Capture of the Defiance: Romantic Suspense (Breaking Free Book 2)

by S. E. Smith

  *.*.*

  Detective Helen Woo listened intently to Makayla Summerlin. Every once in a while, she would pick up the pen and write a note on the summary. She was good at what she did because she listened to the people who came in. She also could tell a lot from their body language, a skill not many of her colleagues had developed.

  At twenty-eight, she was one of the youngest members of the Hong Kong police force to make the rank of Detective. The only daughter of a district police administrator and British school teacher, she had excelled in all her classes. Her mother had been supportive of her decision to follow in her father’s footsteps, though she had felt her mother’s concern for her safety. Her father had been slightly less forgiving, drilling her over the dangers and finally taking her under his wing so he could train her himself. Only after she made detective, did he finally admit that he was very proud of her – but still worried for her well-being.

  When the report had been first entered into the system, Officer Wang had immediately notified her of the report and that he was rerouting it directly to her inbox. He had said a young American woman had just reported an incident down at the Royal Hong Kong Yacht Club that involved a kidnapping and shooting. Such acts of violence in an exclusive area could have devastating effects to tourism and the economy.

  If the area became known for being unsafe, it could quickly create a vacuum for gangs and increased crime. Her responsibility was to take a proactive stance on such crimes and mitigate the situation before it escalated. Over the last decade, crime had continued to decrease with the help of the revitalization of many parts of the city.

  Helen was very impressed with the woman sitting across from her. She could tell that Makayla was upset, but she had an almost unnatural control of her emotions – especially considering the fact that she should be dead. The bruise on her back proved that she had been very fortunate. If Makayla had not been wearing the backpack filled with canned goods, Helen had no doubt that she would be dealing with a homicide as well as a kidnapping. The shot had been very precise – sever the spine, pierce the heart. It had been a kill shot. The description of the incident left no doubt in Helen’s mind that killing her had been the attacker’s intent.

  “Are you aware of anyone your grandfather might have angered? Is he involved in anything illegal?” Helen asked, gazing into Makayla’s eyes to see if she was telling her the truth.

  Makayla held her gaze when she answered. “Henry is a little rough around the edges, but he has a good heart and people recognize that in him. As far as illegal, he is also one of the most honest men you’ll ever meet,” she replied, her gaze softening. “Our family isn’t rich. The Defiance looks pitifully out of place in comparison to most of the boats at the marina, so it isn’t like he was screaming ‘I’m wealthy, come take me’. Detective Woo, I don’t know much about crime, but the man who shot at me, there was something different about him – and, I can tell you that the speedboat they were in cost far more than the sailboat my grandfather owned. Something isn’t right, I can feel it. I don’t know what it is. I just want to find my grandfather.”

  Helen nodded and stood up. “I would like to see the sailboat,” she instructed, picking up the file.

  “Finally,” Makayla muttered with a sigh of relief and rose to her feet.

  Helen chuckled. It was the first uncontrolled response that Makayla had made. Walking to the door, she pulled the long raincoat off the hook and picked up her umbrella. Opening the door, Helen called to Officer Wang.

  “Please update the information into the system. I’ve added detailed information about the suspects. I would like for you to run a search and cross match the description of the speedboat and the man. I would also like to see what you can find out about Henry Summerlin and Miss Summerlin,” Helen instructed in Cantonese, handing him the file.

  “Yes, Detective Woo,” Officer Wang replied, taking the file.

  “Mr. Wang,” Helen said, touching his arm. “I’ll need an expanded search completed – with discretion, of course.”

  “I will personally conduct it myself,” Officer Wang assured her with a bow.

  Helen turned back to where Makayla was silently waiting, staring intently at them. She smiled reassuringly and nodded to her. With a wave of her hand, she indicated which way they would go.

  “We will take my car,” Helen said. “Please follow me.”

