Exposed (26 page)

“Don’t move until I tell you,” Julia yelled down. From her position at the top of the steps Marisol could see her fiddling with some wiring. A few moments later the inboard engine roared to life.

The boat lurched to the left as it shot away from the dock, sending Marisol careening into the wall. She caught herself with her feet, barely preventing her body from slamming into it, and steadied herself as Julia suddenly opened up the throttle.

Marisol held on tight as they raced away from the dock, crushing her last hope of escaping on dry land. Her jaw tightened as she climbed to her knees. She was a fighter, she would find a way out of this. There was no way she’d just sit here and cower.

Her gaze measured the largest window on the port side of the cabin. She might be able to squeeze through it. She wasn’t the greatest swimmer so the idea of plunging into the water was terrifying, but it beat the hell out of being shot to death by the crazy assassin chasing them.

She stood up and grasped the window frame to pry it open. The second the boat slowed enough, she was jumping into the water.

Chapter Eighteen

When he saw the footage unfolding on the small monitor he was holding, Bautista did a double take.

From his position in the back corner of an upstairs patio of a café a block away from the marina, he had a two-hundred-seventy degree view of the streets below. And with the electronic eyes in his hand, he could see much more than that. He’d wirelessly connected to a closed-circuit security camera on the exterior of the bank across from the marina before leaving to track his target.

Villa was somewhere nearby. Bautista had lost him when he’d stowed Marisol in the empty boat just over twenty minutes ago.

But he was close. The tingling at the back of his neck confirmed it. He’d wait another few minutes to see if Villa came sniffing around the marina, but if he didn’t, Bautista would begin the hunt all over again. He pushed back the frustration eating at him.

The other enforcer should have been long dead by now. Would have died a few hours ago in Key West, if Bautista hadn’t had a sudden attack of conscience and made the decision to rescue Marisol rather than take Villa out.

He wasn’t even sure why he’d taken the risk. All he knew was that when he’d seen her scramble around the hood of that SUV as the bullets flew and she’d tried to stem the bleeding on the FBI agent’s wound, something inside him had compelled him to act. Maybe it was because he knew her personally, or because she’d always been nice to him back in the old neighborhood.

Didn’t matter now. He’d loaded her unconscious body into the trunk of his rental and headed for the mainland. With the cops en route and Villa moving out of the Keys, Bautista had headed back to Miami, knowing the other enforcer would do the same.

Hell, though. The angle from his hiding position near Clancy’s place had been perfect, and the added confusion with the firefight between Villa and the security team had given him the ideal chance to close in and make the kill.

His damn conscience better not have cost him Villa, he thought in irritation. His entire future hinged on fulfilling this last obligation to Perez and making a clean getaway.

He tightened the resolution of the image on screen as the female who’d pulled up on a motorbike at the end of the dock a moment ago parked and swung a long leg over the seat to stand beside it. She wore a black leather jacket, black formfitting pants, boots and gloves. He couldn’t see her face because of her helmet.

She turned her head, looked around for a moment then walked down the length of the dock. All he could see was the back of her when she pulled the helmet off, revealing dark brown hair secured at the nape of her neck in a ponytail that reached the top of her shoulder blades.

Something inside him stilled. With her hair color and figure she reminded him so much of…

His gaze snagged on the slight bulge beneath the back of her leather jacket as the unknown female continued to the end of the dock. It was subtle, only someone with training would have noticed it. But she was definitely armed.

And she was headed directly for the boat where he’d left Marisol. He’d left her there because with Villa on his tail he hadn’t had time to wait for her to wake up and explain everything.

Who are you and what are you up to, lady?

He waited, watching every move she made. She hopped onto the deck of the boat and went directly to the hatch. Cursing under his breath, he held his position, waiting to see what she’d do. He couldn’t go after Marisol without exposing himself to Villa.

The woman emerged from the hatch a few minutes later. Finally she turned her head toward him. Bautista caught his breath, his stomach twisting into a hard knot.

