Red Hot BOX SET: Complete Series 1-4: A Patrick & Steeves Suspense (18 page)

E
mily’s gaze
followed Dal’s back as he dropped down the hatch and she gulped in sea air. It felt like she hadn’t breathed in an hour. The elasticity of time in stressful situations always surprised her. She always expected working with bombs to get easier. But it never did. Each time she was forced into this position, she was aware of flirting with death and holding the lives of others in her hands. Playing God did not sit well with her.

Dal dumped two large wooden spoons and a barbecue spatula on the aft deck. Emily watched as he picked each up and weighed them in his hands. He passed her the heaviest of the wooden spoons. It was flat, more flipper than a spoon shape.

“This could work.” The boat pitched sharply and she reached for the railing.

Dal grabbed her arm to steady her. “You look a little green.”

Shrugging, she took a deep breath and straightened to her full height. The boat pitched again and she fell into his shoulder. His hand snaked around her, clutching her tight.

“We don’t have to do this right now,” he whispered. “The seas are really high.”

“They’re going to get worse.” Emily glanced warily at the approaching thunderclouds. In the distance, a dark gray vertical sheet indicating heavy rain swept in their direction. “The storm’s going to hit hard. And we can’t leave Kris side by side with Diego. We need to get him out of there.”

“I’ll call dispatch again.” Dal crossed to the cubby, reached between the two men and grabbed Kris’s phone.

“We need to wrap this up before the storm hits,” Kris said. He was wedged as close to starboard as possible, putting as much distance as he could between himself and Diego and the bundle of badly wired explosives.

“Workin’ on it.” Dal hit redial and turned to the side, his words whipped away by the wailing wind.

Emily caught Kris’s eye and stepped forward. “Dal is going to check once more with the bomb squad. Then we’re going to get you off this trigger.”

Kris looked her over with knowing eyes. “There’s a bottle of ginger tablets over the sink. Just let the tablet dissolve under your tongue. Grab a handful while you’re there, you can just keep eating them.”

In the galley, Emily dumped out several pills, popped one in her mouth and stuffed the rest in a pocket. She leaned against the counter, surveying the mess of the dead bloodied bird and feathers, burnt eggs, scattered utensils, scraps of onion and pepper in the sink. None of it compared to the chaos of her thoughts.

In another time, she’d remained calm in situations more critical than this. Worst case scenario, once they had Kris released from the wheel, they could all go overboard and leave Diego to go up - and then down - with the ship.

Her heart dropped. Could she be that calculating again? Trading one or more lives for the life of another? If she had to, then yes, she could. She hoped like hell she wouldn’t have to. The pill was working, her stomach settling, but she was needed up top and anxious to be out of the pressing confines and wild pitching of the forward cabin.

Dal reached his hand down the ladder and helped her back on deck. Waves buffeted the hull, creating a constant spray that soon soaked her through. The lines of the mast and rigging slapped noisily against the aluminum in the howling wind. “What did they say?” she asked.

He turned away from Kris and shook his head. “They’re coming but we can’t keep a clear connection. We needed the radio for this.”

She clenched her hands at her sides. “When will they be here?”

“Not sure. They advised us to stay out of the harbor so we’re moving further out to sea.”

“Shit.” Her body trembled under the bite of the wind and she looked up at him. “We need to start without them.”

He met her gaze. “If we knew when it’s set to go off …”

She turned back to the utensils he’d brought up earlier. “So,” she said, picking up the longest and flattest of the wooden spoons, “this one?”

He tipped his chin and she moved to the wheel, putting herself between Kris and Diego. “You ready for this?”

Kris nodded. Dal stepped to the far side of Diego, gun aimed squarely at his head. “If you tell us how to defuse this bomb—”

“You think I wouldn’t have told you before you strapped the fucking thing to my body? I have kids. A wife. A family waiting for me.” Diego spat the words out, eyes dark.

“When I give the order, you’ll move your hand onto the wheel. Mess with it and you’ll blow us all up.” Dal’s words were measured and calm.

“Not a fucking chance!”

Dal jabbed the gun into Diego’s neck, tilting the man’s head back. “If you want to see your family again, tus hijos, tu esposa, you’ll do exactly as I say.”

“Fuck you. After you tie me to the wheel, you’ll just go overboard.”

