Capture of the Defiance

by S. E. Smith

  Makayla carefully steered the Sports Cruiser back into its birth at the marina. Brian and Helen tied it off and she shut down the engines. A grimace crossed her face when she saw the damage to the expensive yacht. She really hoped the owners had insurance.

  Pulling the keys out of the ignition, she climbed down the stairs to replace them in the cabin before joining Brian and Helen. Her footsteps faltered when she heard a familiar voice demanding to know what in the hell was going on.

  “Tyrell?” Makayla gasped, staring up at the huge figure of her best friend.

  “You’ve done gone off on another crazy adventure, haven’t you, Makayla?” Tyrell’s warm voice washed over her. “Come here so I can make sure you are okay.”

  “Oh, Tyrell,” Makayla whispered, climbing up onto the dock and into his strong arms. “I was worried about you.”

  “Me?! I’m not the one getting shot at! When I pulled up and saw what was going on, I about had a heart attack, especially when I looked through my camera and saw it was you on that boat,” Tyrell muttered, holding her tight. “Where in the hell is Henry and what is Brian doing here?”

  Makayla leaned back and looked up into Tyrell’s dark, worried face and shook her head. Her throat closed when she saw him glare over at Brian with a heated expression. She waited until he returned his attention to her before she spoke in a thick, tired voice.

  “He’s missing, Tyrell,” Makayla said, turning to glance at the empty berth where the Defiance had been. “They took him and the Defiance.”

  13

  “Ouch,” Brian hissed, wincing when Makayla pressed the cloth with iodine against the deep cut on his arm.

  “Sorry,” she muttered, frowning while she cleaned the wound.

  Her gaze moved over his forearm. It was a lot more muscular than she remembered. In fact, his whole body was more solid than she recalled, an observation that was making her task more than a little distracting.

  He had been lucky. The bullet had cut a slice through his upper arm about an inch from his shoulder. If the bullet had been a half-inch further to the right, it would have torn through flesh and muscle; possibly shattering the bone of his upper arm, or even worse, it could have pierced his chest.

  She carefully cleaned the wound, making sure there were no fibers from his shirt in the abrasion before pulling it together and adding some topical antibiotic cream and several butterfly bandages to pull together the edges of skin along the wound.

  A rueful smile curved her lips when she felt his knuckles brush against her skin. Lifting her chin, she stared back at him in silence. He leaned forward, his lips almost touching her when the door was pushed open behind them. Makayla drew back and lowered her gaze back to what she was doing.

  “Brian, the speedboat is registered to Great Wall Industries. I’ve found very little information on them so far except that they deal in imports and exports, which does little to narrow the search considering half of Hong Kong companies do that,” Helen mused before she looked up from the tablet she was carrying. She glanced up and paused when she saw Brian sitting on the commode. His back was to her and he had removed his shirt so Makayla could bandage his arm. “How bad is it?” She asked, staring over his shoulder at Makayla.

  “Not as bad as it could have been,” Makayla replied, picking up the piece of gauze from the First Aid kit that Helen had given her from her car.

  “Yeah, he’s still breathing,” Tyrell muttered, glancing at Brian with a lopsided grin. “You’d think that a hitman would have a better aim, especially when they are shooting at such a …,” Tyrell’s voice faded when Makayla shot him an exasperated glance. “I was going to be nice,” he muttered. “Sort of….”

  Makayla’s lips twitched at the blatant lie. “I’m sure you were,” she retorted before glancing at Helen. “Thank you for the kit, it really came in handy,” she added, winding the gauze around his arm.

  “Standard protocol,” Helen murmured, leaning against the door frame of the bathroom. “The boat was reported stolen, by the way. There appears to be a rash of that happening lately,” she added with an ironic smile.

  Makayla resisted the urge to roll her eyes – barely. She caught Brian’s amused look and shook her head. Picking up the fabric tape, she wrapped a long piece around his arm to keep the gauze from slipping.

  “All finished,” she said, straightening up and stepping back so she could give her handiwork a critical look. “Not bad for a rookie.”

