by Nicole Snow
“Aye, aye, Captain!” Nate shouts, an otter of a man with tall, lean muscles. Laughing, he adds, “That’s the beauty of having this rig. They’re gonna think it’s their own guys until we’re right up their ass.”
“Pour on the coals!” Davis shouts.
“This won’t be easy. We’ll need to bail out at high speed,” I tell Davis, Cash, Wallis, and Frank, all good men who’d been in Bali with me. “The water’s hard and rough. Keep your wits.”
“The ladders are on the back of the boat at ten o’clock and eight o’clock. The skiff is hanging at three o’clock on the starboard side,” Cash says, while everyone gets into position. “So far, I’ve counted five people, not including the two hostages. Seven total. Probably more lurking around somewhere.” He then lists off the location of the five known targets, plus Ray and Valerie.
My heart is already a war drum. Adrenaline pumping full blast.
But this time, there’s more going on inside me.
Fear. Panicked knowing that something could still happen to her.
If this goes sideways, there won’t be a second chance.
Everyone calls out their target. Cash takes two, and so do the other guys.
“The hostages,” I say. “I’ll secure them.”
Val’s name sticks in my throat.
“Ready, my man?” Nate asks.
I focus on what’s happening. At the right speed, we’ll ram them head-on, dealing a fair amount of damage to the yacht.
We have to bail before the collision, just at the right moment. They all know it and so do I.
“Ready,” I tell him. “Wait for my mark.”
He throws the throttle forward. The boat bounces as it slams hard against each wave crest. I’m calculating the distance, counting the seconds. Like the others, I’m up on the edge, crouched down and holding on until the precise minute.
The motor whines at breakneck speed, but faint shouts can still be heard coming from the yacht. They see us now. They realize we’re not stopping.
I hold myself back from jumping, just like the rest of my crew. Ten more seconds.
We drive on. A few bullets blaze past, darting into the churning waves around us.
The boat is almost on the ship when I shout, “Now!”
It’s like diving into a sheet of fucking plywood.
The impact of the speedboat hitting the yacht’s hull sends glass and metal flying everywhere, shrapnel confetti whizzing into the water from a thousand points. Fighting the debris and the waves, I swim to the boat and scurry up the ladder.
The shock on the face of the first man I encounter says we’ve got them with their pants down.
“This one’s mine!” Davis shouts, leaping over the railing and barreling into the dude head first.
I run for the last place I saw Val, dodging my men as they leap over the rails. The yacht is listing, taking on water fast from the way it’s tipping.
As I round the deck, I see them.
Joel Cornaro himself has his gold-plated gun on Ray with one hand, holding Valerie by a fistful of hair with the other. I can hear the skiff being lowered, and I race forward.
He turns, sees me, and shoves Ray over the edge of the rail.
Fuck!
Then he turns the gun on me and fires. I duck, hearing the bullet ping off the wall beside me, before I’m charging forward again.
Cornaro snarls, climbing over the rail, pulling Valerie over with him.
Shit, I’m hauling ass, but it’s not fast enough.
Everything’s happening in slow motion.
Something in her hand shimmers.
Cornaro shouts, and they both go over the edge.
“Fliiint!”
Her scream nearly guts me.
Huffing hot breath, I reach the spot where they fell over. All three are in the skiff, jostling around against the dark waves.
Hardly any relief.
Cornaro frantically works his hands, unhooking the chains as the boat slides into the water.
I dive over the edge after them.
Hit the water just as the small boat’s motor whirls to life. With a burst of pure rage, I surge forward, and catch the side of the skiff.
There are shouts, screams, thuds. I’m struggling to hoist myself up; the waves are so ferocious they throw me back like angry tentacles.
A gun goes off then, blasting several more bullets into the water. One whizzes past my ear.
Joel Cornaro sees me, gives me a killing look, and swings an oar at my face.
Shit!
Dodging by an inch, I grab the end and pull, twisting it away from him. It falls over the side, into the churning water.
Then, as I haul myself onto the edge, something in Valerie’s hand shimmers again in the dull light.
“You’re dead, Calum!” Cornaro roars, taking a second to give me a death glare, wielding that gold Colt like a rock. Maybe he’s out of ammo, but he’ll still try to use it to kill me by blunt force.
“Miss me, you puke?” I grin, distracting him.
It works.
Val is on him a second later, reaching around from behind to Cornaro’s face. She drags something sharp and menacing across his head.
He barely has a chance to roar before blood spills down his cheek, the skin hanging open.
Grabbing his gun off the floor, he fights her off and aims again, dazed but not defeated.
Shit, maybe he’s not as depleted as I thought.
“Valerie!” I yell, leaping forward, knocking her to the floor of the skiff as two more loud shots ring out.
Keeping her body covered, I twist and scan for Cornaro, who’s stumbling backward from a kick by Ray, who lies on the floor of the boat.
The bastard catches his footing and levels his gun on him.
“Stay down!” I tell Val, leaping to my feet, kicking the gun as it fires.
The bullet misses Ray, but hits the motor, which sputters and dies.
Cornaro still has the gun and swings it my way.
