Amish Hideout (Amish Witness Protection Book 1)

by Maggie K. Black

  No. She simply couldn’t afford this kind of setback.

  Kirk shifted closer, reminding her that he was here, watching her. How on earth could she have forgotten?

  “I’m just glad you’re awake now, and looks like you’re no worse for the wear.”

  “Except I can’t remember what happened.” She blurted that out with entirely too much emotion. Considering the state she’d woken up in, it was definitely worth remembering.

  Kirk tilted his head. “That’s not out of the ordinary. People often forget exactly what happened during, say, a car wreck or other traumatic event—it’s called retrograde amnesia. The memories will likely come back to you, though you might wish they hadn’t.”

  I know all that. I’m a scientist, remember? She kept that to herself. She appreciated his reassurance, really, but... “What are you now, a therapist?”

  His chuckle was confident and robust. She liked the sound of it, which was truly unfortunate. She didn’t want to like even one more thing about this man.

  “I’m just a friend who is going to let you rest while I go find out what is holding up the crew and Shari. Plus, the part for the ROV finally came in today. Trip went with them to the island to gather supplies and pick up the part. It’s just you, me, Captain Menken and Lance aboard.”

  “Well, call Shari and tell her that she doesn’t have to rush back. I’m fine. I’m awake. She can enjoy the time on land.”

  He shook his head. “I think she should take a look, and if you’re okay, then, sure, she can go back. It will take Lance time to fix the ROV, even with the part in hand. But Shari could suggest you get an MRI, in which case we’ll have to transport you to Seattle. Let’s get you checked out just to be sure.” Despite the positive lilt to his voice, worry lingered in his deep blue gaze.

  Return to Seattle for an MRI. All because of something that had happened to her while diving—some mistake she’d made, perhaps. Yep. She could very well lose her job. “I need to get back to work. I can’t afford to lie around. I’m fine, Kirk. Really. I feel great.” An exaggeration, maybe, but she had to be convincing. She shook off the chill that just wouldn’t leave her. A chill that went beyond the physical.

  “Come on, Cora. It’s me, remember? And I don’t care what you say—you’re not fine until Shari says you’re fine. You stay there and rest until she can give you a once over. I started an IV. Got you hydrated.”

  He’d done much more than that—he’d saved her life.

  “Fine,” she huffed. “I’ll stay put...for now.”

  Kirk flicked off the lights in her small quarters as he stood at the door, the silhouette of his broad shoulders and lean physique filling the doorway.

  “Would you mind leaving those on?” Her stateroom didn’t have a porthole, so no light could come in from outside.

  “Sure.” He turned the lights back on. Just before he closed the door, he leaned back in and said, “Lock the door behind me.” He touched the bolt. “Use the dead bolt.”

  He grinned as if his request wasn’t any big deal. Except, the way he said the words, it was almost as if he knew exactly what had happened to her. The tone in his voice tugged a shadow from her dream that descended on her. Her complete paranoia seemed ridiculous and yet...not. Cora tried to rest but too much bothered her. She popped a couple of ibuprofen tablets. A few minutes later, she felt good enough to walk the passageways and maybe jar the memories back into place. Kirk wouldn’t be happy, but he wasn’t her boss, though it made her feel good that he was so protective and concerned.

  Still, despite what she’d promised, she couldn’t stay in bed.

  And, besides, she was fine. She was going to be all right. Cora would keep telling herself that and maybe it would be true.

  The memories will likely come back to you, though you might wish they hadn’t.

  One thing she did remember was that they had received new information about a possible shipwreck. And that excited her.

  Scientists believed that approximately three million ships could be found at the bottom of the ocean. To date, only about ten percent had ever been found. Of course, treasure hunters searched for the cargo held by those ships, but Cora wasn’t that kind of treasure hunter. Her treasure was history. She was an archaeologist and a historian. She used satellite imagery, ocean mapping and other technologies to find and confirm the shipwrecks, and would then dive, if possible, to see for herself and document what she found.

