Stormfront (Undertow Book 2) (32 page)

“We are looking for Mr. Garrett,
”
I said to the over-sized bouncer at The Pink Crab’s backdoor. What was the worth of this guy? That he could squash someone with his two-tons of fat? Humans could be so stupid when it came to security. We had already been frisked by the first idiot and passed the “no-weapons” test with flying colors. Little did they know we didn’t need weapons, though Kian was hiding a nice blade.

“Mr. Garrett is busy,” said the lump of meat.

“Mr. Garrett knows us.” My stomach turned as I recalled him kissing Eila’s hand and giving her the flower.

“Trust me – we are the type of clients that Mr. Garrett enjoys doing business with,” said Kian, channeling his rich-kid-drug-addict slant. The bouncer eyed us a moment longer and then brought a
walkie talkie to his mouth, relaying our request.

The lock behind the bouncer made a double clicking sound and he pulled the large wooden door open for us. “First door on the right, boys,” he said with a sneer.

We stepped inside and I quickly realized that the door on the right was the only door in the hallway. I didn’t point this out for the bouncer, since I was sure he couldn’t count anyway. I opened the door, taking a fast inventory of the room, Kian close behind me. Mr. Garrett sat behind an ornate, cherry desk with a box of Cuban cigars. The smell of the rolled tobacco helped to mask the smell of weed.

“Good to see you boys again,” said Garrett, not attempting to stand or shake our hands. He didn’t have any guards in his room with him, which meant that he didn’t see us as a threat.

“Good to see you, too,” said Kian. “We heard you have some outstanding goods for those with discerning tastes, and we were hoping to possibly purchase some of your fine . . . cigars.”

Mr. Garrett’s mouth twisted into a small grin, believing we were looking to score some cocaine, not cigars – or his life. “Hmmm – you know
, boys, I’d like to do business with you. I would. But I am thinking that you might be in over your head, purchasing such high end products from me. Boys like you need to be careful in places like this.”

“I think we can handle ourselves, but thanks for the concern,” said Kian. “Name your price.”

Garrett gave a small chuckle, “So cocky for so young. I suspect Mum and Dad may not be too pleased to learn their sons are throwing away their trust fund money on cigars and pretty young things. Speaking of which, where are those lovely girls anyway?”

I stepped forward, “The girls are none of your concern. Leave them out of this.” Unease was beginning to flow through me and I could tell Kian was feeling it as well. Something was not right. Something about the way Garrett was dealing with us. Playing with us.

“You know, beautiful things go missing, even in a paradise such as this. Perhaps you should be more concerned about what you have, or rather did have, than what you want.”

Al
l right, I was done. I strode over to the desk and Garrett got to his feet, pulling a gun from under the desk and aiming it at my chest. “Your first mistake was thinking I would deal with snot-nosed brats like you two,” said Garrett.

I leaned more forward and the gun pressed against my chest. Yeah, a bullet would hurt, but it certainly wouldn’t kill me. “Actually, Mr. Garrett, your first mistake was letting us inside,” I growled.

“You’re mighty confident, considering I could put a hole through your chest. I bet you wouldn’t be so cocky if you understood the true price of doing business with me.”

Tired of his rambling, I lunged, easily disarming Garrett and pinning him by the neck to the wall. He looked momentarily shocked, but irritatingly sure of himself. Kian sauntered over beside me. “I don’t know
, Mr. Garrett. I think we are getting quite a bargain.”

Garrett’s face twisted into a perverse sort of grin that chilled me to the bone. “I don’t think so. You see, my nephew just left to collect a very nice yacht as payment for your evening in my bar. The girls will just be a bonus.”

I glared at Garrett. “What have you done?” I snarled through my teeth as Kian yanked his phone from his pocket and dialed MJ. It rang and rang, then went to voicemail.

Garrett offered a perverse smile. “There are pirates in the Caribbean, and my nephew’s crew is hunting some very beautiful treasures tonight.”

Kian roared at Garrett, “Call him off!”

“Or what, you little shit?” snapped Garrett. “You’re playing a game that you have no business being in. You don’t have it in you to kill someone like me. You’re just a kid!”