I grab it by the barrel and flip it around, forcing his hands back, so the gun points dead at him.
Blood pours down his cheek in rivulets. Val must’ve had a knife.
Leave it to her to find a way to fight back. Proof of the gumption and strength she always denies having.
Screaming, Cornaro drops the gun and rushes forward, head down.
I grab his matted hair with one hand, snap his head up, and level a punch square at his nose.
There’s a loud crunch!
His head snaps back, but I still have him by the hair, and strike again.
I’m winding up for my third and final blow, but he’s already limp.
I want to fucking murder him, beat him into a slurry of meat and blood where he stands, but he’s still breathing. And I know taking him alive would be invaluable to all the other countless people he’s destroyed over the decades.
Growling back my own white-hot rage, I release him with a parting kick to the ribs as he drops to a heap on the floor.
Then there’s just Val, standing beside me.
One look in her bright-gold eyes brings me as close to crying as I’ve been since the day I thought Bryce was in that Jeep his junkie mama rolled.
She falls into my arms, or I pull her in like mad.
I don’t know who’s first. Don’t care.
She’s alive.
She’s in my arms.
She’s safe.
And even the choppy waves pelting us with frigid spray, pushing the skiff out into the dark sea, can’t ruin this moment.
“I thought I’d never see you again.” She lifts her face. “Ever.”
“Never a chance of that happening,” I say. “The people who love me know I’m hard as hell to get rid of.”
She smiles and flushes, her eyes squeezed shut, holding back the sobs I feel racking her body.
I kiss her, hold her, and then fucking kiss her some more.
It’s a battle, but I finally drag my lips off hers beca
use there’s still work to be done. We’re drifting farther from the yacht, farther from shore, into an unsettled darkness that’ll kill us just as swiftly as Cornaro if we give it half a chance.
“You okay, babe?” I ask, my number one priority.
“Yes, I’m fine, but Ray...” She glances at her brother. “Ray!”
Her brother moans weakly. He’s turned this pale, ghostly color.
“He’s bleeding out!” She drops to the floor beside him and looks up at me.
I crouch down next to her. Blood covers the side of his leg, a new injury he must’ve taken in the fight with the mob boss.
“Give me your knife,” I tell her. “I have to cut his pant leg open. See how bad he’s been shot.”
“I don’t have a knife,” she says.
“Then what did you cut Cornaro with?”
“A piece of glass from the table he broke.”
“Glass?”
“Yes, it’s...around here somewhere.” She crawls around, feeling the boat floor. “I dropped it when you landed on top of me.”
“Never mind!” I rip open Ray’s pant leg, examining the wound. “Luckily, the bullet just grazed him, deep enough to make him bleed a lot, but...it’s not good on top of the beating he took earlier.”
“Here, I found a first aid kit.” She hands me a gauze pad. “Open that while I find some tape.”
“Just give me the gauze,” Ray says, his voice a whisper. “I’ll...I’ll hold it.”
“You’re sure you can?” I ask him.
He nods. Pointing with his chin, he asks, “What are we going to do with him?”
I turn and do a double take at Cornaro. He’s leaning against one of the seats, still out cold, now with an orange plastic life ring wrapped around him, pinning his arms to his sides. It’s like something out of a cartoon.
I glance at Val. “When did you do that?”
“The life ring was right next to the first aid kit.” She smiles and holds up some rope. “I found this, too.”
“Just toss him overboard, let the damn sharks have him.” I’m only half joking.
Deep down, I’m still wrangling with the notion of keeping this motherfucker alive.
“No,” Val says.
“That’s what he was going to do with us,” Ray tells her.
“I know, but it’s too risky,” she answers. “Someone might rescue him. It happened to me, so it could happen to him, too, and I’m not taking that chance. He needs a cell.”
“Well, I hate to tell you this, sis, but we need a rescue. The motor ate a bullet. So did the battery, there’s only one paddle, and I can’t even begin to guess how far we are from the yacht.”
I scan the water, searching for the yacht, which is on its side, this beached whale sinking fast. It’s also too far away.
Holy shit.
We’re several miles out at sea, being blown away from shore. Even with two paddles, maneuvering this boat all the way back would be fuck-hard in this current.
With one oar, it’s not even an option.
Just then, the air fills with what sounds like the heavy beating of a drum. I grin, knowing that sound, and I know who sent it. My buddy Wes Anderson with the FBI.
“It’s a helicopter,” I say. “We have to find a light. Flares or something. My flashlight won’t be strong enough for them to see us from here.”
Val and I search every nook and compartment but come up with nothing. The chopper spots the yacht and hovers over it, but a boat this size, without a light or reflection of any kind, may as well be invisible.
Damn!
Val tries shouting and waving, screaming herself hoarse.
I hate stealing away her hope, but there’s no sense in wearing herself out.
“They can’t hear you,” I say, wrapping my arms around her waist. “The chopper’s too loud.”
The helicopter makes wider circles around the yacht, shining its lights in the water, noticing the flares being sent up by my crew. It won’t come out this far. Hell, I’m not even sure my men know we’re in the skiff. They’ll notice it’s missing, sure, but it’s a big fucking ocean out here.
