Force of Nature

by Suzanne Brockmann

  It was more like, what wasn’t that? “Foley killed the engine,” Annie realized.

  Sure enough, he was coming downstairs.

  “Matches?” Annie asked.

  Robin shook his head, as empty-handed as she was.

  And Foley unlocked the door.

  Pulling himself up to push the elevator call button took everything out of him.

  It was all Martell could do, when the door finally opened, to stick a foot in to keep it from closing and disappearing again.

  It was harder to push himself forward than back, but he got down to work, inching his way into the elevator.

  He was leaving a trail of blood, so that if someone came looking for him, they’d find him in about four seconds. But even that thought wasn’t enough to make him move any faster. Apparently, he was already going at his top speed.

  When the door tried to close on his shoulder, the pain was so intense, he nearly blacked out. Maybe he did. God knows how long he lay there, with the elevator buzzing angrily at him for holding the damn door too damn long.

  Getting angry was good. It was sheer anger that took him those last few inches, so the door could finally close.

  Martell didn’t have the strength to push any buttons, but the elevator moved, going up, thank you, Lord Jesus.

  The door opened with a ding and Martell found himself looking up into the stunned faces of a woman and a little boy. They both started to scream.

  It was nice that they did it for him, because he had nothing left.

  Still, he knew he couldn’t quit. Not yet. He had to tell them—tell someone—that Robin and Annie had been taken.

  But he couldn’t remember the FBI agent’s name. He couldn’t remember and…

  Martell fought the darkness, but it was too much.

  He had nothing left. Nothing.

  And the darkness won.

  Foley was on the phone.

  As the door opened and Robin moved to stand in front of Annie, he heard Foley say, “You’re lucky. The water’s been choppy, so I stayed up on deck.” He paused. “Yeah, I get fucking seasick, but you’re a fucking idiot. And now they want proof of life. Just waste ’em. How hard could it be to just plug the sons of bitches?”

  Another pause, during which time Robin looked at Annie.

  Hope made her almost glow. “They’re alive,” she told him.

  He nodded. “Yeah.” How hard could it be to plug Jules and Ric? Pretty hard, apparently. He should have had faith. He shouldn’t have had that last drink. Could he swim like this? He honestly didn’t know.

  “Jesus Christ,” Foley said in exasperation. “All right. Just…give me a few minutes.” He hung up his cell phone and drew his gun. “Up on deck,” he ordered them.

  They hadn’t lit the fuse. With no matches in the stateroom, that part of the plan had to be aborted.

  But apparently Annie wasn’t ready to give up on anything, because as Robin followed her out of the stateroom and through the tiny galley to the companionway stairs, he saw her reach out and take a cigarette lighter from the countertop.

  She palmed it as she pretended to lose her balance, as she used the counter to steady herself.

  Robin could feel Foley right behind him, and he braced himself for the man’s retaliation. But it never came. He hadn’t seen her theft.

  “Move it faster,” Foley said as Annie slipped the lighter into the front pocket of her jeans.

  Part two of their plan was to grab something and knock him over the head. It was ridiculous—the idea of their getting the jump on someone like Foley, even though it was two to one.

  But Foley was seasick—fucking seasick was how he’d described it.

  Maybe they actually had a chance.

  Junior was stalling.

  Jules had good ears, and a few minutes ago he’d heard what sounded like Junior, sotto voce, ordering one of his men to call Foley. Make sure he keeps Robin and Annie alive.

  Of course, it was possible that Junior had intended for Jules to overhear him. It was possible that Foley didn’t have Robin and Annie—that they were still safely back at the hotel.

  Junior’s voice was plaintive as he shouted to Jules now. “How the fuck am I going to give you proof of life?”

  Jules shouted back to Junior: “Call Foley, have him put Robin and Annie on the line, then toss your phone in here so we can talk to them.”

  “I’m not going to give you my phone,” Junior said. “What? Do you think I’m a moron?”

  Ric glanced at Jules. “Nice try.”