  Brian moved his arm and gave her an appreciative nod at her doctoring, his gaze serious. “Not bad at all,” he agreed, reaching for the clean shirt he had brought into the bathroom and sliding it on before buttoning it.

  Makayla glanced away and quickly collected the items she had taken out of the First Aid kit. She repacked everything, and stepped past Helen who was talking quietly with Brian about the information she had discovered. She had to push Tyrell, who was staring at her with a questioning expression, out of the way when he refused to move so she could escape to the living room. She could feel Helen and Brian’s gaze on her back. She just needed to get out of the bathroom that suddenly felt far too cramped.

  Placing the First Aid kit down on the bar, she walked over to stand at the window. She wrapped her arms around her waist and stared down at the street. Behind her, she could hear Tyrell quietly walk up to stand next to her. Brian and Helen entered the room a moment later, discussing what had happened. She overheard Brian murmur something about his position at the Consulate and that he had clearance to carry a concealed weapon in accordance with the law before she tuned them out. Returning her focus to the street, she raised a hand to wipe a strand of hair that had come free from her braid back behind her ear.

  “Makayla,” Tyrell murmured, shoving his hands into his pockets while he gazed out the window beside her.

  Makayla wanted to shake her head and tell Tyrell to leave her alone for a moment so she could get a grip on her emotions, but she didn’t. The overwhelming realization of how close she had come to losing Brian again, this time for good, had suddenly hit her when she was cleaning up the bloody washcloth and medical supplies.

  Turning, she glanced at Tyrell for a brief second before she turned to gaze over at Brian with eyes filled with fear and determination. She wouldn’t give up and she wouldn’t give in. Whatever was going on, she was going to fight every inch of the way. She had faced difficult situations before and overcome them, and she would do it again.

  “Is there any way to find out who owns this Hong Kong Industries?” Makayla asked, staring back and forth between Helen and Brian.

  “I can,” Brian murmured, glancing at Helen.

  “I won’t ask how, but that doesn’t mean I won’t figure it out,” Helen replied, glancing at her phone and pursing her lips when she saw who was calling. “I need to take this in private.”

  “You can go in the bedroom,” Brian said with a wave of his hand.

  Makayla’s gaze followed Helen until she disappeared into the bedroom before turning back to Brian. She was surprised that he was already sitting on the couch with his laptop open. Stepping around the coffee table, she sank down beside him. Tyrell glanced back and forth between where Helen had disappeared and Brian and her. She gave him an affectionate smile when she saw the confusion, exhaustion, and frustration sweeping across his face.

  “When did you get here and why didn’t you tell me you were coming?” Makayla asked in a quiet voice.

  Tyrell walked over and sank down in the arm chair that was in the corner. He stretched out his long legs and folded his hands across his stomach. Well over six feet and built more like a football player than a photographer, Tyrell dwarfed the chair. He had gotten a new hair cut since she had last seen him. This time he was wearing it thicker on top with the sides shaved close. The thick, curly black hair made her want to run her fingers through it to see if it was as soft as a rabbit’s tail.

  “Knock it off,” Tyrell mumbled with an exhausted grin when he saw her fingers twitch. “My
hair is not a fluffy bunny.”

  “Knock… What about your hair?” Brian asked, glancing up at Tyrell in confusion before he scowled when he saw the expression on the other man’s face and where he was staring. “What are you doing in Hong Kong?”

  Tyrell glanced at Brian and raised an eyebrow. “I have a photo assignment for National Geographic. I was in Kenya for the last six months for a previous assignment and finally got back on social media. I saw a post from Henry that Makayla was joining him on a trip from here to Honolulu. He had tagged his location, so it wasn’t all that hard to figure out where to find her. What’s your story?”

  Brian glanced down at the computer in front of him. “I work here,” he muttered.

  Makayla saw Tyrell’s silent ‘WTF does that mean?’ and shook her head. Releasing a sigh, she swore she could almost see the tension between the two men like visible force fields colliding. She glanced at Tyrell with a look that she hoped he understood – truce.

