Emerald Fire (7 page)

They were a mash up of local and tourist. She wondered what drew them here. And what kept them here. About to turn back, the sight of a familiar face several store fronts away made her gasp. She knew the man that rounded a street corner and disappeared.

“Uncle Jon!” she shouted and tore off after him.

Finn yelled her name, but she kept running. She zipped around a corner and stopped cold, searching the crowd for another glimpse.

There he was, head down and hands in pockets as he made his way across the street. She rushed forward again, dodging shoppers in her frantic dash along the sidewalk. She raced up behind him and grabbed his arm just before he stepped into a street-side cafe.

Her uncle whipped around, prepared to fend off an attacker, but his expression morphed to stunned amazement when recognition dawned. He whooped in delight and immediately squeezed her into a bear hug.

Finn caught up with them seconds later, armed with their duffle bags and a scowl dark enough to block the Caribbean sun. She didn’t care. Her uncle was alive! And in Boca Chica!

Wait a minute.

“What are you doing here and not in St. Lucia?” she asked him.

“I can ask you the same thing,” he replied with a grin.

“I flew down as soon as I heard the
Fire
was missing.”

Her uncle’s smile disappeared, and he glanced at the stormy visage of her new partner.

“Uncle Jon, meet Finnegan Kane.”

Finn stuck his hand out to her uncle. “Boston Marine Insurance, sir.”

“I don’t recognize you from Sam Brady’s office,” her uncle replied as he shook Finn’s hand.

“It’s a long story.” Finn gestured toward the café. “How about we have lunch and talk about it?”

As the two men sized each other up, Chloe looped her arm through her uncle’s, and with a giant smile of relief, she steered him through the café entrance. They were quickly seated outside on the patio under the shade of a coconut tree, and after placing their order, Chloe could wait no longer. “What happened, Uncle Jon? Why haven’t you contacted anyone?”

Her uncle shook his head and scrubbed a hand over his face. “I couldn’t. Until last night I’ve been hiding on board the
Fire
.”

“Where are Mike and Brett?” she asked.

He shook his head, his shoulders dropping as he leaned back in his chair. “Dead. Shot and dumped overboard.”

Pain ripped through Chloe. She’d known both crewmen for years. Brett was the
Fire
’s first mate. He’d befriended her immediately after signing onboard eleven years ago. He’d taught her sailor knots and answered endless childish questions. Mike served as cook and purser, a gentle man with an easy laugh and fabulous stories. She’d loved spending time in the galley with him, learning to cook gourmet meals and laughing over his tales of adventure. She never knew if he had lived all those stories or made them up as he went along, but their entertainment factor had kept her going back for more.

That they were now gone choked off her breath, and a giant, gaping hole opened in her chest where her heart used to be.

“The scumbags hit us deep in the night,” her uncle continued. “Before I even knew what happened, we were under sail. The movement of the ship woke me, and I started topside, but something, I don’t know what, instinct maybe, had me turning back to the master cabin and using the escape hatch instead. Outside I slid along the starboard lines, up and over the bridge until I could see the aft deck. There were three pirates, and they were asking Mike and Brett who else was on board. They claimed they were alone, to protect me I guess. The bastards used silencers to shoot them, then tossed them in the water.”

Chloe squeezed her eyes shut against the horrific image.

“I just lay there,” her uncle continued, “too stunned to move or speak. I struggled to process that I’d just witnessed the murder of two good friends.”

Chloe couldn’t believe it either, and the vengeance she’d felt taking hold inside her earlier widened to an all-consuming need for retribution. Fury burned her nerve endings and sharpened her resolve to carry out tonight’s risky plan.

“I don’t know how long I lay there,” Uncle Jon said, “but self-preservation finally got me moving. Daylight approached, and I had to hide because I damn sure wasn’t allowing those animals to steal my ship, murder my friends, and get away with it.”

Lunch was delivered right then, and Chloe looked at her steaming bowl of gumbo and thick bread with reluctance. Her appetite had vanished.

Their waiter drifted away, and Finn leaned forward on the table, ignoring his lunch as well. “How’d you end up in Boca Chica?”