  The thought of finding another shipwreck got her mind off other worrisome matters, and she needed that. Galvanized, she decided to work at the computer in the lab to look at the coordinates.

  Kirk and Captain Menken would likely scold her for not resting. Lance would definitely be furious. He had a thing for her, she could tell, but she hadn’t encouraged him in that. Maybe she would have eventually, but then Kirk had shown up.

  Whatever. She couldn’t stand being alone in her room. Not with the remnants of that dream still haunting her mind.

  It didn’t help that this big boat was eerily quiet, but she reminded herself that when the crew went ashore it was partially a ghost ship.

  A door creaked and Cora froze. She’d thought most everyone had gone to the island, as Kirk had said. She peered around the corner. The man himself stepped out of Trip’s quarters. Her pulse jumped.

  What was he doing in there? Trip had gone to the island, right? That’s what Kirk had said earlier. She waited until he moved out of sight, hoping and praying panic wouldn’t set in. There had to be an explanation.

  Maybe Trip had communicated from the island and needed Kirk to check something for him. She wouldn’t jump to conclusions.

  As Cora made her way to the hydrographic lab, she tried to tamp down the rising unease. Opening the door, she flicked on the lights and stepped inside. She wouldn’t ask about Kirk’s reason for being in Trip’s room. No, instead, she’d let Trip know. Either Kirk had business in there or he didn’t, but Trip could decide how to handle it.

  She booted up the computer. Goose bumps crawled over her arms as she slowly turned her head.

  Trip.

  His body.

  He lay in a pool of blood.

  With a deep stab wound to his chest.

  Cora screamed but couldn’t hear the sound. Panic-stricken, she ran from the room. She had to get hold of herself and call for help.

  Captain...Captain Menken.

  She had to find the man and report a...a...murder! Her trembling limbs couldn’t carry her if she didn’t suck it up. She had to be strong. For Trip’s sake and for her own safety.

  Kirk. He’d just come from Trip’s room. He’d said Trip had gone ashore, but no, Trip was dead. Murdered. She was on board the Sea Dragon with a murderer.

  From the dark oppression of her dream, an impression, more than a memory, rose up inside with tendrils of fear that slithered around her. And, suddenly, she knew without a doubt that someone had tried to kill her, but they had succeeded in murdering Trip instead.

  * * *

  Time was running out.

  Pulse spiking, Kirk steadied his breath as he crept down the hall. He needed to communicate with his superior, Matt Patterson, about his discovery. He wasn’t entirely sure it meant anything, but he had a hunch it could mean everything.

  Working NCIS undercover—Naval Criminal Investigative Service—Kirk’s methods for obtaining that information hadn’t exactly been on the up-and-up. He wouldn’t tell them that yet, though. He shouldn’t have gone into Trip’s room without his permission. Nor should he have hacked into his laptop. The guy had been acting strangely, setting off warning signals in Kirk’s head. Time to dig deeper.

  He’d justified his decision to break protocol in this undercover operation with the fact that someone had obviously tried to kill Cora. Kirk hadn’t let on just how terrified he was for her. He hadn’t told her that her regulator hose h
ad been cut. She didn’t seem to remember what happened, which was just as well for the time being. As long as she stayed locked in her room, she’d be safe for now. All the likely guilty parties had gone ashore.

  So he’d slipped into Trip’s room to get some answers before it was too late. Kirk’s time to find those answers was almost up. With the attack on Cora, a murderer’s clock had begun counting down, and fast.

  Kirk had become desperate—a position in which he never wanted to find himself. Given the circumstances, he’d grabbed his Glock and carried it on his person.

  He was glad for the skeleton crew currently on the research vessel. Quietly entering the passageway that would take him to the helm, he thought back to the moment he’d found her. His chest constricted. She’d been fortunate to survive. In fact, he wasn’t sure how he’d found or revived her. God must have been watching over her.

