Hide From Evil (40 page)

A low rumble jerked her from her thoughts of Sean. Was that the engine? Every cell in her body went cold as she realized that, yes, they were moving.

The door flew open and Krista shrank back from the glare of the overhead light that was switched on. Her stomach rolled when she saw Maxwell in the doorway, a glaze of lust in his icy eyes and a smirk on his face. She couldn’t believe this leering monster was the same man whose ruggedly handsome face had graced the pages of the local society pages.

There was another man with him, not the thug who had grabbed Nadia. Maxwell stepped into the stateroom and shrugged out of his jacket to neatly drape it over the back of a chair.

He nodded at the thug, who grabbed Nadia around the waist and pulled her off the bed and out of the room.

“Now let’s have some fun.” He closed and locked the door behind him.

Sean could hear the wail of sirens in the distance as Ibarra screeched to a halt in the marina’s parking lot. There was Maxwell’s yacht, exactly where Krista’s father said it would be. The main cabin was illuminated and from here he could see lights on and dark figures pacing around, but he couldn’t see Krista.

Sean, Brooks, and Ibarra jumped out of the car to gear up, and Sean heard it immediately. The unmistakable rumble of an engine. The yacht was already pulling away from the dock.

He didn’t stop to think. He just ran. He didn’t know if the others were behind him or not as he scaled the gate and thundered down the dock. The boat was already several yards off the dock.

Brooks and Ibarra shouted, catching the attention of one of Maxwell’s men who was on the deck. Shots rang out on both sides, but the bodyguard was shooting at Cole’s car and didn’t seem to realize there was a third man in pursuit.

Sean did a shallow dive, gasping as the frigid water hit him.

He didn’t have time to be cold. He forced his arms and legs to churn through the water as he chased the boat. It was traveling fairly slowly now as it maneuvered through the crowded marina but once it got past the docks it would pick up enough speed that Sean wouldn’t have a chance in hell of catching it.

One more stroke and he was even with the stern. He could see the gleam of the chrome ladder hanging down and he reached for it.

At that second, the yacht cranked into higher gear, jerking through the water as it picked up speed. Sean’s fingers, stiff from the cold, threatened to slip their grip. He threw his arm over a rung, hooking it with his elbow as the yacht sped past the end of the docks.

He hung there for a minute to catch his breath, listening to see if he could hear any footsteps over the engine noise. When no one appeared above him to shoot him in the face, Sean was satisfied his desperate grab had gone unnoticed.

He hauled himself up the ladder as quietly as possible and became aware of a new snag, one he hadn’t considered in his desperate dive into the frigid waters of the marina.

He was cold. Shaking, shuddering, fingers stiff, he was in no shape to take on Maxwell and at least one, but probably more, of his men. He thought longingly of the arsenal he’d left in the trunk of Cole’s car. Sean hadn’t even taken the time to strap his knife to his calf, not that he would trust himself not to drop it right now, the way his hands were shaking.

Fuck.
He’d never considered himself an impulsive person. He had gone into each mission with every move planned out and contingency plans to deal with the snarls that inevitably emerged.

But when it came to Krista, all bets were off and the rules went out the window. Trampled to dust by his overpowering need just to get to her, protect her, and keep her safe.

And make sure the fuckers who dared to go after her paid dearly.

All of which might be tricky in the situation he found himself in now.

He closed his eyes and cleared his head. As much as he wanted to go busting in on them and send some heads rolling, in the condition he was in, he’d be dead in an instant. First, he needed to get his body warm so it could do what he needed it to do. He could already feel his brain getting muzzy as all his energy was channeled into shivering.

How? He kept himself flat on the deck and to the right of the door that led into the cabin. He couldn’t just stroll in and ask for a blanket. He found his answer in the rumble underneath his body.

The engine room. The engine itself would throw off plenty of heat. He might even find something to use as a weapon.

It would also be dark and enclosed. His heart started to pound and his breath shortened as every cell in his body rejected the idea.

But he didn’t have a choice. Odds of saving Krista were already slim. If he didn’t warm up and get his shit together they’d dwindle to zero.

