“Watch that rock there and take her straight in,” Mel warned her as they approached. Celia pulled up, and the memories flooded back the minute her feet hit the sandy bottom. Taking a line to the single pile, she tied off the boat and waded to shore. “You coming?” she called back to Celia.
“Just got a pedi yesterday, and I freakin’ hate sand. You check it out. I’ll be here,” she called back. She turned on the VHF and called out over the static, “Going to listen in on my idiots. Always talkin’ trash to each other, bragging about what they’re catching and lying about where they are.”
Mel walked down the path, not knowing what to expect. She called out Mac’s name several times as she approached the house, but there was no answer. Her emotions got the better of her when she saw the burned-out remains, and tears welled in her eyes, but at the same time, she felt a tightening in the pit of her stomach that she knew was resolve. Collecting herself, she turned to the shed and opened the door. Hoping to find some kind of clue, she looked around. She saw his phone and picked it up. Holding it, she felt something—it was as if she was connected to him.
On the off chance that there were any recent calls or texts, she powered it up and scrolled through the screens. Nothing looked useful, just Trufante’s number and someone named Alicia. She set it down and left, finding nothing else that might help.
Without looking back, she walked toward the small beach, waded out, and pulled the line off the pile. “Nothing,” she said to Celia once she was back aboard. “Unless you know someone named Alicia.”
She was silent for a second. “Alicia’s Dream?”
Mel looked blankly at her.
“I just heard a boat called Alicia’s Dream hail the Turtle Hospital,” she said.
Mel picked up the mike. “Alicia’s Dream, Alicia’s Dream, this is … ” She looked at Celia for the name of their boat.
“Horsepower from Hell,” she said.
“Alicia’s Dream, this is Horsepower from Hell—over.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Mac heard an engine and moved closer to the bulkhead, placing his ear against the cold steel. The vibrations of the generator transferred through the hull, causing too much disturbance to hear, so he backed away. From the rumble of the motors, he could tell the boat he had heard had slowed, and he waited patiently to see if they were going to anchor. He sensed that time was becoming critical. Hawk was becoming impatient and volatile. Add in Ironhead’s apparent addiction, and he was looking at a recipe for disaster. They needed to get out of here before something set off one or both of the men.
A few minutes later, he could still hear the engine, but it sounded like the boat was sitting in one place, probably anchoring. They needed to act fast, before the fishermen could drop the hook, if they were to use them in the escape. Whether they would be willing or not was another matter, but at least they would be off the boat and hopefully out of range of the shock controller.
“Ready?”
She nodded, and he moved to the hinge side of the door, clutching the pen sword in his right hand. Alicia stood in the middle of the room with the laptop in front of her, carefully held in front of her body to conceal the blowgun. Everything was staged to look as if she was ready to share some new information with Hawk.
Mac took a breath and banged on the door. The sound of the boat outside was still there, and he heard footsteps coming toward them. It was time. A loud click sounded and the mechanism locking the door moved. He looked one more time at Alicia and caught her eye, trying to reassure her. On their last escapade, she had grown admirably, working through several fears and phobias on their trip through the Everglades to Cuba, but this would be one-on-one.
The hinges creaked as the door opened. “This better be good,” Wallace said.
Mac frowned, slightly disappointed that it wasn’t Ironhead. He had hoped to get revenge, but that would have to wait. Wallace would be easier to overpower. He clutched the weapon and moved backwards behind the door as it opened.
“Well? What do you have?”
Mac peered around the door, watching her.
Alicia stood her ground. “I will show it to Hawk,” she said.
“Then it better be real good,” Wallace said, scanning the room, looking for the other occupant. “He’s a bit on edge.”
Before he recognized the ambush, Alicia dropped the laptop to her side with her left hand, and with her right, she raised the blow gun to her mouth, inhaled, and blew the preloaded projectile at Wallace. Mac didn’t wait to see if it hit. Springing from behind the door, he grabbed the man around the neck, placing his left hand over his mouth. He aimed for Wallace’s shoulder but, not trusting the homemade knife, he wound up, and in that second, Wallace squirmed. The sword point went through his eye. The man screamed, the sound of his agony increasing as it echoed off the steel walls. He dropped to the floor and Mac quickly checked him for a weapon.
