Raoul pulled a syringe from his pocket and injected a clear liquid into Devin’s neck.
“Why didn’t you do that to the bitch captain?” Carrothers asked.
The Russian didn’t have the chance to respond.
Lindsay rose and aimed the gun. “Because he knew I would’ve blown him into the middle of the Caribbean.”
She pulled the trigger. A red line of light streaked from the gun, sparking and sputtering, until it struck Carrothers in the chest. He crumbled backward and lay motionless next to the boarding ladder.
Raoul rose, pistol in hand, and fired three quick bursts. Bullets sparked around Lindsay, and she dropped back down, reaching for another flare. Opening the chamber, she dropped in a second stick.
One bastard down, one to go.
Lindsay sprang back up, right into Raoul’s path. He was quick for such a giant. Before she could get the flare gun up, he grabbed her arm, wrenched her off the stairs and threw her back across the deck toward the stern.
The flare gun spun to the railing and clattered into the toe rail. The weapon careened to a stop balanced against the bottom metal lifeline.
The Russian gripped her arm so tight, her fingers felt like useless spools of bread dough.
“Whose ass are you going to kick now, Malyshka?” Raoul jammed his pistol into her face.
“Can’t shoot me, Raoul,” Lindsay said. “Otherwise, the authorities will find the bullet in my skull. Carrothers will be pissed.”
“I will dig it out,” the Russian said, and jerked her back by her ponytail. “I have done such things before.”
Lindsay swallowed hard. He wasn’t kidding.
His finger tightened on the trigger.
A heartbeat later, a horn sounded and lights flooded the deck. Both Raoul and Lindsay glanced up, and there was another boat, next to them on the starboard side. The ship’s blazing lights momentarily blitzed out her night vision. In the glare, she couldn’t identify the passengers on the craft.
Then she heard René’s voice boom through the night, “Vive la France!”
“Who the hell is that?” Raoul loosened his grip on her hair and wheeled toward the sound.
Lindsay took advantage of his momentary weakness and swung a leg over, kicking the Russian’s legs out from under him. Then she grabbed one of the flares rolling on the deck from the upended box and scrambled across to the lifelines to get to the gun.
She heard a splash. Someone had jumped into the water from The Other Woman’s tender, but René would be at the helm. Who had he brought with him?
She spun, snatched the flare gun from its precarious hold on the lifeline, re-loaded the chamber, and fired. Again, the night was lit up with red, snapping light, painting the deck crimson.
Raoul rolled away. She’d missed. And her remaining ammunition lay in the box near the companionway. The Russian seemed to have an endless supply of bullets, though. He came up on one knee, steadied the pistol with his other hand, and fired.
Lindsay flipped back over the rail. She struck the water hard, knocking the breath out of her.
As she sank into the dark depths, her lungs spasmed. Just as she verged on panic, someone caught her and pulled her to the surface.
Strong arms, her favorite handsome face. Alton. He’d come for her.
“I gotcha,” Alton whispered. “I’m here.”
Above them Carrothers shouted, “Raoul—use this!”
Dammit.
The flare gun hadn’t stopped the Russky SOB.
Lindsay heard the smack of Raoul catching something. And then the loud ratcheting of what sounded like a wickedly powerful assault rifle.
* * *
Alton’s stomach shrank at the sound of the machine gun. What the hell? Was World War III being fought above them?
The Other Woman’s launch engines made a savage growl as René spun her away from the trigger-happy Russian.
Carrothers shouted again, “Go after that French bastard. There can’t be any witnesses.”
Lindsay gasped in Alton’s ear. She seemed to be having trouble breathing. He began a fast check of her body with his hands, searching for wounds, willing a reaction. Nothing.
“Linds, please say something,” Alton pleaded.
He felt Lindsay’s arms and legs working to keep her body afloat. After a moment, she answered in a quiet voice, “Dammit, Alton. We have to get back aboard. Before …”
He missed the rest of what she said. The Bonnie Blue’s engines fired, and then the anchor chain rumbled back into the storage locker. The boat moved away from them, chasing after René.
