Emerald Fire (14 page)

She tossed him the pack. “Careful not to break the scotch on your way down.”

“You mean—”

“Yes,” she said from inside the vertical shaft. “And it’s the good stuff, so don’t drop it.”

Chloe reached the bottom and opened a door into a tiny storage closet and stepped through, straight across to the next door and out into a passageway. Finn was right on her heels as they raced through the crew’s quarters, Mike and Brett’s home away from home before Lisa Banks caused their deaths.

Lisa would pay for that if it was the last thing Chloe ever did.

They raced headlong down the corridor toward the stern, but the second they opened the doorway to the launch deck, they were suddenly sloshing through ankle high seawater. Uncle Jonathan waved furiously at them to hurry, an unnecessary gesture as the rapidly rising water provided all the motivation needed.

She detoured long enough to snatch the emergency kit, a bright red waterproof bag filled with handy things like flares, first aid kit, and flashlights. She hefted it into the Oceanrunner, a fourteen-foot inflatable powerboat, and Finn tossed her backpack in beside it, careless of the pricey scotch inside. Together they shoved it out the launch and jumped in.

Shouts of victory from the
Fire’s
stern signaled the pirates were climbing on board. Finn slid the oars into the water and silently rowed alongside the yacht until they reached the bow, then began pulling hard, a desperate, last-ditch effort to move them out to sea and wring as much distance as possible before the roar of an outboard motor alerted anyone to their escape.

Chloe refused to acknowledge they were sitting ducks. Instead, she pushed aside Finn’s laptop bag to reach their arsenal and prepped several guns. Uncle Jon looked ready to collapse as she handed him a loaded pistol, but he accepted the weapon, and she scampered over to lay a primed AR15 at Finn’s feet. There weren’t many bullets left, but she readied what they had for all-out war.

A long, deep wrenching moan floated across the water, and Chloe froze. When another eerie moan sounded, she realized in horror that it was the
Emerald Fire
. She stole a glance at her uncle. He’d been silent, purposefully not looking at his beloved ship. But the ghostly sounds drew him, and he stared without a hint of emotion as the
Fire
protested her fate.

The yacht was rapidly taking on water. Her metal hull and beams were crumpling under the increase of pressure as she sank deeper into the deadly blue. Chloe wanted to scream at Finn to turn around, to do something, anything, but he didn’t slow, just kept rowing despite the desperate cries of a beloved friend as she slid even lower.

Chloe squeezed her eyes shut as a loud thud of collapsed metal caused the yacht to suddenly list. Shouts of fury and alarm erupted from the upper deck. Their escape had also been discovered, and men screamed, pointing toward their inflatable.

Time for stealth was over. Finn tossed the oars into the raft and fired the outboard motor, forcing every ounce of horsepower to get them away from the pull of the sinking ship. And from furious pirates who realized they were losing their prize.

Bullets started to fly. They pinged in the water around them as the Oceanrunner bounced over the waves, struggling for every yard of distance.

“Get down!” Finn yelled.

She dove for her uncle and pulled them both to the floorboard, but as she did, she felt a burning slice rip through her arm. Uncle Jon lost consciousness on the way down. She rolled to her side on top of the wet oars and looked down at her arm, only to see blood soaking her shirtsleeve.

She’d been hit.

Finn had the throttle wide-open, pushing the forty horsepower Mercury to its limit. Speed is what they needed. Distance. But if the pirates came after them, they’d be toast. No way they could outrun a cigarette boat. Right now, though, he’d settle for being out of bullet range.

Chloe sat up on the floorboard and reached for her arm. One look at her blood-soaked sleeve, and his breath caught in alarm, but he didn’t dare let go of the throttle and reach for her.

“How bad?” he yelled over the motor.

She looked up at him, eyes huge in a face gone pale, but she shook her head and pulled at her sleeve. “Grazed,” she shouted back. “I think.” She pulled the ditch bag to her and dug out the first aid kit.