He forced his body into action, ignoring the screams of protest in his head. It was like he pulled out of his body and was watching himself with dread as he opened the hatch to access the engine room.

He climbed inside and pulled the hatch down, enclosing himself in absolute darkness.

It was worse than his cell. The noise from the engine was deafening, the vibration so strong it shook his teeth.

The smell of diesel fuel made his stomach roll and his head pound.

But that was nothing compared to the suffocating pressure in his chest, so strong he felt like he was going to die.

He couldn’t do this—he couldn’t stay here. His hand was reaching up through the darkness when he heard the footstep above him and froze.

Krista. He had to think of Krista. He couldn’t let this stupid phobia get the best of him. Not when it would cost her life. He closed his eyes and imagined her, the way she’d been in Maxwell’s office, how she’d been in the crawl space. Pulling him close, wrapping her arms around him, tangling her fingers with his and sending a calming wave through him that blew all the relaxation exercises his therapist had given him out the window.

The sound of the engine faded as he replayed her voice in his head, telling him to calm down, that everything would be okay. The smell of the diesel fuel disappeared as he summoned up the scent of her hair, her skin.

Within moments, the panic receded and Sean felt the heat from the engine penetrating his wet clothes, easing the stiffness in his hands and limbs. His shudders slowed, his mind cleared, and he waited impatiently for his body to get back up to speed.

Forced to wait, he used the time to prepare any way he could. He felt around in the darkness, smiling when his hand brushed across what had to be a toolbox. He opened it up and searched around until his hand closed over a screwdriver. He tucked it into his waistband, reached around some more, and experienced a burst of satisfaction when he found a good-sized wrench as well.

He put the wrench next to him on the floor and flexed his fingers experimentally, swearing as another shudder rippled through him. Weapons secured, he scooted as close to the engine as he could without getting burned and waited to make his move.

Krista yelped as Maxwell ripped the duct tape off her mouth in one cruel jerk, taking what felt like several layers of skin with it. She tried to scramble away but there was nowhere to go, and then she was pinned up against the headboard with Maxwell standing at the foot of the bed.

He put one knee on the bed and jerked her toward him. A switchblade appeared in his hand with a metallic
snick
, and Krista held her breath as the blade slashed down.

The ties on her ankles slackened, and she winced as the sudden rush of blood made her feet tingle painfully. Minor discomfort was nothing to the horror that flooded through her as Maxwell pinned her down with his knees on her hips and the wicked blade came arcing down to her chest. Fabric ripped and she realized he was cutting her shirt down the middle, and her bra too.

Goose bumps prickled as cold air hit her bare skin. Every muscle shrank back in revulsion as the icy-cold tip of the knife skimmed down her belly, up under her breasts.

Krista’s head flooded with images of Nate Brewster’s victims, the bloody slashes he’d cut into their bodies. “Please don’t,” Krista whispered.

“Don’t worry. I don’t share Nate’s taste for blood. But I’ll cut you if you make me.”

He rested the blade of the knife against her throat and covered her breast with his other hand. A cruel twist of her nipple made her cry out. “You’re a beautiful woman, Krista, even though you tried to hide it under those suits. Most of the people I deal with like the younger girls, but you’ll do well, I think. But we will have to do something about this hair.” He moved his hand to her head and gave the short strands a sharp tug. “They like to fuck the blondes, you know. I always liked brunettes, myself.”

Even with the knife at her neck, Krista couldn’t stop herself from struggling as Maxwell reached for the waistband of her pants. She kicked and tried to wrench free of his hold. He kept the knife in his fist and laid his forearm across her neck so hard she could feel her windpipe start to give as she struggled for breath.

She was going to pass out, her vision darkening around the edges. Suddenly Maxwell let up with a violent curse. As the buzzing faded, Krista realized it was oddly silent.

The motor was out.

“Don’t move,” Maxwell said as he turned and left the room.

Krista threw herself off the bed and looked around frantically for anything that could be used as a weapon. She kept one eye on the door, knowing she could have only a few seconds to save herself.

