In Harm's Way (A Martin Billings Story Book 3)

by Ed Teja

  While I hung by one, aching arm, I heard footsteps on the deck.

  “Is just men fighting,” Gazele was saying calmly as I reached up to grasp the bar with the second hand. “Men love fighting at parties. They think the girls like it.”

  I gathered my strength and once more launched myself upward, this time swinging a leg up and over the transom. I hooked a heel and pulled with all my might. As I tumbled over the transom and into the cockpit, I saw Nick, standing at the far railing, suddenly turned to face the sound. I had landed with more of a hard thunk than I would’ve liked.

  “Fuck!” Nick shouted. As I scrambled to get on my feet, he pulled an automatic from his waistband. With desperation for motivation, I lunged forward, throwing myself at him, crashing into him before he could bring the gun to bear.

  That was an okay start.

  As we collided, I drove my knee into his gut with all the force I could muster. It’s a clever karate move —the idea is that a knee slamming into your opponent’s breadbasket is supposed to encourage him to drop his weapon. I guess Nick had read the same books, or more likely, studied enough martial arts himself that it didn’t quite work. Prepared, he twisted his body as I plowed into him, deflected the bulk of my attack (mainly that knee) and I slipped past him, my momentum causing me to tumble down on the deck by the railing.

  As I turned to face him, Gazele moved to one side, slightly behind him, getting out of the way, like a smart person does. A bit of rope tied her ankle to the helm. I guess Nick didn’t want her going over the side.

  Nick got to his feet with his back to the cabin, pointing that ugly gun at me. I knew I was too far away to try for it without getting shot. In martial arts, there is a concept called safe distance, and it simply means that given any situation, if the other person is too far away to hurt you with whatever weapon they have, you are safe.

  Unfortunately, at that moment, Nick was the safe one. We both knew he was well out of the range of my kicks or strikes range and, even if my knife had been in my hand already, rather than secure in the leg sheath, it wasn’t intended for throwing. A bullet from his gun, however, could reach me quite nicely. The pleased look on his face told me that he saw all that. Some days even your best efforts can fall short.

  “Shoot me and you lose your chance at Donna,” I said. I wasn’t even sure he cared, but it was worth trying.

  “Yeah,” he said. Then he shrugged. “But you’ll be dead. A fair trade, in my mind.”

  I hadn’t expected to talk my way out of that situation, there was no way I could change the dynamics. Happily, it did give Gazele an opportunity. She slipped a winch handle from the stays and moved close to Nick. I made faces at him to give her time to get close enough to him, and she did, giving the handle a mighty swing. Her aim was perfect.

  As it cracked against his head, the blow staggered him. Knowing that wouldn’t be enough to stop him, I lunged again. This time my timing was better. My head rammed squarely into his belly, slamming his back into the far railing and knocking the wind out of him.

  The gun hit the deck with a satisfying clatter, followed by the roar of Jeff’s boat coming alongside. DANCER rocked as Bill jumped on the deck, landing squarely and rushing toward us, as Jeff held onto the railing and glared.

  “This the man?”

  “No,” Gazele said, laughing. “The man what grabbed me, well, Martin decided he was too small, so he threw him back and caught this one.”

  “Is this the only one?” Bill asked Gazele as he rolled Nick face down and efficiently yanked his hands behind him and tied them.

  “How many you think they got?” she asked, bending down to untie her ankle. “Seems there was just the two of them. The other man left to hunt the woman long time ago. Seems they in a rush to find her.”

  “Any idea why?”

  She shrugged. “They didn’t say. Neither of these boys are real chatty folk.”

  “I guess not.”

  As I went to her Gazele and put my arms around, feeling her return the hug, Jeff came on board, walked over to Nick and gave him a vicious boot. Only then did Jeff hug his sister. Then Bill did the same, while Jeff kicked Nick again.

  “That fucking clock is still ticking,” I said. “I don’t know if noon is the deadline, or just what Nate came up with, but something is pressing. We need to get back to town and help the inspector deal with whatever Donna is planning.”

