by Connie Mann
She’d failed. Again.
And someone she cared about had died. Again.
She picked up the bottle of tequila and studied it. Saliva pooled in her mouth just thinking of how it would taste. She brought the bottle closer, inhaled the sweet scent of oblivion.
She squeezed her eyes shut, fighting the urge to gulp it down with everything in her.
Blaze’s picture mocked her.
Hand shaking, she brought the bottle to her lips. She paused, temptation like a coiled snake, and then, before she could give in, she threw the bottle against the wall, where it shattered and filled the room with the smell of regret.
Cat pulled her knees to her chest and watched the tequila run down the wall while she gulped in air, fighting tears.
She leaned her head back and cursed herself for being a fool.
Her eyes suddenly popped open.
She studied the shattered glass, then scrambled to her feet and hurried over to inspect the pile. She picked up and discarded several shards before she found one that would make a suitable weapon.
She wouldn’t put it past Garcia for one nanosecond to have drugged Blaze or doctored the photo. Until she knew for sure—and she gulped at what that meant—she’d go on believing that Blaze was still alive and waiting for Cat to come help her.
Blaze hadn’t had a lot of people in her life show up for her. Cat swore she’d be the one who came through.
Or die trying.
When Cat heard footsteps coming toward her stateroom, she grabbed a piece of glass in each hand and stood beside the door, ready to pounce.
The door opened, and she leaped at the guy who opened the door, jabbing the glass straight into his center mass. He was built like a mountain, and Cat’s strike hit him just below the collarbone. He yelled as he jerked away and yanked out the glass. The tray he’d been holding clattered to the floor as Cat tried to rush past him and into the hallway. He grabbed his chest where blood poured from the wound and then swung his other arm out to stop her forward momentum.
Cat bounced off his beefy arm and immediately tried to jab him again, but he was quicker than he looked. Before she could reach him, he sidestepped and whipped a gun from his shoulder holster.
She spun around and knocked the gun from his hand with her leg. He cursed and reached for her again, but she twisted out of his reach and lunged for the door.
She’d almost made it when he grabbed the back of her shirt and yanked her backward against his chest. His other arm came around her neck, and the gun bumped her temple. “Quit it,” he muttered, but she ignored him.
She kicked backward, twisted and turned like a whirling dervish to try to free herself, but he simply tightened his hold. She refused to give in. She reached around with the shard of glass she held in her left hand and stabbed the arm he had wrapped around her neck.
Shock made him let go, and she ducked under his arm and flew down the short hall with him right on her heels. She ran up the stairs and didn’t slow down even when another black-suited goon on the upper deck turned at the sound of her footsteps.
Without thought, she raced along the narrow outside hallway, ignoring the wire railing that was all that separated her from the water below. When Manuel appeared in front of her, she knew she was out of options.
She glanced over her shoulder at the bleeding hulk closing in, then sent Manuel another quick glance. For a big guy, he moved fast.
Cat looked down, way down, where the water lapped the sides of the boat. She hated the water.
She sent Manuel a smile and jumped. She didn’t know how deep it was but figured the big boat, yacht, whatever, needed deep water, right?
The water closed over her head, and she fought the usual panic. She started flailing her arms, eventually finding her rhythm as she made her way to the surface. The moment her face cleared the water, she gulped in air. But in the next second, bullets hit the water far too close to her head for comfort.
Right. Guns. On the boat.
She dove under the water. She swam parallel to the boat, popping up like an otter every few yards to catch her breath and check Manuel and the others’ location. They kept pace, firing every time she popped up. Drat the moonlight.
She sucked in air and dove down again, trying to stay far enough below the surface that she wouldn’t get shot.
Once she reached the back end of the boat—the stern?—she glanced right and left, trying to decide which way to go. Off to her right were two more docks farther away, no boats near them, so no place to hide.
