Emerald Fire

by Monica McCabe

  She rolled and started swimming his way, but something heavy struck the surface right beside her, dousing her in another breath-stealing splash. A coughing fit racked her as Finn dove underwater. By the time she recovered, he’d returned, pulling a body with him.

  It was Owen. Finn rolled him over, face up. A second bullet hole had neatly pierced his forehead. He was dead.

  Chloe would’ve screamed if she’d had the breath. A burning choke tightened in her throat, and she spun from the sight, trying to swim away. But coordination had left her. She flailed in the water, gasping for air, coughing or crying, she couldn’t tell which.

  Finn swam up behind her and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her against him. “Relax, Chloe, stop fighting it.”

  Physically she let go, logic and survival telling her he was right, but a jagged cut of emotion seared her nerves. Owen floated aimlessly, twirling in the mild ocean currents as Finn pulled them several strokes away. He stopped beside the first massive pylon that supported the dry dock and treaded water, holding her until she got a grip on the raw horror that squeezed her soul.

  “Look at me, Chloe,” he said.

  She responded to the authority in his voice and blinked rapidly, beginning to return to herself, to the precariousness of their situation.

  “I’m okay,” she whispered, not all certain that was true. But the shock that gripped her was dissipating, and she took back control. She pushed out of Finn’s hold. “Emeralds?” she asked.

  “Below us,” he said.

  “At the bottom of the harbor?” Chloe gasped.

  He nodded and pointed up toward the dock. “Come on.”

  They swam next to the pylons until they reached a rough ladder. He pulled her over to the rungs. “Climb.”

  She got her footing and headed up. He followed close behind. She stepped onto the weathered walkway and leaned over, hands on her knees, and gulped in several deep breaths. “I can’t believe…you lost the emeralds,” Chloe choked out.

  “No, I didn’t,” he said as he dug around in a plywood storage locker meant for buoys and anchor line. “I sank them to keep them safe until this is over.”

  “Oh, God,” she moaned. “It’s just like the Fire.”

  He pulled out a small blade, about the size of a steak knife, and stuck it into the back pocket of his soaking wet jeans. “No it isn’t. That chest weighs ten or twelve pounds. This is a long harbor, the tide isn’t strong, and we’re tucked in a cove. The jewels will sit down there, safe and sound.”

  She straightened, pushing wet hair out of her face. “They won’t wash away?”

  “Trust me, Chloe. It’s the safest place for them.” He quietly closed the locker, a wrench and screwdriver in his hands.

  She nodded. What choice did she have? But dear heavens, they were priceless royal emeralds. And he sank them.

  Finn handed her the wrench. “If you get close enough, hit hard.”

  As weapons went, it didn’t look like much. What she wouldn’t give for a killer Uzi or maybe an M-1tank. Why couldn’t one of those have been stashed in the box?

  Finn headed down the walkway, and she sprinted behind him. They hugged the building as they hustled down the length, still dripping wet and leaving an obvious trail. It didn’t matter. A part of her brain wondered what happened to Lisa. Was she dead, too? In a crumpled heap on the roof?

  The walkway ended, and their feet hit solid ground before they reached the front of the dock and pressed their backs against the old slat-board wall. A booming kick at the pedestrian door startled Chloe and shook the wall they leaned against. There was another and another until she heard splintering wood, the door crumbling under the force and knocked off its hinges.

  Still Finn didn’t move, they didn’t run, just stood there pressed up against the wall as the acrid scent of burning wood and debris surrounded them, punctuated by the hiss and pop of dying lumber.

  Lisa screamed, though it sounded more out of fury than fear. There was a scuffle, and Chloe wondered if her step-aunt had tried to flee. There were two pirates on that roof. Which one had her?

  “I know you are out here,” Hosea shouted.

  It was broad daylight and little place to hide, if that was really an option. Chloe brought up a mental image of the grounds from yesterday’s tour. Hosea would be standing in the center gravel yard with the dry dock on one side, the still-burning storage building on the other. She and Finn had no real options. They’d be spotted instantly if they tried to run. It was wide-open ground in front of them or back to the water behind them.