  “Probably shooting Mr. Miller,” Bill said.

  “Maybe,” I said as I went to the helm and started DANCER’s engine. “Jeff, would get the girls and stuff from the beach?”

  Jeff smiled. “I’d rather be the one that takes this asshole back to town.”

  “No chance, pal,” I said.

  Bill patted his shoulder. “It’s okay, mate. You and I can go get the gals and the gear. Martin and Gazele will bring in the prize.”

  “That would be nice,” Gazele said to her brother. “You can do that, right?”

  Even Gazele could see that the fact that we had opted not to let him rip Nick apart and feed him to the sharks was taking a toll.

  “Why?” he asked.

  “Here is the thing…” she said, “that man cause me a lot of grief, but the point of rescuing me is to make all that grief stop, right?”

  He gave her a quizzical look. “Sure.”

  “If you tear him apart, we can’t take him back, and the discovery of a dismembered body is gonna distract tourists from their important role — buying food and drink from The Barracuda. They even balk at buying boat parts.”

  With that, the man gave in. It was easy to see that he still lived in the hope that Nick might make an escape or give him some other reasonable excuse to let off steam.

  Gazele came up and slipped her arm around my waist. Her body felt so nice, and relief flooded me. I let out a long breath. “When you see us anchor the yacht, come out and pick us up.”

  Jeff gave Nick a wistful look. “You men ain’t no fun,” Jeff said.

  Gazele pressed against me. “I wouldn’t say that,” she said. “No sir, I wouldn’t say that at all.”

  Although Bill had Nick nicely trussed up, I wanted a little more peace of mind. During the ride back I’d be busy steering, navigating, and snuggling with Gazele. Besides, I like to be thorough. As Jeff and Bill headed toward shore, I grabbed up some small ropes and tied him to the helm station.

  Gazele watched me work, standing with her hands on her hips and a beaming, triumphant grin on her face. Then, when I straightened, she inhaled deeply, tilting her face upward toward the sun with her eyes closed. “Lord, this is one fine day,” she said.

  Her look of pleasure made me smile. “It is indeed, now that you are safe.”

  “I knew ya’ll would be here sooner or later.”

  “Did you now? Are we so predictable.”

  She nodded. “I told that man that when you and Bill and Jeff showed up he was going be in a world of trouble,” she said. Then she shook her head. “And there you were. Although… I must say that it is a sad thing when a gal has to help out with her own rescue.”

  “Not so sad as not being rescued at all,” I told her. “Besides, having you helping out was part of my master plan.”

  She grinned. “Is that so?”

  “Sure. I knew you’d need to get your licks in.”

  “You just messing with me, Martin.”

  “Well, here I thought you’d be glad to see me, but if you’d rather stay here with Mr. Muscle — ”

  She ran her eyes over me, then came over and kissed my cheek. “I just funning you, Martin, and I do gotta say you look pretty fine to me right now.”

  When she followed that with an exaggerated wink, there wasn’t much mistaking what she meant. I liked the direction her thoughts were moving in.

  As Gazele and I rounded the point, Jeff roared past us, waving and shouting. All I could think about was that I had her standing close to me again, pressing against me. “Yo
u are right,” I told her. “This is one fine day.”

  23

  On the way around to the yacht basin, I turned on the UHF radio and raised the police station.

  “We are bringing in a suspect in Gazele’s kidnapping,” I told the constable who answered. “Let the inspector know that Gazele is safe and sound.” Those words sounded so lovely in my ears. I also liked the sound of calling Nick a suspect, knowing that ‘suspect’ is typically a lovely legalese word for ‘guilty party’ that gets used in the conversations swirling around booking a man into jail. It certainly got the constable’s attention.

  “Wait a minute,” he said. “I get the inspector.”

  “It’s all good?” Inspector George asked when he came on.

