Kidnapped Hearts (24 page)

Her eyes fluttered, she focused, then she
screamed. The whole county would wake, if she kept this up. “Shhhh. You’re
okay.”

Her head thrashed from side to side. “No,
I shot him.”

“You didn’t. My bullet hit him. Yours hit
the wall.” He pointed to the far wall.

The scared look disappeared, and she sent
him a sideways glance. “You hit him?”

He nodded and sat next to her. “You must
have blacked out.”

She flopped into his lap like a rag doll.
The morning sun shone into the window. “I know I said I could protect myself,
but Jake—”

“It’s okay.” He moved the hair out of her
face. “It’s my job.”

She nodded. “Where’s Steve?” Her voice
quivered.

Jake scanned the room. There was no sign
of anyone. The two Scorpions had been standing guard for some reason. Movement
through the window caught his eye. He tapped Pamela and slid from underneath
her, then crossed to the window. Two men carried a large sack with another hooligan
directing the way.

“I found him.” Jake leaped up, tugging
Pamela behind him.

Chapter
Nineteen

Jake tugged Pamela down the three flights
of stairs, as she tucked away her gun. Shame was showing its ugly head. He had
lied. Once he saw Pamela’s frightened face, the
I’ll kill myself if I actually murdered someone
look, he had no
choice but to tell her that his bullet killed the thug. In truth, the hole in
the wall had been from his gun. He had taken his eyes off the target for a
split second. Only a fraction of a second, that’s all it was, and she had fired
her gun. His knee jerk reaction was to fire, too. In his discombobulated mind,
he hadn’t aimed. Never had he acted so unprofessionally. This sort of thing was
starting to become a habit with him when she was around.

They reached the yard of the main house
and ran the fifty yards back to the bed and breakfast. A duffle bag rested on
the stoop by the back door next to a few pair of shoes.

“It’s probably Steve’s,” Pamela said.

Given the color, he’d deduced the same
thing. Still, he had to make sure it wasn’t a trap. “Stay here.”

Pamela backed into the shelter of a group
of pines, staying out of sight. Weapon drawn, he slithered around the back of
the house, then to the porch. Crouching next to the duffle, he listened. Not
hearing a ticking sound or anything to cause concern, he unzipped it and
checked the contents. Nothing unusual. He swung the strap over his head and
arm, then made his way back to Pamela.

Grasping her hand, they scooted along the
side of the house, his gun leading the way. At the corner, he peeked at the
small marina. Parallel to the cul-de-sac, a thirty-five foot yacht bumped up
against a pier. Off to the left, two older-model, wooden speedboats occupied
the ten-boat slip pier. The far left, a restaurant. Just last night, Pamela and
he had strolled the area on the pretense of being on their honeymoon.
Some honeymoon
.

Jake cocked an eyebrow. Something was
missing. There were no people. Fishing communities always had people swarming
around this time of day. Did the gunshots clear the area or was everyone dead?

Then, there they were. The two punks
carried a sack with a third man leading the way. They bustled into the smaller
of the two speedboats and dropped the body. A second later, they were staring
toward the B and B.

Jake jerked back.

Pamela tapped his shoulder. “Do you think
Sylvia left Steve’s satchel there for us to give it to him?” Touching a finger
to her lips, he nodded, hoping she got the message to stay quiet.

“These shoes are killing my feet.”

He grimaced and looked at the feet in
question. No stores were around this part of town, and if there were, they
couldn’t chance buying any.

Pamela looked expectantly up at him as if
he could conquer world hunger.

Her odd behavior had Jake scratching his
head. She must be in shock. He ignored her comments, grasped her hand, and
headed to the back door for the shoes he saw there earlier. “Put these on.”

“We can’t just take Sylvia’s shoes.”

She needed to stop talking.

“Jake.”

Not able to help himself, he pressed his
lips to hers. At first, her lips were stiff and cold, but quickly, they warmed.
He pulled away and said in a low voice, “I could do that all day, but right now
you’ve got to stop talking.”

He expected her to argue. Instead, she
toed off her old sneakers and slipped on the water shoes, then gave him the
thumbs up
.

The cruel shoes landed in a group of
bushes as they strolled back to the corner they just vacated. He hoped the
perps hadn’t left with Steve.

The boats were still there, but not the
hoodlums. They were heading straight for the B and B. Jake edged backwards,
pushing Pamela behind him. He considered his options. Take them head on and
risk the chance of Pamela getting hurt or run and form a plan to deal with them
on his own terms.

A voice floated toward them. “There’re
two of them, maybe three.”

Three targets. Chances were one of them
would get a round off before Jake could kill all three.

“Save the girl for me,” said another
voice.

 
Run.

He motioned for Pamela to backup, but she
already had turned and was running in the opposite direction.

Jake caught up and tugged Pamela’s elbow,
pulling her to the back of the house, then into an alcove overgrown by trees.
Her breathing was fast. Man, he hoped she didn’t pass out.

Through the trees, he spotted figures
moving.

Thunk
.
Pamela’s gun hit concrete. Her eyes grew wide, and her face paled.

He hadn’t spotted the gun in her hand.

One of the men stopped. Jake held his
breath. Pamela hadn’t, her breathing was even more rapid. Jake placed a hand
over hers, hoping to soothe her.

The man took a step in their direction.

A voice ordered, “Let’s check the main
house.”

Keep
going, asshole.

“What about this house?” the person in
front of them asked.

Pamela’s laced her hand with Jake’s and
squeezed.

“We’ll check it next.”

After some hesitation, footsteps sounded
on the sidewalk, moving in the opposite direction.

Pamela released a breath. The pulse in
her throat was working overtime. He knew she was barely holding on by a string,
trying to keep her emotions together.