  Tyrell nodded and leaned his head back, gazing at them with an assessing look. A slow smile curved his lips when Brian reached over and absently rubbed Makayla’s knee before returning his hand to the computer. Makayla glared back at Tyrell and mouthed for him to knock it off.

  “Helen told me what happened while you were patching up lover boy,” Tyrell finally said, his gaze turning sad. “I’m sorry, Makayla. I wish I had come a few days earlier.”

  “There wouldn’t have been anything you could have done, except get yourself killed,” Brian muttered, glancing over at Tyrell. “This wasn’t a random act, Tyrell. Whoever is behind this wouldn’t think twice about killing you or anyone else.”

  “Something tells me that you know quite a bit about the type of guys that did this,” Tyrell observed, all traces of humor gone from his face.

  “I do,” Brian admitted, glancing over at Makayla before focusing back on what he was doing.

  Makayla watched with a combination of fascination and confusion as he brought up screens that looked like something out of a movie. Her breath caught when she saw the grainy image on another screen before he could minimize it.

  “Wait,” she whispered, reaching out and touching his arm. “That’s Henry.”

  “Yes,” Brian acknowledged, sliding the cursor to the right corner.

  “Stop,” Makayla said a little more sharply, staring at the image. “Where did you get this? Why do you have a picture of Henry on your computer?”

  A muscle in Brian’s cheek throbbed when Tyrell rose and came to stand next to the arm of the couch near Makayla. The throbbing muscle was a telltale sign that Brian was agitated. She saw Brian glance over at Tyrell who was staring back at him with a dark, intense gaze of warning. Her fingers relaxed on Brian’s arm and she slid her hand down to cover his, wrapping her fingers around it when he returned his attention to her.

  “Brian, please. I need to know what is going on,” Makayla said in a quiet voice.

  Brian stared back into her eyes for several seconds before he pulled his hand away and stood up. He walked around the coffee table and over to the window. Staring at his stiff shoulders, she could tell he was trying to make up his mind. Once again, she wondered what had happened to the carefree young man she had once known.

  He glanced toward the bedroom where Helen’s muffled voice could be heard before flickering back to Tyrell. It sounded like Helen was dealing with her own issues. Drawing in a deep breath, he turned, shot Tyrell a heated glance, and focused on her face.

  “This stays in this room. What I’m about to tell you both could endanger you more than you already have been.” He waited for the meaning of his words to sink in. When they both nodded, he continued. “Five days ago one of our undercover agents here in Hong Kong was able to retrieve some highly sensitive information – information that could have a major impact on weapons being supplied to terrorists in strategic areas around the world. Sun Yung-Wing, a billionaire businessman and known crime lord here was a suspect. Our man has been working the last two years undercover,” he replied in a quiet voice.

  “The man…,” her gaze turned to the image on the screen. There was the man facing Henry. It looked as if they had bumped into each other. Her gaze scrutinized the image, taking in every detail. A frown creased her brow and she leaned forward and enlarged it. It looked as if the man was putting something in one of the grocery bags Henry was carrying. “The bags…,” she murmured, her eyes widening as the pieces fell into place. “Whoever took Henry saw this same picture didn’t they? They think that this man, this agent, gave Henry whatever he stole.”

  “Yes,” Brian said. “I need to find the information.”

  “What happened to your agent?” Tyrell asked in a quiet voice, searching Brian’s face for the answer.

  Brian bent his head and rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. He glanced at Makayla before looking away. His face was taut with tension and he looked older, harder than his almost twenty-six years.

  “He was hit by a van while trying to escape. He’s in a coma. We have security around him. His last words were that he would hide the information and give us directions for where to find it,” he said.

  Makayla’s gaze returned to the computer screen and the blurry image of what looked like the man’s hand reaching into one of the canvas bags. Her lips parted in a startled gasp. Instinctively, her hand reached for the small pocketbook at her side before she remembered that she had removed the item she had found in one of the shopping bags. She had placed it in the pocket of her slicker.