  “Mission is accomplished; Gazele is fine, and Jeff even left Nick’s head on his shoulders,” I said, grinning. “We are bringing their yacht in and intend to leave it at anchor in the yacht basin before we ferry our guest ashore. If you want to arrange a welcoming committee, I’m sure Nick would appreciate a nice basket of fruit.”

  “I’ll send a couple of boys over to the main dock right now,” he said. “They’ll bring an invitation to see me for a nice, friendly chat. I’ll want to get statements from all you and Gazele, but that can wait until later.”

  “Good. Then we will have time for some rum,” I said.

  “I was thinking the soonest I’d need to talk to you to would be after I’ve had a long chat with your friend Nick. I’m thinking that would probably give you folks time for some rum and time to unwind. Maybe I’ll know something by then too.”

  “Damn right, inspector.”

  The inspector’s plan struck me as wonderful. I didn’t particularly need a drink. Gazele’s warm body was intoxicating enough, but it had been an exciting morning, and if we could postpone the inevitable show-and-tell, that was fine with me. We were all coming down from the adrenaline rush, and the idea of unwinding, spending a bit of alone time with Gazele, appealed to me. Given the soft and warm signals she was putting out, I thought she had much the same idea. And, when I winked at her, that sweet smile grew.

  “I’ll handle the anchor,” Gazele said, as we came into the yacht basin.

  “Fine,” I said, reluctantly letting her leave my side, but feeling admiration as she went forward, moving to the bow with the balance and assurance of a competent sailor. This woman knew her way around a boat and I found myself appropriating Bill’s dream of getting myself a junk-rigged boat and sailing around the world. It was just a fantasy, of course, especially the part of having sweet, female company. Gazele’s life had its own direction and goals and I doubted they involved sailing where the wind blew. No, she had a powerful motor that took her where her desire went — even heading directly into the wind.

  At my signal, she undid the chain and the dog that locked the windlass, stepping back to let gravity release the anchor. The little Danforth anchor splashed into the clear water and she supervised the orderly way the rode paid out as it sank to the bottom. As I backed down she held up a hand, signaling me when the anchor was buried, snug in the soft, white sand.

  As I shut down the engine, Jeff pulled alongside in his boat. “Taxi,” he said. He’d already taken everyone else ashore and the boat was empty. He pointed at Nick. “Do you really want me to load that garbage in the boat, or can we tow it behind?”

  It took me a moment, but I got what he meant. “As tempting and sanitary as that sounds, Jeff, Bill promised the inspector the creep would be able to walk to the station,” I said.

  “Actually, I didn’t,” Bill said. “I just said Jeff wouldn’t cut his head off.”

  “We probably should keep him in shape for questioning,” I said.

  Reluctantly, and with an aura of disappointment, Bill and Jeff cut the ropes binding Nick to the helm dragged him into the railing. It took all three of us to shift Nick into Jeff’s boat. Not only was he a big man, but with his hands tied tight behind his back, he made an awkward package.

  I tried not to notice that Jeff might have accidentally punched the man in the gut as he helped him to a seat in his boat. I didn’t say a word. From where I sat, Jeff had shown great restraint, and besides, nothing he’d done hurt me a bit.

  With the cargo secured, Gazele joined us in the boat and Jeff ran it over to the dock. I hopped out as he cut the engines. I made the bowline fast to a cleat on the dock while Jeff grabbed one of Nick’s arms and Bill the other. They pulled him to his feet, then yanked him rather unceremoniously from the boat to dock. He landed unsteadily on his feet, almost toppling over.

  The moment I finished tying the boat, Gazele slipped back alongside me and recaptured my arm, wrapping hers around mine, taking tight possession of it. With the grip she had on it, I wasn’t sure she planned to return it anytime soon. Not that I minded in the least. The physical contact felt good, reassuring, a reminder that she liked my company and I had her beside me again. If her tight grip hadn’t been cutting off the circulation to my arm, I could’ve stayed that way for quite some time.

  As promised, two of St. Anne’s finest waited for us a bit further down the dock. Two strapping young constables in starched khaki uniforms (but at least wearing shorts) stood ready to take charge of the prisoner and lead him to the police station and his interrogation.