  Makayla nodded and fell into step beside her. Helen slipped her raincoat on and pulled her keys out of the pocket. They walked down several different corridors and past offices filled with people. She was used to the hustle and bustle of the precinct. Several people nodded to her when they passed them in the hall, but like her, they were more focused on dealing with their own issues.

  “What information do you want to know about Henry and me?” Makayla suddenly asked, surprising Helen.

  Helen paused at the exit to the stairwell leading down to the secured parking garage reserved for employees. She turned to stare at Makayla with a raised eyebrow. Tilting her head, she gave her a curious expression.

  “You understand Cantonese?” Helen asked.

  Makayla shook her head. “No. I heard you say Henry’s and my name to Officer Wang. It wasn’t difficult to deduce that you were asking him to find out more about us. It is what I would do,” she admitted. “I just thought I could speed up the process a little.”

  Helen chuckled and pushed open the door. “I hope you don’t mind the stairs. I detest elevators,” Helen replied, starting downward. “You are correct in your assumption. I like to have as much information as possible on any case. It is better to be informed so that I can make the right decisions. It would also speed up finding out what happened to your grandfather.”

  “There isn’t much to tell,” Makayla said, following her. “Henry had his own business for years working on boats. A little over a year ago, he decided to sail around the world. Everyone thought he was crazy, but it was something he’s always wanted to do. I’ve been at college. I’ve met up with him a few times over the last year to sail with him on portions of his journey. I have a slightly longer break right now before I head out on my next internship with Harbor Branch Oceanographic and decided to make the trip from Hong Kong to Hawaii with him. We were supposed to leave this coming weekend, weather permitting.”

  Helen stopped and turned on the last step, her gaze lifting to lock on Makayla’s face. Her eyes widened with sudden recognition and her lips parted. That was why the names sounded so familiar.

  “You are Makayla Summerlin. You are the girl who stole her grandfather’s sail boat,” she whispered with a combination of awe and disbelief.

  Makayla shifted from one foot to the other and glanced down at where she was holding the railing. Helen could see the slight embarrassment on the younger woman’s face. Makayla finally nodded.

  “I don’t think I’ll ever live that down,” she said with a rueful expression. “I was sixteen.”

  Helen laughed and turned to the door marked ‘Exit’. Through the window, the dark interior of the parking garage could be seen. The sky had grown darker outside and the lights flickered.

  “I was at university when your adventure went viral,” Helen admitted with a relaxed, warm smile. “I was conflicted by which career choice I should follow. I knew my parents wished for me to do something different, but my heart was in solving crimes and making the world a better place. A group of students were talking about what the boy and you were doing. I watched the videos that were posted.”

  “Tyrell called it our ‘Voyage of the Defiance’,” Makayla muttered, walking over to the passenger side of the car. She paused and looked over at Helen. “I knew I should have drowned Tyrell. I didn’t know he was plastering everything that was going on all over the Internet until we reached Tampa.”

  “I was captivated by your strength, courage, and passion,” Helen admitted, staring over the roof of the car at Makayla.

  Makayla shook her head. “I just wanted to go home,” she
whispered, lost in the memory.

  “Your journey gave others the strength to believe in themselves, Makayla. I knew then that no voyage comes without danger. Mine was to follow in my father’s footsteps. I just needed the courage to believe in myself,” Helen replied in a soft voice.

  “I still think I should have drowned Tyrell,” Makayla stubbornly muttered, pulling open the door and sliding into the car.

  8

  Henry shivered and rolled to his side. He didn’t know what hurt worse, his head or his wrist. He decided that each part of his body hurt just as much as the next; so, he just checked off on the mental list he was making of his injuries that he was just in pain. He pushed himself up off the floor in a sitting position and scooted backwards until his back was pressed against the hull of the boat.

  “More like a great big bloody ship, not a boat,” he muttered, wincing when he tried to move his fingers. “Hell’s bell’s, you’ve got yourself into a doozy of a mess this time, Henry Summerlin.”

