it’s small and open. With all those lights, they’ll see you coming for sure.”

  I actually did well with my kidnapping, because this guy knows his shit. “That’s where you come in.”

  He gives me a hesitant look. “What the fuck do you mean, me?”

  “You’re the diversion.”

  “Oh, no, man. I didn’t sign up for this shit. I didn’t sign up for any of it. I don’t need to get dead tonight.”

  My expression turns hard, and I hope he realizes just how serious I am. “You don’t help me, you’re definitely getting dead. You do help me, and I’ll find a way to make sure you get compensated.”

  His gaze narrows. “You’re fucking crazy. You know that, right?”

  I don’t have time to argue with him.

  “Which is why you don’t want to piss me off. I’m getting off around the back side of the island. Then you’re gonna take the boat and crash it.”