Squall Line (The Inland Seas Series Book 1)

by Gwyn McNamee

  Warwick’s dark eyes follow me as I walk around the hood of the truck and toward the doors of the hotel.

  Don’t look back, Grace.

  It won’t do any good. For anyone.

  If you’re doing this, you need to keep your head up and on straight.

  I pull the door open and step into the lobby with my heart in my throat and tears in my eyes.

  Thick black clouds still darken the sky when I step out of the hotel, and a light drizzle falls onto the already wet pavement and road in front of me. The red truck still sits across the street and down half a block.

  E is still watching us, waiting to see what we’ll do, if anything, to interfere with what they are planning at the port tonight.

  I pull the hood on the jacket I grabbed from my luggage the crew brought from the ship up over my head.

  The time is now, Grace.

  The decision was made an hour ago the moment Darren opened the door to his room and embraced me.

  No second-guessing. No regrets.

  I wait for a bus to fly past on the street, spraying water up and almost drenching me, then I dash across toward the red truck.

  E narrows his eyes on my approach.

  I reach the passenger side door and tug on the handle.

  Locked.

  He glares at me, his blue eyes flashing.

  This one is an enigma. I barely saw him on the Neptune’s Daughter, and then Warwick sent him here to watch the crew. Climbing into his truck and doing what I’m about to isn’t wise.

  But neither has most of what I’ve done over the last few days.

  “Are you going to unlock it?”

  He scowls but the click of the lock opening still sounds, and I tug the door open and climb into the passenger seat.

  The hot air blasting from the vents hits me, and I flip my hood down.

  “What do you want?” His question is gruff and short.

  He doesn’t want me here. That’s understandable. He’s been sitting here waiting for the damn bottom to drop out of this entire thing.

  And that’s a loaded question. One I can’t possibly answer nor do I want to.

  “I need you to take me to Annie’s.”

  “And why the hell would I do that?”

  “So I can talk to Warwick.”

  He snaps. “Shouldn’t you be talking to the police right about now?”

  I probably should be. “No. I didn’t call the police and my crew isn’t going to either.”

  A low dark chuckle fills the truck cab. “And I’m just supposed to accept that is the truth? You might have come out here to stall me until they get here.”

  I raise an eyebrow at him.

  “Do you really think I’d climb into a truck with somebody who no doubt has a gun or many guns in here if I was going to have the police show up?”

  I’ve learned my lesson about being taken hostage.

  He considers my comment for a moment and shakes his head. “I don’t know what game you’re playing, little girl, but it’s a dangerous one.”

  “I’m not playing any game. I need to talk to Warwick.”

  He leans forward, grabs a cell phone off the dash, and holds it out to me. “Call him.”

  I shake my head. “Not good enough. I have to do this in person.”

  “You couldn’t have done it two hours ago when he dropped you off? When he gave away our only leverage?”

  I thought I considered this carefully before coming out here. That all avenues had been analyzed, and this was the best approach.

  But maybe I was wrong.

  The way E is looking at me like he considers me nothing more than a bargaining chip is a much different situation than I was in sitting in the car with Warwick.

  This man has no personal feelings, no sentimental attachment like the one I’m fairly sure is what made Warwick let me go despite the wishes of his men.

  “No, it wasn’t something I could’ve told him then because I wasn’t sure what I was going to do when I walked into the hotel. Now, I know. Are you going take me to him or do I need to take a cab?”

  The cords of his neck strain, and his lips turn down.

  He’s still wondering if this is somehow a setup.

  I can’t blame him for that.

  But I’ve known where Warwick would be and what his plan is since the minute I stepped out of his truck. If I had wanted to set them up, the police would’ve been here by now, a fact he’s probably realizing at this moment.

  He shoves the phone into his pocket and violently jerks the car into drive.

  “If this is just some way to try to get me away from here so your crew can get back to the ship and interfere with what we’re doing tonight, it’s a pretty fucking stupid move on your part, and you’re not gonna like the consequences.”

  Oh, good…more threats.

  These guys sure love making them. I just hope I never have to see what happens if they follow through because something tells me they will…if I ever betray them. If my crew ever gives them up.

  E pulls away from the curb and makes a fast U-turn that has me grasping for my seatbelt. I tug it on and watch him out of the corner of my eye as we weave our way through the streets of Milwaukee.

  The tension in the cab threatens to crush my resolve. This seemed so right only minutes ago.

  When I told Darren and the rest of the crew that my captors had released me unharmed as promised, there were more tears than I thought possible. And, of course…the insistence we alert the police was immediately made.

  But before the words were even out of Darren’s mouth, I already knew I would reject the suggestion. Because I don’t want to see Warwick in prison or worse. I don’t give a fuck what happens to the rest of these guys. Warwick, though, he doesn’t deserve that.

  Not really.

