Red Hot BOX SET: Complete Series 1-4: A Patrick & Steeves Suspense (21 page)

“
D
al
.” Emily shielded her eyes, straining to see through the lashing rain. She pulled herself halfway over the rail.

Dal gripped the railing, the large blue bundle clutched against his body under his upper arm. “I’m all right,” he yelled back, his words whipped away by the wind. He held his palm up. “Go back to Kris.”

“Not until you get down from there,” she yelled, her heart pounding against her chest.

Overhead, thunder boomed threatening to split the sky open, and Dal pulled his way back to the starboard and pushed the blue bundle overboard. Running the line through his fists, the plastic cone filled with water and he let the anchor find its own tension, the line running taut. The effect was immediate.

The bow settled into the oncoming waves, and the boat stopped rolling from being hit broadside. It was still choppy as hell. She felt like she was being buffeted from every direction, but the rhythm evened out, bow dipping and rising into the waves, the deck more solid beneath her feet.

She kept her hand on the line as Dal made his way back, guiding himself with the rail. He crouched under the sail and dropped down beside her.

“Piece of cake,” he grinned, face ruddy from the wind and rain.

She grinned and threw her arms around him, before pulling quickly back. “Good job,” she said, turning away. “Kris needs help with the tools.”

She cast a glance in Diego’s direction. He was quieter, still praying, still cursing, but also taking time to breathe. The crazed look in his eyes seem to be subsiding.

Making her way back to Kris, she turned her face to the sky. It was still raining, but no longer pelting them in horizontal sheets, and visibility was better. She could see to the end of the line off the bow of the boat where the sea anchor kept them braced against the worst of the waves. Maybe the storm was moving past them.

“Did you find the problem?” Dal called into the engine hatch.

Kris raised his head, water dripping off hair, his back and shoulders soaked through. “Belt slipped off again.” He straightened, waving an adjustable wrench in the air. “I need something better than this. Can you grab my tool box?”

“Yeah.” Dal strode across the deck toward the forward cabin.

“The rain is letting up,” Em said, hand on her forehead, looking off the stern.

“Hmph,” Kris grunted. “One small mercy.”

“Can you fix it?” She moved closer to the edge and peered down at the engine.

“I had the same problem when I was coming to pick up Dal, so yeah.” He dropped to one knee, then glanced back up at her, waiting.

She shuffled her feet, hating to ask. “Will it take long?”

“Let’s hope not. We don’t have long.” His eyes slanted to her right and Dal returned to her side.

He set the tool box on the deck, knelt beside it, and opened the lid. “What do you need?”

“Give me a socket wrench, ten-inch,” Kris said. Dal quickly found what he needed and passed it down to him.

“You have an idea how far we’re still out?” Dal brushed his fingers through his wet hair, eyes hooded with worry.

“No,” Kris said, keeping his head down. “I need something for leverage. Can you get the grappling hook for me?”

Emily put her hand on Dal’s shoulder as he started to rise. “I’ll get it,” she said. She crossed the deck, grabbed the hook and passed it down to Kris.

He wedged it vertically in against the belt and worked with the wrench while he pushed against the long wooden handle. “Dal, if you get me the coordinates, we can figure out how much this has set us back. Time-wise.”

Dal stepped up beside Diego. Overhead, the lines pinged and tinged against the aluminum mast. Emily let her gaze drift past the bow, past the line, to a large swell rolling toward them.

Her eyes strained against the mist as the shape came into focus. “Dal,” she said, rushing to his side and pointing toward the wave. “Is that a boat?”

He cupped a hand over his forehead and followed where she was pointing. “It’s a boat,” he confirmed. “Kris, the Coast Guard is coming.” He crossed over to Kris and extended a hand to help him out of the engine hatch.

“Thank gawd,” Kris said, walking forward for a better view. “But we’re nowhere near the border.” He checked the GPS. “I thought they told you they couldn’t help until we hit U.S. waters.”

“You have binoculars?” Emily asked, rifling through the cubby near the wheel.

“They’ll be useless in this rain,” Kris said. “Give it a few minutes, they’re making good time.”

She watched as the boat dropped down the swell and climbed up the next, coming closer.

The boat came into focus. Gray hull, dark gray cabin, smoke rolling out of the exhaust pipe running up the back of the wheelhouse cabin. It was powering down on them quickly, leaving a frothy wake in its path.

Collectively, they let out a sigh of relief. Even Diego looked more at ease. Diego, actually, looked downright gleeful.

She couldn’t make out the insignia on the bow as it crashed through the waves, closing the distance between them. But there was something off.

“Kris,” she asked, “why would the Coast Guard be flying a Mexican flag?”

