by Dani Pettrey
The back of her head collided with the man’s jaw behind her.
An expletive escaped his mouth as he released his hold.
She rushed for Kenzie but, losing her footing, splayed onto the marble floor. Her cuffed hands prevented her from breaking her fall as she face-planted onto the cold tile.
Pain shot through her cheekbone, a splintering crack reverberating through it.
Warm liquid slithered down her face, rolling over and dripping off her chin. The splattered blood was a stark contrast to the cream-colored floor.
Fuentes grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her to her feet.
A whimper escaped her lips.
“That’s more like it.” His smile widened. “I want to hear you suffer.”
“You’ve got me. Now let my sister go.”
“No can do,” Paul said. “She’s seen me.”
“We see you all the time in the Coffee Connection.”
“As Paul, not as the Collector.”
Thoughts tossed through her mind as she scrambled to put all the pieces together.
How did Fuentes and the Collector—as Paul referred to himself—know each other? Had they been working together?
“So who works for whom?” she asked, her heart racing, throbbing in her ears. Her gaze darted between the two men bent on killing her, searching for any means of escape. Tears smarted in her eyes.
“Neither,” Fuentes said. “The Collector contacted me when he dug into your background, and we discovered we shared a common nemesis.”
She’d never been called that before. “So Paul broke you out of prison?” She tried stalling for time, but from the gleeful expression on Fuentes’s face, time was running out.
“No.” Fuentes laughed. “I did that on my own, but he invited me down to his turf for a fresh start. Because thanks to you, I’m a fugitive.”
She narrowed her eyes, studying Paul’s stoic expression. She highly doubted a man of such power would seriously help Fuentes out of the goodness of his nonexistent heart.
“Don’t you see what he’s doing?” she taunted. “Paul is using you as a scapegoat. Everyone knows you’re out to kill me. If anything goes wrong, you’re to blame.”
“Shut your mouth.” Paul belted her across the face, knocking her to the ground—her knees taking the brunt of the force this time. Her cheek still throbbing, she looked up at him, defiance burning through her.
Kenzie’s muffled cry broke past the duct tape still across her mouth.
“You took from me.” Fuentes’s voice shook. “Now you pay while your sister watches her impending fate.”
Gabby tried to scramble to her feet, but Fuentes grabbed her neck.
The air caught in her lungs as he squeezed. She twisted away to loosen his hold, but he only pressed harder.
So this was how she was going to die.
seventy-five
Gabby gasped for air that wouldn’t come.
“Enough,” Paul hollered.
Fuentes paused and glared up at him. “You said I could kill her.”
“And we will, but I have a far better plan. Trust me.”
His hands slipped from her neck and snagged on her locket, pulling it to the floor. Swallowing gulps of air, she fell to the side, covered the locket, and slipped it into her back pocket. They had a chance. Surely Finn and Noah would be looking for them.
Paul hauled her to her feet. “Bring the sister,” he said.
“No!” Gabby wrestled in his hold.
His hands clamped tighter around her upper arms, his fingers pinching into her flesh. “You can blame yourself for your sister’s death. You brought this on her.”
Hot tears streamed down her face, mixing with the blood trickling across her chin. Her split lip stung as she spoke. “Where are you taking us?”
“To see my babies.” He shoved her toward the outside door.
Babies? Paul didn’t have kids as far as she knew, but clearly, she didn’t know him at all.
The outside door swung open. Paul pushed her down a root-filled dirt path. “What about Smitty?” she asked, wondering about his involvement in all this. Was he waiting to watch her die too?
“What about him?” Paul said.
“Your comments to Noah at Dockside made us look at him. How is he involved?” She saw a rugged shoreline ahead, illuminated by the rising super moon. How could it be night already?
Paul laughed. “That idiot has no clue what’s going on. I thought CGIS might be starting to look at the Coffee Connection, so I shifted the suspicion to him. Figured I’d just dispose of him if the need arose.”