  “Come out, come out, wherever you are,” Hosea said in a singsong way.

  Finn leaned slightly forward, peering around the corner, then pressed back to the wall. “Hosea still has a gun,” he whispered. “Hector has a knife at Lisa’s throat. There’s at least one more somewhere.”

  One with detonation skills who might very well be busy rigging another explosion. Where was Uncle Jon? Ronan? Surely, they had an attack plan.

  She held up her wrench. “Don’t you have real weapons hidden anywhere?” Chloe fiercely whispered back. She was fast rounding into pissed off. Owen might have been a lousy relative and ruled by greed, but he didn’t deserve to die.

  “Several,” he answered. “Can’t get to any of them from here.”

  He had a point. There wasn’t anything nearby that could be pressed into service either. Finn kept a tidy yard. There was a pile of old equipment on the other side of the compound that would surely offer something, but getting across unseen was impossible.

  “Do you want to watch this pretty lady die, too?” Hosea yelled out.

  As much as she hated Lisa, Chloe didn’t want to see her end up like Owen. But before she could suggest they go out and try to negotiate, a familiar voice joined the mix.

  “Let her go,” Jonathan said as he stepped out of the shadows and into plain view.

  “Ah, hell,” Finn muttered under his breath.

  “Jonathan!” Lisa said in a desperate plea.

  “I remember you.” Hosea’s joking tone had disappeared, replaced with the cold intensity of a killer. “You were on the big yacht. Manny stabbed you.”

  “And he got thrown to the sharks. That makes us even,” her uncle said.

  Hosea laughed, a harsh sound with no trace of humor. “You should be angry, amigo. Your compadres sank a valuable boat. Cost you much money.”

  “Tell your friend to put the knife down, and we’ll talk,” her uncle said.

  “I don’t want to talk. I want the emeralds.”

  Chloe felt the blood drain from her face. She remembered that vicious knife, the razor sharp edge, and the unforgiving hand that held it. Finn tapped her shoulder, interrupting the unpleasant memory, and signaled her to follow.

  They hurried back down the boardwalk and into the pedestrian door by the locker. As fast as they could silently run, they rounded the walls to come out to the other side, but not before Chloe snatched up a wood hatchet. They slipped out the other door and squeezed between the building and a skiff in for repairs. Finn reached into the boat, unhooked something long from the sides, and pulled out a pneumatic carbine spear gun and several arrows. Chloe nearly wept with joy.

  As Finn disconnected the sling and prepped an arrow, she peeked around the corner of the dry dock and discovered they were now behind Hosea and Lisa.

  “She paid me to kill you,” Hosea was saying, “and yet you fight for her life. Why would you do this?”

  “She is my wife,” her uncle replied.

  A technicality she hoped her uncle would eliminate the minute he got away from here and hired a lawyer.

  “See that pretty necklace I put around her throat? Hector will coat it in her blood if I do not get those jewels.”

  Chloe’s heart sank. Since those jewels were currently at the bottom of the harbor, Lisa’s odds of survival weren’t looking good. The gun her uncle held only offered minor improvement. He
aimed it at Hosea, who aimed his own at Uncle Jon. It was a standoff.

  “You have to take Hosea out,” Chloe whispered to Finn.

  He’d come up behind her, and she felt him stiffen. “He’s going to kill her, then he’ll kill Uncle Jon,” she said as she turned his way. But he wasn’t looking at Hosea. He was staring toward the office.

  She followed his line of sight and her heart sank.

  He’d found the third pirate. The cretin was busy tossing gasoline onto wood he’d piled alongside the wall of the new addition. Another building was soon to be torched. They had to do something, and right now.

  Finn dropped to one knee and took aim. The air-powered spear gun was fast and strong, but it didn’t have that kind of reach. He’d have to get closer.

  She spotted movement near the trees lining the new section and recognized the man spying on the pirate.

  She tapped Finn’s shoulder and pointed. “Ronan,” she whispered. Finn’s dad had a gun in his hand, but the second he fired, Hosea would be alerted and would act.

