Hot SEAL (14 page)

“Probably right then. The heart knows.” Ace’s phone dinged and he lifted it to peer at the text. Then he laughed. “Max sent me a dick pic. Want to see?”

Ivy held up a hand. “God no. What makes men think women want to see dicks on their phones?”

“I don’t know about women, but I want to see as many as possible.” His fingers flew over his screen.

Ivy pushed her hair behind her ear and turned her head to look at the water. It was peaceful out here, but she wasn’t feeling very peaceful inside. No, she was feeling jumpy and achy. She was a bit sore, and that only made her think of Dane and what he’d done to her last night.

And what she’d done to him. No, she didn’t want a dick pic—but she wouldn’t mind seeing his dick again up close and personal.
 

Which was precisely why she couldn’t. Ivy frowned. Dammit, one night of bliss was going to cost her heavily when she couldn’t stop thinking about Dane for the next few weeks. Months.

Years.

No, not years. No way.

Except, dammit, from the first moment she’d met Dane, she hadn’t known how to shake him from her system. She hadn’t wanted to in the early days, and then when she had, it just wasn’t happening. She’d eventually gotten to the point where whole days would pass and she wouldn’t think about him, but that had taken time.

That had been busted all to hell the minute she walked into HOT HQ and saw him standing there, staring back at her like a forgotten wet dream.

Something bounced on the horizon, and Ivy looked through the binoculars again. It was a speedboat, but not one she recognized. The boat hopped over the waves toward them. It was a big ocean, and they’d seen boat traffic on and off for the past couple of hours—but something about the purposeful way this one moved toward them felt different from the other boats they’d seen.

Ace swore softly. Then he sat up to watch the approaching craft. “Is that one of ours?”

“Doesn’t look like it. Besides, wouldn’t they hail us on the radio?”

“Maybe they needed to go silent.”

Even as he said it, Ivy’s neck prickled in warning. The boat was growing bigger now, and it wasn’t changing course. It was probably nothing… but her blood iced over and her belly flipped. She reached into the beach bag where she’d packed her weapon and withdrew it.

“I don’t like this,” she said. “Something’s wrong.”

Ace glanced at his phone one last time. His face went white for a second before he swore and tossed it aside. “Agreed. Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

He grabbed his weapon from the floor where he’d laid it and jumped up to start the boat.

“Pull the anchor,” he told her, and Ivy rocketed into gear.
 

The windlass had a hand crank, and she began to turn it as quickly as she could manage. Maybe they were overreacting, but it was easier to dial back their response after they’d put distance between themselves and the approaching boat than to ramp it up too late.

Ivy’s muscles screamed as she turned the crank and the anchor came slowly up from the bottom. At least it wasn’t deep here, so the anchor wasn’t out too far, but it still took time.

When the anchor was in and the engine purred, Ace rolled the stick back and the boat slid forward.
 

“We’ll take it nice and slow,” he said. “Make it look like we’re out for a casual sail.”
 

Ivy picked up the radio and called in. “Shark Three on the move. Unwanted guests headed our way.”

The radio crackled and Dane’s voice snapped back at her. “Friendlies?”

“Not sure. They’re coming fast and not deviating.”

The speedboat shot through the water, heading straight for them now. It could be joyriders, sure. Kids out for a good time. But every instinct she had told her it wasn’t. The approach was too purposeful, too swift.

She scanned the boat again with the binoculars. Three men stood in the bow, bouncing with the waves. They wore sunglasses, and their hair whipped in the wind. One of them drove. The other pointed toward them.

And the third held a rifle, which he brought to his shoulder in one smooth move.

“Go,” she screamed.

Ace gunned their boat and she fell to her knees. Ivy never heard a sound—but a moment later Ace slumped over the console and slid sideways in slow motion, a jagged red stain following him down to the floor.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Shark Two rocketed toward Ivy and Ace’s position. Dane scanned the horizon with binoculars, looking for something—anything.
 

“We’ll get there,” Chase called over the rush of wind.
 

Dane merely nodded. When they spotted the cabin cruiser, Knight Rider gave the fishing boat more gas and they leapt forward in the water. He throttled back in order to glide into the cruiser’s space without ramming into her or sending her rocking too hard. There was no one at the helm, and Dane toed a hold on the side of the fishing boat, rope in hand, waiting until the moment he could leap onto the other craft.

When they were close enough, he jumped. There was no sign of Ivy up top, but Ace lay on the floor in a pool of blood and Dane rushed to him. The man’s eyes fluttered open as Dane pressed his fingers against the belly wound to stop the blood flow.

Garrett “Iceman” Spencer was beside him in two seconds, ripping into a med kit and taking out field dressings and strong painkillers.
 

“No one below,” he said as he started to tend to Ace. He cleaned the wound as best as he could, dropped a clotting agent on it, and packed it with gauze while Dane shot morphine into Ace’s veins.

Dane could hear Chase calling in and informing mission control what they’d found. Ace, but no Ivy. Goddamn, where was she?

They had no choice but to get Ace back to shore as fast as possible, and that was going to entail calling a helicopter.
 

“Ivy,” Ace choked out, his voice thin. “They took Ivy.”

“Easy,” Dane said, his heart thundering. Because he’d been considering the possibility they’d shot her. That maybe she’d fallen overboard and drowned, or died from a gunshot wound. That they’d be trolling for her lifeless body and he’d be wondering how he’d hold it together when they found her.

Ace gripped his arm with surprisingly strong fingers for a man who’d been shot. “Afraid… My fault.”

“What? What do you mean it’s your fault?”

“Dude,” Iceman said, wrapping a hand around Dane’s wrist. “Careful.”

