“Too bad.” The pirate laughed. “I’m in no hurry, man. Are you?”
Before Javi could answer, a projectile whizzed in front of the pirate’s face. His startled gaze jerked away from Javi’s.
Javi fired. He aimed for the upper thigh.
With a scream, grabbing at his leg, the man went to the ground.
Javi watched him fall with grim satisfaction. He knew precisely how much that hurt.
Moving cautiously, gun aimed down, finger off the trigger but close, he approached the groaning man and kicked his weapon away.
“You shot me, man. You shot me.”
“Yeah, I did.”
Javi flicked his gaze to the pirate he’d stabbed. There’d be no trouble out of that one.
Both men needed medical help, but they were still alive. They had a chance. Unlike the dead cop. Or my brother.
He returned his focus to the big man. Still down for the count and mumbling to himself. This one could be a problem.
“Cat,” he shouted. “Where are you? Come on out.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
THE SOUND OF the gunshot still ringing in her ears, Cat grabbed the wrench at her feet. At first she’d thought to hurl the heavy tool toward the pirate to distract him and give Javi an edge in the standoff. But no way could she heave it far enough. A rock had worked just fine instead.
Holding the wrench in both hands, she emerged from her hiding place, her gaze flicking from one fallen man to the other. Eyes closed, the big man moaned and cursed at the same time. The other one, the thin one, lay still, the back of his shirt saturated with blood. She couldn’t tell if his chest moved or not.
She swallowed hard, trying to wet her dry throat. It’d happened so fast it hadn’t seemed real. But he’d really done it.
Javi had defeated the two pirates without a gun. Not exactly with his bare hands, but still.
He held himself stiffly, pointing a gun at the large man on the ground. Resisting the urge to fling herself into the arms of her conquering hero, she raised her gaze to his.
Eyes full of fury glared into hers, and the thrill of victory faded. She lifted her chin. She’d known he’d be angry for not following orders, but too bad. The way she saw it, she’d helped him.
“Is it over?” she asked. She swallowed again. Her voice had been a croak.
“Not quite,” he said. “Are you all right?” His gaze raked her body, and she knew he was looking for injury. She thought she saw relief when he found none, so hopefully he wasn’t too pissed.
“I’m fine,” she said.
He nodded. “I need you to cover me while I restrain our friend here,” he said, his voice tight. “Do you think you can do that?”
Javi glared at her, eyebrows raised, an unspoken question dangling in the air: “And not shoot me?”
He knew if she had to shoot, she’d be as likely to hit him as the pirate. Better not say that aloud and clue in the pirate.
“Of course,” she said, trying to sound confident, moving toward him.
He placed the gun in her hand and aimed the barrel at the ground.
“I’ll be quick,” he whispered in her ear. “Keep your finger away from the trigger, please.”
Removing his belt, he swiftly looped the belt around the pirate’s wrists.
Cat held her breath, praying the man didn’t try to resist. What would she do? She couldn’t shoot or risk killing Javi. Her index finger twitched at the thought.
Javi cinched the belt tightly around the pirate’s wrists, holding his arms behind his back. Then he retrieved the perp’s gun from where he’d kicked it. He checked it before stuffing it in his waistband. When he hurried back and grabbed her weapon, she gladly gave it up.
“We need to check on Joan and Deb,” Cat said.
“We will, but first search his pockets,” Javi ordered. “Check for another weapon or a cell phone.”
Praying for a phone, she moved toward the pirate, who lay on his side muttering continuously, talking to someone who wasn’t there. Or there only in his head.
When she got close, a stale odor from his mouth made her gag. He had rotten teeth, reeked of stale beer.
She leaned over him and tried not to breathe. He stopped his manic verbalization and lifted his head, his bloodshot eyes burning into hers. She looked away, her focus on his pants pockets. When she stuck her hand into his right pocket, the man spit in her face.
She shrieked and jumped back, wiping the spittle from her cheek.
“If you do that again, you’ll be sorry,” Javi said with deadly menace.
With a moan, the pirate closed his eyes and placed his head on the ground.
Cat approached more warily this time, steeling herself. She would kick him if she had to. She surprised herself with her vehemence, but this man had tortured her friends.
She took a deep breath to quiet her racing heart. She needed to calm down. Rage wasn’t like her at all. Must be the alien taking over her thoughts again.
The man remained still as she searched his right pocket, which was empty. He gave a grunt of pain when she turned him—not easy since he was dead weight—but she found nothing in the second pocket, either. His back pockets were flat. No pockets in his shirt.
She quickly retreated, inhaling deeply and getting another disgusting whiff of the pirate’s foul breath.
“Nothing,” she told Javi.
“Must be in their packs on the beach. Check the other one.”
Cat moved to the second pirate. He lay motionless, eyes closed, but still breathing. She checked his pockets and didn’t find anything.
“No phone, no ID, no weapon,” she told Javi. Javi nodded. “We’ve got to get to Spree,” Cat said, shoving hair out of her face. “Let’s just leave them.”