He halted at the dark water’s edge. “Speaking of disposal.” He lifted his chin, and the dark-haired man switched on a flood lamp, its light directed at a steel cage attached to a small crane.
It looked like a shark cage, but it couldn’t possibly be. The width of the openings would easily allow the bull sharks teeming off the coast to enter.
Gabby’s stomach flipped as Kenzie sobbed beside her. Surely Paul was not so sadistic as to . . .
She swallowed as she studied the cage, bile burning up her throat.
Were those human remains?
“I believe you knew Dennis Fletcher and Marv Lewis? They, unfortunately, became liabilities I couldn’t afford.”
“Let me guess,” she said, her knees shaking as she tried to stall for time. Prayers that Finn and Noah would find them flooded up to heaven. “Fletcher and Seavers provided you with Coast Guard patrol schedules so you could run drugs without getting caught.” Her words slurred, her bottom lip swelling and tender.
“Very good,” Paul said. “Xavier told me you were a smart one.”
“And Mo and Marv . . .” The treasure in the hangar sparked to mind. “I’m guessing they found a wreck containing treasure and looted it for you. And John Layton let your stolen goods through customs. But I’m betting he kept a piece for himself.” Based on the Rembrandt Rissi and Noah had found.
“Yes.” Paul’s grip around her arms tightened. “And he paid for it.”
“Mo killed Layton?” she said, believing Marv had failed underwater, so Mo finished the job, then covered his tracks with the explosion, sinking the evidence to the bottom of the sea.
“Yes, I don’t accept failure or tolerate loose ends. Now, enough chatter.” With a lift of Paul’s chin, two of his men grabbed hold of Gabby and Kenzie, shoving them toward the cage.
Gabby wrestled in the man’s grasp as Kenzie lunged against the man holding her back. They ripped Kenzie’s duct tape off.
“More satisfying to hear her scream.” Paul chuckled.
“Please let her go. You have me. Let her go,” Gabby pleaded.
Her pleas were only met by wide smiles on Paul’s and Fuentes’s faces.
Kenzie sobbed, “I didn’t get to say good-bye to my babies. To tell them how much I love them.”
Hot tears streaked down Gabby’s cold cheeks. This was all her fault. If anyone was going to die, it should be her and only her.
The men shoved them in the cage. The crane attached to it hovered a few feet over the water’s surface.
To Gabby’s shock and confusion, the men slid oxygen tanks on their backs and goggles over their heads before cuffing their wrists into the shackle-style handcuffs overhead.
The men shoved regulators in their mouths.
What kind of sick game was this?
“The killing is much more pleasurable when victims are given opportunity to consider their fate. You have an hour’s worth of air. I keep my babies well fed, so we’ll see if they eat you first or if you run out of air and drown,” Paul said. “Then we’ll toss Xavier in.”
“What?” Fuentes said as one of Paul’s men seized him. “We had a deal.”
Paul lit a cigar, took a puff, and released the smoke in a smooth trail, highlighted in the floodlight’s glare. The last thing she saw before they lowered the cage was Fuentes’s panic-stricken face.
Cold water rushed in, swirling ar
ound Gabby’s ankles, over her knees, up her thighs, hips, and waist.
Her goggles fogging from the moisture of her tears, Gabby blinked, trying to see in the darkness engulfing them.
The light above shifted and angled toward them, streaming through the depths. The floodlight. He really wanted them to see what was coming.
Please, Lord, calm me so I can think of a way out of this. We need to conserve air. Please direct Finn and Noah to us in time.
Hot tears spilled from her eyes, further fogging her goggles.
Please, Lord.
The silhouette of a bull shark swam at the edge of the floodlight’s beam. Kenzie started jerking beside her as a second and then a third shark approached, flicking their tails. They circled closer and closer until they were nearly upon them.
Please, Father.
If Gabby could just get the cuffs off, it would be a start. She stared up at them—separated, as the chain had been slipped through two different openings in the cage roof and held in place by a large metal ring.
