Maybe his attitude was crap, but he deserved to have a crap attitude. He didn’t know this guy. His priorities all involved getting downstairs as fast as possible.
Ray seemed unaffected by his anger. He gave a quick nod and hiked back towards the parking lot.
Jack wasted no time. Scooping the guns off the lobby floor, he juggled them in the crook of his arm. Awkwardly managing the security console, he gained entrance to the elevator and quickly slipped inside. Through the closing doors he caught a glimpse of the lone figure stooped over an open trunk out in the parking lot.
As the door slid shut, Jack enabled the security codes. Ray Gordon, or whoever he was, would not make it beyond the lobby. If his determination was strong enough there were other ways to take siege on the property, but for now Pennington Marine Science Center was in complete lockdown. It would take time and perseverance to gain access.
Shards of glass dotted the elevator floor, but no traces of blood. He prayed that Olivia had been spared.
Earlier he had keyed in the lower level so he knew that was where Olivia was sent. He waited listlessly as the chamber descended. With his pulse racing off the charts, he clutched his chest and encouraged the numbers to descend faster.
The elevator door rolled open.
“Olivia!”
His voice echoed back in the darkened corridor. As his foot crossed the plane, the sensor for the lights kicked on. “Olivia!”
Charging down the hall he grabbed the doorframe of his office and choked on his trapped breath.
There she was. Sitting in his guest chair with her legs tucked up under her chin, her arms wrapped around them. Her focus on the monitors was so intent she wasn’t even aware of him standing in the doorway. Her head yanked from a view of the parking lot to a view of the pier to a view of the upstairs cafeteria and down to the pulsing red light—one luminous beat in a bank of dark bulbs.
“Olivia,” he whispered softly.
Her shoulders quaked. Slowly her head turned and her eyes met his. The bruise was there, but he only saw the vibrant blue pools glistening with anxiety. He only saw the motion of her lower lip as it trembled on what might have been his name.
She launched from the chair and he was engulfed in warm woman from chin to toe. Her arms locked around his neck.
“I was so afraid a bullet might have ricocheted into the elevator—” his words were husky. Anything else he added was trapped in the crook of her neck.
“You were afraid?” She pulled back slightly to search his face. “I’ve been glued to the monitors, but the angle I wanted was stuck on the front doors. I couldn’t see the elevator. I couldn’t see you. All I saw was broken glass and another man approach with a gun.”
She gasped and clutched his shoulders. Automatically his grip around her waist tightened.
“My God, I thought he—I saw him shoot the FBI agents. Jack,” she pleaded, “I was sure he had shot you as well. How did you escape?”
Something stirred inside him at her raging concern. He had never been on the receiving end of such distress.
“You were worried about me?” he goaded with a brief smile.
A strangled cry of frustration crept from her throat.
As much as he would have liked to hear more about her concern, the fact remained that he didn’t trust the man upstairs. And most importantly, he had to trace the source of that GPS alert.
“Hold onto that answer,” he said with a light scrape of his knuckles under her chin. “Because I definitely want to hear more.”
Sobering, he added, “Those guys weren’t FBI. Warren’s warnings seem to be dead-on. I need to find him, Olivia.” He stared at that pulsing light. “Pray to God that this signal isn’t a fluke.”
Olivia gasped at the revelation and then scrambled backwards as he rounded the desk. She followed and placed her hands on the desktop, leaning forward in anticipation as he pulled up the GPS software. Distracted for a moment by the brief glimpse of ivory flesh across his desk, Jack turned his attention back to the computer.
“The Algonquin is still firing off signals.” His energy level spiked as he mapped out the coordinates. “According to this, she’s about thirty-three miles away.”
Olivia leaned further to see the screen. “It’s off the coast of Isle Au Haut.”
Jack met her eyes.
There was no question that he would pursue that signal, but the journey needed to end here for her.
“I’m going with you.” She read his expression.