  Kirk found her washed up on a nearby sandbar and had given her CPR. Without knowing how long she’d been under, he hadn’t even been sure he could revive her.

  But this was Cora! He’d sent up frantic prayers as he battled for her life. He should have done more to protect her. Then she’d coughed up water.

  He almost couldn’t believe it.

  Her lids had fluttered open. Sheer terror had coursed through him—what would he see in her eyes? A tsunami of relief washed over him at the recognition in her gaze.

  She’d mumbled something, then her eyes closed again. He couldn’t wake her. The fear rushed back.

  Kirk had then swum her to the Sea Dragon where he’d remained in the room with her until all suspicious parties had gone to Farrow Island.

  As far as Kirk was concerned, Trip and Coburn were both responsible. They had lost her. Left her down there. And maybe even cut her hose. They claimed she’d speared a shark and somehow gotten tangled and it had taken off with her. He’d torn into them as much as he could without coming to actual blows. The captain had been forced to come between them, and he’d sent them to get the medic, Shari, and pick up the ROV part and supplies.

  Hence the rules had to be bent. Kirk needed answers right now.

  He’d been working on the Sea Dragon for two months already and should have learned something about what had happened to Drake Jackson—son of Navy Commander Brent Jackson. Drake had gone missing six months ago and was believed dead. Kirk had approached Brent Jackson directly about looking for Kirk’s childhood best friend.

  So far, Kirk hadn’t made any progress on that front, but maybe what he’d discovered on Trip’s computer was connected. He could envision Drake coming across sensitive information and losing his life for it.

  That’s why he’d been gutted when he learned Cora Strand was working with the crew of the Sea Dragon. Most everyone was likely aboveboard, but someone had nefarious intentions and Cora was much too close to danger. All the more reason for him to join the crew.

  Years ago, he’d attended the University of Washington where he’d met Cora. They spent a lot of time together, but took their budding relationship slowly. Each of them had their own reasons for that. But they’d grown close, and he thought she could be someone he could have a future with. Then he introduced her to his conniving brother, and the rest was history. Stephan had worked his charm and whisked Cora away from Kirk before he’d even had a real chance with her.

  Nothing new there. Kirk should have known it would happen. After all, Stephan had stolen his girlfriend when they were in high school. Why hadn’t Kirk stopped him either time? Admittedly he had begun to get a complex.

  Obviously, both women had preferred Stephan to Kirk. Now that he thought about it, introducing Cora to Stephan had been a test, of sorts. Might as well introduce her and see what happened before he got too romantically involved.

  But Providence had a way of turning well-made plans upside down. The only woman he’d never been able to forget, a woman stolen by his brother, was here on the Sea Dragon and her life was in danger.

  And Kirk could surmise that the same thing that had happened to Drake had almost happened to Cora today.

  Thank You, God...that he’d been able to search for her and find her. His naval experience and diving skills had never come in handier.

  With nothing but a bare-bones crew on board the research vessel today, this had been his best opportunity to search. The risk he’d taken had provided more information that might escalate this situation to a whole new level, if it hadn’t been life-threatening enough.

  He couldn’t let Commander Jackson down.

  Regardless, Kirk needed to wrap this up so no one else was killed and claimed to be missing. Namely Cora.

  Kirk crept up to the helm to check on Captain Menken before he made the call to Matt. He needed to communicate what he’d learned and get further instructions before the gang returned from Farrow Island with Shari to check on Cora.

  Stepping into the wheelhouse, he found it empty.

  “Menken?” Where was the man?

  Kirk swung his gaze around. Through the window, he caught sight of Captain Menken rowing away in a dinghy. They only had two—the others had taken the first one.

  Kirk watched for a few seconds as his mind wrapped around this new development. Why was the captain leaving? Who was operating the research vessel? At least Menken could have asked Kirk about Cora before he took off.

