Red Hot BOX SET: Complete Series 1-4: A Patrick & Steeves Suspense (16 page)

A
nxious to hear
Kris’s story, Dal put down his empty plate and leaned forward. “Go on.”

Kris glanced at Emily and continued. “I was running late.” He held up a hand, the corner of his mouth twitched. “I know, unavoidable, I had trouble with the engine. Dirty gas, I think.” He turned to Emily. “He has a thing about always waiting for me.”

“Always,” confirmed Dal.

“When I got close to shore, I saw a couple of huge SUVs on the dock. They were so tricked out it spooked me. You didn’t answer your cell, so I turned the boat around, headed out to the island and anchored to wait to hear from you.

“I fell asleep in the forward bunk. Next thing I know, I wake up with something cold and hard pressing into the side of my face. Your pal there,” he motioned toward the hatch, “had boarded and had a gun on me.”

“Shit, I’m sorry Kris. So much for our sailing vacation.”

Kris shook his head. “I’m just glad you took the bastard down.” He winked at Emily. “The sun was just coming up, and all we could do was wait. So we waited. Buddy filled me in about the truck fire.”

“So when I called you —”

“Right, he was already on board. I figure we’re even now … at least in terms of waiting. That big bastard wasn’t very good company.”

Dal needed to speak to Kris on his own. He glanced over at Emily.

“Why don’t I make us some coffee?” Emily set the plates on the deck near the hatch and started down the ladder.

The opening bars of the Cucaracha song filled the air.

Emily froze on the ladder and looked up at Dal. “My phone is off,” she said.

Dal checked his pocket out of habit. “Mine, too.”

The phone rang again. It was coming from the forward cabin.

“Kris, you turned your phone off, right?”

“It must be his phone,” Kris said.

Emily continued down the ladder. “Dal, he’s awake.”

Dal followed Emily into the forward cabin. Their former captor was awake and spitting mad. A large gash on the side of his head where Emily had bashed him with the griddle trickled blood.

“Your ass is ringing.” Dal smirked. “Who would be interrupting your cruising adventure?” He reached forward and wedged his hand down along the man’s hip. It was no use. The bastard thrashed his legs, yelling for help.

“You can’t seriously think anyone on this boat is going to help you?” Emily stepped forward and grasped his legs at the ankles. “I’ll hold him.”

Dal reached again without success, the man flopped his upper body about like a fish. “Shit.”

The phone rang again.

“Flip him over,” Emily said.

They fumbled against his resistance, but managed to flip him. Dal tossed the phone to Emily.

The phone dinged. She peered at the screen. Two missed calls and a new text. “I don’t recognize this number.”

“We have Jack’s phone, remember?” He sat on the back of the man’s legs, holding him in place.

“Right.” She touched the screen and read the text aloud.
“Do you have them?”

“Any clue who it’s from?”

She met his eyes and shook her head. Another text dinged.
“Where are you?”

Dal reached behind him and slapped the man upside the head. “Who sent you here?”

“Fuck off,” he grumbled.

He glanced back to Emily. “Grab a gun. Let’s get some information out of this asshole.”

He watched her climb the ladder, the phone announcing multiple texts. When she returned with the gun, he raised his eyebrows. “What do you think? Flip him back over, put a gun to his head and have him make a call?”

“Sounds about right,” she said, scooping up the phone again to check the incoming texts. “Whoever it is doesn’t have a lot of patience.”

The big guy was heavy and belligerent, but Dal got him on his back again. He pulled him out of the bow enough so that he could straddle his chest and placed the gun squarely under his chin.

Emily wedged herself forward and held the phone near his mouth.

“Now,” Dal said, “if you value your life, or anyone you have in your life, you’ll follow our instructions to the letter.”

The big man squinted his distaste.

He jammed the barrel further into his wobbly flesh. “Understand?”

“Yes,” he hissed through clenched teeth.

“Good. We’re going to make a call. You’re going to act like everything is under control. You still have us captive and the boat is on course. Understand?”

He nodded slightly.

“When they ask where we are, you say you need to check the coordinates and will call back. That’s all.”

“Say anything else,” added Emily, “and he’ll shoot you.”

“Ready?” Dal eyed Emily.

Emily nodded, put the phone on speaker, and made the call.

“Diego?”

“Yeah, it’s me boss.”

Dal glanced at Emily. “Jack,” she mouthed silently.

“Where are you?”

Emily hit mute. “Coordinates later,” she said.

“I’ll check our location in a minute, boss.”

“You have them though, right?”