To her left was another big mansion, with another dock and another big boat. If she could get behind that, she’d be able to get to shore without being seen. She spun in that direction, gulped air, and dove again, kicking with all her might to get as far toward the next boat as she could before they realized what she intended.
She swam through the dark water, salt stinging her eyes, and hoped she was closing in on the dock. Her lungs were desperate for air, and her legs and arms were exhausted, but she kept pushing forward. Just a little farther.
When her lungs felt about to burst, she quietly eased her head up and tried to take a breath without making a sound. She looked up, relieved to be in the shadow of a boat that looked even bigger than the one she’d just leaped off. She swam around it to the other side, out of view of the goons who were after her.
It seemed to take forever, and her legs and arms felt like wet noodles, but finally, finally, she found herself in sight of the seawall. She kept swimming and almost wept with relief when she spotted a ladder attached to one of the dock pilings.
She climbed up as fast as her tired legs would go. She couldn’t seem to catch her breath, but she didn’t slow down. It wouldn’t take them long to figure out where she’d gone.
Staying behind the boat, she ran up the dock. She peeked around the front of the boat, didn’t see anyone running toward her, so she hurried up the dock and onto the paved walkway, then veered sharply to the right and ran around the stucco fence that ended at the water, desperate for a place to hide.
Nick snatched up the phone when it finally rang. “Avery. Thanks for calling me back. Have you rented any other big properties near Safe Harbor recently? Especially on the Gulf?”
“Was the address I gave you not the place you were looking for?”
“It was. Thank you. Did Cat ask about any others?”
“Is this part of an official investigation? Otherwise, I don’t know how I feel about sharing that information.”
Nick snorted. Avery Ames prided herself on reporting only facts in her newspaper, but she didn’t hesitate to hint and speculate when she was talking to the locals. She liked having knowledge others didn’t. “Now is not the time, Avery. Tell me what you know. And yes, it’s part of an investigation.”
“And you’ll give me an exclusive interview?”
“I’m sure the chief will do that. Afterward.”
There was a long pause. “OK. Here’s the other address. It was rented by a corporation named GDH Enterprises. It’s right on the Gulf.”
He scribbled it down on a scrap of paper. “Thank you, Avery. Do you know if they rented a boat, too?”
“The place came with a nice-size yacht on deep water.”
He thanked her and hung up. Just as he did, the door to the station opened, and Wally, who owned the Gas-N-Go, walked in. Nick glanced at the clock, surprised the man was here so late.
“Hey, Nick. I got those tapes you wanted,” Wally said, holding up several videotapes.
Nick glanced up from the GPS bird’s-eye view of the property Avery had just given him, his mind already on how he was going to get to Cat without alerting Garcia or his goons.
“Thanks, Wally. You brought the ones from Saturday night up until now?”
“Just like you asked.” He paused, rocked back on his heels. “I had to buy a couple more blank ones, though, since I’m giving you these.”
Nick resisted the urge to roll his eyes. The guy made regular t
ightwads look like big spenders. “Bring me a receipt, and I’ll make sure you get reimbursed.”
Wally thanked him and left. Nick stuck the tapes into his desk drawer and hurried out. Once he found Cat and Blaze, he’d focus on finding Teddy’s murderer.
Turning on his lights but leaving the siren off, he headed out of town. No sense waking everyone as he went by.
He hadn’t gone ten miles when he came around a bend in the road and slammed on his brakes. A tractor trailer lay on its side across the road, another car halfway under it. It must have just happened, as there were no emergency vehicles on the scene yet.
He pulled off the road and called dispatch as he ran, shouting instructions.
Once out of sight, Cat crashed through the woods, desperate to get to the road. She knew she shouldn’t make any noise, but somehow, moving fast to get out of sight felt like the wiser choice. If she remembered right, the gravel road was only about a mile long before it connected with the paved two-lane road. Another few miles on that one, and she’d hit the convenience store at the intersection of US-19. Which sounded so easy and quick if you had a car.