  Suspicion corded around his chest. What was going on? Kirk didn’t like what he saw and his thoughts went straight to Cora. He should never have left her alone.

  His gaze fell to red flashing numbers. Counting down.

  An image blinked on a digital screen revealing several locations near the hull of the Sea Dragon.

  His mind seized up as his heart stuttered.

  Bombs.

  He had to act. Move, man!

  Letting his elite training kick in, he crouched to look at the bomb below the console—not the only one. Others were counting down, strategically placed to do the most damage.

  To sink the research vessel and leave no survivors.

  He wasn’t sure he could defuse this one, but even if he could, he had no time to disarm the others.

  He wasn’t sure he even had time to get to Cora or find Lance before the Sea Dragon was blown to smithereens.

  Ten minutes and counting. Adrenaline spiking, he set his diver’s watch to count down with the bomb.

  Those ten minutes would allow the captain to get to a safe distance.

  Kirk got on the intercom and announced the emergency, hoping Lance and Cora would hear.

  “Meet me at the stern immediately. The boat is about to blow!” He wished for another way to tell them the news, but there wasn’t time. “Do not panic. Run for the stern. We have less than ten minutes to clear the vessel.”

  He escaped the helm and hurried to enact his plan.

  Was it enough time to don diving gear? Being underwater during an explosion was the worst idea. It could kill them. Still, without another boat, he didn’t think they could swim away fast enough or far enough. Even if they survived the blast, they couldn’t survive the cold waters long enough to swim to the island. But maybe they could dive and get to a safe distance beneath the surface. Still, if they didn’t get far enough away underwater, they could die that way, too. Not a lot of options. With each tick of the clock, their time was running out. At the moment, he wasn’t sure he could even run fast enough. At the stern, he scrambled down the ladder to grab dive equipment and wet suits.

  Fear rushed through him. “Cora! Lance! We’re running out of time! Where are you?”

  Captain Menken had left Lance, Cora and Kirk here to die. For certain, the captain had to be behind this. Fire surged through his legs as he ran to Cora’s room. It was locked, which meant she had to be inside.

  She might be asleep, recovering from her fight with death.

  He banged on the door. “Cora, we have t
o get off this boat!”

  “No. I’m staying right here.”

  “What are you talking about?” he demanded.

  “You told me to lock the door, so it’s locked. This is the safest place.”

  “Cora, there’s a bomb. Didn’t you hear my announcement?”

  “No. I heard nothing.”

  Had communications been taken out? “I’m telling you, Cora, there’s a bomb. Make that more than one. Many bombs. We have less than eight minutes to gear up and escape.”

  “Trip is dead.”

  “What are you talking about?” He didn’t have time for this. “If you won’t open the door, I’m coming in after you.”

  “To save me again?” What was with the sarcasm?

  Kirk kicked at the door. The lock held. He was out of options here. “Move back. I’m shooting the lock out.”

  He followed through with his words, then kicked the door in. Cora stood in the corner holding her diver’s knife. Terror filled her eyes.

  “Do you plan to stab me with that?”

  “Did you kill Trip?”

  “What?” She wasn’t making any sense. “Listen, both of us are going to die if we don’t get off this boat.” He disarmed her before she could put the knife to use on him, then ushered her out of the stateroom and down the hallway, despite her continued resistance.

  “What about Lance? What about the captain?”

  “The captain rowed away in a boat. If Lance got the message he’ll meet us at the stern. I have time to save you.” Maybe.

  Please, God...

  Tears streamed down her face. “Did you kill him?”

  Pain lashed through his heart. How could she even think that? “Of course not. We can hash this out later. Now get geared up. We might already be too late.”

  Dive suits. Masks, regulators, tanks, flippers. Buoyancy control vests. He’d never donned gear this fast.

  He glanced at his diver’s watch. Two minutes. Sweat poured down his face and back.

  The other bombs might go off earlier, for all he knew.