  He’s a criminal. He’s angry and broody and has a temper, but he’s not an all bad person. They didn’t hurt me. He didn’t hurt me. When he had plenty of opportunity to do just that. And his willingness to release me now, when their lives are still very much at risk, and they still need to accomplish what could be impossible, shows he wasn’t only considering what was best for him and his men—but what was best for me.

  I couldn’t let Darren set the wheels in motion to end Warwick’s life—either by having him tossed behind bars or by letting the Marconis end him.

  It wasn’t easy, but I finally convinced the crew I just wanted to forget the ordeal ever happened and didn’t want to have to relive it by pursuing criminal charges and having to testify at a trial. When it came down to it, despite how badly I messed up, I am their captain, and they listened to me and followed my lead by agreeing to return home and list the cargo as missing in transit.

  That will create problems for the business. Ones I may not be able to fix, but it’s a small price to pay to save someone’s life, even someone like Warwick.

  E turns a corner and pulls to the curb in front of an old-fashioned fifties-style diner with the name Annie’s on a sign on the top. He nods toward the door. “Here you go. I’m going back to the hotel to keep an eye on the crew, because I don’t fucking trust you. If they make a move toward the port tonight, don’t think I will forget this.”

  Like I ever could.

  I unbuckle my seatbelt and climb from the truck without a word to him. I don’t need to explain myself to E. The only person who deserves an explanation is Warwick.

  The man sitting with his back to me at a booth in the corner. I tug open the door and make my way across the linoleum floor toward him.

  Here goes nothing.

  I slide into the booth across from him, and his head jerks up. Those cool gray eyes meet mine.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” He glances around to make sure no one is within earshot.

  “I’m here to help you.”

  “Go back to the hotel, Grace.” His low, hard command cuts at my resolve.

  People will say I’m crazy, that I shouldn’t be doing this. That he�
��s right…I should go to the hotel, to my crew, and never look back.

  They can’t understand.

  No one can.

  I wring my hands together on the table. “I can’t do that. You need me to help tonight. E isn’t going to leave the crew. He doesn’t trust I didn’t tell them what’s happening tonight. You’ll be going in alone.”

  His hand tightens around a glass in front of him, his knuckles whitening. A muscle in his jaw tics. His heated gaze rakes over me.

  I squirm under his assessment.

  “You aren’t going to take no for an answer, are you?”

  I don’t bother to fight the laugh that claws its way up my throat. “You’ve finally figured that out, huh?”

  There was never any doubt if they had to go back tonight, there’s a good chance somebody’s getting very hurt or very dead. And it won’t matter who it is—the good guys or the bad guys.

  Although, in this case, are Warwick and his crew really the bad guys?

  They’re doing what they need to in order to protect their asses and save their own lives.

  They do enjoy it, though. I saw the looks on their faces when they were on the ship, the way they manhandled the crew. The rush they get from it. These are violent dudes who like to do violent things.

  But I don’t want to see more tonight.

  With me acting as lookout maybe I can help prevent things from getting worse.

  Warwick takes a drink from the glass, then focuses his gaze on me. “You’re going to stay in the truck.”

  That’s sort of what I had planned and anticipated, but there is another option. “You’re sure you don’t want me to go in with you? If you do run into trouble with security, maybe I can defuse it. I am the listed captain of Neptune’s Daughter, and you don’t exactly look like a fine, upstanding citizen.”

  My eyes drift over the tattoos on his neck, in the collar of his T-shirt, on his hands and knuckles.

  Every inch of his skin is covered.

  He snarls and flexes his tattooed hands. “We’ll be fine. This is what we do for a living, and Cutter and Rion have the skills to take care of anything we might encounter.”

  I chew on my bottom lip and consider the possibilities.

  One—they can get in, get everything loaded over to The Destiny, and get out without detection.

  Two—they get in, get confronted by security, and they have to hurt someone in order to get the drugs out safely.

  Three—they get in, get confronted by security, and they kill the security and get away with the drugs.

  Four—they get in, something happens, and they don’t get the drugs.

  Five—they don’t get in at all and get no drugs.

  The stern set of his lips and hard eyes tell me there’s no point in arguing about the matter anymore. I’ll be staying in the car…for however long it takes.

  He hands me his cell phone.

  “Why are you giving me this?”

  “We’ll park on the road along the front of the port. It gives us the best view of the dock area. You’re going to call Cutter if you see anything—cops, suspicious vehicles, suspicious persons.”

  “Suspicious persons? You mean like you guys.”

  This time, he doesn’t laugh, just clamps his jaw together tightly.

  It may not be the best time to crack jokes, Grace.

  He stares out the window at the darkening night. The cloud cover and constant drizzle will only help cover what we’re about to attempt. “Let’s go.”

  15

  War

  My feet slam into the gravel on the other side of the fence surrounding the port, and I drop into a crouch to wait to make sure nobody saw me climb and jump over.

  There’s almost no cover here.

  Worst possible situation.

  Between what Grace and I were able to ascertain earlier and what Preacher found in his online research, there should be only a handful of guards working tonight.

  The Neptune’s Daughter is at the end of one of the massive piers, far back from the road or main building.