“Go,” Mac called to Alicia, who appeared frozen in place, the blowgun still in her hand, staring at the blood spurting from the man’s face. “Now,” Mac ordered, cursing that the plan was going sideways already. He took her arm, pushing her out of the doorway and into the small companionway. He had not intended to kill the man, but in case he was still alive, he paused to lock the door.
Forcing himself to slow down, he climbed the short flight of stairs to the main deck. The original plan had been to take down whoever came to get them and take their weapon. Unfortunately, Wallace had been unarmed.
Mac heard activity above. Hawk and Ironhead must have heard the scream. Their cover blown, Mac had a choice between retreating or facing two armed men. Climbing to the top step, he decided that forward was better than backward.
The water was their only chance to escape. “We’re going over the side. Just put your head down and go.” He knew Alicia had become a proficient diver in the time since he had met her. Starting to breathe deeply, he purged the carbon dioxide from his lungs, preparing to submerge. Catching her eye, he encouraged her to follow the same breathing pattern.
He heard someone coming toward them and took one last breath. Backing down one step, he extended his arm to move Alicia behind him and waited. Just as the man took the first tread, he reached out and pulled him down the stairs, using the man’s own force against him. Ironhead tripped and fell past them to the bottom of the stairs, but Mac knew a short fall was not enough to put him out of commission. A glance down the stairs told him that Ironhead was already gaining his feet. They would have only seconds before he attacked. Peering around the bulkhead, he saw that they would be exposed for several steps before they reached the side and could jump.
Signaling Alicia, he took the last two steps as one and entered the cabin. Hawk faced them, but he was caught off guard, and in the time it took him to raise his gun, Mac bull-rushed him, knocking him over. The gun flew from his hand, but Mac kept going. Hawk was back on his feet, faster than Mac had expected, and had a hold of Alicia, trying to take the computer.
“Let it go,” Mac yelled.
She released the laptop, sending Hawk reeling backwards and giving her the precious seconds she needed to escape. Checking that Alicia was still behind him, they ran through the cabin and emerged on deck. A gunshot came from the cabin, and he risked a quick look around. The boat he had heard was still there. Grabbing her arm, he took her over the port side with him.
He swam underwater, hoping she was still with him. Just as his lungs were about to burst, he surfaced, blinked the saltwater from his eyes, and quickly scanned the surface. A large center-console was fifty feet away, but he had to stop. Alicia was struggling about ten feet behind him. He went back to help her and they gained some ground, but were still only halfway to safety when he heard another gunshot.
Forcing himself ahead, he sidestroked toward the boat. More shots were fired, but he was only ten feet away now, staring at the bow of the thirty-plus-foot fishing boat. Alicia was coming up beside him. Still not knowing if they would offer help, he called o
ut.
“Effin’ Travis. If they shoot up this boat, I’m out of business,” Celia yelled over the bow rail, shaking her hand at him. Someone came beside her and he blinked, not trusting his eyes as Mel extended a boat hook. He reached for it, and with his other arm extended, he tried to reach Alicia, but just as he was about to grab her, she screamed.
Spinning in the water, he faced Hawk’s boat and saw him standing on deck with the controller for the shock collar in his hand. Ironhead stood next to him, and even from this distance he could see the smile on his face as Hawk hit the button again.
Mel brought him back to the present. She pulled the boathook, using it to drag him through the water to where Alicia lay motionless. “Come on. She looks like she’s unconscious.”
More gunshots came from Hawk’s boat, but by the sound of Celia’s cursing, he didn’t think they had connected. Just as he was about to grab her, Alicia’s body convulsed again, and he pulled his arm back. The paper insulators they had made were worthless in the water, and if he made contact with her, any shock would be transferred to him as well. Instead of grabbing her around the neck in a lifeguard hold, he took her shirt collar and started hauling her toward the boat.