Julia.

Denial punched him hard in the solar plexus, his mind refusing to acknowledge what he was seeing. She must have followed him to Key West today, then here. Maybe by placing a tracking device on his truck without him noticing.

Dammit, he hadn’t checked it this morning. But why would she do that? And for her to be going directly to the boat now, she must have seen him put Marisol there earlier.

He didn’t know how long she’d been following him or how much she’d seen, but if she was here then she knew he wasn’t who he seemed. And she’d probably already called the cops too. So why was she here, going after Marisol alone?

Anger and pain collided inside him, constricting his lungs. He’d trusted her. Had believed she cared about him. But she obviously wasn’t the woman he’d thought he’d known. She’d betrayed him and now—

His phone buzzed in his pocket. Keeping an eye on Julia as she emerged through the hatch, he checked the display. Surprise flashed through him when he saw a text from her. His gaze darted back to the handheld surveillance device and sure enough, he could see a cell in her hand.

Villa close. I’ll take care of Marisol. Watch your six.

Confusion hit him. He glanced back at his monitor, trying to figure out what the hell was going on.

His mind grappled for answers, and each one of them was as bad as the last. Her warning had to be a ploy. She had to be trying to lure him into a trap, an undercover agent of some sort. Hell, maybe she was even working with Villa himself and had been all along.

He was such a fucking idiot.
How could you have let yourself fall for her?

A cold, bitter void opened up in his chest. He flashed back to last night, picturing the way she’d smiled up at him in the aftermath of her second orgasm. They’d been lying tangled up together in the rumpled bedding that had come free of the mattress as they’d rolled and grappled.

With that serene smile in place she’d stroked her hands over his back and shoulders so gently, trailed her fingertips across his face as the sweat cooled on their bodies. She’d gazed into his eyes and touched him like he
mattered
to her.

He’d met some gifted actresses in his day but she was truly Oscar level because she’d done the impossible by duping him, the world’s biggest cynic.

And holy hell, finding out it was all a lie fucking
hurt
. Hurt more than being shot or blown up by an IED, both of which his body bore the scars of.

It’s your own fucking fault. You knew you were never meant to have a happy ending.

Now he had a tough decision to make. If Julia was involved with Villa then she was his enemy too. He swallowed past the thickening in his throat, shoved the pain down deep inside where it could fuel him, drive him.

On screen, Julia—or whatever the hell her name really was—moved cautiously toward the bow. A moment later, Marisol’s head appeared in the hatch opening. She followed Julia across the deck toward the dock. But just as Julia set a hand on the wooden surface, wood splinters kicked up less than an inch away. She jerked backward, ducked.

He came halfway out of his seat at that shot, his gaze riveted to the screen. Julia reached out to unmoor the small vessel, her expression stamped with determination.

That shot changed everything.

Villa. Bautista knew it was him. He had Julia in his sights, had just taken a shot at her. A deadly warning, and the only one she’d get.

His heart careened in his chest as the truth hit him like a sledgehammer.

If Villa was targeting her then she
hadn’t
betrayed him. He didn’t understand how she’d found him or what she was doing here, but at least she hadn’t stabbed him in the back. She’d even warned him. Maybe she truly did care for him. The relief flooding him almost made him light-headed.

Then another shot slammed into the deck, missing Julia by inches only because she’d veered at the last second on her way to the helm.

Without thinking he dropped the monitor and grabbed the backpack at his feet. In two seconds he’d vaulted the waist-high iron fence surrounding the patio and was charging toward the dock.

Both those shots had come from east of the bank, from up high. Villa would be on the move now, repositioning to avoid detection. Bautista didn’t care that he was exposed, didn’t care about the risk to his life at running toward the dock.

Julia was in danger and she needed him. He was going to get to her. Protect her.

His heart hammered against his ribs as he ran, fear for her safety pushing him into harm’s way.

****

Her fingers slipped off the window frame as the boat veered to the left.

