Pleasure Cruise Shot To Hell (The Bullet-Riddled Yacht Book 1)

by Jay Giles

  “Mon, you know what to do,” Red Stripe said.

  Do-rag and Wild Eyes disappeared into the lounge.

  Red Stripe watched us intently, as if, now that he was alone, we’d try something. When we didn’t, he grinned. “Where you good folks headed?”

  “Florida,” I said.

  He grinned so big, we got to see his inner little kid. “Disneyland. You are going to a magical place.”

  A tense silence followed until Do-rag and Wild Eyes returned. Do-rag leaned his head close to Red Stripe and whispered into his ear.

  “So you four have this large boat all to yourselves,” Red Stripe said.

  I kept silent, not knowing where this was headed.

  “It would be a shame to let all this space go to waste, right, mon?”

  Again, I kept silent.

  Wild Eyes reached out and tried to steal a carrot from Su. She smacked his hand. Shocked, he quickly pulled his hand back.

  Red Stripe tilted his head back and let out a roar of laughter. “Perhaps, since you have so much room,” he said once his laughter had subsided, “you would not mind helping us. We have cargo that must be taken north.”

  I had a good idea what his cargo was. “You don’t want this boat. She has engine problems. Who knows how long it’ll take us to get where you want us to go or whether we’ll get there at all.”

  “He’s telling you right,” Nestor piped up. “Both engines are running on their last legs. Have a look if you don’t believe me.”

  Red Stripe scowled, nodded at Wild Eyes. “Take their phones.”

  Wild Eyes got right in my face, daring me. Reluctantly, I handed over my sat phone. He casually tossed it over the side. So much for Sloane’s regular reports.

  Ollie already had his phone out. It joined mine in the drink.

  He moved on to Nestor, who made a face. “Like I can afford a phone.” He snorted. Wild Eyes patted him down, anyway.

  “Check his bunk,” Red Stripe told Do-rag as Wild Eyes moved over to Su.

  I knew she had a cell phone, and doubted she’d give it up easily.

  Wild Eyes held his hand out for it.

  “No,” she said defiantly.

  Wild Eyes slugged her. A hard right cross to her lower cheek that put her on the deck and sent carrots and peeler flying. Wild Eyes stood over her, waiting for her to get up so he could hit her again.

  “For God’s sake, Su, give him your phone,” Ollie said nervously.

  Su glared at Wild Eyes.

  “Miguel, take it from her,” Red Stripe ordered.

  Wild Eyes straddled her, his hands reaching down, not for her phone, but for her breasts.

  “Pig,” Su grunted and kicked him in the crotch. Wild Eyes doubled over, groaning in pain. Su kicked again and caught him under the chin. His head bobbed, but the kick was too weak to do any real damage.

  “Enough,” Red Stripe bellowed. He pointed the silver revolver at her face and cocked the hammer. “The phone or you are a dead woman.”

  The fight went out of her. She took her phone from her pocket, placed it on the deck. Red Stripe used his foot to kick it across the deck. It slid under the railing, barely making a plop when it hit the water.

  Wild Eyes, meantime, had recovered and retaliated by giving Su a brutal kick in the ribs. She let out a cross between a grunt and a groan. It stopped abruptly when he kicked her in the head.

  Ollie, Nestor, and I looked on stunned.

  She groaned again, a low labored groan this time, and slowly drew her legs into the fetal position.

  “Miguel,” Red Stripe said, “go help Francois.”

  Wild Eyes, breathing hard, acted like he wasn’t finished yet.

  “Go,” Red Stripe ordered.

  Wild Eyes glared at each of us before departing.

  “That was foolish,” Red Stripe scolded us. “You are going to transport some cargo up the coast for us where we will retrieve it from you. If you do as we ask, there is no need for anyone to be hurt. If we have another scene like this.” He nodded at Su. “You will be dealt with harshly. Do I make myself clear?”

  I nodded.

  Do-rag and Wild Eyes returned. “Hasn’t got one,” Do-rag said, his gaze traveling to Su lying on the deck.

  “All right,” Red Stripe intoned. “Tell them to start unloading.”

  “Bring ‘em,” Do-rag yelled from the rail.