They were cutting through the waves at max speed and had made it to a safer zone. But the pirates had stopped firing, no doubt busy stealing whatever they could off the yacht before she sank. Finn shut his eyes for the briefest second, just long enough to allow relief to course through him. When he opened them again, she was holding a towel to her arm, but her gaze was on the
Emerald Fire
. The yacht was listing to her side as water filled her decks and passageways. The unsettling view was quickly shrinking in the distance, however, and at the speed they were moving, they’d be out of sight before the last of her sank beneath the waves. But Chloe’s shoulders drooped, and she turned away as though she couldn’t watch the end.

It was a heartbreaking loss. The
Fire
was a true beauty. Her sacrifice affected them all. Including him. But the gamble appeared to have saved their lives. The pirates weren’t giving chase. They’d wanted the yacht, not them. What fuel the thieves had left, they needed to get back to whatever hell they’d come from.

That meant they were safe…for now.

But they had a whole new set of problems. Jonathan desperately needed medical attention, so did Chloe, and they were out in open ocean several hours away from shore. He had an old sailor compass and a best guess as to where the islands were. And if that wasn’t bad enough, dark clouds were gathering on the horizon. Weather was moving in.

“Does the ditch bag have a GPS unit?” he shouted at Chloe.

She was tearing off her sleeve, but stopped to fish around inside the nylon bag. She found a hand-held unit, clicked it on, and handed it to him. Then went back to work without a word of complaint. She’d piled several things in front of her and got busy with a kitchen knife, ripping a towel into strips. Then she leaned over the raft and dribbled a tiny bottle of vodka over her wound. That done, she wrapped her arm as best she could and tucked the loose ends under to hold it in place.

So he could now add field dressing to her growing list of impressive skills.

With a heavy sigh, she leaned back against the rubber frame and closed her eyes. Dark smudges beneath her lashes said she was exhausted, but she didn’t rest long. Instead, she scooted to her uncle and began to check on his bandaged leg.

He’d seriously underestimated Chloe Larson. Even injured, she didn’t stop, didn’t get hysterical. She kept her composure in every desperate situation they’d faced. As partners go, she was pretty damn good. Smart, resourceful, and had more moxie than anyone he knew. She also hadn’t been honest with him. The minute they found land, it was time for some answers.

They traveled like that for what seemed an eternity. He kept checking the GPS unit and making small course adjustments due to current and a rising wind, all the while keeping a wary eye on worsening weather conditions. The good news was they were pirate free. The bad news was Jonathan still lay unconscious. And they were a tiny floating dot in the middle of a big ocean with no land in sight. Chloe was leaning back against the side of the raft, eyes closed, her head resting on the rounded frame. Her hair was soaked from the splash as they bounced over waves. Thankfully the blazing sun had disappeared behind a tall bank of gray clouds. But those clouds were an ominous warning. A squall was coming, and a big one from the looks of it.

“Are we there yet?” Chloe shouted above the engine noise.

He gave her a tiny smile, a half-hearted effort, but it was all he had.

She dug in the backpack again and came up with some dried apples. They silently ate about half the bag and watched the storm grow closer.

Jonathan stirred, and she scrambled over to check on him. When she placed a hand on his forehead, her lips compressed.

“Fever is setting in.” She grabbed a small dishtowel from her pack, making Finn wonder what all she managed to stuff in that thing during a pirate attack, and reached overboard to wet it down. A quick wring out, and she wiped her uncle’s face with the cool water.

He checked the GPS again and made another small correction. They should be nearing the Turks & Caicos Islands by now, but there was nothing on the horizon but the signs of a fast approaching tropical storm. The Caribbean Sea was vast, and the islands were small. Missing their target would be all too easy.

Fifteen minutes later, the ocean surface had turned charcoal to match the sky, and whitecaps surrounded them as far as he could see. Their inflatable was beginning to roll and heave in an agitated current, and the first drops of rain began to fall.

Being caught out in open water during a rainstorm was bad. A downpour would threaten to swamp their small craft. Big fat drops splashed against them as Chloe struggled to turn her uncle on his side.

Finn slowed the engine enough to be able to talk to her without shouting. “Trade places with me. I’ll position him so the rain won’t hit his face.”

She crawled over to join him at the stern, rose to her knees, and placed one hand over his on the throttle.

“Hold it steady and slow,” he instructed. “She needs to cool down some.”