Marisol gritted her teeth and grabbed at it again, catching her balance and using all the strength in her back and arms to slide the stubborn window open. It gave inch by inch, so slowly she wanted to scream.

Darting a glance out the small window in the rear of the cabin, she saw why Julia was driving flat out away from shore. Another speedboat was coming after them. Had to be that Villa guy.

Heart in her throat, she watched for a few seconds. The boat tailing them was sleeker, had to be faster than theirs because it was slowly gaining on them.

Marisol turned back to the portside window and heaved it open. Even with cool air whipping through it and the hatch, she was sweating.

With one big shove she pushed the window all the way open. She gauged the size of it again. A tight squeeze but she had to try to escape once the boat slowed or stopped. If she sliced up her hips and ass getting through it, oh well.

Julia turned sharply to the right. Marisol braced her weight against the cabin wall and stole another glance outside. The opposite shoreline passed by in a blur. Even if she could get through the window, she could never jump at this speed—she’d kill herself in the attempt.

Forcing out a slow breath, she maintained her grip on the windowsill and divided her attention out the port side and the rear window. Villa was steadily gaining on them. At this rate he’d overtake them in a matter of minutes.

She flinched and ducked when something cracked off the hull. Her eyes shot out the window set into the back of the cabin, locked on the sliver-dollar-sized hole in the fiberglass near the engine.

“Shit,” she whispered, her heart galloping.

Dropping to the floor she pressed her spine tight against the wall, making herself as small a target as possible.

Another shot punched into the rear of the boat, followed seconds later by a third. A loud bang made her jump and the engine made a weird choking sound.

The power cut, dropping the bow of the boat into the water as it plunged to a near halt. Already she smelled smoke. She got to her belly and crawled her way to the steps, grasped the handrail just as Julia called down to her.

“Marisol, get up here, hurry! We’ve gotta go.”

Go? Go where?

Her legs were unsteady as she climbed the steps, halting near the hatch.

Julia was hunkered down low behind the captain’s chair, pistol in hand, lips pressed into a thin line. She cut Marisol a glance, the whine of the approaching boat growing louder. “Engine’s blown, and we can’t stay here.” Those ice blue eyes locked on hers. “Can you swim?”

Her stomach lurched and she couldn’t help but dart a glance at the murky water. You wanna stay here and get shot, a voice in her head demanded. She forced her gaze back to Julia, made herself nod. “Y-yes.”

The other woman nodded once. “Good. Come on.” She held out a hand.

Marisol took it, a strange numbness taking hold. She’d already made the decision to jump. Now her body was moving on autopilot.

“Stay low,” Julia cautioned, stealing another look to their stern. “Swim as fast as you can to shore. I’ll be right behind—” She trailed off, her gaze stuck on something behind them.

Marisol automatically followed her gaze, saw a second boat fly around a curve in the shoreline, racing toward them.

Before either of them could move, something flashed in the second boat. Villa’s craft veered sharply to the side a second later.

Marisol stared at the new boat. “They’re shooting at Villa,” she blurted, a spurt of hope spiraling through her.

“Yeah. Come on.” Julia tugged her to her feet, towed her toward the port side.

Another crack rang out. Marisol stifled a cry and scrambled to the edge of the deck.

The water was so deep she couldn’t see the bottom. She’d never been a great swimmer. How far was it to shore? Her stomach contracted, squeezing the air from her lungs.

“Go,” Julia barked, shoving a hand against the center of her back.

They were out of time. Marisol said a silent prayer and dove headfirst into the water.

The sudden shock of the cool water hit her like a punch to the solar plexus. What little air she’d had in her lungs escaped in a stream of bubbles. She pushed water away with her arms, kicked hard with her legs.

Her head finally broke the surface. She dragged in a heaving lungful of air, cast a desperate glance around her to get her bearings. Julia was in the water, cutting toward her like a knife, her strokes strong and sure.

The roar of Villa’s boat was getting louder, mixing with the rush of blood in her ears.
Go, hurry!