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“My God, Sam. There really is a boat out there.” Her joy faded when reality reared its ugly head. “They’ll probably sail right by us. Never know we’re out here!”

He ignored her prediction and shouted into the dim light. “S.O.S! Ahoy, the boat!” He grabbed the shirt and began to wave it over his head. “FBI needs assistance. Can you hear me?”

He kept waving the shirt, not giving up. Lana joined in the yells for help until her throat burned and her cries sounded like croaks. “Help us! Over here! Help us, for God’s sake.”

After no answering call, she sank to her knees, watching Sam’s heroic efforts. She must be hallucinating. It was an engine, a big one that growled toward them. The wake tossed their small boat, and she grabbed Sam’s legs. He reached down to hold her fast against him, still waving the shirt.

A deep voice cut through the noise. “Out there in the boat. We’re coming after you.” There was a pause. “If you got guns, we got bigger ones.”

Sam yelled back. “No guns, man. We just need a ride to Miami.”

Blinding lights were trained on them for several minutes, and then a boat appeared yards away, skimming over the water with the help of a powerful outboard motor. Lana stared at the approaching vessel until her eyes blurred with tears. She wouldn’t die today.

They came alongside and looked them over before reaching their arms out. First, she was pulled into their boat, then Sam. The men didn’t say anything, just headed the boat for the ship. She clung to Sam, thinking he was too tired to speak.

She looked up to see a grizzled, smallish man staring at them over the top rail of a rough looking ship. She wasn’t an expert, but the rigging meant it had to be a fishing boat. And best of all, they spoke English.

When they were hauled onto the deck, the captain met them with a skeptical gaze. “FBI, huh?” He motioned for a member of the crew to approach. “Get these people water and have cook fix up some food for them.”

Sam gave the area a fast once-over. “We need a ride to Miami ASAP.”

“You can ride with us, mister, but we’re going to New Orleans. We have a load of fish to unload.”

Lana tried to hold back, but the water bottle a young man handed her looked like salvation, and she tipped it up to drink. Her thirst somewhat sated, she spoke up. “We have nothing but his identification to get us where we need to go.” She stiffened her legs, trying to stand up straight. “If you don’t mind, we’d appreciate somewhere to sleep. You’ll be compensated for your trouble.”

Sam steadied her on her feet, his arm around her waist. “We’re grateful for your help.” He held his hand out. “Sam Horn and Lana Pearly.”

“More than glad to help.” Appearing relaxed now, the man in charge gripped Sam’s hand in a firm handshake. “Evan Bingham. Sorry about all the questions, but some boats have been bothered by pirates.” He chuckled and scratched his chin. “Not us. We won’t be giving up our boat to no river rats.”

Sam drank from his bottle and turned her hand over to scowl at the ragged blister wounds on her palms. “My partner needs some ointment for her blisters.” He shook his head when she tried to pull her hand from his grasp.

“I’m okay, Sam.” The blisters had been painful, but now that they had broken, her hands burned like fire.

Evan made a
tsking
sound. “Any boat worth its salt has blister medicine.” He went to a small cabinet nailed to a pole and brought out a jar of amber colored salve. “This cures everything from sunburn to blisters and foot fungus.” He grinned on his last words. “It’ll calm the pain, Miss Pearly.”

Sam stood near, watching as her hands were smeared with the ointment. “Oh, my gosh.” She smiled at him. “The pain’s gone.” She took another long drink and sighed. “This is heavenly, Mr. Bingham.”

“The least I can do for you.” He almost scuffed his toe on the wet deck. “Come on down to the kitchen. The chow’s good and clean. I wouldn’t mind another bite myself.”

Sam helped her down the narrow stairs and seated her at the bench table. A man named Hank brought out huge bowels of hot, fragrant potato soup. Manners went out the window while she ate with relish and soon asked for a second portion. The coffee must have been brewed in a gourmet shop.

While she relaxed and sipped coffee, the captain asked questions and described the new plague from pirates. He finally got around to asking about their strange situation. “I ain’t asking for any top secret stuff. Just seems awful strange, you two being out in that little rubber ducky.”

Lana let Sam do the talking. He wouldn’t say a lot, just enough to satisfy their host.