Another rogue wave hit the port side hard, throwing them all off balance. They steadied themselves, arms around the nearest solid body they could reach. Kris was wedged into the starboard side with the full weight of the three others against him, his arm stretched to its full length. The wires between Diego and Kris danced wildly with increased tension.

Emily pushed herself off Kris, moving Diego back at the same time. Dal pulled the large man a few inches to the side. Kris righted himself, eyes wide.

“We need to get this done,” she said, “the weather’s getting worse.” Large drops of rain bounced off the deck, a precursor of the center of the storm that would hit any moment. Visibility was barely a quarter mile, darkness surrounded them like a curtain. Emily had the strangest sensation of being on a stage. The waves around them the moving seating, the storm approaching the backstage curtains, and in that moment she knew she had to step cleanly, decisively into the spotlight.

Grasping the wooden spoon, she nodded at Kris. He lifted his hand while, inch by inch, she pushed the spoon under his palm and against the wires knotted to the wheel beneath. “Light,” she said.

Dal shined the beam on Kris’s hand. Emily continued, wedging the spoon beneath his hand until his hand was clear. He kept the weight against the spoon, pressing against the wires below.

“Now Diego,” Emily said. “Move your right hand over here, put it on the wheel beside the--”

The bow crashed down on another wave, Emily lurched forward, struggling to maintain her grasp on the spoon. Diego reached out, his large arm blocking her, holding her upright. She took a deep breath and stepped back. She was almost there - could feel it, taste it - she rocked back on her feet and steadied herself. Her hands trembled. Whether from the wet, the cold or the fear she couldn’t tell. She took another breath, willing herself to stay calm.

“Diego.” She looked into the man’s eyes. Lurking behind his open hatred was terror. “Put your hand on the wheel next to the spoon. Kris, you slide yours off, while Diego moves his on.”

“Fuck you,” said the large man, shifting his body back. Alarm shot through Emily’s veins. Another couple of inches, or a rogue wave, and the wires would tear.

“Do what the lady says,” Dal growled, jabbing the gun into his neck. “Remember your kids and your wife. Move. Now.”

Diego placed his large hand next to Kris’s. Emily held her breath as Kris inched his to the right and Diego’s slowly covered the spoon.

A loud exhale of breath beside her told her Kris was free. He slumped to the side and stepped back, leaving her more space to work.

“Emily.”

She looked over at Dal.

“Leave the spoon there.”

The large handle of the wooden spoon stuck out from under Diego’s hand. It looked too easy to dislodge but she was worn out. “For now,” she agreed. “We’ll move it when the water is calmer.”

Stepping back, she allowed Diego the full space behind the wheel. His shoulders sagged. Kris stepped up beside him, pointed out the course on the compass.

Emily moved as if on auto-pilot to Dal. His nearness a magnet, drawing her, warming her. He wrapped his arms around her and murmured into her hair. She didn’t hear his words over the spray pounding on her back, the pounding of the waves against the hull, the incessant pounding of her heart in her ears.

D
al led Emily below deck
, kicking a path through the rubble on the floor, and pulled her to the table. Kris followed close behind and disappeared into the head.

“I can’t stay down here long,” she said. She reached into her pocket and popped another pill into her mouth.

He raised his brows and peered down at her.

“Ginger,” she explained. “It’s helping with the nausea, but I need to stay up top. I need fresh air and it helps if I can see the horizon.”

He chuckled and slid the back of his fingers against her cheek, caressing her skin. “The horizon’s a bit of a moving target at the moment.” From the cupboard above, he pulled out a towel. He patted her face, squeezed water from her hair.

“Let’s get you out of those wet clothes.” He opened another hatch and pulled out sweat pants and a hoodie.

She stood, shivering, and he peeled off her jacket and wet hoodie. When he reached her t-shirt, he turned away to give her some privacy. He stepped into the galley and swept the left-over food and burnt eggs off the counter and into the sink. The utensils strewn on the floor went back into the drawer. Grabbing the seagull by a leg, he flung it onto the deck where it landed at Diego’s feet. Without waiting for his reaction, he closed the hatch and barred the wind that was whistling through the opening.

Above deck, the rain lashed down on the small craft, pounding against the polished decks, streaming against the portholes. From their vantage point, the whole boat seemed like it was below water. Dal wondered how much longer it would take the bomb squad to reach them. Or even if they would ever reach them in this storm.

