None of it added up. The only thing he knew for certain was that once they were stocked with supplies and he’d had a chance to talk to Sam Brady, it would be time for a serious chat with Chloe and her uncle. He quickly dried his face and hands on a towel, pulled on a T-shirt, and headed topside.
The Emerald Fire had space, something you’d expect on a yacht this size. But the layout had a unique design he’d not seen much in his day. There were access ports everywhere. What looked like a storage closet was actually a set of ladder stairs leading to another level of the ship, or stateroom bunks with cleverly disguised cubbyholes that opened to the galley, engine room, or outside decks.
He now understood how Jonathan could hide on board while the pirates sailed the yacht home. The ingenuity was appealing. As he stepped into the interior passageway, he considered incorporating similar designs in the schooner he was renovating at NorthStar.
A piercing scream cut through his exhaustion, one that was quickly followed by a thud that rattled the deck above him.
Alarm spiked his blood, and Finn burst into a sprint down the narrow corridor, twisting around and up the steps leading to the main level.
“Finn!”
He heard panic in Chloe’s cry and raced through the dining hall toward the stern. Through the wall-sized sliding glass doors to the aft deck, he saw Jonathan struggling with a dark-skinned man, one who had him bent backward over the rail. But it was the black steel military knife poised above Jonathan’s chest that spurred Finn into hyperdrive. He shoved the sliding doors wide and raced out.
“Pirate bastard!” Chloe yelled from the bridge deck above and launched a pool chair at her uncle’s attacker. It slammed the assailant square in the back and startled him enough for Jonathan to shove away from the knife. But he barely made two steps when the pirate plunged the blade into his thigh.
“Noooo!” Chloe screamed, and her feet pounded the port steps as she descended.
Finn hit the murderous pig with the force of a freight train, and the two of them rolled across white fiberglass flooring, taking out two lounge chairs and an ice bucket in the process. The guy was a bone rack, but he could punch like a street fighter and managed to land a couple solid blows. But Finn had learned a few moves himself growing up on the docks, and a quick roll landed him on his feet. He stalked the pirate, gauging his prowess, his desperation. All he needed was a split second of weakness or inattention.
Finn shifted right, feigned left, testing the guy’s reflexes. Plus it had the added bonus of infuriating the unwanted stowaway. It was a tiny piece of revenge that Finn had little time to enjoy. If this guy decided to come out of hiding, it meant reinforcements weren’t far behind.
No, this had to end right now. So when the pirate charged, Finn met him head-on and used the rush of the man’s momentum to slam him against a bulkhead. He bounced back, shaking his head like a dog. Then he bared his teeth in a snarl and went for Finn.
Chloe jumped into the ring just then. She came armed with an oar and swung straight for the attacker’s face, scoring a direct hit. The pirate screamed, blood spurting from his nose as he fell backward. Finn didn’t hesitate and grabbed him, shoving him roughly to the rail. The man glared his hatred as blood ran freely from a broken nose, but Finn had no sympathy.
He wanted to ask him where he’d been hiding for the last twelve hours. Or how much money he’d been paid for the murder of the Fire’s two crewmen. Or maybe just knock him around some more for trying to kill Jonathan. The punishment needed to fit the crime. He’d make him walk the plank if they had one.
“Jump,” Finn commanded, pointing over the rail.
Fury glared back at him from the man’s beady eyes, but when he glanced out to the open water and back, an oily smile made the hair on the back of Finn’s neck rise.
That was when the first bullet zinged past and struck the bulkhead above him. The pirate laughed, and Finn rammed a fist into his gut, making the guy double over. A quick glance out to sea revealed two vessels speeding their way. One was that damn cigarette boat, the other an equally fast racer, and both were full of angry pirates.
A jagged bolt of adrenaline filled his blood, and he didn’t waste another second. Grabbing the low-life by the belt and collar, he tossed him over the rail and into the drink.
“Jonathan?” Finn yelled.
“He’s alive,” Chloe yelled back. “Get us out of here!”