He relaxed in the small booth, puffing on the small cigar Bingham had given him. “We’re after a terrorist, a real bad ass headed for Miami.” He stopped for a moment, looking at her. “He had a lot more help on that boat than we knew about. We got in the way, and they decided to let us swim back to Florida.”

“Hell, they need to fry for that.” Bingham scowled darkly. “I’d be glad to bring the bastard down.”

Sam shook his head. “I know you would, and we appreciate your offer.” He gestured to Lana. “I think she wants that pleasure.”

Lana couldn’t help but think about how scared she had been. “He’ll be surprised to see us.”

And scared as hell, I hope
.

While she fought exhaustion, the two men shared stories of their times spent in the military and the merits of certain weapons. Men. Lana listened and determined she was the luckiest woman on earth. Somehow, she’d survived hell and still had the man of her heart’s deepest desire beside her. Without Sam, there would be nothing.

She’d been half asleep when he made the call to headquarters. Using the ship’s radio, he issued a message to the person on the line with him. A car, new ID cards, and, by God, don’t forget their weapons. She sat up, taking in his gestures as he paced the small area. His final statement was muffled, but she got the idea he hadn’t been too polite.

She didn’t bother asking questions when he came back into the small galley. He was obviously satisfied with the arrangements he’d wrung out of the department. The yawn she couldn’t stop came on, long and noticeable. He took her hand and helped her from the chair.

Before they could ask, Bingham got up and headed toward the door. “We have a good shower and plenty of towels. I’ll see about rounding up some duds for the two of you.”

It all seemed too good to be true, like a scene from a movie. Bingham was a man of his words, making sure she had privacy while she showered and dressed in the blue denim shirt and jeans. They swallowed her, but she didn’t care. They were fresh smelling and dry.

She stretched out on the lowest bunk in a tiny room where they were to sleep and waited for Sam to join her. In the luxury of clean sheets and safety, her thoughts drifted back to what Sam had told her. Had he just been trying to keep her spirits up? They had been so close to death, and he had been her anchor, the only link to making it out of a perilous time. He didn’t know it, but from the moment they’d taken on this mission, she’d been completely in his hands.

He came into the small room and sat on her bunk. “You did good, baby.”

She gazed at him, not surprised he seemed to be far away in his thoughts. He was an FBI agent, and she was aware that his thoughts had never left Antigua or how they had to end his free run of murder. What happened to them was secondary. They had to get back on the devil’s trail.

“We’ll be in New Orleans by sunup.” She sighed and looked at her hands. “We’ll have to hurry to catch up with Antigua.”

Sam folded the towel he’d dried his hair with and hung it over the back of a small ladder-back chair. “He can’t run fast enough to escape. This time we know what to expect. He’s going out, standing up or in a body bag. I don’t care which.”

He kissed her lightly and turned off the light, climbing up to the top bunk. She listened to him groan, and finally his easy breathing. She closed her eyes and inhaled, feeling a strong rush of emotion. Tears were close, but there was a warm feeling of love for the man in the upper bunk.

He hadn’t fallen asleep yet. “Yes, Sam.”

“I love you, babe.”

“I love you, Sam.”

“I’ll remind you of that tomorrow.”

Chapter Twenty-one

Lana found her clothing on a shelf outside the bunkroom where she slept the night before. They had been laundered, ironed, and folded neatly by someone in the crew. She had been touched by the kindness of the men aboard the fishing boat.

She and Sam stood on the deck with Bingham, leaning against the railing, their gazes focused on the shoreline of New Orleans. Once the ship had docked, they thanked Bingham and the crew, preparing to leave the safety and the kind people who had saved their lives.

Lana hugged Bingham, glad he wasn’t too macho to return the gesture. “You’ll never know how much I appreciate you, Captain Bingham.”

“Aw, ain’t necessary, Miss Pearly.” He shook hands with Sam and pointed to the two dark sedans pulling into the nearby parking area. “If I was single and didn’t have four kids, I’d go with you.”

“We’d be glad to have your help.” Sam gripped Bingham’s shoulder. “We’ll see you again, friend.”

As she and Sam walked down the gangplank, Bingham called out some last-minute advice. “Keep your heads down.”