In minutes, they were alone in the water, but that wouldn’t last long. Carrothers had to come back for them. Couldn’t leave witnesses.
Or maybe he’d leave them for the sharks. Were there sharks? Suddenly the dark water around him felt sinister. Shit.
“What are we going to do?” Alton asked.
Lindsay didn’t respond.
It was too dark to see her face, but her silence unnerved him.
“Lindsay?”
Still nothing. He could feel her body treading water, but she didn’t answer.
Then he heard the hiccup of a sob. He touched her face and realized what was wrong. It was the third time she’d lost a boat. Only it wasn’t lost, not yet.
“Lindsay, it’s not your fault. We can save her. We can get to the Bonnie Blue and stop them.”
“How?” Lindsay asked miserably. “They’re gone, and if Raoul was packing a goddamn assault rifle, he might have a frickin’ bazooka. They’ll kill René, sink his launch, come back for us, and then blow up the Bonnie Blue. I should’ve known better. I shouldn’t have let Carrothers bully me. All because I wanted to save my fucking career.”
“You couldn’t have known he was a psycho. Come on. Now is not the time to give up.”
“You should talk. When you were accused of trying to poison us, you fell apart. Well, it’s my turn.” She stopped treading water long enough to give him a sharp shove.
Now she was mad, a good sign.
“And what did you say to me?” Alton asked.
Lindsay had to think for a minute, but then finally admitted, “I don’t remember.”
“You said we’d get through this. That it would all work out. We’re both alive, and Carrothers has to come back for us, right? So let’s focus on that.”
Lindsay fell back into silence.
Alton kept talking. “Do you know what I had to do to get here? I had to take several boat trips, none of them very posh, but I did it. And of all the wretched vessels I’ve found myself on, I gotta say, the Bonnie Blue is my favorite. We have to save her. She might be the only boat I could ever love.”
“Really?” Lindsay asked quietly.
“Yeah. Me, you, and a boat named Blue. More and more, it’s feeling like a package deal, and I’m okay with that.” The words surprised Alton, but they were the truth. He knew he would do anything, live anywhere, if he could be with Lindsay.
She pulled him close and kissed him. In the warm, dark water, probably full of sharks, with two treacherous men wanting them dead, the kiss sealed the deal. He was hers, she was his, and together they could save the Bonnie Blue.
When she finally broke away, Lindsay was back to her old self. “Our ship is too heavy to plane like René’s fast launch, but Raoul and Carrothers probably don’t know that. They won’t be able to catch him. They’ll come back for us, and if we dive deep and wait till we see their lights, we can use the anchor line to get back on the boat. You’re right, we can stop them.”
Alton had to kiss her again, just had to. René was right. Lindsay didn’t need saving, but the Bonnie Blue did. And now they had a plan.
In the distance, a ship’s running lights gleamed in the night, coming for them.
“Now, dive!” Lindsay pulled away and disappeared beneath the waves. Alton followed her down into the darkness.
* * *
Lindsay’s lungs felt like they were about to expl
ode, and darkness ate away at the edge of her vision. With her eyes wide open, the salt water burned like hell.
She didn’t blink. The Bonnie Blue cut through the water above, lights blazing, and slowed in neutral.
When the anchor plummeted down through the water, she pulled Alton toward the sinking line. They broke the surface, both gasping, waiting for the thick gear to settle on the bottom. Finally, the engine sound quieted and they grabbed onto the now stationary chain rode.
“Do you see them?” Carrothers yelled.
“Nyet,” Raoul said, his voice hard and clipped like a short explosion. “What about that other ship?” he asked. “They saw us. There will be bullets in her, my bullets.”
“You’ll be fine,” Carrothers said with a snarl. “Let’s just find the bitch, put her down, then blow up the boat. We can come up with some story about pirates, and I have enough money that no one will ask too many questions down here on these islands. Bribe these monkeys, and they’ll keep their mouths shut.”
As quietly as they could, Lindsay and Alton swam the length of the boat to the stern platform. She suspected Carrothers and Raoul had never closed the cover for the tender’s stern storage area. But they’d have to go through the locker, which was full of deadly acetylene gas.
