Hunt Her Down (26 page)

“You better get back in here,” Dan repeated. “And Maggie, I need you to get back here as

fast as you can.”

Now he wanted her back there?

“Fast, Maggie.” Something in his voice left no room for question. Something was very,

very wrong.

She used her left hand to throw the wheel, then alternated with both hands on each throttle

handle, silently thanking Smitty for teaching her the twin engine turning trick.

In her ear, she could hear movement, action, words she couldn’t make out. She shoved the

left throttle forward and yanked the right one back.

Sweat rolled down her back as she worked furiously to turn the boat around.

In her ear she heard muffled sounds but couldn’t imagine what Dan was doing. Maybe he’d

found drugs. The evidence they needed to nail Viejo and Ramon again, another way to keep

Quinn and her safe from them.

Or maybe he’d found the unlaundered money!

She gave the wheel a shove to the right, nudging the rudder, and the craft started to circle

back, close to the sea wall on one side, but clear enough for her to continue. As she did, she

glanced up at the house just in time to see a light go on in the one window visible over the

trees.

Someone was in the house. How long did they have? Long enough to get whatever they’d

found to the boat?

“Maggie, how close are you?”

“I’m one property away from the house,” she replied. “Should I meet you at the dock?”

She’d have to do some fancy maneuvering to get around the Cigarette boat, but she could get

close enough and they could jump.

“Fast!” he ordered. “Kick up the engines and move!”

She did, powering down the canal, her focus on the dock ahead. “I’m going to go around

the boat and sidle up to the eastern side. Can you jump?”

She saw the mangroves rustle and shadows move as the men broke through the foliage.

“Can’t jump,” Dan said. “You have to get closer.”

He was carrying something. “Can’t you just throw it in the back?” she asked.

Just as she reached the stern of the docked boat, she got a good look at the two men on the

dock. Max waved her around the Cigarette boat.

Dan held the limp, naked body of a woman in his arms.

Max leaped off the dock onto the bow and reached up, taking the body from Dan.

“Go, Maggie!” Dan vaulted into the boat as Max laid the woman on the bow deck. “Go!”

As she threw the throttle forward, the deafening crack of a gunshot echoed over the water.

Dan threw Maggie to the deck and Max took the wheel.

“Stay under me,” Dan ordered as he unholstered his weapon and aimed. But he knew he

couldn’t hit whoever had a rifle in the upstairs window, and another bullet whizzed by,

missing them.

Dan held Maggie immobile on the deck as Max drove away, and in a minute they were out

of range.

“Who is that?” Maggie asked, staying low.

“I think you know her as Lourdes.”

“Lola? She was—”

“In a crate. And she’s alive, but barely. Faster, Max!”

Dan rose up as they got half a mile away from the house and no one made any move on that

dock. Instantly, Maggie started to crawl to the body in the front.

“Lourdes?”

Confident they weren’t being followed, Dan went with her, yanking off his sweatshirt to

cover the woman. At the wheel, Max was already doing the same thing.

“Oh my God, look at her face.”

Someone had cut Lola, and cut her bad. Scabbed lines slashed her cheeks, her breasts and

torso, and her thighs. Nothing deep enough to bleed out, but enough to badly scar. Her eyes

fluttered; then her head lolled to one side. Her whole body quivered with shock, which was

the only way Dan knew she was alive.

Maggie covered her with the sweatshirts and scooted closer, cradling her head just as Max

hit the open water of the bay and took off with more acceleration.

“Should we take her to a hospital?” Maggie asked.

“No.” Lola shook her head slowly, fighting for consciousness. “No hospital.”

Maggie held her closer. “Are you awake? Who did this to you?”

Lola opened her eyes and worked to focus on Maggie’s face. “Mag . . .” She shivered again

with a shock wave. “I don’t know,” she managed to say.

The boat bounced hard on a wave, knocking Lola’s teeth together and making her moan.

“Hang on, Lola.” Maggie looked over at Dan. “She was in a crate?”