Rage consumed me, and all of Rillin’s rules about making a hit look like an accident disintegrated as I grabbed Garrett by the neck . . . and removed his head from his body.

Cerberus lurched once agai
n
to starboard and Ana and I tumbled sideways in the hall, banging against the bathroom door.

“We need to get upstairs,” I yelled over the roaring engine as I tried to get to my feet and steady myself. The floor of the yacht slanted towards the stern, and dishware slid from the counters, crashing to the floor and scatteri
ng down the hall towards our feet. Ana scrambled back as a chef’s knife pinwheeled its way past her toes and struck the back wall.

“Go find MJ! I’m going to try and shut her down from the engine room!” yelled Ana. The floor tilted the other way and Ana grabbed hold of the bathroom doorknob, keeping
herself from sliding across the hall. The knife came back towards me and I slammed my hand down on the handle, grabbing the sharp kitchen tool from the tile floor.

Now I had a weapon and I was dying to use it on whoever was try
ing to steal our yacht. They might be pirates, but steering wasn’t their strong suit. If they had done something to MJ, I would beat the piss out of their booty.

“Be careful!” I yelled to
Ana as more stuff smashed to the floor. She nodded and pushed off the wall, heading for the back of the shuddering yacht and the engine room door.

I bolted for the stairs and managed to get up five steps before the yacht lurched hard and I lost my footing, tossing the knife. I hung on to the handrail, but my body slammed against the wall and my injured shoulder gave a sickening pop as I cried out in pain. I forced myself to my feet, knowing I needed to get to the bridge and stop whoever was controlling the boat before Cerberus fell on her side completely. Before she sank, taking us with her.

The boat leveled, and I pinned my injured arm to my side and dashed to the top of the stairs and the parlor. Standing by the inner controls was MJ, pale with blood streaming down from a slice in his forehead, hanging with all his might onto the steering wheel.

“MJ!” I yelled just as he pulled hard on the wheel and Cerberus leaned sharply to port. I stumbled forward and MJ grabbed me just as I was about to slam into him, and my hand slapped into the stere
o system. A rock song began blaring from the speakers at a deafening level

“Eila! Are you okay? Where’s Ana?” he yelled over Steven Tyler’s screaming voice.

“She is trying to shut down the engine. What the hell is going on?” I yelled back, but the wheel came to life and yanked the other way out of MJ’s grip and we fell to the floor together. I screamed as my shoulder took the brunt of the fall, but my pain powered my anger and shut down any trace of fear.

I wanted justice. I wanted control. The Lunaterra side of my DNA cranked
my inner fatal female to life, and I was ready to unleash the crazy on Black Beard’s idiots.

MJ tried to pull himself up to the controls, locking his hand over the throttle, and Cerberus let out a screaming growl as the engine battle
d against itself. “Some guys knocked me out! When I came to, we were underway, headed god knows where. I’ve been fighting with whoever is on the flydeck for control of the boat. I’m trying to keep us close to the island,” said MJ. “If I keep fighting the guy above us, we are going to tear Cerberus apart!”

“They’re pirates!” I yelled. MJ glared at me as if I’d lost my mind.

I managed a glance out the parlor windows and realized we were pretty far from shore. “Raef and Kian are still on the island?” I yelled, pissed that we had left them behind. MJ nodded, his jaw hard. “Where’s Dalca’s gun, MJ?”

“I don’t know. I got hit in the head and when I came to, I no longer had it,” he yelled, trying to be heard over the music. From my vantage point on the floor I could see the SOS kit secured under the cabinet. I yanked the red box from its spot and pulled out the flare gun, loading it.

“Eila – the flares aren’t going to help us!” yelled MJ over the music.

 
“Got a better plan?” I argued, scrambling to my feet. “Hold her steady if you can!”

“Where are you going?” demanded MJ, hanging onto the wheel with all his might while the boat lobbed one way, then the other. I staggered back and forth, trying to maintain my balance.

“To get our boat back, captain!” I yelled. Dang – I was actually high on the rush of what was happening. Any clear, shy thoughts I should have been entertaining had disappeared to another dimension.