She needed to get her hands closer together, needed to reach the bobby pin she’d tucked in the loose hair under the braid at the base of her neck.
Wrapping her fingers through the chain links, she kicked, swimming her way up to the cuffs. With an understanding only siblings shared, Kenzie positioned herself under Gabby’s rear, supporting her with her shoulders and providing the leverage Gabby needed to gain traction. The slack in the chain was now enough for her to loop it around her hands, allowing her to pull up with her arms as she used her feet to climb up the cage slats. Finally reaching the top, she stuck her feet in the highest slat. She lay back, arching to reach the cuffs. She used her right hand to pull out the bobby pin and worked the right cuff free, then the left one.
Suddenly Kenzie flailed backward against the far side of the cage.
Gabby looked down, her muscles seizing.
One of the sharks had rammed the cage, searching for an opening. He rammed a second time and then a third.
Wrapping her fingers in the chain links as Gabby had, Kenzie bent her knees and swung herself back and forth, kicking her legs out in a forward motion, then bending them back.
The shark found an opening, and Kenzie kicked forward, the force of her movement propelling her feet into its snout.
Shaking its head, it swam away, then returned. Kenzie wasn’t fast enough, and it took a chunk out of her calf. Her scream reverberated in the water, rising with the air bubbles.
Gabby swam down. She wrapped her arm under her sister’s shoulder as the shark circled back. Her heart pounding in her chest, she kicked for the top of the cage.
Blood pooled like a cloud in the heightening tide of the super moon—the killing tide. Water swirling in with pummeling force pulled them toward the front of the cage.
Please, God!
Just as Gabby felt all was lost, the crane creaked overhead. The cage rose up.
She clutched her sister’s hand. What were they about to face?
Her breathing hurried, she tried to calm herself before she hyperventilated. She needed to remain composed for Kenzie.
The floodlight pierced her eyes as they breached the surface, Kenzie clinging tightly to her side.
She blinked, trying to make out the silhouette of the man standing before her.
He rushed to the cage. “I’ve got them,” he yelled.
Finn.
The adrenaline coursing through her abated in a shaky release—her arms and legs trembling. Tears sprang to her eyes, fogging her goggles. She pulled them off and yanked the rebreather from her mouth as Finn unlatched the cage.
She rested her hand under Kenzie’s arm, helping to stabilize her.
Red emergency lights spun in the distance. A fire truck’s whirring siren drew near.
Finn reached for her. “Come on, honey. I got you.” Those three words rivaled his declaration of love—holding just as much meaning. He had her. Next to God, he was her rock and shield.
He extended his reach. “Come on, Gabby.”
“Take Kenzie first. A shark bit her leg.” She gripped Kenzie’s waist to help hoist her up.
“On three . . .” he said.
Gabby tightened her grip, steadying Kenzie as she wobbled, unable to put weight on her left leg.
“One, two . . .” He waved the paramedic over.
“Three.”
He looped his hands under Kenzie’s arms, lifting as Gabby heaved upward.
“I got her,” Finn said. Lifting her the rest of the way up and turning, he rushed to meet the paramedic. “You’re going to be all right,” he assured Kenzie.
Using the slats as leverage, Gabby slipped her foot in one of the openings and pushed up. Working her way up and out of the cage, she bent to catch her breath. After handing Kenzie off, Finn turned back to Gabby. Midway to her his eyes widened, his gaze fixed on something behind her.
An arm snaked about her waist, and without pausing to think, she jabbed her elbow back, the bone colliding with the man’s ribs.
An expletive spewed from his mouth and she stiffened. Fuentes.
The muzzle of a gun pressed to her temple.
“Back away or I shoot,” he hollered.
Finn halted, the color draining from his face.
“You’re my way out,” Fuentes whispered, his breath sickeningly moist and hot against her ear.
He pulled her with him as he moved for the dock, her back pressed flush against his chest.
Finn followed, paramedics keeping their distance, police officers swarming in.
“Everyone stay back or she dies!”