He nodded, checking the bay behind them. “Why?” Maggie asked. “Why would someone

do that to her?”

“The fortune,” Lola said with a soft moan. “He wants the fortune.”

“Did you give it to him?” Dan asked.

“I told him where to get it, but it was gone. That’s when he did . . . this to me.” Her voice

cracked and Dan turned to see her looking up at Maggie. “How bad is it?” she asked in a rasp.

“Not bad,” Maggie assured her, stroking her hair soothingly. “Let us take you to the

hospital. Mercy is really close.”

“Please, no. I can’t. Just. Home.”

“You’re not safe at home,” Maggie said. “Can you describe this man?”

“Yes. I think so. Not now.”

Dan and Maggie shared a look, and he could see the sympathy in her eyes.

“Did you find anything else in the shed?” Maggie asked him.

That was the other thing pissing him off. “Tools.”

“Tools?”

“A crate full of wrenches, hammers, and nails, packed for shipment, and heavy as solid

steel.” Meaning they weren’t hollow and stuffed with cocaine. They’d checked one before the

boat arrived.

Lola managed to lift her head. “Where are you taking me?”

“My house,” Max said, flipping his phone to his ear. “I’ll get my wife’s doctor to look at

you, and if he says you go to the hospital, you go.”

She barely nodded, falling back on Maggie’s lap until they docked. Dan carried her up to

the house, where Cori waited on the patio. She directed them to the wing of rooms off the

laundry and kitchen, where the housekeeper lived when Cori and Max weren’t in residence.

When the doctor arrived at the gate, Cori left and Maggie helped put Lola in a robe and on

the bed. Dan waited in the doorway, assessing how much he could trust Lola. Not much.

“Lola . . . Lourdes,” Maggie said, kneeling in front of her. “Do you know exactly what it

said on the fortune you have? Can you remember the words and numbers?”

Lola nodded. “Of course I can.”

“I have to know them,” Maggie said.

Even in her post-traumatic state, Lola’s look was sharp. “Give me yours,” she said.

Dan took a step into the room. “Listen to me.” When he had her attention, he leaned closer.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to prove, or if you think for one minute that you can get

your hands on that money and keep it. But you are inches away from a visit to the FBI, Ms.

James. In case you don’t remember me, my name was Michael Scott and I have some very

strong ties to that agency.”

She drew back, her mouth open.

“So if you want to keep your company clean and your good name intact, you will tell us

everything you know. And not just the words and numbers on that fortune, but the names of

everyone else who wants it, and why, and the details of how you ended up in that shed and

who took you there. Is that clear?”

Behind him, Cori tapped on the door. Next to her was a short man with salt-and-pepper

hair, a thick mustache, and dark, serious eyes.

“This is Dr. Mahesh,” Cori said. “And this,” she added, holding out an envelope to Dan,

“was just delivered by the security guard. It was left at the front gate a few minutes ago.”

“For me?” Who knew he was there?

As the doctor stepped in, Dan went into the hall and tore open the envelope. In it were

Maggie’s and Quinn’s passports, a marriage certificate, and a gold cross on a chain. And

tucked in the corner of the envelope, a Chinese fortune.

Last was Constantine Xenakis’s business card, with bold, black script on the back.

“I want a meeting with Lucy Sharpe.”

That was the payment?

“ ’Scuze me, doctor,” Dan said, stepping back into the room. “I need to ask her a question.”

The doctor moved and Dan got right into Lola’s face and held up the cross.

“Where did you get that?” She snatched at it but he pulled it back.

“Where did you have it?”

“Hidden. In a safe. The one I sent
this
guy to.” She touched a cut.

“Was that where the fortune was hidden, and the rest of the things you had stolen from

Maggie’s house?”

She nodded.

“Tell me the numbers and words.
Now.
No hesitation.”

“Sorrow is never the child of too much joy,” she said softly. “Five-eight-nine-two.”

A perfect match to what he held in his hand.

He gave her the cross and walked out, not the least bit ready to trust her, or the thief.