Sean smiled into the darkness as the engine gave a choke and then died completely. He heard the click and whine as someone tried to restart the engine, and then muffled angry shouts as they realized the engine was dead.

His body warm and his brain mostly in check, he held the wrench in one hand, ready to strike when they came to investigate.

He didn’t have long to wait. Within a minute the panel that covered the engine popped open and a man climbed inside. Sean struggled to keep his breathing quiet and steady when all he wanted to do was suck in the fresh air as he ducked from the glow of the flashlight.

“What is it?” a voice called down.

“Give me a minute,” the man snapped back.

“You need to fix it now,” the thug said.

“For fuck’s sake, you can’t just drag a guy out of bed in the middle of the night and expect him to be firing on all cylinders. My brain isn’t even awake yet.”

He moved closer to the opening. Sean could see the thug looming overhead. The thug took a draw on his cigarette, muttered something under his breath, and started to pace. The second he stepped clear, Sean made his move on the guy working on the engine.

Pouncing from behind, he locked his arm around the guy’s neck and pressed with his opposite hand. The guy struggled, choking, but Sean had at least five inches and forty pounds on him. In seconds the man slumped to the floor.

Sean quickly patted him down but found no weapons. He shoved the guy into the corner just as the thug paced back over.

“Simpson, you fix it yet?”

When Simpson didn’t answer, the thug leaned over to peer into the engine room. In one swift move, Sean aimed the flashlight right in the thug’s face, blinding him. Sean reached up and grabbed the guy by the collar and toppled him into the engine room.

The guy went down on his knees, disoriented as he fumbled under his coat. One blow of the wrench to the side of the head sent him to the floor. Sean gave him one more whack for good measure.

The flashlight revealed the thug to be the one who got away from the warehouse with Maxwell. A quick pat down scored Sean a semiautomatic pistol and a pocketful of flex ties that he used to bind the thug and the guy called Simpson.

Two down. Sean wondered how many more there were besides Maxwell himself. The engine block was covered in thick black grease. Sean palmed a handful and smeared it down his face and the backs of his hands to cut any glare on his skin before he climbed out of the engine room. He listened for any sign of movement as he carefully closed the hatch.

Krista was searching the stateroom’s adjoining bathroom to no avail when Maxwell returned.

He was less than pleased when he saw that she wasn’t where he had left her.

Krista cried out as he grabbed her by the hair and pulled her out. He threw her down on the bed, a savage look on his face as he came over her. “You never listen, Krista. If you’d listened and kept your nose out of it, none of this would have happened.”

“Is that what you told Talia? That she better listen or you’d hurt her and her sister?” Krista swung her doubled-up fists at his head and felt a sickening crunch as she miraculously managed to hit him in the nose. “Is that what happened to those other girls? They didn’t listen so you sent Nate to kill them?”

Blood spurted and he held his hand to his face as he fell back. He staggered a bit and charged at her like something out of a horror movie. “I’ll make what Nate did look gentle by the time I’m done with you.”

Krista kicked out with her legs, caught him hard in the chest, and sent the knife clattering to the floor.

She dove after it, scrambling to get her legs under her as her bound hands strained for the knife.

Maxwell landed on top of her with a roar, fisted his hand in her hair, and slammed her head into the floor. Dazed, Krista felt herself being dragged back to the bed, landing face down this time. Maxwell secured her bound hands to the headboard and she kicked wildly as he dragged her pants and underwear down her hips. Pain throbbed in her head.

“You just couldn’t leave it alone, could you?” he said and grunted as he jerked her legs apart. “Nate’s dead, Flynn is out of jail, you got what you wanted, but you had to keep digging.”

Even through her terror, one question demanded an answer. “Why Sean? Why did you frame him?” The sound of her own voice made her head throb harder.

Maxwell let out a little huff of laughter. “Because Nate needed a scapegoat for Evangeline Gordon, and he wanted it to be Sean. I had no beef with him. As far as I was concerned, he could have lived the rest of his life in peace until he decided to try to come after me.”