He remained silent. Dal pushed his chin farther back with the pistol.

“Yeah,” he grunted. “Of course. It’s all good here.”

“And the bomb?”

Dal met Emily’s look. Her mouth dropped open.

“It’s set,” he replied, a look of triumph in his smoky eyes.

“Good. Get back to me with your exact location. We’ll be there soon.”

The line went dead.

“Where the hell is the bomb?” Dal took the safety off the gun.

The man spit in his direction and an ugly grin creased his features. “Ask your friend.”

J
ack grinned
and hung up the phone. Finally some good news. Diego was on the boat, he had Emily and Steeves, the bomb was set, and they were on course.

He called out to Miguel. “Take a walk up to the gate so the doctor can find us.”

“I’m staying right here with Rico and Chuy.” Miguel held a damp cloth to Chuy’s forehead.

Jack walked into the shade and looked down at Chuy, the poor bastard’s skin the color of moldy tortillas. “He’s not waking up anytime soon.”

“My brother knows the way. They’ll get here.”

Jack spat on the ground and turned away.

Miguel looked up. “You talk to Diego?”

“Yeah, he’s got them.”

“Where are they?”

“On the boat, in the middle of the ocean. Stop asking about things that don’t concern you.”

“
Cabrón
,” Miguel mumbled, his hand still on Chuy’s forehead. Rico opened his eyes and shot a warning look at Miguel.

Jack turned back and cuffed Miguel across the ear. “What did I tell you earlier?”

Miguel’s eyes narrowed as he rose to his full height. He dwarfed Jack. His big hand gripped Jack’s shoulder, fingers digging into his flesh. Peering down at him, he spoke quietly, enunciating each word. “You don’t tell me what to do. Not anymore. I’ll work with you to clean up this mess, but you are not the boss of me.” He stepped closer, the tips of his boots touching Jack’s. “
Entiendes
?
Cabrón
?”

Sour breath warmed Jack’s face. He moved to step back, but Miguel clamped his foot down over the toe of his boot. He held Miguel’s gaze.

“Miguel—”

“Stay out of this, Rico.” Miguel’s dark eyes flashed as he glared at Jack.

Jack lowered his eyes. He had bigger fish to fry. Namely Steeves. And he needed Miguel to finish the job. He’d extract his due later. “Yes, I understand.” Miguel took his weight off his foot and Jack strode away into the coolness of the barn.

Rico’s cell was still jammed in his pocket. He pulled it out to check the time and surveyed the horizon. In the distance, a plume of dust announced an approaching vehicle. About time.

The vehicle geared down to cross the arroyo then raced into the clearing in front of the barn, stirring up a cloud of dust. The driver and a stooped man with a small black bag got out.

Jack approached and shook Miguel’s brother’s hand. “Thanks for coming.”

“This is Dr. Estes.” He nodded to the man at his side.

Dr. Estes extended his hand and Jack shook it. “This way, doctor.” He led them over to his men.

Miguel glanced up. “Thanks, bro. You made good time.”

His brother shrugged. “I was working but Maria insisted. How’s Rico?”

Rico looked up, eyes glassy. “I’ll be fine. Feels like my head’s gonna split open.”

Dr. Estes leaned in and lifted Rico’s eyelid with his thumb. He peered into his right eye, then his left. He addressed Miguel. “What happened here?”

“We all passed out down a mine shaft.”

“How long?” He opened his bag and removed a stethoscope.

“Not sure exactly. I woke up, got Jack, then we went down to bring them out.” He shrugged, his forehead furrowed. “They gonna be all right?”

“Depends on what the gases were.” He shifted his attention and lifted Chuy’s eyelid, before placing the stethoscope against his chest.

Jack refrained from tapping his foot. He was needed on the boat. “What’s the diagnosis, Dr. Estes?”

The doctor ran his fingers along Chuy’s hand and wrist, which were splayed out at an unnatural angle. “Looks like his forearm is broken.”

“Maybe bumped it coming up the shaft,” Miguel mumbled.

“How long has he been unconscious?” He looked up at Miguel. Miguel looked at Jack.

“Chuy went down the shaft a little after midnight,” Jack said. Or at least, that was his best guess.

The doctor checked his watch and pursed his lips. “I can do more for them at the clinic. Let’s load them into the van.”

A
s Dal climbed back topside
, Emily lost her balance with the rocking of the deck. He reached out to steady her. Whitecaps licked at the hull, the boat bobbed over the waves in an unsteady cadence.

Kris remained in place behind the wheel, his eye on the horizon.