Finn raced up the same port stairs Chloe had descended, hitting them two at a time. He leapt onto the bridge deck and didn’t slow down until he hit the navigation console and started flipping switches, ramming the Fire into full speed. Her diesel engines roared, and the yacht surged forward as Finn pushed for maximum knots.
It wasn’t enough. Finn could hear bullets spray the hull. Where in the hell had they come from? It was eighty miles south to the shore of the Dominican Republic and fifty or more north to the Turks & Caicos.
The Fire’s engines were wide open and cutting through the ocean swell, but their fuel supply was dangerously low. The pirates had the advantage. At full throttle that cigarette boat gulped fuel, but if they filled up on the Dominican’s north shore then they had enough range to reach the Caicos Bank. Not good. Not good at all.
Finn sprinted from the console to the weapons locker and once again snatched the AR15 and ammo drums. He loaded, primed, then grabbed another and repeated the process.
Chloe and Jonathan hobbled onto the bridge and aimed straight for the Nav console. Jonathan dropped into the pilot’s chair, his face chalk white and left leg securely wrapped in strips of a blood-soaked beach towel, but determination etched every pained line of his face.
“We’ve got auxiliary engines,” Jonathan said hoarsely as he pushed buttons and cranked knobs. “They’ll burn diesel like no tomorrow, but they’ll boost our speed.”
Chloe glanced worriedly at the fuel gauge, but Finn didn’t argue. They couldn’t sustain that speed for very long. But hell, conserving fuel wouldn’t do any good if they were boarded. And if Jonathan could steer the vessel, that meant Finn could be firing on the bilge rats chasing them.
“Can you blast an SOS to SafeSail?” Finn asked. Not that it would help them, but at least there’d be a record of the incident.
“Already on it,” Jonathan replied.
Chloe joined him at the locker and began grabbing her own artillery. “We don’t have the fuel to outrun them,” she stated and snatched a nylon bag from a bottom cabinet. She began tossing in bullets, knives, and a variety of handguns.
No sense trying to sugar coat it. She was right. Their chances were slim, so he did the only logical thing left to do in a time of crisis. He pulled her to him and kissed her like a man with nothing to lose.
She stiffened for the briefest second then melted into him, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him back with the ferocity of a woman up against overwhelming odds and praying for the luck of the Irish. Whatever it was, it worked for him, and for the briefest second, he lost himself in the heat of her embrace.
A new round of enemy fire broke them apart, yet he just stood there, stunned. She brushed her palm against his cheek and sighed, then turned and snatched her arsenal from the floor and ran for the back deck.
“Sweet Jesus,” Finn muttered under his breath. “I think I’m in love.”
Jonathan snorted. “Good luck with that,” he rasped.
Finn didn’t waste time asking what he meant, just added it to a growing list of things needing clarification from those two. He loaded as many weapons into his arms as possible and ran after Chloe.
She was already firing on one of the boats by the time he joined her on deck. It didn’t slow the pirates down much, and return fire hit the bulkhead above him. He ducked, keeping low as he raced to the rail and slid to a halt on his knees. He dumped the extra guns and ammo rounds on the floor and hefted the AR15 to his shoulder.
“They’re getting closer,” Chloe shouted over the engin
es.
He let loose several rounds, but their pursuers were playing a game of cat and mouse. One boat shot at them rapid-fire while the other raced forward. Then realization hit Finn. The pirates didn’t care about fuel. They were confident this was a one-way trip. And they had known exactly where to find them thanks to one of their own being on board. If they had to, they’d tow the other boats behind the Emerald Fire.
The Baja speedboat got close enough to the stern for a pirate to lunge for the railing. He stuck the landing until Finn fired at him, then he dropped into the ocean and his brethren pulled back. But the cigarette boat took up the slack and volleyed shots at the Fire’s engine housing.
Chloe rose up to her knees and braced the rifle on the rail, letting loose a string of random fire. He added to the effort and, between them, the pirates were forced to divide and drop back out of rifle range. The Fire gained precious ground, but it wasn’t because of gunfire, Jonathan’s evasive maneuvers, or the pirates giving quarter. The Baja was working for position while a muscled pirate was steadying a rocket launcher on his shoulder.