As they approached the transom, or what fiberglass he could see around the five outboards, he heard Celia yell, “Throw them a line. We gotta get out of effin’ range.”
She was at the wheel, but Mac clearly saw her look back at him.
“One scratch on this effin’ boat and you’re a dead man, Travis. Two boats in one freakin’ week.” She cocked her hip, shook her head, and engaged the throttles.
Mel tossed a line from the stern, but the forward momentum of the boat took it just out of his reach. “Slow down,” she yelled to Celia.
“Swim, Travis. Insurance’ll cover one boat, but two losses in an effin’ week ain’t gonna work for me,” Celia yelled over her shoulder.
Mac looked up at Mel.
“Swing to port. I’ll have a better angle,” she called to Celia.
A second later, she threw the line again. Celia cut the wheel, and this time the momentum of the boat brought the line to them. He grabbed the end, wrapping the cordage twice around his wrist. As she picked up speed, Alicia slipped away, being dragged facedown through the water. If he didn’t do something quickly, she would drown. Disregarding the risk of shock, he pulled her closer, rolled her on her back, and wrapped his arm around her neck.
When Celia finally stopped, his arm was numb, and he couldn’t stop coughing out the seawater forced into his mouth.
“Me and you gotta talk,” Celia said, coming toward the transom. Mel stepped aside and Celia grabbed his shirt, hauling him aboard with one hand. “Freakin’ insurance dude wants to meet you.”
Mac stared up at her, trying to catch his breath. He ignored the rant and looked over at Alicia. Mel was hovering over her, but there was no sign of life.
***
The sportfisher ran through the opening in the Seven Mile Bridge, leaving the bay waters. They crossed into the Atlantic with the throttles all the way down and the tachometer redlining. Immediately, the seas changed and he had to correct his course to fight the wind and current. With one eye ahead and the other watching their path on the chart plotter, tunnel vision took over, and he ignored everyone else aboard, focusing only on the line on the screen that showed the most direct course to Alicia. They covered the eight miles to the site quickly, slowing when he saw two boats sitting a couple of hundred yards apart.
Trufante came up beside him. “I’m thinking that big one there’s Hawk.” He shielded his brow and squinted in the sunlight.
“Here,” TJ said, handing him the binoculars. “Tell me for sure—not what you think.”
Trufante put the glasses to his eyes and fumbled with the focus. “Uh-oh.… ”
“What?” TJ asked, slamming his palm into the wheel.
“Celia and some other woman’re in the other boat. Look at that son of a bitch—that one’s got five engines on ’er.”
“Who is Celia and how does that matter? Is the other boat Hawk’s or not?” TJ asked.
“Yeah, it is. And for Celia, she can be more dangerous than a gator with a nail in its tail. You tangle with that cat, you’re gonna get scratched.”
TJ steered wide of the woman’s boat and closed on the trawler.
“Maybe not so fast. He’s got guns,” Trufante reminded him.
TJ slowed, knowing he had run out of plan.
“Wait!” Trufante yelled, putting the binoculars back to his eyes and facing “Celia’s boat. Hot damn. That’s Mel, and it looks like two bodies in the water.”
Without asking for any further information, TJ sped towards the smaller boat. Running outside of both boats to provide some cover, he eased alongside Celia’s boat and saw Alicia on the deck. “Tie her off,” he called to Trufante. With a half dozen steps, the big man was down the ladder, over the gunwale, and by Alicia’s side.
“Well, if this ain’t the misfits’ freakin’ reunion,” Celia said loud enough that they all could hear. “Even my idiots can’t get in trouble like y’all.”
“No time for niceties, girl,” Trufante said. “Hawk’s pulling anchor.”
“That means it’s time to take my five babies and get the frick outta here,” Celia said. “Y’all get her on the other boat, and I’m gonna haul ass before I got no children left.”