Challenging eyes dared him to deny her. Locked in combat with that gaze, he nearly missed the motion on one of the monitors. The tall man, Ray, was on the prowl, circling the grounds on the top level. Soon enough, he would discover that with a rugged hike it was possible to reach the pier from outside the property.
“Dammit!” He swiped a hand over his face. “No. You have to stay here where you’ll be safe.”
“Yeah, yeah. I get that,” she fluttered her hand and swiped away his words, “but we’ve run out of safe places. I make my own safety.”
Jack cocked an eyebrow. “Couldn’t that damn footlocker have washed up on the shore of someone less difficult?”
Rather than respond, she crossed her arms and drilled her fingertips impatiently.
“Well, it’s a good thing you’re a captain, Ms. McKay. I’m going to need your assistance.”
Triumph flashed in her eyes. Clarity lurked there as well. She understood the gravity of the situation. Anyone else might have curled into a ball and demanded to go home. Not Olivia McKay, though. She would undoubtedly find a weapon of her own making and fight any foe with her exemplary self-preservation skills.
It was all admirable, but he feared they were going to end up with the same fate as Warren.
Rounding the desk, he held his hand out to her. “We have to move fast,” he urged.
She hurried alongside him.
“What happened up there?”
“The damn FBI agents were frauds. They would have killed me if it wasn’t for the arrival of the man you saw. He shot them.” Pausing, he opened a doorway with a quick hand-typed code and pulled her through.
“Who was he?” Olivia asked, her face scarred by shadows from the intermittent bulbs above.
This hall was seldom used. There were no light sensors. Only random generator-supplied bulbs sporadically lit the way.
“He said he works for BLUE-LINK.” He kept his voice low. “The owner of that company keeps calling, saying that she is investigating the sinking of the Eclipse ship.”
“That woman that just phoned before?” Clamping a hand over her mouth, she whispered through the gaps in her fingers. “But everyone investigated that disaster back when it occurred.”
“Did they?” He opened another door and reached for Olivia’s hand as they climbed down a metal staircase, the clang of their heels absorbed by the cinder block walls. “I’m beginning to have my doubts. Maybe we all just assumed an investigation was conducted. Maybe the same faction that attacked my uncle stamped out or tampered any search efforts.”
At the bottom, Olivia jogged to keep up with his widening stride.
“I’ve never been one for conspiracy theories, and I know I sound ludicrous—”
“Who can blame you?” she injected. “None of this makes any sense−but there are two dead bodies upstairs, and a man on the loose with a gun.”
“Well, the man with the gun claims that he just stunned those FBI imposters. He said that his boss won’t let him shoot real bullets.”
Olivia snorted. “His boss. The crazy woman who keeps calling you?”
Jack flashed a sexy grin. “Thank you for sharing my derision.”
Drawing to a halt, he faced a console and tapped it until a series of external views flashed on the monitor. None of them revealed signs of Ray, the FBI agents, or any new adversaries. It didn’t settle him. In fact, the opposite. But, for the moment the path to the pier seemed empty.
Yanking his cell phone out of hi
s pocket he pulled up the GPS signal again.
“Do you still see it?” Her nose poked next to his shoulder. He could feel her breath on his hand.
“Yeah. Look—” Turning and clasping her shoulders, he studied her face. The contusion was faint in this dim light. “My plan is to make it out to the Odyssey and track this signal at sea.” His fingers clenched those slim shoulders. “There are many opportunities for f-ups. Just the run to the pier could be dangerous. There’s too much exposure. And if by some miracle I do make it to the Algonquin, God knows what is waiting for me out there.”
Blue eyes narrowed.
“This is your last chance to change your mind,” he warned. “You will be safe in this hallway. You can hang out here and as soon as you feel it is clear, you can call someone. Call Georgie. Have him come pick you up.”
Clamped lips and a shaking head. Did he expect anything else?
“I won’t put him in jeopardy. I told you that.” She inched her chin up. “I’m coming with you. As you said, you’ll need help.”