 
Jake stuck Pamela’s gun in front of his
waistband and led her to the front yard, his gun still led the way.

He tightened his grip on Pamela’s hand
and moved to the edge of the house, then peeped around the corner toward the pier.
Like earlier, no one was on the streets. He inspected the area.
In order to get to the marina, they’d
have to run in clear view. No trees or buildings were near.

He glanced down at Pamela snuggling into
his arm. “Ready?”

She nodded.

They darted toward the boat where Steve’s
body was dumped and jumped into the boat.

Two captain chairs were in the front, and
the large sack filled the back.

POW
.

“Get down!”

Pamela was already crouching over the
body, shaking.

Jake edged to the controls. The key was
still there. The thugs must have been anticipating the need for a quick
getaway. Jake flipped his wrist, and the boat roared to life. He reversed, then
jerked the wheel to the right and pushed the throttle forward, throwing water
across the jetty. So much for the no wake zone.

Boats treaded inland. Only eight o’clock
and the watermen’s workday was already over. Jake dodged a buoy and pushed the
throttle more. He needed to get to the mouth of the cove before the Scorpions
reached the other boat.

The power of the second and larger
speedboat rumbled. Crap, he wanted more distance before that beast thundered
awake. From the sound of it, the other boat probably had more power than this
Baja Islander. The only advantage was this boat was shorter and easier to manipulate.

Clearing the oncoming water traffic, he
reached the mouth of the cove. Immediately, he jerked the wheel to the right,
just missing a wet jet, and smashed into an oncoming wake, spraying water into
the hull. Pamela crawled to the front of the boat and sat in the passenger’s
seat. Her wet hands held on to the dash. The spray had drenched her.

 
“Jake, there’s blood.” Pamela’s deep breath
had him whipping around. Blood spotted her shirt.
Shit.

The second speedboat closed in on the
entrance of the cove. It was going to be a game of cat and mouse. They had the
upper hand by having a man as the shooter while the other drove. Jake grimaced.
After seeing the shock on Pamela’s face today, he doubted she wanted any parts
of using a gun, and he had no idea if she knew how to drive a boat.

More boats headed inward. Not easing off
on the throttle, their boat slammed into a wave. Pamela held steady to the
dash, her fingers whitening. Another hard hit and she bounced, and her body
thwacked against the floor.

The fisherman had blocked the Scorpions’
passage. Watermen take offense to boats not adhering to the rules.

Time to check the contents.

Jake backed off the gas. “Pamela, hold
the wheel. I need to see what we’ve got.”

“The wheel?”

“Just like driving a car,” he raised his
voice to be heard over the motor.

Pamela pried her fingers away from the
seat, then slid into the captain’s chair and grabbed the wheel. “Okay, I’ve got
it,” she said, her voice quavering.

Jake knelt beside the sack, opened his
pocketknife, and made a small slit. Jabbing his fingers into the hole, he
jerked it open.

Pamela screamed.

She was staring at him and not in front
of her. “Keep your eyes on the water, Pamela.” He yelled to be heard over the
wind and motor.

Blood covered Nicholas Wine’s face.
Where in the hell was Agent Anderson
?
Jake tore the canvas material, then searched Wine’s pockets. He pulled out a
white piece of paper.

Enough
is enough
.

He leaned forward and showed it to
Pamela. “Does the handwriting look familiar?”

He couldn’t hear her reply, but her chin
quivering told him it was.

Jake stuck the note into his pocket and
continued searching Nicholas. Finding nothing, not even a phone, he flipped the
canvas over the bloody body and crossed back for the controls.

Seeing Pamela’s tear-stricken face, he
slid a leg behind her and glided his hands over hers holding the wheel. She
slowly removed them and burrowed into his chest.

He couldn’t stay here long. Any second
the hoodlums would be gaining on them, but he’d give her this moment to get
herself together. He kissed her neck just below her ear, then rested his chin
on her shoulder as they rode in silence. Too bad they couldn’t be cruising the
open water on their honeymoon. He lifted his chin from her shoulder.
Where had that thought come from?

The sound of a motor neared. “Pamela, get
in a seat.”

She moved quickly, but chose the floor to
sit on instead. The second speedboat cleared the entrance of the cove. Jake
whipped the boat right, flying around an island. Then he made a quick left. Other
boats were zooming around. He hoped he’d get lost in the mix, then he could
pursue them and become the cat.

The second boat’s larger motor had them
gaining ground fast, despite its size. He now could make out the passenger in
the boat. Two men, both wearing leather jackets. One behind the wheel, the
other to the driver’s right. Where had the third man gone?

Just then, a third man appeared. No
jacket. Jake strained to look harder. “Steve.”

Pamela slipped into a seat, tucked a
strand of hair behind her ear, and followed Jake’s gaze. “He’s okay.”

“Whatever you do, don’t smile. It’ll give
him away. Steve has to surprise them,” Jake warned.

 
“I
can’t watch.” Pamela buried her face in her hands.

Jake took in the scene. Steve had the
passenger by the throat. Since Jake had Steve’s bag of tricks, he had no
weapons other than his hands. He glanced down at Pamela hiding and made the
decision. “Pamela, get on the floor.”

Without hesitation, she slid to the
floor.

“I’ve got to help Steve.”

Her jaw clenched, and she pulled her legs
to her, wrapping her hands around them.

“Hold on!” Jake jerked the wheel to the
right. She lost balance and quickly grabbed the bottom of the chair.

The driver was wrestling with Steve now.
Two against one. Jake leveraged out one of Steve’s gun and, slowing his boat,
made a pass by the other. Both boats bobbed. The distance was too far for him
to throw the gun. He couldn’t get any closer, or they’d collide.