“Shit!” Finn knew exactly what was coming, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. “Shit, shit, shit.”
“What—no—is that—?” Chloe couldn’t even finish a sentence, just stared in wide-eyed horror at the RPG being prepped to blow them out of the water.
They were out of time. The whooshing sound of a launch propelled Finn on top of Chloe, shielding her as best he could, but it’d do little good against the kind of assault weapon being unleashed against them.
He mentally counted the seconds it would take to hit the boat, but it didn’t happen. Instead, the missile sailed high, over-shooting them. “A warning shot,” he said as he rolled off Chloe. “They don’t want to hit the boat. It’s worth too much to them.”
“Can’t say the same for current occupants though, right?” she asked as she peered over the rail. “We’ll be fish food if they get on board.”
“New plan,” he said as he reloaded the drum on his AR. “We get Jonathan to hit the brakes. Maybe it will fool the pirates into thinking they’ve disabled us.”
“That’s it?” she asked incredulously. “That’s all you’ve got?”
“It’s a start.” He didn’t wait around to argue the point. Time was definitely not on their side, and they needed to act fast, so he shot for the bridge.
Chloe followed.
“The bastards fired an RPG at my ship,” Jonathan said through clenched teeth. He looked even paler than before, and blood had thoroughly soaked his temporary bandages. He needed medical attention. Sooner rather than later.
“I think they want her back and intend on boarding her,” Finn said. “If they do, we’re toast.”
“I’ll shoot the first son of a bitch that steps on board,” Jonathan declared. “I won’t let them have her.”
“I don’t know if we can stop them, Uncle Jon.” Chloe said it softly, a stricken look in her eyes. “There are too many of them.”
“I’ll sink the Fire before I let pirates have her,” Jonathan vowed. He clamped his lips together so tight they looked white. Or maybe it was massive blood loss and the onset of delirium. Probably both.
But Jonathan’s words gave Finn an idea, a desperate one that leaned heavily on luck. “We can’t outrun that cigarette boat even if we tried,” Finn said. “We have more staying power, but they can reach a speed of eighty knots. They will catch us eventually.”
And Jonathan was getting weaker. Finn didn’t know how much longer the man could remain upright. The reality was they were in serious trouble. If the pirates managed to get on board, it would be him, Chloe, and a gravely wounded man against a half dozen armed mercenaries. The odds of them surviving hovered around the zero mark.
“What are our options?” Jonathan asked.
He almost laughed. Options were as close to none as you could get. In fact, he could only think of one, and it was every bit as risky as a pirate standoff. “We’re in a no-win situation,” he stated flatly. “The only solution I can come up with is technically against the law.”
Finn could tell by Jonathan’s compressed lips that he grasped his meaning. It was a drastic response that put them at serious risk. It also meant kissing his bounty money goodbye. But when faced with certain death, doing the last thing anyone would expect might be the thing that kept them alive.
Jonathan closed his eyes and inhaled deep before saying, “You’re talking about scuttling the ship.”
Chloe gasped. “Nooo,” she whispered, looking up at him with wide eyes, clearly appalled by the idea.
He agreed. It was certainly not a plan he wanted to put into play. It could very well mean the end of NorthStar. But it was better than the alternative, which was a violent end for all three of them at the hands of bloodthirsty lowlifes.
“The pirates believe the prize is all but in their hands,” Finn explained. “They’ll board the Fire, thinking they’ve won. They won’t expect an intentional sinking.”
A glint of fatal determination shone from Jonathan’s pale face. “I’d rather she be at the bottom of the sea than in the hands of that scum.” He meant every word.
“Slow the engines and bring her about,” Finn said. “Make them think we’re losing control. Turn her sideways so I can get the speed boat ready to launch.”
“You can’t be serious,” Chloe cried. “There must be another way.”
Finn shook his head. “We’re going to need them to board the Fire. That should buy us enough time to get away. They’ll probably chase us, but we’re starting with a fresh tank of fuel. They’ve already burned at least half of theirs.”