Keep her here.
Take her with me.
Keep her here.
Take her with me.
The pendulum swung.
“You captain a lobster ship,” he argued. “It’s not the same.”
“Do we have time to call in a professional?”
“No,” he ground out. “Believe it or not, I have commandeered the Odyssey before. With some supervision, of course. But between the two of us, I think we can get out of the harbor. Once we’re in open water, she’s pretty much on auto-pilot.”
“Honestly,” she pointed at the door, “out there, on the water—that’s where I feel safest. That’s where I am in control. Just get me out there, Jack.”
That argument proved the victor. It was a struggle not to kiss her at that moment. Whether it was for encouragement−pride−attraction, he couldn’t be sure. But as soon this door opened there would be no more opportunities. They would be in an all-out sprint and he wouldn’t be able to convey how much he was feeling for this courageous and impulsive woman.
Any gallant intentions were thwarted by the blaring alarm from the wall mount.
“What’s that?” she jolted.
Jack flipped through external camera views until he happened upon Ray on the top level.
“A warning that someone is on private property,” Jack murmured, adroitly tackling the release system on the door.
Sunlight flooded the hallway. Livvy hefted a hand over her eyes and awaited his signal.
Examining the sloped sidewalk and the channel between the trees where a glimpse of water flashed, Jack drew in a deep breath.
“It’s a little over a hundred yards in total,” he cautioned. The trees will conceal us slightly, but we’ll be exposed on this hill.”
“Run like hell, or walk discreetly?” she asked with the sun scoring a hole in her hand.
One final glimpse at the monitors revealed Ray crouching along the front face of the building. It was hard to tell if he had retrieved one of the guns, but it was best to presume so. A rooftop camera scanned the man’s hunkered approach to the far corner of the first floor.
“Definitely the run like hell option.” Jack’s hand settled on her lower back and fisted into the fleece material, preventing her from taking off prematurely. “Head directly to the pier. Don’t look back. I’ll be right behind you.”
“You better be,” she whispered, the breeze whipping golden locks across her cheek.
“I bet I beat you.” He released her jacket.
“Nice,” she responded. “But I don’t need incentive.”
With a gentle tap on his arm she was gone−a lithe body eating up the concrete trail. Swinging his shoulder around the doorframe, he raised his gun to cover her. The gnarled forestry and jagged rocks were a great deterrent for anyone trying to climb down from the parking lot. So far it remained empty and he heard no sign of approach.
One final glimpse and he took off after her, listening to the muffled beat of her sneakers and the caw of a low-flying crow.
CHAPTER NINE
Tempted to glance back, instead, Livvy kept running. At one point she thought she heard his tread behind her, but the sobering notion that it could be someone else’s footfall spurred her pace. Ahead, flashes of the bay cast blinding strobes across the path. She held her course and broke free from the trees, charging across a narrow bridge onto the concrete pier.
Ducking behind a utility shed, she poked her head out to eye the path. It was empty. The only access to the wharf was the bridge she had just crossed over.
Come on, Jack.
Slamming her back against the shed she stared at the Odyssey docked several yards away. Maybe it wasn’t as large or glamorous as the pictures she had seen of the Algonquin, but this vessel was a workhorse.
Perhaps the navy paint had faded over time, and some of the railings were rusted. Maybe its design was outdated compared to the stylish raised pilothouses of modern yachts. Still, it had a solid fiberglass displacement hull that looked like it could bite through the Atlantic as surely as any shark. This trawler would protect them−unlike a 20’ yacht which could not hold up to nature’s vicious slap.
Sobered by that thought her rapid heartbeat lumbered. It kicked into overdrive again at the sound of footfalls pounding across the bridge. She was afraid to peer around the corner. What if it was the wrong man?
Crouched low against the shed, she waited. If it was the enemy that came charging past she could double back undetected. Her head bobbed in sync with the tread, ready to launch. Finally the footfalls slowed to a jog and halted just beyond her viewpoint.