  “My friends,” Hosea shouted, “your time is up. You have to the count of three to come face me, your powerful enemy.”

  “What do we do?” Chloe whispered sharply.

  “One.”

  Finn lifted the spear again, aiming at Hosea, but Lisa and Hector were in the way.

  “Two.”

  “Please!” Lisa shouted. “Jonathan, help me!”

  Suddenly, Chloe knew what she had to do. Hosea was a killer, and he wouldn’t hesitate to eliminate Lisa. She hated the woman, but didn’t want to watch her die. That meant the situation had to change, someone had to buy them more time so they could figure out how to win against the pirate. There was only one way to accomplish that.

  She straightened. “I’m going out there.”

  “The hell you are,” Finn snapped.

  “You can hit him,” she said softly. She reached up and brushed her palm against his face. “Please, don’t miss.”

  “Three.”

  “Wait!” Chloe shouted and stepped away from the dock.

  Chapter 32

  “Son of a bitch!” Finn swore. She was going to be the death of him yet.

  He watched her walk over to join her uncle, who at least had the good sense to look horrified at her life-threatening move.

  “You know, Hosea, you’d make friends a whole lot easier if you weren’t threatening to kill them all the time.” Chloe sounded calm as you please, not at all like she was desperate to change the status quo.

  “I knew I’d find you again,” Hosea said with a grin. “You are beautiful and brave and a little loco. I think I like you. You would make a fine wife.”

  “Is this a proposal?” she asked.

  Finn took a deep breath, trying to calm the red haze of panic that threatened to make him do something rash. Like grab Hosea by the throat and wring the bastard’s neck.

  “Maybe,” Hosea said, as though he considered the idea. “I grow tired of Reyes. She spends too much of my money. But she makes fine tortillas, so maybe we keep her as a cook, no?”

  “See, that’s a problem,” Chloe said. “You’ve no sense of loyalty. I’d truly be loco to marry a man like you.”

  Finn clamped his jaw in anger. He’d be damned if she married anyone but him.

  “Ah, but with me, you will have the pretty emeralds. I know this is important to you. It’s why you stole my boat.”

  “His boat,” she said, pointing to Jonathan. “But no need to quibble. There’s another problem.”

  Finn took his eyes off Chloe long enough to check on his dad. The third pirate was done dousing the woodpile and tossed the empty can into the mix. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a lighter. His dad was on his knees, sighting in the arsonist.

  Damn it to hell and back. He couldn’t do anything about it, couldn’t help his dad. Chloe took absolute priority.

  “The problem belongs to this senorita,” Hosea said. “Tell your other friend to come out, or we will finish this now.”

  “Do not hurt her,” Jonathan demanded. But Hosea only laughed.

  “I will trade her to you,” the pirate said, “this chica who paid me to kill you. I do not understand why this is important to you, but I do not judge. We all have our problems. Mine is the emeralds. Give them to me, and you can have this traitorous wife.”

  “We can’t,” Chloe said. “They are in the harbor.”

  “You are lying,” Hosea spat.

  “My friend dropped them when we jumped,” she replied.

  Finn glanced again at his dad. Now dad, do it now. Pull the trigger.

  “This most is unfortunate,” Hosea said with a sigh. “My operation has suffered, my people are unhappy. The damage you have done is not fixable without much money. This concerns me greatly and hurts my reputation. Without the emeralds, I’m afraid I must kill you.”

  Finn had to move before Hosea did the unthinkable. If anyone else was going to die tonight, it was going to be the pirate leader. Finn lowered the spear gun to his side but kept his finger on the trigger, then stepped out into the yard.

  “How’s the jaw, Hosea?” Finn said boldly. “Did I manage to break it or do I need to try again?”

  Chloe spun to face him, her eyes huge. “What are you doing?”

  “The same as you,” he said without looking away from Hosea. “Changing things up.”

  Hosea moved his weapon’s aim from Jonathan to Chloe. Finn lifted the spear gun at the same time his dad let loose a string of bullets on the arsonist. Hosea snarled in fury, but Finn kept his aim dead on.