She stopped, leaned against a pine tree, and panted, trying to catch her breath and shore up her strength to keep going. In a perfect world, she would grab her car, but she didn’t think Garcia’s men had conveniently put her keys in the ignition on the off chance she’d come by to get it.
She didn’t think she’d find her violin lying out in the open, either, even if she risked going back for it. Pain sliced her heart at the idea of leaving her one real link to her parents behind forever, but she couldn’t think about that now.
When she heard a car coming down the road, she ducked behind some scrub palms, wincing when the thorny spines scratched her skin. She waited, thighs aching from her crouch, and peeked through the fronds, trying to see if it was Garcia’s men.
Sure enough, one of his black SUVs came into view from the direction of the mansion. She couldn’t see the driver, but the man in the passenger seat looked like Captain Barry. Was he involved with Garcia, too?
She ducked down, gritting her teeth against the swarming bugs until the car was no longer visible. Once the SUV passed, Cat worked her way back toward the road, each step agony on her battered feet.
Exhausted and unsteady, she stumbled, and suddenly the ground fell away. She fell headlong into a black hole and landed with a thud.
Her eyes blinked open for a moment and then slid closed.
Blaze was her last thought.
Chapter 30
The sun was barely over the horizon when Nick pulled up to Garcia’s mansion. He’d been at the accident scene most of the night. As soon as he’d finished there, he’d grabbed a shower and more coffee and headed this way. He wasn’t surprised when the big, imposing gate swung open the moment he gave the disembodied voice his name.
He let out a low whistle as he climbed out of his official SUV. While Richard Wang’s place bespoke casual elegance, this Mediterranean-style monstrosity simply screamed money. Pots of it.
A black-suited man built like a linebacker answered the door and, without saying a word, led him down a long hallway to a large room overlooking the Gulf. A beauty of a yacht, easily fifty feet long, lolled at the dock. The whole setup was pretty darn impressive, which was no doubt part of the reason Garcia had rented it.
Nick walked over to the wall of windows to investigate, checking out the neighboring docks and yachts, trying to figure out where Garcia was holding Cat.
He glanced over his shoulder as Garcia entered the room. “Nice place.”
Garcia smiled and stepped behind the massive desk set off to one side, angled to take advantage of the views. He indicated a chair in front for Nick, like a genial host. “It’ll do while I’m here.” What was it with these guys and suits, especially in this heat? Like Wang, Garcia kept the air conditioning set cold enough for frostbite.
“How long are you planning to stay in Safe Harbor?”
Garcia’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I haven’t decided yet. Though I do like this provincial little town.”
Nick refused to take the bait. “What brought you here?”
“Business.” He folded his hands over his expansive stomach as he leaned back in the chair.
“What kind of business exactly?”
“Mainly import and export, but I’m guessing you already know that, Officer.”
“And drugs.” Nick kept his eyes on Garcia’s, but there was no reaction whatsoever. No widening of pupils or any other tell. He hadn’t really expected one, but he’d hoped.
“I’m a busy man, Officer. So please let me know what brings you to my home this early in the morning.”
“Where is Cat Martinelli?”
“You are assuming I know who that is, I imagine. You’ll have to enlighten me, Officer.”
Nick’s patience strained its leash, but he knew how these games were played. He smiled, all teeth. “You know, Cat, aka Catharine Wang, aka the niece of your business rival Richard Wang.”
“Oh, Catharine. She was a lovely girl. How old is she now?” He considered. “Probably late twenties. Tell me, is she still as beautiful as she was as an unspoiled young teenager?”
Fury knotted the back of Nick’s neck, and he clenched his jaw. If he found out Garcia had put his hands on Cat when she was young . . . But he shoved that thought away. For now. First, he had to find her. “I have it on good authority that Cat came to see you yesterday. She didn’t come home, and her family is worried about her.” He shrugged. “The Martinellis’ daughter Blaze is missing, too. They’re worried.”