“IT’S SMACK DAB in the middle of Lake Marafreakingcaibo,” Maggie said, standing in front

of the giant flat screen monitor and pointing to a lake a hundred and thirty miles long and

seventy-five miles wide. “Zoom in some more on that satellite view, okay?”

As Dan did, his phone vibrated with a text from Max.

Lola’s asleep. So are we. Solutions in the a.m
.

“Look at all that cloud cover. We can’t even see what’s there,” Maggie said, frustration and

exhaustion darkening her tone.

“Everyone’s gone to bed over there, Maggie,” he told her, setting the phone down. “Lola’s

staying at least until tomorrow, and she might be able to shed some light on this.”

She turned from the screen, which backlit her curls and bathed her in soft blue light. “You

kicking me out?”

“Only if you want to go. We can work on this all night if you like, or . . .”

She smiled at his hesitation. “Or not.”

“Not’s good.” He crooked his finger to get her closer. “I vote for not.”

For a second, he thought she was about to give in. Then she shook her head and scooped up

her phone and bag. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He was up in a shot, blocking her way. “The alarm’s on. You can’t go into the main house

now.”

“You know the code.”

“You’ll wake Quinn up. And everyone else.”

“That’s BS.”

It sure was. “Sleep here.”

Brown eyes tapered with a knowing glint. “We won’t sleep.”

“Eventually we will. You can’t leave now.”

“Why not? Give me one good reason, other than raging hormones and a total lack of

common—”

He closed the space and kissed her, still holding her hand as he curled it behind her and

drew her into his body.

“I want you to stay,” he murmured against her lips, growing harder with arousal as she

grew softer with acquiescence. He had her. Almost.

He kissed her again, licking her lips to gain entrance to her mouth and using his free hand

to run a heated stroke from her jaw down her neck over her breast and around to cup her

backside. She responded with a roll of her hips and a soft intake of breath. Always, always so

responsive to his touch.

As he trailed kisses down her throat, frustrated by the high neckline of her jersey, he

whispered, “I want you, Maggie May.”

She stiffened a little, backing up as the light in her eyes went from aroused to… wistful?

Hopeful? Something that didn’t say
throw me on the bed and screw me senseless
.

“What’s the matter?” he asked.

“When you said that, you sounded like Michael Scott. Exactly like I remember him.

You . . .
he
. . . used to say the same thing. Same tone. Same nickname.”

He slid his hands up her body, over her breasts, and under her jaw, where he cupped her

face and held it to his. “That man was a cover. He didn’t exist on the outside. But the one

inside that shell,
this
man . . .” He tapped his chest to make his point. “Always wanted you

and still does. Only this time, you know what you’re doing, and it’s real.”

“It wasn’t real before?”

“This is even more real.”

“And even more dangerous,” she whispered.

Maybe. But this time when he made love to her, he wanted her to know exactly what she

was doing and whom she was doing it with.

“Maggie, I’m about to explode with how much I need you, but the last thing I ever want to

do is make you feel bad about me again.”

She searched his face so intently, it was as if she was trying to see right through him. Or

into him.

“There was so much about him I loved, until the end. It may have been a cover, but I was in

love with . . . that man. And sometimes, when you remind me of him . . . I forget what you

did, and remember how you made me feel back then.”

“I remember, too,” he whispered. “But this isn’t about then, Maggie. This is now. I want to

make love to you as me—not him.”

“But some things are so familiar,” she said, regarding him thoughtfully. “It’s hard to

separate the past from the present.” Then her finger was on his lips, outlining them. “Your

mouth, for example. You kiss the same. Like… you own every kiss.”

He burned to own another one, but he waited.

“I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you just from these lips.” She stared at his mouth. “And

your teeth. Did they overlap like that?”

He shook his head. “I wore a semipermanent cap. It was part of the cover.”

She nodded. “But you can’t change your lips.” One more time, she circled his mouth. Then

she trailed a line down to his chin, back and forth, then wider to cover his whole jaw. “Or this