  “You are down one man, Hosea,” Chloe taunted. “Maybe you should quit while you have the chance to walk out of here.”

  “I did not much like him anyway,” Hosea snapped. He still had a gun, but the odds were no longer in his favor. He knew it, too, and fury gleamed in the man’s eyes. This was a man who’d cause as much grief as he could before going down.

  A whoosh of igniting gasoline filled Finn with dread. Chloe gasped, but he ignored it, trusted that his father had the situation in hand. He’d locked gazes with Hosea and saw the intent in the other man’s eyes, then the smile on his face when he spoke in his native language to Hector.

  The death order.

  Lisa screamed and struggled wildly. And in a split second move, Jonathan shifted his gun to Hector and double tapped. Lisa’s scream was cut off as she and her captor crumpled to the ground.

  Hosea didn’t flinch, didn’t hesitate, and fired straight at Chloe. Finn instinctively dove for her, to cover her from the line of fire. A searing pain pierced his shoulder on the way down, and he hit the ground harder than he intended, knocking the spear gun out of his hands.

  “Finn!” The agonized cry came from Chloe. He felt woozy and shook his head to clear it, then looked up to see Hosea bearing down on him, the muzzle of his firearm lifting to shoot.

  Chloe squirmed beneath him, snatched the spear gun, and pulled the trigger. There was a quick whizzing sound then a solid thunk as the arrow sank into Hosea’s chest.

  Sirens sounded in the distance, and Finn blinked, uncertain if it was real. He watched Hosea drop to his knees, a look of incredulous horror on his face. He stared down at the spear sticking out of his body, at the bright red blood surging onto the white pullover he wore. Then his face went slack, and he fell.

  The rushing in Finn’s head got louder, and he fought to rise, but couldn’t.

  “No, Finn, no,” Chloe sounded desperate, pushing his shoulder into the ground. “Stay with me, Finn,” she ordered. “Don’t you dare leave me.” She was crying, and he reached up to touch her face.

  Then his whole world went black.

  Chapter 33

  Chloe kept pressure on Finn’s wound, trying not to look at the very dead Hosea only a few feet from them, at the arrow sticking out from both sides of his body.

  She kept her eyes firmly on Finn, on his too pale face and dar
k lashes that stood out against the whiteness of his skin.

  “Finn,” she cried. “I love you. Do you hear me? I love you. Wake up!”

  Sirens were drawing closer.

  Finn was unconscious, hadn’t moved, but he was still breathing. “Please, Finn,” she begged. “Please be okay.”

  Ronan dropped down beside her on the ground, next to his son’s head. He pulled off his blue denim shirt and used a pocketknife to rip it in half. “He’s a fighter.”

  “I love him, Ronan. He has to be okay, has to wake up so I can tell him.” She felt hot tears on her face and didn’t care.

  “I know,” Ronan said softly. “Finn is strong. He will live to hear your words.”

  He lifted his son’s shoulder. “Bullet went through,” he said and wadded up one half of his shirt to put beneath the wound. The other he loosely folded and handed to her to continue pushing against the front.

  “Hang in there, son. Help is coming.”

  “Uncle Jonathan?” Chloe asked.

  “He’s with Lisa. She took a bullet in the arm. They will both be okay.”

  Chloe’s breath caught on a sob of relief until she remembered the fire. “The office?” She asked, turning her head to look toward the building. It still stood, partially blackened, with a pile of debris burning nearby. A forklift sat off to the side.

  “It’s damaged, will probably have to be rebuilt.”

  She nodded and looked back at Finn. He looked pale and still, but his chest rose and fell with each wonderful breath. She kept the pressure against his shoulder.

  Emergency vehicles were pulling into the yard.

  The man from NorthStar damn well better survive. She’d never forgive William Desmond if this quest gave her the love of her life, then took him away. Nothing was worth that kind of loss. Nothing.

  “Finnegan Kane,” she whispered to him. “If you don’t wake up soon, I’m going to take Simonelli.”

  “No.”

  The word was so soft she almost didn’t hear it over all the shouting and arriving sirens.

  “No?” She said with hope. “Stop me, mister.”