“And you think they came here?” He spread his hands. “Why would you think such a thing? I don’t understand.”
Nick studied the man, weighing his next move. Unlike chess, the stakes here were much, much higher.
“Blaze has been trying to find out what happened to her friend Theodore Winston, the young man who died recently.”
“That was a terrible tragedy. Have you figured out what he died of yet?”
“Scopolamine.”
At that, Garcia’s eyes widened, though the reaction could have been feigned. He shook his head. “I have heard that is a very dangerous drug. How did it come to be here in Safe Harbor?”
Nick hid his frustration. “I’m still trying to figure that out. What do you know about it?”
Garcia had the gall to laugh. “You are quite amusing, Officer Stanton, with your obvious fishing expedition. If you are worried about a dangerous drug in Safe Harbor, I suggest you look much closer to home. I am merely a businessman renting a vacation retreat.”
Nick was done with the game. “Where is Cat?”
“I do not know. She is certainly not here.”
“Prove it.”
“I don’t have to prove a thing.”
“True. But if I have to come back with a search warrant, there’s no telling what will turn up.”
Garcia’s eyes narrowed, voice quiet. “Are you threatening me?”
“No, sir. Wouldn’t dream of it. Just asking for your cooperation.”
Garcia drummed his fingers on the desk, then seemed to come to a decision. He waved a hand at the man still standing guard by the door. “Ramon will go with you. Feel free to look wherever you’d like in my home. But you won’t find anything, because Catharine isn’t here. But if you want to waste your time looking, be my guest.” He waved Nick away and pulled out a cell phone.
He’d been dismissed.
Nick reined in his frustration. Garcia wouldn’t have made the offer if Cat were here, which meant he’d moved her somewhere else and this was nothing but a way to waste his time. Time he didn’t have. Time he needed to find Cat.
Still, he dutifully followed Ramon from room to room, checking every closet and under every bed. They checked the grounds and garden sheds, and after that, Nick searched every square inch of the yacht. There was no sign of her, or of any illegal activity, but Nick knew she’d been here recently.
In one of the staterooms, he stopped, sniffed. He crouched down near the wall. The carpet was damp, and the stench of tequila hadn’t quite been masked by disinfectant. He must have been holding her here.
He turned to Ramon. “Please thank Mr. Garcia for his cooperation.”
Ramon nodded. “I’ll walk you out.”
Nick scanned the estate as he walked out to his car. Where was Cat now? And was Blaze with her?
Cat woke slowly, every muscle in her body aching. Sunlight filtered down, and she realized she was lying in what looked like a sinkhole. Thankfully, it wasn’t very deep, and she managed to climb out. She slowly ventured back toward the side of the road. The soles of her feet were raw from all the debris she’d stumbled over, and every step was agony. At least, alongside the road, there was a bit of sand and grass mixed with the gravel, which made the walk a bit easier.
She limped along, sweating in the humidity, trying to stay focused on her goal. What had taken her only a few minutes by car seemed to take ten years now. But she could do this, doggone it. For Blaze. She was in good shape. This should be a piece of cake, right? Except she hadn’t had anything to eat or drink in . . . she couldn’t remember how long. Her throat felt parched, and her hands were starting to shake.
She heard the sound of a vehicle coming down the road. Was it coming toward her or away from Garcia’s? She wasn’t sure. The humidity was starting to make her dizzy. She needed water.
It was safe to assume these were Garcia’s men out looking for her, however, so she stumbled into the woods lining the road, out of sight.
She was trying to be quiet but knew she was doing a terrible job of it. She took another step and fell, scraping her palms as she hit the ground. Lying there, panting, cheeks stinging, she waited until the sounds of the car faded in the distance.
Then she levered herself up and gingerly kept going.
She hadn’t taken twenty steps when a click sounded behind her. Cat froze, then slowly turned toward the two men with guns aimed her way.
“Not so fast, girly. Mr. Garcia ain’t done with you yet.”