* * *
JAVI BLINKED AT the fury in Cat’s voice. His timid charterer had morphed into a fierce warrior. One who didn’t like to take orders. Who took too many risks.
“I’m going to check on my friends,” she said, turning toward the beach. “For all we know, they’re bleeding to death right now. I care about them, not these criminals.”
Javi lowered his weapon. She was right. They needed to find out about the hostages. These vultures couldn’t get far.
“Let’s go,” he said.
When he and Cat arrived at the beach, they found the cushions the pirates had taken from Spree, but their backpacks weren’t anywhere in sight.
He scanned the shoreline. Nothing.
“They probably hid the packs somewhere in the mangroves.”
“So maybe now there’s real buried treasure on Gun Cay,” Cat said, reaching for one of the cushions.
“We’ll have to wait until we get to Spree to summon help,” Javi said.
“The sooner, the better.” Cat moved toward the waves with her float.
Javi glanced toward the wounded Spree. The sailboat had spun around on her keel with the deck listing at a thirty-degree angle. They had a long swim to where the boat had run aground.
What would they discover on board? He feared something much worse than damage to Marlin’s home.
“Wait,” he said.
“For what?” she demanded, not stopping.
Javi caught up with her. “Let me go. You should wait here.”
She whirled on him. “Why?”
He placed a gentle hand on her arm. “We don’t know what we’ll find.”
She stared at him, her red hair in wild tangles around her pale face, green eyes wide, a smudge of dirt on her nose. He’d never seen anyone look more beautiful. Or maddening.
She’d been through so much and had been so brave. He was furious with her for disobeying his orders, but hated the idea of Irish finding her friends murdered. She’d never get
that image out of her mind.
“You mean because they might be dead,” she said.
He shook his head. “I don’t want you to find them if it’s...bad.”
Her shoulders sagged, and she lowered the cushion. For a moment, he thought she might agree. But she raised her chin and met his gaze.
“No. I’ve come this far. I’m not backing down now. Whatever has happened, I’ll deal with it.”
She waded into the water with her cushion. “You’re welcome, by the way,” she yelled over her shoulder when waist-deep.
“For what?”
“For helping you.” She placed her arms on the cushion and began kicking toward Spree.
For helping me? He stared after her. The impossible woman actually believed that she’d assisted him instead of taking ten years off his life. She should have done what he’d told her to do: remained hidden.
Although, yeah, then they would have taken more time to get to her friends. And it was possible Joan or Deb—or both—required medical help.
More than possible. Likely. He just hoped they were breathing. Cat would never forgive herself if they were dead. But these guys were amateurs. Maybe the women had a chance.
She should have let him go first, but understood her impatience. He’d feel the same if it were his friends.
Javi grabbed the other cushion and joined her on the journey to Spree, his mind on how to handle the grisly discoveries that awaited them.
* * *
KICKING THROUGH WARM salt water, Cat watched as twenty feet ahead of her Javi arrived at Spree. She’d known her battery-powered bunny would beat her to the boat. And she didn’t mind.
She wanted him to go first, to see what condition her friends were in, if they were—she bit back a sob—alive. Even if they were, would they be traumatized forever? What had the pirates done to them?
Javi scrambled up the ladder. The ladder she’d put out so long ago when she went hunting for conch. The ladder that had caused all this trouble.
The entire ordeal had exhausted her. Depleted her both mentally and physically. She was numb again. No, not really numb. Just terrified. Just keep kicking, Cat. She sent a prayer to the heavens with every single kick that her friends were all right.
She released her cushion, clutched the stainless-steel ladder with one hand and then the other. Closing her eyes, she paused to offer a final prayer, giving Javi time to locate her friends.
She strained to hear voices. But there was nothing but the gentle lap of water against the hull of the boat.
Maybe they were unconscious and couldn’t speak. Perhaps Javi was rendering first aid. Or CPR.
She climbed to the top rung. Each step felt like she was pulling a ton of weight.
If they were dead, surely Javi would have come back to her by now. He’d want to prevent her from coming aboard to see the condition of her friends.
Unless he was covering their corpses to shield them from her eyes.
* * *
JAVI JUMPED THROUGH the companionway into Spree’s main saloon. The cabin looked as if someone had tossed it looking for valuables. Empty tequila bottles littered the floor. Amateurs.
No time to worry about that now.
The doors to both sleeping cabins were closed.
He spotted a knife amid the rubble of the galley, grabbed it and pushed open the door to the main cabin.
Debbie lay spread-eagle in the center of the bunk, bound to the four corners, gray duct tape covering her mouth. Her eyes flew open when he entered.
He released a breath. Alive.
She had a nasty bruise on the side of her face, but otherwise appeared physically unharmed.
Deb raised her head, her eyes pleading, but he needed to locate the other woman in case she required medical assistance. Deb would be okay for another few minutes. Where was Joan?
He entered the second cabin, what would have been Cat’s room, and found Joan lying still—too still—on the bunk. Her eyes remained closed as he approached, her mouth also covered by tape. She lay on her side, arms stretched overhead and tied to a fitting on the wall, legs bound to each other and the bed.
She didn’t rouse when he approached.