She whispered to Alton, “We can’t breathe the gas, not a whiff, so we’ll have to hurry.”
He nodded. Then out of the water, they climbed over the tanks. She pushed Alton, a signal for him to keep going.
In the darkness, she found the nozzles of the tanks and closed them. One less thing to worry about. One less threat to the Bonnie Blue.
She hadn’t been fast enough. Her lungs felt as though they would burst. Her every thought focused on the need to breathe. She fell onto her hands and knees and involuntarily gasped in a breath.
Alton dragged her out into the corridor and closed the door.
Both lay on the floor, wheezing and coughing.
Alton finally sat up. “Usually, when we’re both breathless, it’s a lot more fun.”
Lindsay shushed him. Their tumble, gasping, the door closing, had all been loud. She hoped to hell Carrothers and Raoul hadn’t heard.
She put a warning finger against Alton’s lips and waited, listening. All she heard were the muffled voices of Carrothers and Raoul above them, shouting and throwing accusations at each other. A band of marauding Cossacks could have been below and they wouldn’t have heard them.
Standing, Lindsay and Alton made their way into the lounge. Moj and Fiona remained passed out. Too bad. Lindsay would’ve loved to see Moj pummel both men.
Alton gestured for her to stay put, and when she shook her head, he pleaded his case with his eyes.
Lindsay seethed in silence. She loved the big lug for worrying about her, but no way could the chef take both men. He needed her. Fuck chivalry.
Then he turned, and instead of heading up to the deck, he took a side trip to the galley. He came back with his knives.
Lindsay smiled. He’d left them because he loved her. But when she motioned to follow him, he shook his head. Back to being chivalrous. She couldn’t argue, couldn’t fight without alerting the goons above decks.
Carrothers shouted, “Goddamit, Raoul, they couldn’t have disappeared, and we weren’t gone that long for them to swim ashore. Where in the hell are they?”
Both men were most likely at the floodlights, searching the waters. If Raoul still had his machine gun, Lindsay and Alton would have to run directly into his line of fire to get to them. Not a good idea. They needed the element of surprise.
Lindsay knew what to do, but their timing would have to be perfect. She pulled Alton close. And whispered, as quietly as she could, into his ear.
She could tell her plan shocked him, but there was no other way.
He nodded, his face drenched with sweat. She couldn’t help herself. She kissed his cheek. Took one last smell of his scent. If this was to be her last moment with him, she wanted to make it count.
A kiss on the cheek wouldn’t do it. She turned his head, and licked, kissed, drank in his lips, all of him. Both the kiss and adrenaline sent her flying.
It was time to pull up her big-girl pants and save the day.
* * *
Alton watched Lindsay creep up the companionway. He had wanted to protect her. What a laugh. She was right. This was a two-person operation.
After packing his pockets full of knives, Alton inched up the stairs. Once his head cleared the deck level, he saw both Carrothers and Raoul at the bow, searching the water with the strobe lights. Let ‘em keep looking.
Every minute tortured him, and every muscle felt strained to the breaking point. Once the engines came alive, once they realized someone was at the helm, they would go for her. And he would meet them, with his knives. All his girls.
Alton was ready, buzzed, alive, fearful, but focused.
No shouts of alarm. Nothing.
Had she made it?
The engines roared to life. She’d hit the throttle hard and at the same time turned on the capstan motor to dislodge the anchor.
Both men were thrown to the deck, then sprang to their feet, racing toward the helm. Raoul was unhurt, but Carrothers’s chest was blackened, and he looked half burnt.
Alton met them. He drove a fist into Carrothers’s face. Stopped in the middle of a fast run, the old guy spun, his bell rung.
Raoul, though, was big and quick, used to violence. He didn’t engage Alton, but ran past him, his rifle coming around. Yeah, an AK-47. Alton had watched enough BBC World to recognize one.
Alton flung Betty. The fillet knife struck the wood trim on the railing and quivered there. Next went Jolie, Shelley, Amanda, even Margot, his tomato knife, but each one missed or slid across the deck.
Raoul opened fire, peppering the deck with bullets. Alton dropped behind a padded deck seat. Fluff rained down on him, but the fiberglass seat back was tough and stopped the assault.