When she had control, Finn slid over to Jonathan and then worked to prop him on his side against the rubber bulkhead. He used the ammo bag as a hard and lumpy pillow, then he checked his pulse. Steady, but his skin felt too warm. A quick look at the knife wound revealed it had stopped bleeding, a good sign, but the unconsciousness was a major concern.

Rain started to come down harder, and he shoved her miracle backpack of supplies into a small built-in storage compartment at the bow to help keep it semi-dry. There was no help for the three of them, however.

“This weather is going to get serious,” he said loudly. “We’ll need to bail water so the raft doesn’t drown.” What he didn’t say hung in the air. If the raft went, they did, too.

The rainwater was starting to collect around Chloe’s feet. He grabbed the empty water bottle and the knife she’d used to cut her bandages, then cut the top off. In a hard downpour, the sixteen-ounce container would be like a using a thimble to bail, but it was better than nothing.

He traded places with her, and while she started scooping and bailing, he checked their course again. The horizon had all but disappeared, the water and sky blending to become an angry omen, and he looked on with concern. Rain was falling steadily and the wind buffeted against the Oceanrunner.

Chloe surprised him by climbing up next to him on the stern bench. They were both dripping wet, tiny rivulets of pink were running down her arm, and her chest was rising and falling with rapid breathing. But she sat straight, wiped at the rain on her face with a hand that shook, and smiled.

It floored him. That tiny smile gave him hope, renewed his determination to beat the odds. He kept his hand on the throttle to push them through the choppy waves and turned to face her. The space was small and they were pressed thigh to thigh. Wet spikey lashes framed her beautiful eyes, and they looked at him with a yearning that he didn’t even try to decipher.

“We’ll get through this, Chloe,” he said, offering what little reassurance he could. It wasn’t near enough, but it was all he had.

Lightning streaked the clouds to the east. Things were rapidly getting worse, and their chances of survival were shrinking, but he refused to accept that. Instead, he used one hand to lightly stroke her cheek. He continued the exploration and brushed her jaw line, his fingers stopping just under her chin. He slowly lifted her face and kissed her lightly. Wind whipped her hair, but he ignored it, just tasted the rain on her lips with his tongue. When her hands gripped his shirtfront, twisting the fabric into her fists, he kissed her again, harder this time.

She responded by leaning into him, by kissing him back with the same intensity that the elements were unleashing on them. They stayed that way until they hit a wave head on, the boat striking the surface with a slam that knocked them off the bench.

He landed on his knees. She tumbled into a growing puddle of rainwater and laughed, looking up at him with a smile that erased every fear that had him in its grip. He’d get them through this if it was the last thing he did. He’d managed to keep them alive so far, despite pirates and sinking ships. By the saints, he wouldn’t stop now.

He looked out at the storm just as lightning split the clouds, and the sight it revealed was like a neon sign from the heavens. A hulking metal ship floated several leagues to the east of them.

He looked back at her and smiled with renewed energy. “Tell me you brought a flashlight in that endless pack of supplies you grabbed.”

At her questioning look, he pointed. She turned to stare out over the angry waves and torrential rain until lightning lit up the sky again. When the outline of a ship flashed in the distance, he saw hope spread across her face.

“Should I shoot off a flare?” she asked.

“Not unless we have to,” he replied. “If the pirates are out there still, we don’t want that kind of beacon.”

She scrambled for the bow, yanked her supply bag from the tiny compartment, and produced a Maglite. It wouldn’t do much out here, but it might be enough to get the boat’s attention.

He turned the dinghy toward the ship and punched the throttle.

“Jason Harvick,” the man said as he shook Finn’s hand. “Welcome aboard the NOAA research vessel,
Seagrove
.”

Chloe spared a quick glance at the man who helped pull them aboard. He seemed friendly and genuinely concerned about them, but trust wasn’t anything she’d be handing out lightly anymore.

“We appreciate the rescue,” Finn was saying. “Situation was worsening by the minute.”

Light spilled from the forward cabin doorway as they gathered beneath a large porch-style overhang. Uncle Jon was still on the rescue stretcher, and though he’d regained consciousness during the lift to safety, he was out again. She knelt beside him as the ship’s doctor checked his pulse, then his stab wound, all while lightning flashed and rain continued to pound the aft deck just a few feet away.