Follow the Evidence (A Mac Everett Mystery Book 2) (30 page)

“Oh, you give up,” I said. “Good
move. It’ll look good at your trial.”

He cranked off three shots and
ducked behind a counter.

“Keep watch behind us,” I said to
Lia.

“Captain, there’s still time to get
out of this. I’ve got friends…”

He cranked off a couple more shots.
I was about to charge him when Lia tapped my arm. “Someone’s behind us,” she
said.

I nodded and noticed Randi was
gone. “You’re friend disappeared,” I said.

Lia looked behind her and started
to say something but I cut her off.

“Stay low,” I said. “When I tell
you, scream.”

“What?”

“Scream, make noise, you know like
in those stupid horror movies you like,” I said.

She nodded, then grabbed my arm and
said, “This is for luck.” She pulled my face to her’s and kissed me full on the
mouth. I smiled then went back to work.

“Captain, I can help you,” I
shouted.

He fired twice more. I took a deep
breath, steadied the Beretta in a two-handed grip, and nodded. Lia screamed.
The captain popped up from behind his cover. I put one in the center of his
forehead.

Never look over the top of a
cover position.

“Come on,” I said. I pulled Lia
behind me as I sprinted for the captain’s body. “Look for the radio,” I said as
I covered the bridge entrance.

“Everett,” Sergio shouted from the
stairwell. “I have something you want.”

I looked at Lia.

“Here,” I said. “Take this.” I
handed her the captain’s weapon. “If anyone comes in, shoot. Aim here.” I ran
my hand over my chest and she nodded.

“Come on Everett, you’re not afraid
are you?” Sergio called. “You’re a tough guy. Come on down.”

Then I heard Randi’s voice.

“Mac, help. He’s going…”

A scream choked off her words. It
sounded real.

“There’s a door there,” I pointed
to the door behind us, “and the stairs. Watch them both. Stay here,” I said.

“But Mac, you said she’s one of
them,” Lia replied.

I knew she was right, but I had to
go.

“Stay here,” I said and bolted out
the bridge door to the walkway along the ship’s exterior.

I kept low and I made my way to the
stern. When I reached a point where I thought could see Sebastian I chanced a
quick look. He stood at the foot of the stairs with Randi in a headlock and his
gun to her head.
Damn it's never easy.

I made my way the table at the
stern I’d sat at earlier. I could see through the glass doors that Sebastian
still had his back to me at the far end of the salon, a good eighty feet away.
That’s
too far for a shot with Randi in the line of fire.
I needed to get closer.

Sebastian yelled again. My silence
was tweaking his nerves. He was more unstrung with each passing second. I had
to act fast, but my options were slim. Sebastian and Randi had my focus so I
forgot to watch my back, a stupid mistake that I realized too late. I was about
to open the doors when I caught movement in the glass. A muscular arm encircled
my neck from behind and jerked me off my feet. It was the engineer. He had a
couple inches and at least twenty pounds on me. He was a big boy, but he was
muscle bound and stiff like most body builders.

Years of training kicked into high
gear. My mind ran through a thousand strategies. His height gave him leverage
so flipping him would be tough, but my greater flexibility could counter his
strength.

I jerked forward hard to gain
momentum and then slammed backward smashing my head into his nose. I felt his
blood gushed down my neck. He dropped me. I spun into him and landed a solid
right cross to his chin. He staggered back, but shook off my Sunday punch. I
threw another right at his head. When he ducked, I caught him with a left cross
and another right to the gut that doubled him over. As he came down, I brought
my knee up to catch him in the chin. His eyes widen as he attempted to twist
away, but it was too little too late. My knee slammed into his jaw with an awful
grinding sound. Blood gushed from his mouth, but he kept his feet. He spit out
a couple broken teeth and then circled me warily. He held both fists high
protecting his bloody face.

I survived a couple tours in Iraq
and a dozen bar fights in six states. I won most of those brawls, but I always
came away with a lesson or two. One thing I learned was, when a big man gets
frustrated he’ll always charge.