Mac and TJ transferred Alicia to the deck of the sportfisher. Pamela and Cheqea hovered around her, softly singing something no one understood. Once they were all aboard, Mac looked over at Mel. They hadn’t exchanged more than a glance since he had come aboard, and now he couldn’t take his eyes off her. She must have seen the pleading in his eyes.
“If you’ve got room for one more,” she said and climbed over the gunwale to TJ’s boat without waiting for an answer.
Before they could look up, Celia was gone, the five rooster tails and churning white water showing her trail.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Hawk stormed back into the cabin with the laptop under his arm. Mike was behind him, neither man speaking. “What happened to the other idiot?” Hawk asked.
Mike looked at him and went below without answering.
A few minutes later, he emerged alone. “Dead. Stabbed in the eye,” Mike said.
“Shit,” Hawk said, looking at the wake of the sportfisher in the distance. “Get the anchor. They’re heading to Boot Key.”
He went inside and started the engines, hitting the power button for the windlass and waiting impatiently while the anchor came aboard. Mike came back in the cabin, and he gave him the wheel.
Mike would pay for letting Travis and the woman escape, but at least he had the laptop. Though not an expert, he knew his way around computers. Going to the desk, he opened the lid and started searching for the data Alicia had been working on. Checking the file history, he glimpsed several articles on the 1715 and 1733 shipwrecks. He had suspected that it was one of the flotillas, but from what he saw, the woman hadn’t found out any more than he already knew. The last file opened was a chart. Clicking the icon, he waited for it to open. The screen flashed and several lines of code suddenly ran across the screen just before it went dark.
He tried rebooting it, but nothing worked—he still needed her.
***
TJ had the sportfisher running at full speed toward Marathon. Trufante was on the bridge with him, pointing the fastest course to Boot Key Harbor, the closest anchorage to get Alicia to the hospital. He left the controls to the Cajun and climbed down to check on her. Pamela and Cheqea were off to the side, chanting something he didn’t understand. Mac and Mel hovered over Alicia.
“Her vitals seem okay,” Mac said, removing the final bolt that held the collar on her neck. He tossed it aside and looked at the bruises where the electric shock had entered her body.
“What can we do for her?” TJ asked.
“I don’t know. I’m just hoping she comes to before we reach the harb
or and have to decide whether to take her to the hospital or not. That could cause some problems,” Mac said.
“You need to think about her and not you,” Mel scolded him. “Forget the whole business. Let Hawk do whatever he wants with the damn treasure.”
He thought for a minute. He knew she was right, but if he relented, he was giving up his best chance at getting his boat back and rebuilding Wood’s house. This was not the time to argue, though. “I’m going up to see where we are,” he said, leaving TJ and Mel with Alicia. He slid the door open and passed by the two women sitting on the bench. Without a word, he climbed the ladder to the bridge.
“Cheqea has some magic. She can help the woman,” the old chief called up to him.
He stopped halfway up. Doubting it, but not thinking there would be any harm, he nodded to her and watched both women go into the cabin.
He climbed the rest of the way to the bridge and scanned the horizon. The first markers were approaching and he needed to decide what to do.
“How is she?” Trufante asked, breaking the silence.
“Appears stable, but she’s still out,” Mac said. He could see the look on his face, knowing how rare it was for Trufante to show emotion.
“Kinda become attached to that one,” he said. “We still heading to the hospital?”
Mac nodded. He moved to the aft bench to think. He had no hard reason to avoid the hospital, just a gut feeling that it would be bad news—and then he realized what it was.
TJ climbed back up and sat next to him.
“Hawk still needs us, right?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “He knows there’s something missing.”
“How can you even think like that when Alicia is down there unconscious?” TJ asked. The boat slowed down at the first marker.
Mac had little time to convince him, now that they were entering the harbor, but he was certain he was right. “He’s not going to let this go,” he said and played his ace. “The sheriff is in his pocket.”
Wood's Reach: Action & Sea Adventure in the Florida Keys (Mac Travis Adventures Book 6) Page 18