  Trembling, she rose off the couch and stepped around Tyrell. She walked over to the bar stool where she had draped her coat. She bent, feeling in the pocket. Her fingers wrapped around the small box. She had thought it was a jewelry box with a trinket that Henry had picked up at the market. She pulled the box out and turned to look at Brian with a pale but composed expression.

  “Is this…?” She swallowed past the thickness threatening to choke her and held out her hand. “I think this might be what you are looking for.”

  Both men’s gazes moved to her outstretched hand. Brian’s eyes widened when he saw the small, rectangular box sitting on her palm. He strode forward and stopped. His eyes were glued to the box before he slowly reached for it and turned his gaze to her.

  “Where did you get this?” He asked in a slightly rough voice.

  Makayla’s hand dropped to her side. She shrugged and wrapped her arms around her waist. Her mind was trying to piece together how Henry must have been at the wrong place at the right time. She decided the Fates must be laughing at their little practical joke of messing with people’s lives.

  “It was in one of the shopping bags that I grabbed when I went to the market yesterday. I was folding them and I found it. Is it what you are looking for?” She asked, looking back at him again.

  “I’m about to find out,” he muttered, turning on his heel and walking back to the couch.

  Makayla followed him, sinking down beside him and folding her hands together. Tyrell sat on the arm of the couch, looking over her shoulder at the computer. They watched in silence as Brian opened the box and removed a flash drive sealed in a small plastic bag. It was a good thing the flash drive had been wrapped in plastic, considering the box had been in her purse when she fell in the water.

  Brian pulled it out of the plastic bag and inserted it into his computer’s USB port. A message came up asking for a password. He growled in frustration. From the sound of his muttered curse, it wasn’t going to be easy to access the information.

  “I need to visit a friend,” Brian finally muttered in frustration, running a hand through his hair and glancing up when Helen hurried into the room.

  “We need to leave. Now!” She ordered, walking over to the window and angrily staring out.

  “What’s wrong?” Tyrell asked, standing up and watching Helen stride across to the window.

  “What’s going on?” Brian asked in a terse voice. He rose to his feet and walked over to stand next to Hel
en. He stared out of the window to the street below. A soft curse escaped him. “What happened?” He demanded.

  Makayla stood up when Brian suddenly turned and strode over to a hall closet. She stood up and walked over to the window and glanced down. A moment later, Tyrell came to stand next to her to see what she was staring at. In the street below them, several vehicles had pulled up.

  Brian’s apartment was in the old, historic district of the city. The third floor window looked down across the busy street lined with a variety of small shops. The first floor of his apartment building contained a row of businesses with a narrow door and staircase leading up to the top five floors from the street level. There would be no way to avoid the men who were crossing the street.

  “I know who is on the payroll of Sun Yung-Wing,” Helen retorted, pulling her gun out and checking it. “My superior kept me on the phone for far longer than usual. I should have listened to my gut when it was telling me that something was wrong. He wanted to know where Makayla was and if you were with us,” Helen explained, glancing over to where Brian was grabbing a backpack from the hall closet. “He should not have known about you. I never mentioned that you were with Makayla and me. Luckily, he didn’t know about Tyrell.”

  “How many are there?” Brian asked.

  Makayla glanced over her shoulder and watched while he shoved several things, including money, several passports, and additional ammo clips into the backpack before turning to grab the laptop off the coffee table. Snapping it shut, he removed the flash drive and slipped it into his pocket before he lifted the backpack to his shoulder.

  “Three,” Helen replied in a soft voice, glancing at him.

  “Let’s go,” he said, pulling his gun out and jerking his head to Tyrell and both women.

  “How are we going to get past them?” Makayla asked, crossing the room and grabbing the rain slicker off the stool before reaching for the First Aid kit, as well.

  “There’s an old service entrance that was closed off in Mrs. Leu’s apartment. It goes down to the basement,” he said, opening the door and glancing out before stepping out and motioning for them to follow him.