  A procession of rough-looking men brought suitcases from their boats to ours, depositing each on the deck in front of us. When they were finished, it looked like baggage claim at the airport. There were twelve suitcases of different sizes, shapes, and colors, some softside, some hard, some still with airline baggage tags attached to the handles. “Store them in the cabins,” Red Stripe told his men.

  After all the bags had been stowed below and Wild Eyes and Do-rag had returned, Red Stripe said, “Francois and Miguel will be traveling with you to make sure our cargo stays safe.”

  Do-rag frowned, leaned over, whispered something in Red Stripe’s ear.

  Whatever it was, Red Stripe nodded and said, “Just Francois will be traveling with you, Miguel, you will come with me.”

  I felt an inward sigh of relief. If Wild Eyes had stayed on board, I was sure he and Su would tangle again.

  Wild Eyes looked like he didn’t agree with the decision, but Red Stripe took him by the arm and led him off.

  “Get underway,” Do-rag ordered as soon as Rambo and Venetian separated.

  Ollie went to the bridge, Nestor to the engine room. I picked up Su, carried her to her cabin, and placed her on her bed. “You okay?” I asked gently.

  There were tears in her eyes. There was also hatred. “I can take care of myself,” she said between gritted teeth and rolled over so I couldn’t see her face.

  After I left her, I did a quick scout to see where they’d put the bags and found they’d spread them amongst the cabins, a bag or two in most closets.

  Do-rag caught me looking. “Touch one of those, and I’ll beat you to a bloody pulp.”

  “I just wanted to know where they were,” I said evenly.

  A little later, I bumped into him in the galley, still with the semi-automatic around his shoulder, looking in the fridge. “Where’s the beer?” It wasn’t a question; it was a demand.

  “Don’t have any.” I pointed at the wine fridge. “There’s wine.”

  “I don’t drink wine, I drink beer,” he hissed angrily.

  “We don’t—”

  His left hand shot out and grabbed me by the throat. His bony fingers dug in, closing my windpipe. I fought for breath. Couldn’t get any. He watched me struggle, his eyes dancing madly.

  I felt myself getting light headed. Lungs burning. Vision darkening at the edges.

  With his other hand, he put the barrel of a revolver to my temple. I heard it cock. “Jahear me. I want beer.”

  My knees quivered. I thought I was passing out. Wasn’t me, though. The boat had lurched.

  His grip on my throat loosened. “Whatya do? What was that?” His gaze was everywhere but on me.

  I sucked in a big lung full of air.

  The boat lurched again.

  The barrel of his gun pressed harder against my temple.

  “Engines,” I wheezed.

  Cursing, he bolted from the galley.

  Chest heaving, I took deep breaths, rubbed my neck where his hand had been. My guess was Nestor was about to have a visitor. I debated going down to the engine room to try to help, but thought Nestor could hold his own. Instead, I headed to the bridge.

  I found Ollie at the wheel, staring out the window. The Venetian dead in the water.

  “Damn them.” He groused. “Look what they did to our telco.”

  The glass face had been smashed and an assortment of different colored wires stuck up out of the broken housing.

  “Useless,” Ollie complained. “They made sure we can’t call the authorities. Can’t call for help if our engines conk out, either. I’m worried, Will. This
puts a lot of pressure on Nestor.”

  “I know. We’ve got to get—”

  “Ollie,” Nestor said through the intercom, “try ‘em at eighth speed.”

  “Will, do.” Ollie pushed the throttles forward. The Venetian barely moved.

  “Here’s what I think—”

  Ollie’s eyes went wide.

  Do-rag came up the ladder waiving his gun. “Get this tub moving faster,” he ordered.

  “Not a good idea,” I said. “We tried to tell you, she’s got engine problems. Try and go faster and we could fry one for good.”

  His face contorted as if he’d sucked on a lemon. “That’s a chance we’ll have to take then. JaMarcus—” I assumed JaMarcus was Red Stripe. “—says three of the boats patrolling this stretch of coastline are headed for port. The faster we get by the six still out there the better.” He patted Ollie condescendingly on the cheek and grinned. “Paddle faster, fat boy.”

  Ollie obliged, moving the throttles to half. Do-rag left the bridge and Ollie cut them back to a quarter. I was sure he’d notice and reappear, he didn’t.