“You do the same.” Sam turned to catch Lana’s hand and led her to the agents standing outside the cars, eyeing them closely.

“Sam, I don’t have anything to identify myself.”

“If they brought what we asked for, there won’t be a problem.” He pulled his wallet from his back pocket. He held his identification up for the agents to check out. “Agents Horn and Pearly.”

The younger of the two took Sam’s wallet. “Looks like you’ve been through hell, Horn.”

Lana stepped up, gesturing toward the car. “Where are our weapons?”

“In the car, ma’am.” The young agent opened the door for her. “It’s all there.”

Sam clasped the agent’s shoulder, making sure he didn’t leave. “We don’t want to have to double back if you did forget something.”

Lana got in the car and checked out the items in a large carton. She smiled with satisfaction when she found her shield and ID wallet. Sam’s new issues were there as well. She began to feel her former self-confidence return while checking the Glocks for ammo. Both were primed and recently cleaned. In one corner, extra clips had been added. She opened the manila envelope and thumbed through the bills it contained. She and Sam were equipped now to finish their mission.

She tapped the horn to get Sam’s attention. “Agent Horn. Let’s roll.”

To anyone who might be observing them, they must have looked a lot like they were getting ready for combat. Lana put her gear on, clipped her Glock to her belt and added a clip for good measure. She waited until Sam finished adjusting his weapon to suit him and handed him an extra clip.

He seemed preoccupied, barely glancing at her when they got into the car.

She looked at her watch, which miraculously still ticked after its salt-water bath. “With any luck, we should be in Miami by noon.”

“And bag Antigua by one o’clock.” He looked in the rearview mirror as if the devil chased them. “I know he’s smart enough to not have the diamonds and gold with him. We could be screwed over proving he ever had the stuff.”

Lana shook her head. “That won’t be a problem if my camera is still on that ship. There’s enough footage on there to hold him for a long time.”

“They already have it. After we didn’t check back in, they sent someone on board to check out our suite.” He groaned a little, working his shoulders. “That month in the sun sounds better and better all the time, Pearly.”

Twenty minutes passed with little conversation between them. She tried to separate her feelings for him and what lay ahead that day. This time, she had no jitters or feelings of dread. This was her job.

Lana sat lost in thought, hardly seeing the trees that lined the road. They had been a blur for several miles, and she was surprised when the car slowed and Sam pulled off into a roadside rest stop.

“What’s going on?”

He gazed at her for several thrilling seconds while her heart jumped with expectation. “You aren’t going in with me.”

“The hell I’m not.” A cloud of anger hovered over her. “We’re going in together or not at all.”

What had he expected her to say? He didn’t trust her, thought she wasn’t his equal. Thinking back to the time he’d mentioned marriage, they had been on the precipice of dying. Back on dry land and with the world at his fingertips, he was anxious to go it alone. Would he always have to answer the call of the wild?

His cell phone rang and personal wants and needs were banished. She listened to the one-sided conversation, filling in the blanks as he talked. There would be back up for them at the hotel. Sam nodded while he listened, his reaction calm, patronizing, not agreement.

“Okay. I got it.”

Lana wanted to know what was said but waited for him to relay the message. Time quickly ran on, and they were heading for another clash with that gang of cutthroats. Such romance could only be made up. She lost patience.

“What did they say, damn it? No back up, too much back up?” What was wrong with her? It made no difference how this went down. They had to finish it once and for all.

“Two men. We’ll get there before they do.” He glanced at her, then at his watch. “Pearly, there’s no way we can spend time trying to get that prick off somewhere by himself. It’s head-on and full-bore.”

“What about the rest of the gang?”

“It’s their choice. They want to fight. We take it to them.”

“What about waiting for our backup?”

“Remember what happened the last time we waited?”

She rolled her eyes. “Just part of the job?”

Okay, you have to back up your words.

His expression said it all. It’s kick ass time.

* * * *

Sam pushed the sedan hard, cutting the miles down as fast as possible. The scenery was mind numbing and that’s the way he wanted it. Nothing on his mind but getting that sick son-of-as-bitch in a chokehold.

One look at Pearly and that all changed. Damn. He knew he’d said the wrong thing by telling her he was going it alone.