T
he flag being whipped
about by the wind on the approaching craft contained not a single star. Was not red, white, and blue. As they sailed closer, Dal could see clearly that it was red, white, and green. He took an involuntary step back and met Kris’s eyes.

“Not the Coast Guard,” Kris said.

Dal stared at Diego. Asshole was grinning widely ear to ear. “You know who this is?”

“Damn, it’s probably Jack,” Emily said. “Diego gave them the coordinates.” The look on Diego’s face confirmed her suspicions. “Now what?”

“We’ll have to ride it out,” Dal said. “We’re sitting ducks at the moment. He turned back to Kris. “Can you get that engine running? Em and I will deal with whoever this is.”

Kris tipped his chin and dropped back into the hatch.

“You have plenty of ammo?” Emily was busy with her gun, and checking her pockets. She looked up at him, her hazel eyes guarded.

“Who is it?” She aimed the pistol at Diego, who smirked. “Friends of yours, si?”

“Any friend of Mexico is a friend of mine,” the big man said. “We’re still in Mexican waters, girlie.”

“Don’t girlie me,” Emily warned, stepping closer to him. “Who’s on that boat?”

He shook his head, dismissing her. “You’re not gonna shoot me,” he said. “I’m the only one preventing us from blowing up right now.”

Dal raised his brows as she turned toward him. Woman had no fear, but in this case Diego was right. He put his hand on her shoulder. “I think you’re right. It’s probably Jack.”

“Shit, we’re sitting ducks here. No power, no Coast Guard. This is not a good day to die.” Her eyes narrowed, but behind the anger, he saw her working out a strategy.

“We’ve got this,” he said, squeezing her hand. “We’re armed and we’re not far from the border now. We shook that asshole off before. We can do it again.” He turned away from Diego’s ugly grin and checked on Kris. Everything he’d said held true - as long as they could get the boat running again. “You need anything?”

“I’m good. What’s going on up there?”

“They’re running up alongside. Still can’t see who it is, probably Emily’s boss.”

“Jesus, that’s one bad day at work right there,” Kris said, lips twisting to a frown before lowering his head to tinker with the engine. “I’ll get this.”

The bow of the other boat approached theirs and bobbed past them broadside about forty feet to the starboard. Diego raised his left hand in greeting. Two heads were visible through the wheelhouse window, but Dal couldn’t make out the faces through the rain. One large man, one shorter man.

“It’s Jack’s men,” Emily said. “The ones from the ranch. They got out of the shaft.”

“You left them in the shaft to die?” Diego slanted a look at them. “They’re coming for you now.”

“I don’t see Jack,” Dal said, peering across the distance. The boat passed them and steered into a loop across their stern, rolling dangerously low as they went dead broadside to the waves. He paced to the other side, watching their progress. They ran up the port side coming closer this pass, only about thirty feet out. The boat cut cleanly through the waves. It was a matter of seconds until they’d realize they weren’t under power, maybe already had. Still only two heads visible in the wheelhouse. Definitely the two men from the ranch.

The boat cut across their bow, almost slicing through the line to the sea anchor, and sailed down the starboard side again. The shorter man stepped out on deck waving a gun. A voice boomed over the loudspeaker on top of the main cabin. “Let Diego go and we won’t kill you.”

Diego shook his head in their direction. The short man on deck waved back, his mouth moving, his words whipped away by the wind.

The other man’s voice boomed over the speaker again, words broken up by the wind and rain but still coherent. “Diego, walk to the back so we can see that you’re safe.”

The boat slipped around the stern again, came up on the port side, closing the distance yet again.

“Send Diego out on deck where we can see him or we start shooting.”

The smaller man on deck raised his gun. Dal edged behind Diego and aimed his pistol at the man on the deck of the other boat. “Em, will you spell things out for this dumb ass?”

“Diego, you need to call these guys off,” Emily said.

Diego smirked in response.

“Here’s the thing, asshole,” she said, her eyes not leaving his. “If they start shooting at us - with that bomb around your gut - they’re going to create a lot of problems.” She paused a beat. “For you,” she added.

The smirk on his face flattened and his brow knitted together. “Better they kill you all and come on board and get this bomb off me, is the way I see it.”

“It’s too rough for them to board. Are you saying they know how to disarm this bomb?”

“Yes… I mean, no.”

Dal nudged his shoulder against Diego’s. “Which is it? Can they defuse it or not?”

The big man shook his head. “Fuck you.”

“So let me tell you what will happen if they start shooting at us,” Dal said, gritting his teeth. “They’ll try to kill us, and if they’re able to come aboard - which is highly unlikely - they won’t have any idea how to get the bomb off you.”