  “Ollie, on the radar, can you spot these six patrol boats ahead of us.”

  “Possibly. What are you thinking?”

  The quickest way to end this nightmare with Do-rag would be to go to the authorities. They’d deal with him; I wasn’t worried about that. The question was would they believe we were coerced into carrying whatever was in those suitcases? Or would they put their hands over their ears, throw us in jail, too, and let someone else sort it out later? In my experience, people do what’s easy. In this case, easy looked like tossing us in the clink and throwing away the key.

  Ollie’s finger tapped blips on the radar screen. “I count thirteen boats. There’s no way of knowing which six are your patrol boats. Some of them are probably their people.”

  “How long will it take us to get past all thirteen?”

  He laughed softly. “At least you haven’t lost your sense of humor, Will.”

  Oh, but I had. I hadn’t seen it since this trip started. “All I need is a guesstimate.”

  He chewed on his lower lip. “Two days to two weeks,” he said after some thought.

  “What if we run at night?” We’d anchored the boat last night, letting Ollie and Nestor sleep.

  “I wouldn’t advise it,” he said adamantly. “Too risky. One of those engines red lines and—” His eyes widened, and he threw up his hands.

  “I’m not saying we should do it, I’m trying to find out what our alternatives are before we have to sort this out at gunpoint.”

  Ollie’s white face lost what color it had. “You think he’d hurt us?”

  I rubbed my throat. “Oh, yeah.”

  To be on the safe side, I went to the engine room and talked to Nestor about running at night. He wasn’t pleased with the idea either.

  I didn’t see more of Do-rag until dinnertime. Su had left a big pot of stew on the stove. She’d written help yourself on a piece of paper and placed it by bowls on the counter. I filled a bowl, got a glass of water, ate at the counter.

  Ollie came by and took a bowl up to the bridge.

  Do-rag walked in as Ollie was leaving and went straight to the wine fridge, extracted a bottle, pulled the cork and poured himself a large glass. “Ain’t beer,” he said gulping some down. “But it’ll have to do.” He ladled a bowl of stew, sat across from me at the counter. I tensed, thinking he was going to threaten me again.

  He ignored me, shoveling in the stew, washing it down liberally with wine. He finished his second helping of stew before I’d finished my first and belched loudly. “Damn. Good,” he said pleased with himself. “Where’s our little cook, anyway?”

  I knew she was in her cabin with the door closed.

  “She hiding?”

  I met Do-rag’s gaze and noticed his eyes looked glassy. “She’s recovering. Your buddy hit and kicked her pretty hard.”

  “Stupid bitch,” he snarled. “Miguel shoulda beat the crap out of her, taught her a lesson.”

  “Then you wouldn’t have gotten dinner.”

  “Yeah, I would have. I teach bitches to show respect. I don’t get respect.” He thumped his chest. “Bitch not around long.”

  It hadn’t bothered me before that the cabin doors didn’t lock. Now it did. I was suddenly afraid for Su. Heck, I was afraid for me. I didn’t like the thought this maniac could get to me while I was asleep. I needed him to calm down. “Hey,” I said to get his attention, “you’re in charge—”

  “Damn right I am.”

  “And we’re doing what you want. We’re not your problem. Your problem is those patrol boats out there. We’ve got to get past them, right?”

  He pried at a tooth with a fingernail. “Right.”

  “To get past them, we can’t be fighting amongst ourselves. We have to work together.”

  No right this time.

  I plowed on, anyway. “I propose a truce. You don’t worry about us not doing what you want and we don’t worry about you shooting us. We cooperate.”

  He looked unconvinced.

  Sell it, I told myself. “It’s what JaMarcus would want. The most important thing to him is getting your cargo past these patrols. He doesn’t care about anything else and neither should you. So let’s work together and concentrate on the real enemy—those patrol boats.” I stuck out my hand. “Deal?”

  The way he stared at my hand you’d have thought I’d spit on it first.

  Hesitantly, he extended his hand and we shook. “Yeh,” he said half-heartedly.

  “Good. Well, each night around ten we’ve been anchoring so everybody can get some sleep. In the morning, we’ll chart a course around the patrols.”