“They sailed us here, drinking my liquor and partying the whole way. Their base camp is a boat sales and repair shop that sits a pretty good distance out of town. I jumped ship when they berthed the
Fire
at their pier last night, then walked the six or seven miles into town.”

Chloe reached over and laid her hand on her uncle’s, squeezing with support. She didn’t know what to say or how he had managed to stay hidden the two days it took to sail here, but she was beyond glad he did.

“Can you get back to that camp?” Finn asked.

“Absolutely,” Jonathan replied. He smiled at Chloe, but turned inquisitive eyes toward Finn. “Tell me, how did Boston Marine get involved so quickly?”

“Your wife called in the policy,” Finn said in his usual blunt way. “Said you and the ship were missing, and she wanted to file a claim.”

A flash of pain crossed her uncle’s features. It was quickly masked before he turned to Chloe, but she’d seen it. Honestly, Finn had to learn the art of softening a blow.

“Did SafeSail call you?” her uncle asked.

“At three a.m. no less,” she replied.

“You went to Lisa?”

“I did.” Chloe would rather avoid telling her uncle about his trophy wife’s spiteful response, but he deserved to know. Mike and Brett deserved justice for their sacrifice, yet she was reluctant to hurt her uncle beyond what he’d already endured.

“The truth, Chloe.” Jonathan wiggled his fingers, palm up, encouraging her to talk. “This old man has done a lot of thinking the past two days, and it’s time for some hard facts.”

She sighed in resignation and gave him what he asked for. “Lisa seemed less worried about her missing husband and more concerned about why I got the call and not her. She fired off a round of furious accusations at me, claiming I had you change the notify information.” She stopped there, not wanting to go any deeper into her suspicions of Lisa’s treachery. Or Owen’s possible involvement.

“There’s more,” her uncle said with a knowing look.

She grimaced, but kept going. “Lisa claimed that I was working on your beneficiary list next, and I could forget about ever seeing a dime.” Chloe looked away from the hurt in his face, staring at the uneaten food on her plate. “I left without telling her I was flying down.”

It grew quiet at the table, and she glanced up to spy a hard expression in her uncle’s eyes. “You know, friends have been warning me about her for some time, especially Sam Brady.” He glanced over at Finn. “What has Sam said to you?”

“Just that you were his friend.”

The hint of compassion in Finn’s tone took Chloe by surprise. She’d had to beg, barter, and threaten to get his cooperation. He’d been nothing but gruff since day one, which was actually just yesterday, come to think of it, but still.

“Sam also told me not to come back until I find the
Emerald Fire
and solve the case,” Finn added with a half-laugh. “He doesn’t take failure very well.”

“That’s why I pay his exorbitant insurance rates. SafeSail, too.” Her uncle finally started eating his lunch, but kept up a string of questions. “Did you have any trouble getting the GPS coordinates, Chloe?”

She shook her head and followed her uncle’s lead by picking up her spoon and stirring the gumbo. “Once I provided the password, we had the location in a matter of minutes.”

“Excellent.” He took another bite of lunch. “Since you two are here, I assume you have a plan?”

She glanced over at her new partner. “Finn just finished explaining to me how he thinks the local police are dirty.”

Her uncle didn’t even bat an eye. “Not surprised. Not enough tourism to float the economy around here.”

“The plan I have is dicey,” Finn said.

“Don’t care,” her uncle stated emphatically. “The bastards have my ship. I want it back. What’ve you got?”

“The only option left,” Finn explained. “We steal it.”

Her uncle sat back, crossing his arms and staring at Finn with something akin to respect. “That takes guts. Or absolute insanity. Which is it?”

“Desperation,” Finn replied. “I need the paycheck that comes with the yacht’s recovery.”

Uncle Jon stared at Finn as though he were trying to get a read on his capability. “You do this sort of thing often?”

Finn shook his head. “I wouldn’t say often, but a stint in the Navy gave me a rather unique skill set that comes in handy once in a while.”

Chloe wondered what exactly that involved, but decided not to rock the boat since her uncle seemed satisfied with Finn’s answer.

“Okay,” Uncle Jon finally said. “When do we strike?”

“Tonight.” Finn grabbed his sandwich.

“I like it,” Uncle Jon said. “There’s only one condition.”

“And that is?” Finn asked.