“Stay back,” Finn yelled, his hands in the air.
Everyone froze where they stood.
Fuentes’s sweaty face rubbed against hers.
Reaching the dock, he kept her between him and Finn, backing onto the boat. Her foot caught on the side, and she fell back, knocking Fuentes down in the process. His gun fired, and a vise clinched around her heart.
“No!” Finn rushed forward.
Fuentes wriggled beneath her, and she turned her head to see the bullet hole in the boat’s port side.
Thank you, Jesus.
She rolled onto her side. The gun had knocked free from Fuentes’s hand, and he struggled underneath her, trying to reach it with the tips of his fingers.
Her breath tight, heat coursing through her veins, she lunged forward, kneeing him in the process.
He swore, curling into a ball as her hand gripped the gun.
She shifted onto her side again, and his hand clutched her wrist. As they wrestled for hold of the gun, it retorted. Fuentes jerked back onto his knees, then stood clasping his chest.
He stumbled back, tripping over a cooler, then over the side of the boat, water plumming up in his wake.
She scrambled to the edge of the boat, searching.
Finn raced to her side. “Are you hurt?”
“I’m okay.” She kept her gaze on the dark water.
“We need a floodlight over here,” Finn called, and Caleb obliged.
It illuminated the surface of the water for several square feet, but there was no sign of movement other than shark fins bobbing above the surface, then dipping back under.
It seemed a fitting fate—Xavier Fuentes dying the way he and the Collector intended to kill her and Kenzie.
“My sister?” Her pulse quickened.
“Is on her way to Wilmington General. She’s in good hands.”
“But will she be all right?”
“From what I saw, definitely.”
“Where’s Paul?”
“Handcuffed in the back of Caleb’s car. He claims Smitty lured him out here, that he had a gun on him and several of the men called him Boss.”
“No, it’s Paul. He calls himself the Collector. I saw him at the warehouse.”
“So . . . Co for Collector?”
“No, Coffee Connection.”
Finn sank back on his knees, hugging her against his chest. “I can�
�t believe it was Paul this entire time.”
A paramedic approached and bent down to look at Gabby. “Ma’am, we’re ready for you.”
She stiffened. “Ready for me?”
“You endured some trauma.” He gently pointed at her face.
“Oh.” She touched her cheek and winced at the tenderness.
Finn smoothed her wet hair back from her face. “Who did this to you?”
“Fuentes and Paul.”
“Then Paul’s lucky Caleb got to him before me.”
“Miss?” the paramedic said. “We really should take a look at you.”
She nodded, then looked to Finn. “You coming?”
“Darling, I’m never leaving your side again.”
She smiled. That sounded pretty good right about now.
seventy-six
Gabby plopped on the bed, her head spinning. Finn had suggested she stay in his guest room, but with Paul Barnes, aka the Collector, in jail and Fuentes dead, she could finally breathe freely. And with the feelings she and Finn had for one another, it seemed more appropriate for her to stay in her own place, even if it was on his property. Now they just needed to decide what to do with their feelings.
She loved Finn and didn’t want to be separated from him, but what about her job in Raleigh? She loved her job, but she loved Finn. It came down to which she loved more, and deep down she knew the answer.
She moved for the bathroom, needing a hot shower. She’d had a blanket draped over her since the paramedics checked her out, but her clothes had yet to fully dry and . . .
She winced as she looked in the mirror, studying her bruised and scraped face. It looked as if someone had nailed her with a cricket bat. She moved for the shower, turning it on. Grabbing a towel off the stand, she hung it on the hook by the shower door.
Steam filled the room, warmth rushing over her. She bent and slipped off her wet socks, tossing them in the hamper. The bathroom door creaked open, and she stilled. “Finn?”
She must not have fully shut it. No way Finn would enter her bathroom without knocking and calling out first.
She padded along the cool tile floor, her feet leaving a trail of wet prints behind her. She froze when she saw a second, much larger set of wet prints, leading from the entrance to behind the now fully open bathroom door.