Dane realized he was squeezing Ace’s arm and let go. But he wanted to shake the man and make him spill. His fault what?
 

“Phone.”

Dane wasn’t sure what the man was talking about, but he looked around the deck for a phone, found it lying on a cushion. It was wet, but not submerged in water. Dane dried it off and slid the bar.

“Code,” he barked.

“Four, five… nine, eight.”

Dane punched it in and Ace’s phone opened to him. “What am I looking for?”

“Max…,” he wheezed. “Messages.”

Dane brought up the messages and clicked on Max. There was a dick pic, which he did not appreciate in the least, but it was the conversation that chilled him. Mostly it was normal, flirtatious. But the last comment was the one that changed the tone.

I’m sorry. I had no choice.

Shit. “We need to get someone to pick this guy up.”
 

Ice settled in Dane’s gut. He found Max’s contact information in the phone and gave it to Chase, who radioed it in.

“Chopper’s on the way,” Chase said. “Team heading out to collect Max.”

Dane wanted to snarl. “What about the boat these bastards were in? It can’t be gone. It’s only been a few minutes.”

“Shark Four is in pursuit of a craft, but it’s too fast.”

“We’ll lose her,” Dane said, frustration and fear bubbling inside him.

“We won’t let that happen,” Iceman replied. “No fucking way. We’ll get her back.”

Dane looked up at the sky as if he could make the chopper come faster. But the sky was silent… and time was running out.

* * *

“Where is my submarine, Miss McGill?”

Ivy’s head pounded and her mouth was dry. She heard the voice, but she couldn’t seem to open her eyes to look at whoever was speaking. She tried to shift her body from its cramped position, realized she was lying on a hard surface. Her cheek was cool where it touched wood.

And then water splashed down over her head and she sputtered. She accidentally breathed some in and she coughed violently. Her lungs ached and her throat burned. Somehow she managed to push herself up against the wall until she was half sitting, half lying.

She cracked an eye open and peered into the room. It was dark other than a beam of light coming from a point in front of her. The light shone on her, and she blinked to stop the stab of pain in her eyes.

Where was she? And—oh my God, Ace! She scrambled up a little higher, her chest aching as she dragged in air. The last thing she remembered was Ace slumping on the console—she’d scrambled to her feet from where she’d been knocked down, but the boat had hit another wave before she could get to the console and she’d fallen against something and hit her head.

Now she was here.

“My submarine, Miss McGill. Where is it?”

Ivy licked her lips and tried to focus on the man who’d spoken. The room she was in was big and bare, with only a chair and a table and a light. A warehouse of some kind, confirmed by the smell of oil and fish.
 

And then her gaze landed on the man. A slick man in an expensive suit. Tall, black hair, slightly balding. She recognized that face…

Miguel Ruiz
. Oh holy shit.

“Where is my partner?”

“Do you mean Mr. Martin? Unfortunately, I do not know. He is not the one I’m interested in at the moment.” He bent down and grasped her chin. His grip was not kind. “You cost me a lot of money, Miss McGill. I am not a happy man. If you give me back my submarine, I may let you live.”

His fingers softened a bit—and then they trailed down her bare flesh, between the exposed rounds of her breasts in the bikini top, and her skin crawled. Her gag reflex was strong at the moment, but she wouldn’t let him see it. It would only anger him.

“I don’t have your submarine, Señor. The men you tried to negotiate with have it.”

“You are as pretty as your mother was. Maybe even prettier.”

Shock flooded Ivy. “You knew my mother?”

Miguel Ruiz laughed. “Knew her? So Maya never told you.”

Ivy’s heart skipped. A chill rolled down her spine. “Never told me what?”

Ruiz straightened and turned away, walking back to the chair he’d been sitting in and sinking down again. He crossed his legs one over the other and picked up a slim cigarillo from the metal table. Then he lit it and blew out a column of smoke.

“All this time you’ve spent trying to take down my network. Trying to end my business as if you have the right. And you had no idea.”

“I know my mother died because of you. I know she thought she had nowhere to turn when my father abandoned her. You used her. Your people used her—and she died.”

Razor blades sliced Ivy’s throat as she spoke. Her voice was almost a hiss.

“Did you not ever wonder how your mother knew to come to the Ruizes in the first place?”

“She was Colombian. Her family probably worked for you or knew someone who did.”

He laughed. “Oh yes, her family.
My
family, Miss McGill.”
 

He took a drag on the cigarillo while her mind whirled. Was he saying…? She shook her head.
No.
No, she would have known. Someone would have told her. Granny? Did Granny know?

Oh, God.

“I see you are shocked. My little sister ran away with an American sailor when she was only eighteen. She was back ten years later, begging to return to the fold. I gave her one task to do. One simple task…”

“Simple? Swallowing sealed condoms full of drugs isn’t simple! And it isn’t safe. Did you even care when one of the condoms burst and killed her?”

He shrugged. “These things happen.”

Ivy choked. He’d made his own sister run drugs? As a way to punish her for leaving home in the first place? God, he was sick! If she could get her hands around his neck, she’d squeeze until there was nothing left.
 

“You’re disgusting. You don’t care about anything but pouring more of your poison onto the streets, addicting more innocent people—”

“Innocent? You make it sound like they don’t have a choice. But they do, Ivy. They all have a choice, and yet they snort or smoke or shoot up anyway. If I weren’t fulfilling their need for escape with my product, someone else would. So why not me? No,” he said, shaking his head, “you are a naïve girl—and a stupid one. Now tell me where to find my submarine before I get angry.”

Ivy wanted to cry. And scream. This man had killed her mother. This man—this horrible, horrible man—was her
uncle
. It was unfathomable. And disgusting. How could she be connected to someone like him?