  Ric was in serious pain, and he’d lost quite a bit of blood, but he looked less shocky and more with it to Jules, as every moment passed. No doubt about it, he was using sheer will to keep himself alert and focused.

  “No one’s coming to help you,” Junior shouted. “I know you think they are, but they’re not. They’re all heading for the Everglades, following a UPS truck. We found your tracking device and mailed Alvarado’s alleged ex to Belle Glade—same-day delivery.”

  Okay, so that wasn’t the best news, but again, it was no surprise. Jules made a mental note to make sure tech support knew that their untrackable tracking device had already been compromised by a two-bit Florida criminal.

  “You may have found that one,” Jules called back, “but you didn’t find the long-range wire I’m wearing. This conversation that we’re having? It’s being monitored, right now, by the FBI. It’s just a matter of time before a wall of helicopters comes over that horizon.”

  Junior laughed. “You’re full of shit. If you were wearing a wire, they’d be here by now. No one’s coming,” he said again. “And we can sit here for as long as you can.”

  But it was possible, because he’d given the order for that call to Foley, that Junior was bluffing, too.

  Just jumping overboard wasn’t an option.

  Unless Annie could somehow stun Foley before they went over the side, she and Robin didn’t stand a chance against him in the water.

  Foley had a gun, and like his co-workers who’d shot Martell, he wasn’t afraid to use it.

  Annie had never been seasick, but her sister-in-law had. Bruce had booked his bride a surprise cruise for their honeymoon, and Val had spent most of the trip in bed, and not in the good way. It had been years, but Val still talked about it as being the most awful week of her life. She was so self-absorbed, she never noticed how quiet Bruce got whenever she brought it up.

  And okay, yeah, so Bruce and Val weren’t exactly role models in terms of the allegedly perfect relationship Robin had been talking about just before Foley came to the door. In fact, Annie had had exactly zero role models when it came to good relationships.

  But it was definitely time to stop thinking about that, to focus on the here and now.

  Her heart was pounding so hard, it seemed strange that Robin and Foley didn’t comment on the noise. Please God, let this work…

  The only thing on deck to grab and swing was a pole with a hook on the end that looked as if it might’ve been used to pull the boat in to a dock, or maybe help with the deep-sea fishing in some mysterious way.

  There were no other obvious choices—a seat cushion, a life ring—so Annie again pretended to lose her balance, going down on her knees with a thud, right onto the deck. As she waited for Robin and then Foley to climb up the stairs, her fingers closed around the cool metal of the pole.

  And then Robin was past her, and Foley grabbed her by the arm to pull her up, and it was time to fight back.

  She swung the pole with all of her strength, bringing it up, as hard as she could, between Foley’s legs.

  The pole was ridiculously light—it must’ve been aluminum—and it bent from the force of the blow.

  Still, her aim was true, and Foley went down, shouting in pain. He dropped his gun, and although it slid across the deck, it slid away from both Annie and Robin.

  Seasick or not, even with crushed testicles, Foley was a formidable opponent. He used one leg to kick Annie, hard, into the bu
lkhead next to the stairs, even as he grabbed Robin, who’d immediately jumped into the fray.

  Robin was no lightweight, and in that moment, as Annie struggled to pull air back into her lungs so she could go to his aid, as she saw Robin’s knee connect again with Foley’s groin, Foley picked him up and threw him in the opposite direction from which his gun had gone.

  “Annie!” Robin cried, but then his head hit the edge of the boat with a sickening crunch, and the weight of his body took him over the side.

  “Robin!” She launched herself after him, but Foley was there, blocking her. She bumped him and he pushed her back.

  He laughed as he saw her gaze flicker over to his gun, still lying there on the deck. Too far away to go for. Damn it. Damn it.

  “Whatcha gonna hit me with now?” Foley asked.

  “Robin!” she called again, her eyes never leaving Foley’s.

  But Robin didn’t answer.

  He didn’t so much as splash.