Rage filled the engineer’s eyes. I
had to come up with a plan, and then it hit me. I took a couple tentative steps
back. He followed. I backpedaled until I bumped into the table. I tried to look
startled and he fell for the ploy hook line and sinker. With a roar, he rushed
me. I pivoted, propped both hands on the table edge, coiled, and lashed out
with both feet. My double kick caught him square in the face. Despite his
forward momentum, I drove him backwards. He crashed to the deck, out cold. The
duel had taken two minutes. Sebastian, still yelling up the stairs for me,
hadn’t seen a thing.

I retrieved my Beretta from the
deck and eased inside toward a large bar on the right side of the salon.

“Sebastian,” I shouted from the
cover of the bar. “Give it up.”

He spun around with a surprised
look on his face. I had the drop on him, but he was still using Randi as a
shield. He extended his gun hand and fired. The shot hit the wall six feet
above my head.

“You sonofabitch,” he shouted.
“You’ve ruined everything.” A second shot splinter the bar nearer my head.

With the
Wind Chaser
crashing through the ocean with no one at the helm I wasn’t interested in
listening to him whine. I had to end this quick.

“I’ve taken out your crew,” I said.
“Give it up.”

“I’ve still got…”

He was about to fire again when
Randi elbowed him in the side. She broke free and sprinted toward me. Sergio
recovered and fired twice. His second shot caught Randi. She stopped, suspended
in space for a moment, and then fell face first with a gasp as Sergio dove for
cover.

Randi wasn’t moving. I had to get
to her. I tried to goad Sergio into exposing himself.

“Good shooting there, Sergio,” I
said. “Shooting a woman in the back, you’re a real man.”

“Shut up, you! You’re a dead man,”
he shouted.

He might be right. If I didn't
finish this soon I would be dead. I took careful aim and was about to fire when
there was another shot and a shriek from the passageway behind Sebastian.

“Sergio!”

It was Maria. She staggered into
the room holding both hands over her belly. Blood oozed between her fingers and
down her white skirt.

“Sergio,” she whimpered. She
reached out to her son with a bloody hand and crumpled to the floor.

“Who, how…”Sergio couldn’t
understand what he saw.

Jennifer appeared, a small revolver
in her hand and tears streaming down her face.

“You killed my daddy. Die you
bastard,” she screamed.

She pointed her gun at Sergio,
fired once, but missed. Sergio stepped into the open with his back was to me.
He aimed at Jennifer. I fired, hitting him twice. He spiraled down landing ten
feet from his mother. Jennifer collapsed to her knees, sobbing. I started toward
Randi, but she shook her head. “Mac, behind you,” she gasped.

The glass door behind me exploded.
Shards spewed everywhere. Munoz charged through the broken glass spraying
bullets as he came. I dove for cover behind the closest object then emptied my gun
at him. My haven, a sofa, was hardly armor plating. Munoz was hugging the wall
behind an entertainment center thirty feet to my left. The stairs to the bridge
were to my right and the hallway to the staterooms and another flight of stairs
were behind me. None of them looked like a way out. I slapped in another
magazine and waited.

“I’ll kill you this time,” Munoz
shouted as I heard him slam his own magazine home. He fired again. A bullet
whizzed by my arm.

“You’ve got nowhere to go,” he
shouted.

He hadn’t moved. I zeroed in on his
voice, fired and he screamed in pain. I ducked around the end of the sofa and
scampered down the hallway. I went down the stairs and lay prone on the top few
steps.

“You’re a good shot
and
a
hard man to kill,” Munoz shouted. “You clipped me in the side.”

At least I’d hit him.

“I wanted to cap you when you came
on board,” he said, “but the
niño
thought he could take you.”

“He’s done now,” I replied. “You
are too.”

I clung to the steps as if they
were a cliff edge. I couldn’t get a clear view of the salon.

“Come on
hombre
, you know
better,” he said. “Men like us…we always land on our feet.”

“You should land on your head,” I
replied.

“Don’t be a sore loser,” he said.
“We had this wired from the start. The woman, Randi, she was ours.”

“Really?” I said.
No shit, dirt
bag.
“To bad it didn’t help you.”

From the sound of his voice, I
could tell he was moving, trying to get an angle on me. I had to find a way to
shake things up.