He filled a kettle, lit the stove, and held the kettle in place while the boat rolled and corrected itself over the pounding waves.

“Making tea?”

He lifted his gaze to Emily. A pile of soggy clothes dripped near her feet. She shivered, a blanket she’d pulled from the forward bunk wrapped around her shoulders.

“Hungry? I’m guessing Kris is damn near starved.”

“Just something hot to drink.”

She sat, barely six feet from him, so why did it feel like he would have to cross an ocean to reach her? He already knew he gladly would. Who was this woman? She’d revealed some things to him on the drive to the coast, but clearly there was a lot more she was keeping to herself. He longed to close the distance between them, to go to her, to hold her, to kiss those lips again.

But first, he needed to get them all off this boat. They still didn’t know when it was going to blow. When the kettle whistled, he tossed tea bags into three cups and poured steaming water over them. He looped his fingers through the handles and carried the cups to the table, leaned forward and brushed his lips across Emily’s forehead. She clasped her hands around the warm mug and smiled up at him.

“I never thought I’d be so happy to see a toilet in my life,” Kris said, stepping out of the head. “Not to mention my toothbrush.”

Dal stepped away from the table to make room for him to pass. “Hot tea. Want some food?”

“Fuck yes. Anything.” He slid onto the bench across from Emily, collapsing against the vinyl cushions, and let out a huge sigh. “Freakin’ relief to sit.”

“I’m sorry I put you in this situation,” Dal said, crossing back to the galley so Kris couldn’t see his face. He grabbed items out of the fridge and lit a burner under the griddle. “Grilled cheese and salami?”

“Great. I’ll just rest a little.” Kris’s eyelids drooped, within seconds his breathing changed.

“He’s asleep.” A stage whisper from Emily over the sizzling of the bread in the pan.

Sure enough, Kris slept, head thrown back. Peace smoothed his features. Dal flipped the sandwich and winked at her. She settled back into her seat and closed her eyes. He watched them quietly, his best friend, the closest thing he had to family, and this amazing, beautiful woman - a bundle of mysteries - that he seemed to be falling for.

Cheese oozed out around the crust, a perfect golden brown, and he slid the sandwich onto a plate. He walked over and nudged Emily. “Sure you don’t want this? I’ll make another for Kris.”

She glanced to the snoring Kris and nodded. He placed the steaming sandwich in front of her and returned to the galley, taking satisfaction in how quickly she tucked into the warm food.

He flipped two more sandwiches, placing one in front of Kris and sliding in beside Emily with the other. “Kris,” he said. His friend started awake.

“Oh, right, sandwich.” He rubbed at his eyes and peered down at the food. “Don’t worry,” he said, around a mouthful of bread.

“Don’t worry what?”

“About the situation,” Kris continued. “Every time I go somewhere with this guy,” he addressed Emily, “there’s some kind of chaos or commotion.”

“Bullshit.” Dal chuckled. “Normally, Kris is the shit disturber, and I’m rescuing him —”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m the one that always rounds up the girls, and he’s the one that—”

“Another sandwich?” Dal asked, glaring at Kris. His friend met his eye and his gaze slid over to Emily.

“Like that is it?”

Emily shifted in her seat, and Dal rushed in. “We have a few things to figure out,” he said.

Kris met his eye. “Yeah, we do. I don’t want my boat to blow up.”

“Or us with it,” Emily chimed in, leaning her elbows on the table. “We need to know when that bomb is set to go off.”

“Do you think there’s a way we can get that information out of Jack?” He took the last bite of his sandwich and pushed the plate away.

“I don’t know.” Her fingers rapped an unsteady rhythm against the tabletop. “We’ll have to come up with a good story. Something that will convince him to tell us.”

“I have to say, I hate that fucking guy.” Dal drained the last of his tea, slamming the cup back to the table with more force than he’d intended.

Kris leaned forward. “If we can’t get him to tell us, we’ll have to inflate the lifeboat and go overboard.”

“In these seas?” Dal asked. “That’ll be dangerous.”

“No more dangerous than staying on board with the fucking bomb.” Kris’s shoulders hunched. Dal stepped back, determined to let it go for now.

“I agree with Kris,” Emily said. “We should be ready to abandon ship. But first we try to get something out of Jack.”