  “What’s taking so long?” Ric couldn’t stay silent another moment. They had to do something, instead of just sitting in the galley, waiting, in siege mode. It was driving him mad.

  It was hot as hell in here, too, which wasn’t helping. Junior had turned off the air-conditioning, presumably to make them as uncomfortable as possible.

  “The longer it takes,” Jules said, “the more I’m convinced that Robin and Annie are safe.” He took a sip from one of the bottles of water he’d found in the refrigerator. It had been sealed, so it was safe to drink. “It’ll be hard for Junior to give us proof of life if Foley doesn’t really have them.”

  Jules was as calm and controlled as he would’ve been had they been sitting on a park bench, taking a break from a Sunday-afternoon stroll.

  “Or if Foley’s already killed them,” Ric offered.

  Jules shook his head. “It doesn’t help to think that way. I know you want to take Junior down. I know you want to go on the offensive, but…” He shook his head. “Let’s wait a bit longer before we get ourselves killed, okay? I’ve got a lot to live for.”

  “I thought you were going to walk away from Robin,” Ric said.

  “Yeah,” Jules agreed, “but I’ve got about three months’ worth of hope that he really will stop drinking. That’s ninety days, and call me selfish, but I want every one of them.”

  Ric glanced at him. “You’re even optimistic when you’re pessimistic.”

  They sat in silence for a moment, then Jules said, “I’m sorry for…what I did.”

  “For being optimistic?”

  “For disrespecting you. This morning,” Jules explained. “I hate that I did that, and I wish I could take a do-over and…do it differently.”

  “Sometimes,” Ric told the other man, “I speak Spanish just to piss people off. So don’t sweat it, man. It’s one of your weapons—you worked it with Junior. We all just…use what we’ve got.”

  “I know,” Jules said, “but I shouldn’t have used it against you.”

  “So now that you know me a little better,” Ric said with a shrug, “you won’t make that mistake again.”

  This time he broke the silence they fell into. “It doesn’t bother you?” Ric continued. “The way Junior was talking to you before? Calling you and Robin…those names?”

  Jules shrugged this time. “I’ve got a pretty thick skin.” But then he sighed. “Robin doesn’t, though. If he ever does come out, that’s going to be one of the hardest things for him—the name-calling.” He glanced at Ric. “There’s no way to protect him from that. I have entire arguments with myself about whether or not he should just stay in the closet for the rest of his life. And you know, I can win, taking either side, so…I don’t know the right answer.”

  “Maybe you should let Robin decide what he wants to do,” Ric said. He had to smile at his sage advice. All he’d ever wanted to do was protect Annie. And all he’d done was make mistake after mistake—by staying away from her, by making decisions for her, by making choices that he thought would be best for her.

  It made him crazy—sitting here, thinking that she was in trouble. And yet her willingness to take risks, to put herself into danger, was one of the things that had made him fall in love with her.

  “You know, when I first met Annie,” Ric told Jules, “she was eleven years old, and she had her arm in a sling. Her father was a violent drunk, and she put herself between him and her mother.”

  Jules laughed. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

  “Robin hit his head,” Annie told Foley. “We have to pull him back in, or he’ll drown.”

  “It’s up to you,” Foley said. “You gonna cooperate?”

  “I’m cooperating.” Annie was frantic. How long could Robin go without breathing, before brain damage set in? Plus, she had no idea what the currents were like out here. If they didn’t hurry, he might float away from the side of the boat.

  “Lie down,” Foley ordered. “On your stomach, hands on your head, face turned away.”

  As Annie obeyed, she heard him crossing the deck. It was all she could do to follow his instructions, to keep her head turned as he surely picked up his gun.

  She then heard his feet as he went back across, and then, “Fuck,” she heard Foley swear. “Fuck.”

  Oh God, please, no…

  Annie got to her feet. She put her hands back on her head as she, too, went to look over the side.

  Robin was gone.

  But the water was choppy. It would be hard to see anyone floating out there, let alone someone unconscious.

  “Get back down on the deck,” Foley ordered her.

