Emerald Fire (13 page)

A new round of enemy fire broke them apart, yet he just stood there, stunned. She brushed her palm against his cheek and sighed, then turned and snatched her arsenal from the floor and ran for the back deck.

“Sweet Jesus,” Finn muttered under his breath. “I think I’m in love.”

Jonathan snorted. “Good luck with that,” he rasped.

Finn didn’t waste time asking what he meant, just added it to a growing list of things needing clarification from those two. He loaded as many weapons into his arms as possible and ran after Chloe.

She was already firing on one of the boats by the time he joined her on deck. It didn’t slow the pirates down much, and return fire hit the bulkhead above him. He ducked, keeping low as he raced to the rail and slid to a halt on his knees. He dumped the extra guns and ammo rounds on the floor and hefted the AR15 to his shoulder.

“They’re getting closer,” Chloe shouted over the engines.

He let loose several rounds, but their pursuers were playing a game of cat and mouse. One boat shot at them rapid-fire while the other raced forward. Then realization hit Finn. The pirates didn’t care about fuel. They were confident this was a one-way trip. And they had known exactly where to find them thanks to one of their own being on board. If they had to, they’d tow the other boats behind the
Emerald Fire.

The Baja speedboat got close enough to the stern for a pirate to lunge for the railing. He stuck the landing until Finn fired at him, then he dropped into the ocean and his brethren pulled back. But the cigarette boat took up the slack and volleyed shots at the
Fire’s
engine housing.

Chloe rose up to her knees and braced the rifle on the rail, letting loose a string of random fire. He added to the effort and, between them, the pirates were forced to divide and drop back out of rifle range. The
Fire
gained precious ground, but it wasn’t because of gunfire, Jonathan’s evasive maneuvers, or the pirates giving quarter. The Baja was
working for position while a muscled pirate was steadying a rocket launcher on his shoulder.

“Shit!” Finn knew exactly what was coming, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.
“Shit, shit, shit.”

“What—no—is that—?” Chloe couldn’t even finish a sentence, just stared in wide-eyed horror at the RPG being prepped to blow them out of the water.

They were out of time. The whooshing sound of a launch propelled Finn on top of Chloe, shielding her as best he could, but it’d do little good against the kind of assault weapon being unleashed against them.

He mentally counted the seconds it would take to hit the boat, but it didn’t happen. Instead, the missile sailed high, over-shooting them. “A warning shot,” he said as he rolled off Chloe. “They don’t want to hit the boat. It’s worth too much to them.”

“Can’t say the same for current occupants though, right?” she asked as she peered over the rail. “We’ll be fish food if they get on board.”

“New plan,” he said as he reloaded the drum on his AR. “We get Jonathan to hit the brakes. Maybe it will fool the pirates into thinking they’ve disabled us.”

“That’s it?” she asked incredulously. “That’s all you’ve got?”

“It’s a start.” He didn’t wait around to argue the point. Time was definitely not on their side, and they needed to act fast, so he shot for the bridge.

Chloe followed.

“The bastards fired an RPG at my ship,” Jonathan said through clenched teeth. He looked even paler than before, and blood had thoroughly soaked his temporary bandages. He needed medical attention. Sooner rather than later.

“I think they want her back and intend on boarding her,” Finn said. “If they do, we’re toast.”

“I’ll shoot the first son of a bitch that steps on board,” Jonathan declared. “I won’t let them have her.”

“I don’t know if we can stop them, Uncle Jon.” Chloe said it softly, a stricken look in her eyes. “There are too many of them.”

“I’ll sink the
Fire
before I let pirates have her,” Jonathan vowed. He clamped his lips together so tight they looked white. Or maybe it was massive blood loss and the onset of delirium. Probably both.

But Jonathan’s words gave Finn an idea, a desperate one that leaned heavily on luck. “We can’t outrun that cigarette boat even if we tried,” Finn said. “We have more staying power, but they can reach a speed of eighty knots. They will catch us eventually.”

And Jonathan was getting weaker. Finn didn’t know how much longer the man could remain upright. The reality was they were in serious trouble. If the pirates managed to get on board, it would be him, Chloe, and a gravely wounded man against a half dozen armed mercenaries. The odds of them surviving hovered around the zero mark.