The chopper turns, heading back around the yacht again.
Give me a fucking break. Just one!
Dropping my gaze to the water, I grunt out a sigh.
It’s a savage irony. No sooner than I found the woman I truly want to spend the rest of my life with, and saved her from a madman, now we’re lost at sea.
Something snags my attention in the water. I peer in harder.
It can’t be...can it?
A new rush ignites my blood. I grab our only paddle and start shoving it into the water.
“Flint, no. You’ll never be able to paddle us that far,” Val says, tugging gently at my arm. “Save your strength. The sea just keeps getting rougher. There’ll be big swells before long.”
“I’m not going for the yacht,” I say, already making long strokes. “I’m only going right over there, a few feet away.”
She gazes in the direction I’d pointed, and squints. “What’s that?”
The glistening object surfaces again, confirming the shit-eating grin already on my face.
“A bale of turtles. Their backs, reflecting in the moonlight. If we get close enough, and they surround us, I’ll be able to shine my flashlight on ’em. That’ll get the chopper’s attention.”
“Sea turtles?” She grins and bites her lips together, nodding her head. “Seriously?”
I know exactly what she’s thinking. “Couldn’t be more fitting.”
“I do like them, you know,” she says.
Holding in a laugh, I ask, “Have you ever thought about giving turtle tours for real?”
We both burst out laughing.
“I have a feeling I’m missing something,” Ray says.
“Oh, just a new hobby I might take up someday,” Valerie says, smiling.
When we’re closer, I try my trick, hoping like hell it works.
My flashlight beam brings them closer when I fire it up, arcing the light through the darkness at their shells every time the turtles surface, surrounding the boat. Their greenish backs glisten like white diamonds, missing stars sparkling in the darkness.
The chopper makes a wide pass around the yacht, then peels away a minute later.
Soon, it’s overhead, and someone’s voice comes blasting through a speaker, telling us the Coast Guard is en route.
I drop the paddle, and once again, wrap my arms around Val.
That’s exactly where she stays until long after the Coast Guard arrives.
All of my men are accounted for and in one piece.
Cornaro’s men, too, handcuffed and hurt to varying degrees.
Wes Anderson is onboard the Coast Guard boat, along with other agents, and takes Cornaro and his men into custody.
The bastard flashes me a look that could make hell itself freeze over.
Enough of this fuckery. I nod at Wes, gesturing to take the prick away, before he even gets a final word.
He’ll have plenty of grand bullshit speeches to keep him company when he’s rotting away in a six by eight cell.
Later, Val and I sit at a table in the galley, heading for port. Cash appears, having just finished bandaging up Ray with another medic. He grabs her hands.
“Let me see them,” he says sharply.
I tug her a bit closer to my side. “See what?”
She sheepishly bows her head at the frown Cash gives her.
“Her hands,” he gives me a look like I should already know. “Haven’t you noticed how she’s been hiding them?”
“No.” I reach down, lifting one of her hands, which she’s balled into a fist.
“Open it,” Cash says.
“They’re fine!” Val insists.
“Babe, open,” I say, wondering what’s up.
She huffs out a breath and finally does.
Seeing one of the long gashes across her palm, I frown, grabbing her other hand. It’s no
t as bad, but it also has a nasty scratch. It dawns on me then.
“The glass you used on Cornaro?” I say.
“I had to keep it hidden,” she whispers. “Couldn’t let him see it between my fingers.”
Cash goes to work on both hands, covering them with ointment and bandages. “Luckily, you won’t need stitches, but they’ll be very tender for a while. Go easy on her,” he tells me.
“Fuck off back to your birds,” I spit back. Then I grab his thick hand and reel him in, shaking it so hard it jostles his whole body. “But thanks, man. We wouldn’t be here without you.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he mutters, pulling away and dusting himself off. “I’ll leave you two to your kissy faces.”
I rub her back. Kiss her temple. I have the urge to tell her how dangerous that glass could’ve been, but she isn’t stupid.
This entire escapade was danger central, and the way she used those chunks of glass on Cornaro was as much a reason why we caught him as everything else. “You’re tough stuff, Valerie Gerard.”
“I suppose.” She looks up at me with an impish grin. “Tough enough to put up with you.”
I lift a brow. “That a challenge?”
She straightens her shoulders, gives me a solid once-over, and laughs. “Nope. That’s a fact, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
21
Open Mic (Valerie)
“You’re sure you’re sure?” Wes Anderson asks.
I nod, feeling like a bobblehead.
I’ve done a lot of nodding today at endless questions.
Truly, I’m not sure of anything right now, but the thought of being pulled into more cloak and dagger stuff just makes my stomach hurt.
Sighing, he leans forward, giving me a tense look. “You realize with the cache of information we collected at King Heron Fishing, we’re going to RICO the entire Cornaro Outfit, here and abroad. It’ll take months—you know how legal moves—and rats will be coming out of the woodwork. Implementing a witness protection program for you and your family would help ensure your safety during that time, Ms. Gerard.”
Flint lays his hand over mine. “He’s right. Still plenty of pricks out there trying to save their own skins.”