“You won’t get off this boat in one piece,” Emily said.

“And your friends will probably blow up with you,” Dal added. “Is that what you want?”

“I’ll take my chances.”

“I don’t think so,” Emily said, rolling her eyes at Dal. “The best bet - for all of us -” she emphasized, “is having the bomb squad that’s waiting for us defuse the damn bomb. That’s the only way any of us - including you - will be getting off this boat alive.”

“I don’t know what possessed you to put yourself onboard a boat with a ticking bomb anyway,” Dal said, shifting his weight and keeping the gun aimed at the other boat, now doing another lap around the stern. “What kind of dumb ass does that?”

“Jack was supposed to have it all in hand.”

“Yeah, well clearly Jack didn’t.” Emily tilted her chin and grabbed Diego’s phone. She hit redial, put the call on speaker and watched the man on the other boat fumble in his pocket for his phone. He stepped back inside the wheelhouse and answered.

“Diego, what the hell—”

“Rico, damn it, I told you. I’m rigged to the wheel. The fucking bomb is on me. On my body. If you start shooting at this boat, you’re going to blow me the fuck up.”

“Shit Diego, we didn’t think of that. Uh, Miguel…”

The other man’s voice came through the line. “Diego, what the hell. What do you want us to do? Should we board?”

Emily shook her head, and Diego said, “No, stay where you are. Ask Jack how to defuse this fucking thing.”

A pause. “Jack’s not here.”

D
al’s stomach dropped
. Not that he’d been looking forward to seeing Jack again, but there was no question they needed him. He glanced at Emily, raised his eyebrows. She shrugged, eyes wide.

“Where is he?” Diego asked.

“That asshole was planning to leave you on the boat to blow up. Didn’t want us to come either, so we left him on shore.” A sharp laugh in the background.

“Is he dead?” Emily asked.

“Probably wishes he was by now,” Rico’s voice came over the line.

“Fuck, Miguel, he’s the only one that knows when the bomb is set to go off. Did you think of that?”

Silence. Diego continued. “Did you get any information from him?”

No response. Diego’s face twisted, lips pursed, eyes smoldering. His gaze followed the path of the other boat as it crossed their bow, rolling toward them with the swell. Through the wheelhouse window, Dal watched as the two men listed downward.

Diego shouted into the phone. “Miguel, did he tell you when the bomb is going to go off?”

“No. Fuck no.”

“
Cabrón
.”

“Fuck you, Diego. Jack was going to leave you here to blow the fuck up. We came for you.”

“What about Rico’s cousin. He dropped me off. Give him a call.”

Rico came on the line. “We can’t reach him. He’s at the ranch or somethin’.”

“Look,” Dal said, cutting Diego off as he opened his mouth to respond. “We’ll give you Diego, but we need to know how to defuse the bomb. Or at least know when it’s set to go off. Can you call Jack?”

The line hissed. After several moments, Rico’s voice came back. “We didn’t leave him a phone.”

“Damn.” Emily punched the line closed. “Now what?” she asked him.

Now what indeed. He stared at the phone in Emily’s hand. “They’re calling back.”

She looked down at the screen. “No, not yet.”

“I hear a phone ringing.” He crossed to the cubby and pulled out Kris’s phone. “It’s the Coast Guard,” he said, checking the screen. “Yes, sir?”

“What’s going on over there Steeves? You don’t appear to be moving.”

“Engine problem.” He crossed the deck to Kris. “Almost there?”

“Pretty much,” Kris said. “Two minutes.”

“Steeves?”

“Another couple of minutes and we should be under power again.”

“Our radar is picking up another vessel there with you. You no longer need rescue?”

He pushed his hand through his hair. “No, sir. I mean, yes, we still need rescue. The other boat is… not friendly.”

“What the hell do you mean, not friendly?”

“Cartel, sir. We have one of their men on board. He’s the one strapped to the bomb. They came to get him.”

“You’re still thirty minutes out.”

“Got it,” Kris shouted as he crawled back on deck and crossed to the ignition.

“Hang on, sir. I think we have power again.”

Kris turned the key, the engine turned over, skipped, then caught. Dal peered into the hold. “We have power.”

Behind him, Emily and Kris let out a small cheer. “What’s your ETA Steeves?”

“Kris, what’s our ETA?”

“Full on, straight ahead. As soon as we can get there. Tell him twenty or thirty minutes. They should be able to track us on their radar.”

Dal relayed the message.

“That’s cutting it close. I’d rather not have you all blow up on my watch.”

“We’re on the same page there, sir. See you soon.”