“Oh, my God,” Chloe cried and dropped her head in her hands.
“Can you open the bilge ports from the Nav console?” Finn asked Jonathan.
“Aye.” He nodded grimly. “You get our escape ready. I’ll start flooding her lower decks.”
Chapter 12
This couldn’t be happening. They’d risked their lives to get the yacht back and now they were going to sink her? Chloe’s heart constricted at the thought. She cherished the happy memories spent on board this ship. They were few and far between after her parents’ death. The time spent sitting on the Fire’s decks, soaking up the sun and letting the wind blow away her grief, had been an escape that soothed her soul. Sending her to the bottom to Davy Jones’s Locker felt like a blow, felt like Lisa Banks had won.
Which was crazy, of course. Boston Marine already knew they’d located the yacht and they would soon know Uncle Jon was alive. Chloe wasn’t sure if insurance covered intentional sinking of a boat to keep it out of the hands of pirates, but the point was any money paid would go to her uncle and not the scheming wife.
“I feel the loss too, Chloe,” her uncle said tiredly. His elbows were on the console, using the counter to support his weight, and he dropped his head into his hands. “I don’t want to send her into the deep. But Finn’s plan might be our only chance.”
“But to sacrifice the Emerald Fire…” she said, blinking back tears. “It’s too much.”
He took a deep breath and lifted his pale face, staring at her with a mix of sorrow and anger. “We’ll make them pay, honey.”
She wasn’t sure if he meant the pirates or his soon to be ex-wife. Chloe mentally added in her rotten cousin Owen, too.
“Are you sure about this, Uncle Jon?”
He nodded. “We might not be able to outrun the bastards, but we can outsmart them.” He tapped on the console’s computer keyboard, manipulating the engines and causing at least one to cough and sputter as he slowed the yacht, maneuvering her into position.
Chloe choked backed a sob. Knowing this had to be done didn’t make it any easier. She wanted to curl into a ball and cry, but there wasn’t time. Right now she had work to do. The Fire might be going down, but by all that was holy, she wouldn’t take everything with her. Especially not their weapons. Chloe refused to
leave a single bullet for the scum lurking out there.
She grabbed the ammo bag again and tossed in everything remaining in the weapons locker. She held back a loaded 9mm and stuffed it into the waistband of her shorts, zipped the bag closed, and dropped it by the exit door.
“I’m going for the journal,” she said.
Uncle Jon nodded without looking her way, a tired slope to his normally ramrod-straight back. He’d always been strong, always the rock in her life after her parents’ death. Seeing him now, badly wounded and struggling, strengthened her resolve.
She ran over to him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “We’ll get through this Uncle Jon. I know it. We’ve got comeuppance to deliver.”
He reached up and patted her hands. “Agreed. Now, go get that journal. And hurry.”
“I’ll be right back.” With a last squeeze, she headed for the door.
She rushed down to the stateroom, fished both books out of hiding, grabbed an old backpack, then dashed back up the stairs and into the galley. If she had to jump overboard or the powerboat capsized, she needed waterproofing. She ripped open a drawer, grabbed a box of gallon-sized Ziploc bags, pulled out two, and double-bagged the journals. Then she grabbed a third, just for good measure.
Securing the wrapped books in the zipper compartment of the backpack, she then filled the center with kitchen towels and as many bottles of water as she could carry. It might be a long boat ride before they made it to shore again. On that note, she also grabbed several packs of cheese crackers, some nutrition bars, dried fruit, and peppered beef jerky. She raced back toward the bridge, passing by the liquor cabinet on the way. On impulse, she grabbed several little airplane bottles of vodka as an antiseptic, then a new bottle of her uncle’s favorite scotch. They were definitely going to need a drink when this was over. Gunfire sounded on the deck above her, and she flew for the bridge.
By the time her and the now forty-pound bag made it back, the Fire had lost momentum. Chloe could feel her sluggish push through the waves and her heart broke, knowing she was taking on water.
Emerald Fire Page 10