“What are our options?” Jonathan asked.

He almost laughed. Options were as close to none as you could get. In fact, he could only think of one, and it was every bit as risky as a pirate standoff. “We’re in a no-win situation,” he stated flatly. “The only solution I can come up with is technically against the law.”

Finn could tell by Jonathan’s compressed lips that he grasped his meaning. It was a drastic response that put them at serious risk. It also meant kissing his bounty money goodbye. But when faced with certain death, doing the last thing anyone would expect might be the thing that kept them alive.

Jonathan closed his eyes and inhaled deep before saying, “You’re talking about scuttling the ship.”

Chloe gasped. “Nooo,” she whispered, looking up at him with wide eyes, clearly appalled by the idea.

He agreed. It was certainly not a plan he wanted to put into play. It could very well mean the end of NorthStar. But it was better than the alternative, which was a violent end for all three of them at the hands of bloodthirsty lowlifes.

“The pirates believe the prize is all but in their hands,” Finn explained. “They’ll board the
Fire
, thinking they’ve won. They won’t expect an intentional sinking.”

A glint of fatal determination shone from Jonathan’s pale face. “I’d rather she be at the bottom of the sea than in the hands of that scum.” He meant every word.

“Slow the engines and bring her about,” Finn said. “Make them think we’re losing control. Turn her sideways so I can get the speed boat ready to launch.”

“You can’t be serious,” Chloe cried. “There must be another way.”

Finn shook his head. “We’re going to need them to board the
Fire
. That should buy us enough time to get away. They’ll probably chase us, but we’re starting with a fresh tank of fuel. They’ve already burned at least half of theirs.”

“Oh, my God,” Chloe cried and dropped her head in her hands.

“Can you open the bilge ports from the Nav console?” Finn asked Jonathan.

“Aye.” He nodded grimly. “You get our escape ready. I’ll start flooding her lower decks.”

This couldn’t be happening. They’d risked their lives to get the yacht back and now they were going to sink her? Chloe’s heart constricted at the thought. She cherished the happy memories spent on board this ship. They were few and far between after her parents’ death. The time spent sitting on the
Fire’s
decks, soaking up the sun and letting the wind blow away her grief, had been an escape that soothed her soul. Sending her to the bottom to Davy Jones’s Locker felt like a blow, felt like Lisa Banks had won.

Which was crazy, of course. Boston Marine already knew they’d located the yacht and they would soon know Uncle Jon was alive. Chloe wasn’t sure if insurance covered intentional sinking of a boat to keep it out of the hands of pirates, but the point was any money paid would go to her uncle and not the scheming wife.

“I feel the loss too, Chloe,” her uncle said tiredly. His elbows were on the console, using the counter to support his weight, and he dropped his head into his hands. “I don’t want to send her into the deep. But Finn’s plan might be our only chance.”

“But to sacrifice the
Emerald Fire
…” she said, blinking back tears. “It’s too much.”

He took a deep breath and lifted his pale face, staring at her with a mix of sorrow and anger. “We’ll make them pay, honey.”

She wasn’t sure if he meant the pirates or his soon to be ex-wife. Chloe mentally added in her rotten cousin Owen, too.

“Are you sure about this, Uncle Jon?”

He nodded. “We might not be able to outrun the bastards, but we can outsmart them.” He tapped on the console’s computer keyboard, manipulating the engines and causing at least one to cough and sputter as he slowed the yacht, maneuvering her into position.

Chloe choked backed a sob. Knowing this had to be done didn’t make it any easier. She wanted to curl into a ball and cry, but there wasn’t time. Right now she had work to do. The
Fire
might be going down, but by all that was holy, she wouldn’t take everything with her. Especially not their weapons. Chloe refused to leave a single bullet for the scum lurking out there.

She grabbed the ammo bag again and tossed in everything remaining in the weapons locker. She held back a loaded 9mm and stuffed it into the waistband of her shorts, zipped the bag closed, and dropped it by the exit door.

“I’m going for the journal,” she said.

Uncle Jon nodded without looking her way, a tired slope to his normally ramrod-straight back. He’d always been strong, always the rock in her life after her parents’ death. Seeing him now, badly wounded and struggling, strengthened her resolve.