When Alton heard the rifle click empty, he stood and threw more knives: Sophia with her Granton edge, his twenty-centimeter Victoria, even Mimi from Japan. Each knife failed to hit the Russian. All Alton had left was Hilda, his cleaver. This last toss had to count.
He could hack a hog into pieces in record time, but they didn’t teach cleaver-throwing classes back at Le Cordon Bleu Paris Culinary Arts School.
Raoul reloaded and opened fire. Alton had to retreat behind the deck seat, looking more and more like Swiss cheese. He stole a look behind him at the wheel where Lindsay had been just minutes ago, but she was gone.
He fought back the panic bubbling up from his gullet like last night’s clams. He trusted her to know what to do. But the Bonnie Blue was still rocketing full throttle out toward the open sea, the anchor chain rattling back onto the capstan.
Alton latched onto the seat and ignored the slivers of shattered fiber-glass digging into his skin. He had his hands full working against the G-force of the huge boat at top speed. He fought against being pushed away from his precarious hold on the back of the seat.
The smell of cordite in Raoul’s ammunition drenched the air with a heavy, acrid stench.
Alton didn’t know where Raoul was, but this was his chance. Lindsay and the Bonnie Blue had given it to him.
Alton stood, Hilda in his grip, and there was the ruthless Russian, getting to his feet and edging toward the tender tied to the left side of the ship.
When he brought up the AK-47, Alton flung Hilda.
The cleaver struck Raoul a glancing blow to the forehead. He dropped the rifle and tumbled off the boat.
On trembling legs, Alton moved to the railing. Lindsay must’ve seen his miracle throw because the Bonnie Blue’s engines fell quiet.
When he peered over the side to see where the big bully had landed, he saw the ship’s tender behind them. Then he remembered. It had been secured to the side. Raoul had not fallen overboard into the sea, but right into the tender. He must have untied the shore boat.
Alto
n expected the Russian either to drop dead or come after them. He did neither. Raoul might have been wounded, but he was healthy enough to escape. The tender’s motor sputtered to life and circled quickly away from the Bonnie Blue. In seconds Raoul was gone. Only the endless night and dark ocean remained, stretching on toward the coast of South America.
Lindsay appeared behind Alton at the top of the companionway. She ran to the port rail, scooped up the AK-47, and aimed at Carrothers, who had come around, dazed, blood dribbling down his lips from what could only be a broken nose.
“Baby,” Alton said with a smile, “you look so hot holding a machine gun. Swear to God.”
She gave him a nervous, exhausted smile back.
They’d won.
Now, to get the truth out of their worm of an employer.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Friday Night, Off Glover Island
Lindsay blew a strand of sweaty hair out of her eyes, and lowered the machine gun at her former boss. “Okay, Jerome, as the bitch captain of the Bonnie Blue, I demand an explanation. Raoul is gone, and I’m about two seconds away from putting you down. If you don’t want to end up fish chum, spill your story.”
Before the wide-eyed Carrothers could respond, they heard someone clear his throat. Manning. He was pale, but alive, and speaking coolly. “Captain, Mr. Maura, it looks like I missed the combat. Shame. I did see you punch Jerome, Alton, and it was a mighty blow.”
“Really?” Alton asked, grinning. “If you saw that, how come you didn’t help me with Raoul?”
“If I had stepped in, you wouldn’t have been able to show Lindsay how capable you are,” Manning answered. “She might’ve been drawn to me after seeing what I can do in a display of fisticuffs.”
Alton glanced at Lindsay. “Do you believe that?”
Lindsay nodded. “Yeah, I mean, I only want the alpha male, so it’s a good thing Manning cowered at the bow or I totally would’ve gone for him.
“I was not cowering,” Manning insisted a little too loudly.
“While you weren’t cowering,” Alton said, “we improvised, since we aren’t professional killers. I used my kitchen knives and Lindsay used the Bonnie Blue.”
“I could give you some lessons in knife-throwing,” Manning said. “I studied the toss from Shaolin monks in China.”
Way Too Deep (Love Overboard Book 1) Page 21