  Cutter and Preacher should be pulling in alongside it any minute.

  Get in. Get the stuff. Get out.

  This mission is about speed as much as it is about remaining undetected. Realistically, the latter part is probably impossible. The Destiny will likely be spotted coming in, but we’ll deal with that when it comes.

  For right now, it doesn’t look like anybody spotted me.

  Thank fuck.

  And as much as I don’t want to admit it, knowing Grace is acting as a lookout helps dispel one of my major concerns with this mission, but it also creates new ones.

  The quiet stillness of the night surrounds me. No signs of security or any alerts anyone has breached the property.

  I rise to my feet and hurry along against the side of the main warehouse buildings until there’s nowhere left to hide. The only way to get to where Neptune’s Daughter is anchored is down at the end of the long central pier, which happens to have lights flooding almost every inch of it. Once I step out from the safety of the building shadows, there will be nowhere to conceal myself.

  Where the hell is the security?

  They should be here.

  So, where the fuck are they?

  That combined with Grace sitting unattended in the car on the street has unease blossoming in my chest.

  Just because she didn’t turn us in when she was here earlier or apparently while she was at the hotel doesn’t mean she won’t do it now or that she didn’t make some arrangement with the authorities to try to catch us in the act tonight. Handing over my damn phone to her felt like handing over my own death warrant.

  One call.

  That’s all it would take for her to have the cops swarming here. They would get the drugs and us, and she would be truly free.

  Of this.

  Of Me.

  Christ. Why does that make my damn heart hurt so much?

  Maybe because I want to believe her. I want to believe she’s proven she won’t turn us in. But I don’t know what happened after I released her. I don’t know what she said and what was said to her at the hotel.

  I desperately want her to be helping because she wants to.

  Something I can’t examine.

  Because if I think about that, or about how leaving her exposed out there in the middle the night where anyone could walk up to her and hurt her has my fists clenching as I race down the dock toward the Neptune’s Daughter, I would really be fucked.

  The moonless night provides zero protection with these fucking lights spaced every few feet.

  We should have cut the power…

  But that would have drawn more unwanted security attention—or worse.

  My lungs burn. My legs ache. A hundred more yards.

  Get there. Just a few more seconds.

  The Destiny appears slowly out of the dark and slips in alongside the Neptune’s Daughter.

  Thank fuck.

  I never thought I’d be so happy to see that damn boat.

  A guard steps from the shadows of the building and out into the light on the main stretch a mere twenty yards in front of me.

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

  His focus centers in on Cutter and Rion pulling in.

  Good.

  The fucker won’t notice me.

  Swift, silent steps move me closer. And closer. He reaches for the radio on his hip.

  I wrap my forearm around his neck before he has a chance to even react and squeeze. He gurgles and kicks backward at me. Nails claw at my arms.

  Tighter.

  The pressure on his jugular should have him unconscious within thirty seconds. He struggles and throws his shoulders back at me as much he can but it’s no use. I’m much bigger, much stronger, and I caught him unprepared.

  He goes limp in my arms, and I drag him to the shadows of the building. The Destiny stops in the water.

  Hopefully, no one will see him unconscious here.

  Cutter
and Rion throw the lines down, and I scramble forward and secure them.

  Rion leans over the rail and looks down at me. “Any trouble?”

  I nod toward the unconscious man tucked in the darkness behind me. “Just him, but there are others around. We need to move fast.”

  He nods and turns back. I run over and climb up the ladder onto the Neptune’s Daughter.

  It’s only been a few days, but it seems like ages ago I last climbed this ladder up onto Grace’s ship. It’s incredible how much can change so quickly. How fast the world tilts on its axis. All because of one little pixie who won’t stop asking questions and sticking her nose into things.

  The crates sit out on the deck, waiting to be unloaded and picked up as scheduled tomorrow, just like she thought they would be.

  We need at least twenty minutes to move them.

  It’s too much time exposed, but we don’t have a choice.

  “Hey! What are you doing up there?” The question rings out in the cool night air.

  My stomach clenches along with my fists.

  Fuck.

  I turn and look over the rail. Another security guard stares up at me.

  Shit.

  He hasn’t seen his buddy yet. If he had, I’d have a weapon pointed at me instead of a flashlight.

  “Oh, hi! This is my ship. I just came back because I forgot something.”

  Lame, but vague is better than trying to concoct an intricate story.

  He narrows his eyes on me, focusing in on the tattoos on my hands and neck. “How did you get in?”

  I shrug and try to appear nonchalant about it. “Jumped the fence. Please don’t report this. I’ll be out of here in a minute.”

  Without the drugs. DAMMIT.

  “Get down here, sir. You keep your hands where I can see them at all times.” The guard reaches for a firearm on his hip.

  Fuck.

  I was hoping it wouldn’t come to this, but it looks as though we’re fucked. Cutter and Rion better see what’s happening and get the hell out of here.

  They don’t need to get caught up in anything.