  He glanced around the area, trying to see if he could figure out what in the hell was going on and where he was. The room was lit by a single light bulb that swayed back and forth, and the floor rumbled under him. There was a slight dampness in the air. If he had to guess, he was either a long way from the dock or the bay was rougher than it had been.

  The metal hull behind him was cool to the touch. He suspected he was below the water level. The room was bare for the most part. There were a few pieces of broken wood, probably left over from some wooden crate or pallet.

  A loud hiss escaped him when he stood. The room rocked dangerously back and forth for a moment. Henry placed his good hand on the side of the hull to steady himself until the waves in his head settled down. The first thing he needed to do was stabilize his wrist.

  Crossing over to where he could see the pieces of discarded wood, he found a couple that looked like they might work. He picked them up and staggered back to where he had first regained consciousness. Sliding down the metal wall, he pulled out the rag he had tucked into his back pocket earlier and folded it into a long two inch wide band.

  Next, he braced his broken wrist on his knees and carefully felt it with his fingers. He could feel where the ulna was broken. It wasn’t bad, but it would need to be pushed back into place if he wanted to stabilize it enough to wrap it. Sweat broke out on his brow and he gritted his teeth together. Aligning his thumb over the slight lump where the bone was broken, he wrapped his other fingers around his damaged wrist. He drew in a deep breath through his nose and pushed.

  Tears clouded his vision and a low, guttural moan escaped him when the resulting wave of pain hit him, pushed the breath he had just drawn out of his lungs. A shudder went through his body. Tilting his head back, he closed his eyes, willing the pain to pass. In his mind, he tried to focus on all the horrible things he would love to inflict on the slender man with the Arctic expression and his mysterious employer.

  “God, Mary Rose, that hurt,” he muttered, opening his eyes and blinking away the tears. “Almost as much as the time I put a nail through my foot and you had to pull it out. Do you remember that? Of course, you do. You never forgot anything.”

  Feeling more composed, he shakily picked up the rag he had folded and placed it on his lap. Next, he placed one of the four-inch by one inch scraps of wood he had found on the rag. Laying his broken wrist on the wood, he braced it with another piece before he bent forward and used his teeth and his good hand to wrap the rag securely around his makeshift splint.

  Only when he was finished did he relax back against the hull for a moment. A wry smile curved his lips and he felt along his pocket. His fingers closed over a small, round container. He clumsily reached in and pulled it out. Using his teeth, he gripped the top and twisted it free.

  “This might not be morphine, but at least it’s better than nothing,” he grunted in triumph.

  Henry tapped out two painkillers onto his lap. He picked up the small, red pills and popped them into his mouth. Recapping the plastic container, he slid it back into his pocket.

  “So, what do you have to work with, Henry?” He quietly asked himself. “Pain killers, a dirty rag, a couple of pieces of broken wood, a pocketknife, and some change that you found when you were crawling on the floor. Not much, old boy,” he answered himself with a shake of his head before he laid it back and closed his eyes. “Makayla, I hope you are safe, girl. I hope you are safe.”

  Henry could feel his body starting to relax. The pain medication was taking the edge off of his throbbing wrist and head, while the brace was providing some support and relief. He shifted on the hard, cold floor. At the moment, he felt every one of his almost seventy years on the planet. He shook his head. He couldn’t stop the darkness that was clouding the edges of his vision. He finally gave up and gave into it.

  *.*.*

  Ren Lu stared through the binoculars at the marina. He had sent two men back to the sailboat. Their mission was to make sure that the body of the woman remained hidden and to search the sailboat for the canvas bags the old man had been carrying.

  His gaze swept along the dock. He scanned over the bicycle the woman had been riding before moving on to the parking lot. A frown creased his brow and he quickly returned his attention back to the bike. He increased the zoom, staring at it. His lips tightened. He reached for the radio at his waist and pulled it free.