I was entirely fearless.

MJ swore, “Be careful, Eila!”

I ran in spurts through the parlor, balancing on a couch or chair until I reached the glass doors. I pulled them open and managed to ma
ke my way to the ladder that led to the flybridge, my heart pounding. With only one working arm, I held the flare gun in my teeth and started climbing the ladder, hanging on for dear life when Cerberus would jolt. She was tearing up the ocean, tossing up waves and foam that sprayed the side of her ruby hull and slicked the ladder rungs.

Finally reaching the top, I peeked over and saw a man dressed in black, dreadlocks hanging down his back. I leveled the flare gun at his back and fired, but the shot went wide and struck the instrument panel.

The man spun, his green eyes immediately finding me. Crap.

He pulled a gun from his waistband and aimed for me just as Cerberus lurched hard to starboard once again. The man staggered, losing his balance, and his arms flailed. I ducked as he hit the deck hard, his gun firing.

Cerberus’ engine moaned one last time and then fell silent.

I hugged the ladder with my one good arm, my eyes still closed, breathing hard as the remaining waves slapped against the hull and Aerosmith abruptly silenced. Then I heard MJ, screaming my name. I snapped out of my frozen mind and realized I wasn’t dead. I called back to him that I was
alright and I peeked my head up and over the ladder.

On the floor lay our pirate, blood pooling under his body, the gun nowhere to be seen. I suddenly felt hands on my hips and I jumped a mile. “It’s just me. You okay?” asked MJ, steadying my body. “I heard a gun shot.”

I nodded, “I think . . . I think he may have shot himself. By accident. He looks pretty dead.” Reality was slowly filtering back into my mind and I began to realize just how nuts I had been. I had thought I was invincible. I was ready to fight to the death. I began to shiver as the adrenaline ebbed from my system.

I heard Ana, cursing from below us
, and I cautiously climbed down the ladder, now valuing my life, while MJ continued up to check on the unmoving man. Ana was slowly lowering herself to sit on the rear lounge, streaks of grease covering her cheeks and arms. “You shut down the engine?” I asked.

She nodded. “Bloody pirates. I shut it down, but I have a feeling it is going to take
me a lot longer to get her back up and running. So much for a vacation from being a mechanic.”

“Is the guy from Raef’s room still unconscious?” I asked.

“Yup – and I used the entire roll of duct tape to wrap him up like a burrito! I’d like to see him get his butt out of that!” I smiled, leaning over and high fiving her with my good hand.

MJ was already on the phone as he climbed down from the
flydeck, Dalca’s gun tucked back in the waistband of his pants. I could hear Raef on the other end asking what had happened, if we were all right, and where exactly we were.  After giving him coordinates, MJ handed his phone to me and went to Raef’s room to check on our sole surviving hijacker.

“Are you okay?” asked Raef, the concern in his voice carrying easily through cell.

“Yes. Sort of.” Ana looked at me a little funny, wagging one hand to let me know that Cerberus might not be 100% anymore. “Well . . . Cerberus might not be
perfectly
good.”

“I don’t care about the yacht
, Eila. Cerberus is replaceable, but you are not,” he replied. “Kian and I are headed your way with a speedboat we borrowed. Well, stole. We should be there in just a minute or two. We can see you guys about a mile away.”

I looked out into the dark night and could see nothing but the blackened ocean. “I’ll take your word for it,” I replied, but I sobered when I remembered why the boys had not been on the yacht in the first place. “Raef? Did you kill someone tonight?” I asked.

The line was quiet for a moment and I heard Raef take a breath, “I did, and Kian or I will dispose of the man who is still alive on the boat.”

I
swallowed, holding my arm tighter to my body as unshed tears stung my eyes. I couldn’t reply, knowing that the man on the deck below my feet was sentenced to die. It was one thing to be attacked by someone, and have the police haul him off, but knowing that Raef and Kian would act as judge, jury, and executioner was difficult to deal with. “Raef – don’t kill him.”

“Eila, he can’t be left alive. For what he has done and what he might know about us, he can’t be allowed to live. There is no other way.”

I looked at Ana. “There is always another way, Raef.”