“Chloe stays out of it.”

“What?” she exclaimed. “Not a chance!”

“No way, honey. I’ve seen what those men are capable of, and you aren’t going anywhere near them.”

She appreciated his protective instincts but refused to be set aside like some fragile flower while the menfolk went about battling the bad guys. “After all the self-defense classes you’ve put me through, the weapons training, and crazy fire drills, you know I can handle whatever is thrown my way.”

Her uncle didn’t budge. “I put you through them because you sailed with me. I wouldn’t risk your safety without some guarantee you’d be able to handle yourself in times of crisis.”

“Isn’t that what this is?” she argued. “A crisis? I’m prepared. Don’t even think you are leaving me behind.”

“This isn’t make-believe, Chloe,” her uncle said adamantly. “It’s not training. It’s a group of hardened men who have no qualms about killing.”

That part was definitely disconcerting. But her uncle knew what she did for a living, the specialized skills she’d developed to stay at the top of her game. He also knew she’d spent years chasing the truth about William Desmond. Why would he think she’d let third-world thieves stop her? She was much too close to step down now.

“I’ve already agreed to follow Finn’s lead,” she said. “With you there, too, I’ll be fine. Besides, the
Fire
is on the chopping block, and there’s no time for other arrangements. And really, is it any safer for me to drive back to Santo Domingo alone? Get a flight out of here all by myself?” That was a bogus play. She’d traveled the world solo, and they both knew it.

Her uncle and Finn stared at her in consternation. She offered them a smile. “The devil is in the details, right?”

“You get more like your mother every day,” Uncle Jon declared. “Never could win an argument with her either.”

“It’s settled then,” Finn said. “Eat up, me hearties. We’re going to be getting real busy.”

Daylight was fading fast by the time the taxi pulled up to a remote beach house. Three gringo tourists decked out in Hawaiian print shirts, board shorts, and sandals piled out. Perfect island camouflage if you didn’t want to be noticed. Finn and Jonathan grabbed their backpacks while Chloe carried several plastic grocery bags and a brochure from Tropicana Properties. American stereotypes settling in for several days of beachfront access. Finn had called the rental company earlier and listened to their sales pitch, but all he needed to know was that it was empty and in close proximity to a certain boat repair shop.

After Jonathan paid the driver’s fare, Finn led his questionable team down the driveway toward the rear of the bungalow. As rentals went, the owners had a lot of nerve calling it a beach cottage. The place was totally surrounded by woods. The so-called beach access cut a thick path through the trees. You couldn’t see the water or hear waves. Bad for tourists, but ideal for staging clandestine operations.

Finn took a few deep breaths in an attempt to get a grip on what they were about to try to pull off. It was the craziest thing he’d ever contemplated for a bounty. Extreme measures to get the job done came with the territory, but fighting crime with crime? Raiding a pirate stronghold with nothing but a mule-headed historian and a pissed-off jeweler? Not his brightest idea. He just hoped to God none of them got killed.

Once out of sight from the road, Finn tossed his duffle bag on a picnic table by the back patio door. Dusk had settled in, and the shadowy tree line made it even darker. With two miles to walk between here and the pirates, there was plenty of time for the necessary cover of darkness to set in.

“All right,” he said, “let’s get changed and go over the plans.”

Chloe tossed her bag up next to his and dug out the black outfit she’d bought at the market earlier today. Then she turned her amber-eyed gaze his way and frowned.

He just quirked a brow at her and smiled.

“Don’t do that.”

“What?” he asked innocently.

“Smile. I’m not used to it.” She gestured her fingers in a circle. “Now turn around. Both of you.”

Jonathan laughed at his niece, but both men obliged.

“Your niece is a bit bossy,” Finn said.

“It’s inherited. Her mother and I used to battle it out regularly while growing up. That didn’t stop as adults either.”

Sounds drifted over Finn’s senses, teasing him. The slide of fabric as Chloe lifted her flowery shirt over her head, a belt unbuckling on those dainty little cotton Capri pants she wore. The temptation to turn around and peek was overwhelming. If they’d been alone, he would have done just that. Instead, he forced himself to focus on her uncle and not think about the feminine curves unveiling right behind him. Damn, but she was a dangerous distraction.