  “Check the bike,” he ordered. “The woman had bags filled with groceries.”

  His gaze followed the two men in the inflatable dinghy. They were tying off the boat and climbing up onto the dock. They separated, one heading down the dock toward the bike while the other one moved to the sailboat.

  “The baskets are empty,” the man checking the bike responded.

  “There are bags of groceries scattered on the sailboat,” the other man said. “Wet clothes are piled on the floor. It looks like they belong to a woman.”

  Ren Lu’s hand tightened on the binoculars. A muscle in his jaw twitched. His gut feeling had been correct. The woman was alive – but, it was worse than that; she was connected with the old man. There had been nothing in the original manifests about two passengers. The report had just mentioned the old man.

  “Check the bags for the package,” he ordered in a terse tone.

  “Affirmative,” the man on the sailboat replied.

  Ren Lu continued to scan the area. The first man had joined the other. He ignored the bite of the wind and the spray of the water that was kicked up. His focus was on the sailboat.

  “Nothing,” the man finally replied.

  Ren Lu gritted his teeth in annoyance. A movement further up near the main building of the marina caught his attention. He turned his gaze to the dark blue car. It approached the parking area and slowed. He couldn’t see the two occupants at first, just that there was a driver and one passenger. His gut twisted. Pressing the button on the side of the radio, he waited until the car pulled to a stop.

  “You have company,” he said.

  “Affirmative,” the man replied.

  Ren Lu kept his attention on the car. The men were highly trained and would get out without being seen. A low hiss escaped him when the car doors opened and two women stepped out of it. He immediately recognized Detective Helen Woo. He made it his business to know who could and could not be bought. He turned the binoculars toward the other woman.

  He immediately recognized her as well. She should be dead. He never missed his target. His gaze swept over her when she walked toward the dock. She was gesturing toward the bike and pointing to where she had fallen in the water. A minute later, both women disappeared from view when they climbed onto the sailboat.

  Lowering the binoculars, he stared across the bay. He didn’t move when he heard the sound of footsteps approaching over the wind. He finally turned when the man who had approached cleared his throat.

  “What is it?” Ren Lu asked in a deadly quiet tone.

  “The information you requested has arrived,” t
he man stated.

  Ren Lu turned away from the side. “There was a woman with the old man. Find out who she is,” he ordered coldly. “And Mr. Arys, this time make sure I have all the information that I request.”

  “Yes, sir,” Arys replied with a bow.

  Ren Lu watched the man walk away. He had begun to personally vet all the members of the security team who had worked for his predecessor. Unfortunately, he had only been in this position for a few days and had not yet completed his review. The information that he had been relying on had come from reports generated before his promotion. Regardless, he knew his employer would not see it that way.

  His hand automatically went to his pocket when his cell phone vibrated. He pulled it out, knowing that the very man he was thinking of would be on the other end. Tapping the access code, he held the phone to his ear and listened.

  “No, the information has not yet been retrieved,” Ren Lu replied in a voice devoid of emotion. “I am working on the situation. It will be resolved shortly. Yes, Mr. Sun, I am fully aware of the consequences if I should fail.”

  Ren Lu pressed the power button on the side of the phone when the line went dead. His gaze returned once more to the marina. Sometimes, it was just better to take care of things yourself, he thought.

  9

  Makayla froze on the step leading down into the galley. Her gaze was locked on the scattered items that she had purchased from the market. Her hand trembled on the teak handle that she was holding. Her eyes zeroed in on her wet clothes. They had been moved.

  “Someone’s been here since I left,” she whispered, turning to look at the woman with her. “Things have been moved.”

  Helen nodded and pulled the gun at her waist. Her gaze moved over the items. She jerked her head toward the bow of the sailboat.

  “It’s the sleeping area,” Makayla murmured, glancing around. “I had thrown the bags on the bench seats, but all of the items were still in the bags. My clothes – I had dropped in a pile outside of the head.”