He stepped close and felt for a pulse.
“Is she alive?”
Javi turned toward Cat’s tense voice. He’d registered the shift of the boat when she’d stepped on board, but remained focused on aiding her friends.
“Yes,” he said.
Cat released a sigh that sounded more like a sob.
“But she’s unconscious for some reason,” he said, slicing the rope binding Joan’s wrists.
“What about Deb?”
“In the master cabin.” He glanced back to Cat, who hovered in the doorway staring at Joan. “Deb is awake. She’s okay. At least physically.”
Cat closed her eyes. “Thank God.”
“Find a knife in the galley and cut her loose.”
Cat nodded and disappeared.
When he’d finished releasing Joan’s bindings, Javi helped her sit up, supporting her back with the wall behind the bed. She moaned, but still didn’t open her eyes.
“Joan,” Javi said. “Can you hear me?”
“Don’t,” Joan whispered, turning her head away. “Please stop. I don’t know why the motor won’t work. We didn’t do anything to it.”
“Joan,” Javi stated, raising his voice. She’d retreated to some safe place, but he needed to reach her and bring her back.
“It’s Javi and Cat,” he said. “The pirates are gone. Wake up.”
“Cat?” Joan murmured.
“You’re safe now. Wake up.”
Joan opened her eyes and blinked. “Javi? Is that really you?” she croaked. “You came back?”
“I never went far.”
“And Cat is alive?”
“Yes.” Javi grinned. “Very much so.”
Joan’s eyes widened. “What about Deb?”
Just then a wail erupted from the master cabin. Joan glanced in that direction. Cat had obviously removed the tape covering Deb’s mouth.
“I know, sweetie. I know,” Cat soothed from the next cabin.
Despite Cat’s attempt to comfort her friend, Deb’s sobs, mingled with hysterical thanks, didn’t diminish.
A slow smile lit up Joan’s face. She met Javi’s gaze. “I think maybe she’s all right.”
“How are you?” he asked gently, noting her left eye was swollen and discolored. She’d been struck more than once. What else had they done to her?
Joan’s smile faded. She looked at her wrists, which were raw, bleeding in some places, and made circular motions.
“I’m okay,” she said, raising her head. She nodded, smiling again. “I’m really okay.”
Javi blew out a breath. Maybe the charter from hell was finally over.
All but the paperwork.
“What happened?” Joan bent her knees and drew them into her chest. “Where are they?”
“We’ll explain everything later,” Javi said, rising. “Right now I need to summon the cavalry and get you to a hospital.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
HOLDING DEBBIE’S HAND, Cat walked alongside the gurney as two uniformed men pushed it toward the small plane waiting on the tarmac of Nassau’s airport. Deb’s eyes remained closed, but she clutched Cat’s fingers with a sure grip.
Once Deb had stopped crying, she’d become calm. Uncharacteristically calm, refusing to talk about her ordeal. Joan was willing to discuss what had happened, but the telling exhausted her. Javi cautioned it was better to wait until they got checked out.
The emergency personnel that arrived on Spree insisted both of her friends were physically okay and that they hadn’t been sexually as
saulted. So why wouldn’t Debbie talk about what had occurred? Was she hiding something?
“Are you sure Joan is on the plane?” Deb asked, not opening her eyes.
“I’m sure,” Cat replied.
“Tell me again why you can’t come with us. I can’t seem to remember anything.”
“It’s a private medevac flight,” Cat told her. “With two stretchers and the emergency personnel, there’s not enough room for me.”
“But you’ll come home soon?”
Cat hesitated. She wasn’t sure when or exactly how she’d get home. “As soon as I can. I promise.”
“We need to get her on board, ma’am,” one of the paramedics said.
Cat released Debbie’s hand. “I’ll see you soon,” Cat told her friend as they wheeled her away.
“Don’t worry, ma’am. We’ve got her.”
“I know,” she said. “Thanks.”
In a matter of minutes, Deb was safely on board. Cat held her hand up to shield her eyes from the setting sun as the plane taxied away. It would soon be dark. She didn’t have a clue where she’d spend the night, but hoped Javi had arranged something.
When the medevac plane was airborne, she turned and trudged back to the terminal building.
Javi waited for her there.
She didn’t know what to think about her brave buccaneer, or even how she felt about him other than total confusion.
His kindness to her friends had surprised her. Who knew Captain Bligh had a soft side? As he helped make them comfortable, his gentle demeanor had impressed her as much as his strength. Maybe more.
Normally after a period of extreme stress, she wanted to crawl off by herself and process the events. Lick her wounds, maybe. But for some reason she didn’t want to be alone today. She needed to be with Javi. She drew comfort from his strength.
As they’d waited for the police to arrive, she and Javi had cleaned up the boat the best they could. Everything in the coolers had thawed or rotted. She found her clothing in the rubble and finally, blessedly, peeled off her tight bathing suit. After a quick sponge bath, she’d tossed that torture device into the garbage with the spoiled food. The pirates had opened most of the dry goods, ate little of it and then allowed what was left to get stale or soggy.
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