Dal planted himself beside Kris. “That asshole said he set a bomb on the boat. Why didn’t you say something?”

“I… we were interrupted before I got to that part.”

Emily shook her head, disbelief skittered across her features. “Talk about burying the lead.”

“Where is it Kris?” Dal pushed his hand through his hair. Fuck, now he was going to be responsible for blowing up his best friend’s boat?

Kris took a deep breath and reached for his shirt tail. He lifted the material to reveal a massive block of explosives strapped to his waist, a small red light flashing in the center.

“Shit.” Dal took a step back. “We need to get that off you. Let Emily take the wheel.”

Kris leaned out of Dal’s reach, his right hand on the wheel. “Careful, it’s taped to my arm and rigged to the wheel. I can’t leave this spot.”

* * *

E
mily grabbed
the rail as the boat pitched sharply starboard. Dark thunderclouds gathered low on the horizon, the wind whipped the waves into a frothy black soup. The storm was bearing down on them.

Kris held fast to the wheel, his sea legs and fear rooting him to the spot.

All color had drained from Dal’s face. She could only imagine how he was feeling. She knew he felt responsible for getting Kris into this and now his best friend could blow to smithereens at any moment.

“Where’s your phone, Kris?” Dal asked. “I’ll call the station and get the explosives guys on the phone.”

“In the cubby.” Kris turned to Emily. “We have a bomb expert on call.”

She nodded, stepped forward and gingerly lifted Kris’s shirt. “I know a little about explosives myself,” she said.

“You do?” The two men chorused.

“Afghanistan,” she shrugged, leaning in. Wires ran haphazardly in several directions from the explosives taped to Kris’s abdomen. One set of wires was taped up his chest, through the sleeve of his shirt, down his arm to the side of his wrist and was attached to the wheel under the palm of his hand. “This is a hatchet job.”

Dal dug Kris’s phone out of the cubby and turned it on. “I’ll call, right?” He raised his eyebrows at Emily.

“Absolutely. We need all the help we can get.” She studied the jumble of wires. It didn’t seem to matter how many bombs she dealt with, each new one made her as nervous as the first. “Do you know what time it’s set for?”

Kris laughed. “He didn’t exactly fill me in on the details.”

“Dispatch will have someone call me back. Let’s get some details from Diego.” Dal put down the phone and dropped down the hatch into the forward cabin.

“I’ll help,” she said, glancing up to Kris. He nodded, and she lowered his shirt and followed Dal below deck.

Diego turned his head as Dal closed the distance between them. She took the gun Dal passed her and aimed it squarely at Diego’s head.

Dal got right up in his face. “You know how to defuse this bomb?”

Diego laughed and spat in Dal’s face. Dal punched him in the nose. His head bounced back like a puppet’s, blood spurted from his nostrils and ran over his lips.

“I ain’t telling you nothin’.”

“Think again, asshole.” Dal punched him again. Diego’s nose splayed awkwardly to the side.

Diego spat out blood, his mouth twisted in an ugly grin.

Reaching for his shoulders, Dal shook him as hard as he could, banging his head against the wall. “Tell us about the fucking bomb.”

“Fuck. You.”

Emily’s stomach tightened. She hated this part.

Dal pummeled the man’s face. Diego laughed, but as Dal kept hitting him, he started to grunt, then moan.

She reached forward and grabbed his arm. “Dal, we need him conscious. Stop.”

He turned to her, eyes wild. “I’m not letting these assholes kill us all.”

“Dal.” She lowered her voice, striving to sound calm. “Take a breath.”

He raised his fist and turned back toward Diego.

She dug her fingers into his upper arm. “I said, take a breath.”

The tension in the cabin was palpable. Diego sputtered, his breathing labored. A second passed, then five. He lowered his arm and took a slow breath in, held it, then exhaled slowly.

He turned to her, a haunted look in his eyes. “I won’t let you and Kris die.”

“We’re not going to die.” She ran her hand along his shoulder. “When the bomb squad calls, we’ll figure it out. I’ve worked with bombs before.” She tugged at his arm, he pushed himself up.

He looked down at her and she recognized shame in his eyes. “I guess I kind of lost it,” he said.

“I would have done the same.” She placed her hand on his cheek. The stubble felt good beneath her fingers.

He pulled her into his chest, wrapped his arms around her. She released herself into the moment, breathing in the nearness of him.

She stepped back. “Let’s go back up top. I want to be ready when they call.”

He reached down, tilted her chin so she was looking into his eyes. “Thank you.”

Her heart flipped when he smiled. She winked up at him, then led him back to Kris.