  “Please,” she begged him. “Let me go in after him. Maybe he’s just below the surface.”

  “No way am I losing both of you,” he said.

  “Please,” she said again.

  “Move back,” he ordered, shouting when she didn’t move. “I said, move back and sit down!”

  He pulled his gun, and it was only then that Annie finally did as she’d been told.

  “She’s always been able to talk me into doing the craziest shit,” Ric admitted. “Like, this one time, she was convinced that this guy her mother was dating was married. He lived, I don’t know, it was north and east of Orlando—about a three-hour trip from Sarasota. And there I am, driving her across the state to do surveillance on the son of a bitch. Of course, she was right. Her mother had the lousiest taste in men. It’s no wonder she’s jaded when it comes to relationships.”

  “Give her time,” Jules said.

  “Yeah,” Ric said. He turned to look at Jules. “I don’t know how much longer I can sit here like this.”

  Jules knew.

  “If Junior can prove Foley’s got Annie,” Ric admitted, “I don’t know what I’m going to do. I know you’d rather wait, but it’s occurred to me that we might want to put a plan in place. I mean, I’m not sure I’m even going to be able to think, let alone—”

  From out on the deck came the sound of Junior’s cell phone ringing. Once. Twice.

  And all of Jules’s calm just dissolved. “Pick it up, Junior.” He kept himself from shouting it, clenching his teeth around the words. It was important not to let Junior know just how rattled he was by the idea of Robin and Annie in Foley’s hands.

  Junior’s phone rang a third time, and Jules turned to Ric. “How about we fucking kill them and take control of this ship?” he asked. “How’s that for a plan? Unless you have something else in mind?”

  “Fucking kill them works for me,” Ric told him. “But I have an idea with, you know, a few more details. I don’t know if you’re going to like it, though.”

  “Try me,” Jules said.

  “It won’t be the first time a movie star’s body washes up on a beach,” Foley said into his cell phone, “and it sure as hell won’t be the last. It’s not a problem we can’t take care of.”

  He’d restarted the engine and the fishing boat was moving forward—away from the spot where Robin had gone overboard.

>   Annie sat on the deck and let herself cry. She didn’t try to hide it, she just wept.

  Let him think she was defeated. Let him think her fight was gone.

  What was she going to hit him with now?

  She was working on it.

  Foley turned to look at her. “We still got the girl for that proof-of-life shit. A few words into the phone…Put it on the intercom, it’ll go throughout the yacht. They’ll hear it, wherever they’re holed up.”

  Annie tried to hide her reaction to that news. Jules and Ric were holed up somewhere on Junior’s yacht. They were safe. Alive…

  “You think he might be dead?” Foley asked. “Okay, so that’s not so good. The one you’ve been talking to isn’t the…” He was not happy. “So we have the wrong leverage. That’s just fucking great.”

  She was the wrong leverage. You think he might be dead? It wasn’t hard for Annie to imagine what that meant. If she were the wrong leverage, Ric was the one that Junior thought might be dead.

  Oh, God. If Ric were dead…

  Foley turned away and lowered his voice, but Annie strained to hear him. “Okay, look. Your father’s going to kill me because he loves that yacht, but here’s what we’re going to do. Get Geo and Pete to use the C4 you’ve got on board to, you know, do what C4 is supposed to do. I should be in sight of you within a few minutes. When we connect, you and the boys just…walk away. Just light the fuse and come onto the fishing boat with me.”

  Foley was talking about blowing up the yacht, where Ric and Jules were holed up…

  “Jesus H….” Foley was exasperated. “You really think it’s worth a try? Like they’re just going to surrender when they hear her voice? We don’t even know if the boyfriend’s alive.” He sighed, clearly put out. “All right, all right. Let’s just fucking do this.”

  Foley came over to her. Spoke to her. “When I hold out my phone, you will speak loudly and clearly so it picks you up…”

  Some sort of intercom system switched on, and Ric stopped arguing with Jules about his plan—about who should be the one to go belowdeck to get the explosives.