“She was an undercover cop in LA
when we flipped her,” he said. “She’s worked for us ever since. Want to know
how I did it?”

“Not really,” I said.

It sounded like he had crossed the
room.

“You should have taken her when you
had the chance,” he said. “I did.”

I crept into the room on my belly.
I heard a noise and knew I’d screwed up. Before I could retreat, Munoz dove on
me. We grappled, trading blows and kicks. I stunned him with the butt of my gun
to the side of the head, but Beretta went flying. I saw the gun in his hand.

Before I could roll away, he fired.
Blood gushed down the side of my neck. He’d aimed for my head, but only grazed
my temple. Still on my back, I snapped out a kick, catching him on the inside
of the right knee. I heard it pop and his scream. The knee strike dropped him
and his gun went flying. I got to my feet and advanced, but he sprang up too.
He slammed an elbow into my bleeding temple, staggering me. He came at me
again, this time with a combination to the body. My aching ribs shout a
thousand volt of pain through me. I gave him a shot to his bloody wound. He
screamed and grabbed his side. I ran.

I went through the door to the
exterior passageway I’d used before. I didn’t have a plan. I was trying to buy
time. Munoz must have run through the salon because he appeared at the far end
on the passageway.

“You’re so damn tough,” he shouted.
“Take this.”

He had a predatory grinning, like a
wolf ready to crush a cornered bird. He’d found his gun and he raised it. He
fired once and the slide locked back. It was empty. He looked at it in disgust
and then flung it over the rail. His gun was empty, but his last shot really
counted. He’d hit me in the belly. I had to end this fast.

He was limping and unsteady on his
feet, but he was still coming.
The guy doesn’t give up.
I was hurt, but
still on my feet. The passageway was about six feet wide. On one side were
looking windows into the salon, on the other, a railing, and the wild blue sea.
Blood soaked his shirt, but his face wore a mask of determination. He kept
coming.

“Nowhere else to run,” Munoz said.

“Just trying to wear you down,” I
said. “I do five miles a day. You look winded.”

“You don’t look so good yourself,”
he said. “Don’t look now, but your leaking.”

“Nothing a good stiff drink won’t
fix,” I replied.

The confined space could work to my
advantage. I squared my body to his as we began to circle each other. He was
cautious, keeping his distance and his fists high. The odor of his blood and
sour sweat filled my nose, despite the rushing sea breeze.

“I still owe you for Nassau,” I
said.

“You won’t get that lucky again,”
he replied. “This is it your last fight.”

The world went into fast forward.
Each minute became a second. His shoulder dropped, telegraphing a looping right
aimed at my head. I easily slipped under it. He swung again and missed again as
we continued to circle. I visualized my target in the lower center of his
chest. I knew just want I needed to do. Mortal danger brings clarity.

His back was to the rail. He took a
step forward. I put everything I had into an underhanded right to his solar
plexus. The blow stole his breath and lifted him off his feet. He lunged at me,
but I was ready. I exploded forward with an uppercut
.
He had no way to
avoid it. His head snapped backward, stunning him.

I didn’t hesitate. I grabbed a
handful of his hair with my left hand and got my right hand into his crotch. I
squatted and put my shoulder into his chest. I lifted him off the deck and
tossed him over the rail. He hit the water and sank like a slab of concrete. I
watched, but he didn’t resurface.

I put my right hand to my gut. The
wound was bad, but I wasn’t done. I dashed back into the salon and knelt next
to Randi. Blood ringed the gaping wound in her shoulder. Sergio’s bullet had
gone through her back to front. I stroked her forehead and said, “Take it easy,
Randi.”

“I’m sorry, Mac,” she coughed.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “You saved
my…”

“I owed you that one,” she said.
“Did you get him?

“Yeah,” I said.

“I warned the bad guys in LA,” she
said.

“That can wait,” I said. “We’ll get
you patched up and...”

She touched my face. Her eyes were
moist and her breath came in sharp shallow puffs.

“It wasn’t just because they told
me to get close to you,” she said. “I was…”

I didn’t know what to say.

“We might even have fallen in
love,” she said.

“Yeah,” I said.

“Tell me you love me even if it
isn’t true,” she said.

“We’ll get you some help and
everything will…”