She ran over to him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “We’ll get through this Uncle Jon. I know it. We’ve got comeuppance to deliver.”

He reached up and patted her hands. “Agreed. Now, go get that journal. And hurry.”

“I’ll be right back.” With a last squeeze, she headed for the door.

She rushed down to the stateroom, fished both books out of hiding, grabbed an old backpack, then dashed back up the stairs and into the galley. If she had to jump overboard or the powerboat capsized, she needed waterproofing. She ripped open a drawer, grabbed a box of gallon-sized Ziploc bags, pulled out two, and double-bagged the journals. Then she grabbed a third, just for good measure.

Securing the wrapped books in the zipper compartment of the backpack, she then filled the center with kitchen towels and as many bottles of water as she could carry. It might be a long boat ride before they made it to shore again. On that note, she also grabbed several packs of cheese crackers, some nutrition bars, dried fruit, and peppered beef jerky. She raced back toward the bridge, passing by the liquor cabinet on the way. On impulse, she grabbed several little airplane bottles of vodka as an antiseptic, then a new bottle of her uncle’s favorite scotch. They were definitely going to need a drink when this was over. Gunfire sounded on the deck above her, and she flew for the bridge.

By the time her and the now forty-pound bag made it back, the
Fire
had lost momentum. Chloe could feel her sluggish push through the waves and her heart broke, knowing she was taking on water.

Finn was back, too. He stood beside her uncle at the Nav, helping him up. He glanced over when she entered.

“Good, you’re back,” he said. “Can you get Jonathan down to the power boat? Our friends out there are starting to get restless. They’ve moved in closer.”

She struggled into the loaded backpack and stepped over to her uncle, putting her arm around his waist. When he dropped his arm over her shoulders and leaned heavily against her, she staggered slightly under the combined weight. Finn noticed.

“Let me,” he said. “You open every through-hull and slow the bilge pumps. She can’t ride too low in the water yet. We need to lure them onboard. But the second they step foot on a ladder, we blast everything wide open. Got it?”

“I hate it, but I’ve got it.” She nodded at the ammo bag by the door. “Can you carry that with you, too?”

He glanced at it and raised a brow at her in silent question.

“Every last weapon we own,” she said flatly. “No need to arm the enemy.”

“Smart girl.” They stopped at the door, and Finn hefted the bag over a shoulder.

“Stay alert, Chloe,” Uncle Jon said. “Do what needs to be done. Don’t hesitate.”

His words were punctuated by gunfire, and she winced. “Go,” she said urgently. Not at all confident she knew what to do, but determined to try.

They left, and she turned her attention to the console. She read the gauges and realized with a heavy heart they were reaching critical mass. The bottom ballast deck was almost completely submerged.

They couldn’t take on much more water if they wanted the launch doors to remain open. The hydraulic deck was innovative when the
Fire
was built, a ten-foot wide portal that opened on the starboard side of the ship, offering both an easy access swimming platform and a ramp for sliding the powerboat into the water. She’d never dreamed it would one day be their escape hatch.

She heard shouts, and for a panicked moment thought Uncle Jon and Finn were under attack. But quickly realized the shouts came from the water, which meant the bad guys were getting closer. She deliberated for a second, then punched a few buttons and opened the through-hulls. If this insane plan was going to work, the damn pirates would need to be boarding soon. Should she slow the yacht down even more? They were barely moving as it was.

A thud hit the ship, and she heard more shouts. Her heart rate jumped into hyperdrive. They were so close! Maybe even boarding. Where the hell was Finn?

Suddenly she remembered they had hull cameras. Why on earth hadn’t they already activated them? She flipped a switch, and images filled the monitor. A sleek and narrow speedboat floated beside them, port side, trolling slowly toward the stern where the murdering thieves could climb aboard.

Finn raced onto the bridge just then.

“They’re here,” she yelled.

“I know!” He pounded the keyboard, opening every electronic sea valve, hatch, and port on the ship. “Let’s go!”

They raced from the bridge into the galley, aiming for the hidden shortcut to the lower deck. Finn beat her to the pantry door in the far corner because she was twisting out of her backpack as she ran. He opened the pantry to a set of ladder stairs leading down, waving her through.