  It was a gorgeous morning, and all around us, people milled about the docks, as they do around docks everywhere, selling street food, looking for day work or just idling, but pausing from those endeavors to give us curious, downright quizzical stares. But no one asked a thing. I guess the sight of Jeff’s sour, determined expression was enough to deter idle chit chat or any questions.

  I let out another breath, looking forward to handing Nick over to the constables and making off with Gazele. I had no interest in the rest of the proceedings. When Inspector George finished with politics, he would interrogate Nick.

  With some luck (he’d need it) the inspector might learn what the hell Nick, Nate, and Donna had come here to do. If it wasn’t to kill Steven Miller, well it had to be. I couldn’t think of other options. And the possibility that they had stirred up such a fuss when they’d come here to kill a man, still seemed weird. I hoped the inspector would find some answers.

  I suspect Jeff nourished the vain hope that the inspector would have to release Nick on some technicality. Just in case, I was sure he’d wait around the police station for a time.

  Reality suggested that the likelihood that Nick would tell anyone anything useful was remote, virtually nonexistent. A guy like that had dealt with cops before and wasn’t like to break down and confess to murdering Warren Davis or even jaywalking. Even under the best of circumstances, he tended to be a taciturn person. I was prepared to learn that he refused to tell the inspector anything at all. It was unlikely he’d even admit to being the Nick that the inspector knew him to be.

  Other than Jeff and perhaps Nick, we were all relieved and excited to be wrapping up Gazele’s abduction with no injuries. You can’t argue with an outcome like that.

  I was a bit lightheaded from the crash that sometimes comes after the adrenaline rush that came with the fight. When the body relaxes and senses that the time for being so alert, for idling in high gear, has passed, it goes through a number of phases. I wasn’t as alert as I should have been. No, as I watched the constables each take one of Nick’s arms and lead him down the dock, it was no surprise that my thoughts strayed from him and his future. As Gazele said, I was a selfish man.

  My selfish, self-indulgent thoughts already had shifted my focus to the sensual possibilities that could arise from getting a bottle of rum and crawling into a soft bed with the softer Gazele. From the way she rubbed herself against me, I suspected that the sweet woman on my arm had similar, very amorous inclinations.

  Great minds think alike, after all. Or, if it was just physical, perhaps it was fine bodies lusting alike. I’ll take it either way.

  As we walked away from the dock, toward
her place, I whispered in her ear. “I want you,” I said.

  “You better,” she said, turning her face up to kiss me. Her tongue slipped into my mouth and I let myself feel the passion rising up.

  A shot rang out, echoing off of the concrete the buildings. I turned and saw Nick’s body jerk. In the chaos of the moment, I assumed that someone was trying to help Nick make an escape, but then I saw Nick spinning around. He ripped his arms from the grasp of the constables and his head jerked violently off to one side and he crumpled to the ground, spurting blood from his neck. Even from where I stood, I could see that the back of his head had been shot off.

  I pushed Gazele against a wall behind me, noting that most people froze in place… there wasn’t much to duck behind, anyway. Then, a heartbeat later, Bill and Jeff dashed off in the direction the shot had come from. The onlookers, shocked, scattered like started geese, running in every direction, trying to get away. In a moment they were gone and the docks went deathly quiet.

  I doubted that they’d find the shooter. The shot had come from some distance and if the killer planned things well, she had plenty of time to disappear in the back streets.

  The two constables stood frozen in place. They were in shock. I tucked Gazele against my hip and she put both arms around me and glued herself there, closer to me than I thought possible. Joined like Siamese twins, we went over to where Nick lay on his back. Parts of his head lay in pieces on the dock; dark red blood pooled around his upper body and he stared up at us with a look of surprise and shock on his face, and his eyes in a glassy, fixed stare.

  “Shit!” Gazele said, looking down at him.

  I understood and agreed. Seeing someone murdered right in front of you like that, even someone like Nick, totally ruins the mood.

  24