“Olivia?” Jack called out.
Relief made her sag.
Still cautious, she peeked out to find his head turned away from her hiding spot. His broad chest rose and fell on each breath as he searched the path behind him. It was blessedly clear.
“Jack,” she called, stepping out into the sun.
“Thank God.” He leaned over with his hands on his knees.
Analytical eyes scoured her from head to toe like some sort of MRI machine, seeking injury. Satisfied, he glanced back over his shoulder and beckoned with his hand. “Come on.”
On the move again he hastened towards the bobbing gangway. “We have to get this puppy out of the harbor fast.”
Livvy fell into step behind him. “Did you see anyone? That man?”
“No.” Raising the cellphone, he angled it to fend off the glare. “He’s still up top.”
Pausing at the edge of the aluminum gangplank he motioned her ahead of him. “Head straight to the pilothouse. Stairs are to the left for external access. It’s quicker than me unlocking this floor. I’ll be right up. I’m going to untie the ropes.”
Livvy hurried up the plank and felt the comforting sway beneath her. Some people had land legs. Her legs were sturdiest on the ocean. Climbing up the metal staircase, she pulled open the door to the wheelhouse. The interior was comfortably rustic. Modern trawlers might have sophisticated banks of equipment embedded in polished wooden cabinetry. This bridge contained all the necessary components, GPS, voyage system, radar—but they were all piece-meal. Assorted clunky monitors sat atop a counter that ran the length of the bridge—cables thread between them fell into a twisted mass next to the pilot chair. Exposed like this, it made it easier for her to identify each component.
“Want me to start these up?” she asked as she heard Jack enter the wheelhouse behind her.
“Sure.”
A brief glimpse at him revealed a tense expression as he worked on the GPS.
“I’m keying in these coordinates,” he reported, holding his cell phone in one hand and typing with the other.
Livvy didn’t waste any time. She stooped down and tugged on cabinet doors until she located the panels she was looking for.
“Can I start the motors?”
Jack raised an eyebrow. “Yeah. We need to move.” He cast her a quick glance. “Let me kn
ow if you have questions. This tank is a handful.”
“She may be larger than I’m used to, but she’s still a trawler at heart.”
“I never would have considered this vessel a female,” he said as he rubbed his elbow against a side window to make a hole in the condensation.
“Master power switch on,” Livvy announced as she threw the switch. “DC main panel switch on. Engine heater on.” She flicked another switch and then righted herself, reaching across the counter. “Radar on.”
An alarm sounded as the engine heater warmed the ignition. It jarred her, but she took up position at the wheel and the ringing ceased.
“Shit.” Jack slapped down his phone and reached for his gun.
“Oh my God,” Livvy grimaced, noticing the tall man that had just jogged out from between the trees.
“We’re moving,” she cried.
“Thatta girl. You’re doing great,” he encouraged with a gravelly voice. “I’ll be over in a second. I just want to make sure he doesn’t open fire.”
Eyeing the bay, and then validating her assumptions by viewing the navigational monitors, Livvy pulled the wheel left. There was enough water for them to execute a literal U-turn and head out to sea.
On the wharf, the man noticed their departure and launched into an all-out sprint across the bridge. Beside her Jack tensed, his Glock aimed through a portion of the window he had slid open.
“Move. Move. Move,” he ordered the boat.
It was hard to outrun a bullet with a trawler that probably topped off at 35mph once it hit open water. Livvy leaned closer to the equipment, trying to minimize herself as a bull’s-eye.
Beneath her encouraging hands the Odyssey cast away from the pier and began its wide arc. A cloud of disgruntled seagulls blinded her for a moment. She switched to the monitors for assistance.
In that instant she noticed that the man had reached the end of the bridge and was waving them back.
Yeah right.
Seeing that they would clear the turn, she gave the engine a little more juice. Jack slid the window shut and placed a hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently.
Mist Page 11