  “Are you stupid?” His eyes narrowed suspiciously. “The best time to get by them is in the dark.” He stabbed at me with a finger. “You figure out a way to keep this tub moving, understand?”

  “Sure. If you want to keep going tonight, that’s what we’ll do.” I watched him relax a little. “We’ll set up shifts. I’ll talk to Ollie and Nestor. Don’t worry about it.”

  After he left, I cleaned up the dishes and held a conference with Ollie and Nestor in the engine room. They didn’t like the idea of running all night, but they did like the rest of my plan.

  Chapter 14

  “I agree,” Nestor said, head bobbing on his skinny neck. “Tomorrow’s a crap shoot. Tonight. We gotta act tonight.”

  We were huddled together in the engine room. I’d just outlined a wild-ass plan for the three of us to rush Do-rag’s cabin at 4:30 in the morning. I knew it was a risk, but I also knew as soon as the Venetian got the drugs past the patrols, we were fish food.

  “Why wait till 4:30?” Ollie asked. “Why not earlier—1:00 or 2:00?”

  “You always strike right before dawn. That’s when the enemy is least prepared,” I said, sharing wisdom I’d gathered from watching war movies on TV. “Do-rag might be waiting for us to jump him after he goes to bed. When it doesn’t happen, he’ll be lulled into a false sense of security.”

  Nestor gave me a sage look. “Might buy us a couple more seconds to get his gun.”

  Ollie’s expression said he was less certain. “And my job is what, again? Get on top of him and hold him down?”

  “What do you weigh?”

  Ollie sucked in his gut, hitched up his pants, tried to look svelte. It wasn’t happening. “Under 400.”

  Under 400? Like being under made a difference at that weight.

  “More than enough to pin him to the bed while Nestor and I get him under control.” My gaze went back and forth between Ollie and Nestor. “Okay, thoughts or questions?”

  Neither had any. I was glad. As flimsy as this plan was, if one of them started questioning it, the whole thing would unravel.

  We worked out a night schedule of two-hour shifts, changing on the half hour so noise at 4:30 would seem to be part of the pattern.

  “Anything else?” I asked before we adjourned
. Both men met my gaze. I got a We’re good from Nestor, a nod from Ollie.

  I unlocked the engine room door, opened it, and walked right into Do-rag. Unnerved, I took a quick step back.

  “What are you three plotting in here?”

  I froze, sure he’d heard us.

  “Plotting?” Nestor chuckled. “Plotting how to keep them engines running. Now that you’re here, you can plot with us. How much do you know about temperature gauges? If you see she’s running hot, what do you do?”

  “You answer him,” Do-rag said, his revolver poking me in the belly.

  Nestor had bought me enough time to gather my wits. “Lower the RPMs by five percent for half an hour, see if that brings it down. If it does, increase RPMs slowly to our original speed. If it doesn’t, take it down another five percent. If that doesn’t work, wake Nestor up.”

  Nestor nodded approvingly.

  Do-rag gave a dismissive snort, swung his fist, burying it in my stomach and doubling me over. “Assholes,” he muttered as he turned and left.

  Twelve-thirty that night found me in my cabin. Lights out. Door closed. Mind racing. Doubts about the outcome of my crazy plan had begun niggling at me even before I’d left the engine room. Those doubts had shouted down rational thought and quickly seized control of my mind. The foreboding was relentless. Do-rag would hear the door open, pick up his gun, grin, and bam, bam, bam drop me in my tracks.

  Breathe, I told myself. In. Out. In. Out. I willed my body to relax. Half an hour passed and the agitation in my mind began to calm.

  That’s when I heard the scream.

  It was a man’s scream. Raw. Throbbing. Excruciating. By the time I threw open my cabin door, it had stopped. I stood in the hall, listening. A soft whimper came from the direction of Su’s cabin.

  Her door was ajar. Heart beating wildly, I pushed it the rest of the way open.

  Chapter 15

  Do-rag was face down on the bed, legs spread, pants down around his ankles, a knife handle protruding from his neck. There were multiple stab wounds and judging from the amount of blood, one of those thrusts had hit the jugular. Already the sheets were soaked. A steady plop, plop, plop sounded as blood dripped to the floor. I didn’t need to touch him to know he was dead.