Vortex (Cutter Cay) (21 page)

“Fortunately, he isn’t here right now. But in the event we’re doing things that we don’t want other people to see…” He held up the thin throw.

“I have no
intention
of doing anything I wouldn’t want anyone to s—”

Logan wrapped both arms around her and carried her down to the sofa cushions, then he kissed her senseless.

A minute or hour later, he lifted his head, and bit out, “What?” to someone out of her line of sight.

Face hot, she blinked, thrown by the forgotten bright lights and the fact that someone had indeed walked in, and she’d been blissfully unaware. Her mouth buzzed with the delicious pressure of his. Her T-shirt was twisted, and his hand was on her breast. “What?” she asked, trying to regroup mentally.

“Three men just boarded,” a diffident male voice said smoothly. “We have them in custody.”

“Do we have a brig?” Logan demanded, eyes fixed on her face. “Throw them in there for a year or two.”

“No brig, sir.” The guy’s voice had a thread of amusement in it. “We have them in the kitchen storeroom.”

Logan swooped in to brush his mouth against hers, then tugged her shirt back over her tummy as he rolled off her and got to his feet. “Hold my place. I hope these are your Three Stooges paying us a visit. All answers will be questioned.”

Daniela sat up on her elbows. “Do you want me to come w—”

“In the worst possible way,” he told her sincerely, his eyes hot. “However, I don’t want you there when I talk to them. Our laundry facilities are not adept at getting blood out of women’s clothing. Stay put. I’ll be right back.”

She flopped back onto the soft cushions and laughed. If not, she’d burst into tears.

Eleven

“You stuck them in the
pantry?
” Logan asked mildly as he walked into the galley where a game of poker had clearly been interrupted. Chips and beer bottles decorated the butcher block table off to the side, and several chairs were missing. “You know there are heavy projectiles in there, right?” He looked at Jed, who carried a large, wicked knife.

Jed nodded. “We considered sticking them in the freezer, but figured they’d taint the food, which would mean another trip to Arequipa. Inconvenience on top of inconvenience. We thought you’d understand.”

“I spotted their rowboat a hundred yards off our bow,” Piet said, ignoring Jed’s teasing. “Talked to the security guys and they grabbed them as soon as they boarded. Our uninvited guests are tied up and not going anywhere.”

The galley was large, but with Logan, Piet, Wes, two security guys, Hipolito, and Galt, there wasn’t much room to move, let alone swing a cat.

“Before they got up to mischief. Good man. I hope they aren’t too badly damaged,” Logan told the group, voice grim. “I’d like a word with them myself.”

“We didn’t—” One of the security guys, dressed in a western shirt and jeans started to assure him.

Wes put a hand on the guy’s shoulder. “They threw Annie in the ocean. At night. Logan would like to formally introduce himself.”

The man stepped back, and extended his hand toward the locked door in a formal invitation.

“Should I take a gun in with me?” Logan eyed the weapons in the shoulder holsters of the two security guys. “Probably not. Unfair advantage, right?” He wouldn’t shoot them when they were secured and unarmed, and it would be too damned
quick.

He strode over to the steel door, glancing at the men over his shoulder. “If you hear anyone crying like a girl, don’t bother coming in. In fact, don’t bother coming in unless it’s
my
blood flowing under the door.”

“How will we know?” Jed asked, his brow cocked as Logan unlocked the heavy door.

“Dog can ID me.”

“He’s in there with them,” Cooper told him, a wicked glint in his eyes.

“An excellent idea.” Logan stepped inside, shutting the door firmly behind him before flipping on the light.

The long narrow room had shelves stacked on either side holding canned goods and paper supplies. It smelled of coffee, flour … and pee.

The three cousins were an unpleasant looking lot, and Logan waited until they stopped fighting the electrical tape binding them and noticed he was in the room with them. His crew had done a bang-up job securing the prisoners.

Their mouths were covered with heavy electrical tape, and they’d been—slightly overdoing the tape, in Logan’s opinion—taped to three straight-backed chairs borrowed from the poker table. Their legs were secured to the chair legs, their wrists to the arms, and then for good measure tape had been wound around their middles, strapping them firmly to the chair backs.

Three sets of wild eyes swiveled his way.

Dog stood by the door, hackles up, teeth bared. His body vibrated from the almost inaudible low throaty growl. It was quite effective, since one of the guys had already peed his pants.

Logan glanced at the dog. “I know you’re hungry, White Fang. You forgot to eat dinner.” He let his eyes drift over the men. His jaw tightened as he gave them an all-encompassing cold look. “Who wants to talk first? Blink. Nobody? Well, that’s just fucking rude.”

He stepped around Dog and grabbed the tape at the corner of the closest guy’s beard. “How about you and me have a chat,
primo
.” He ripped off the electrical tape, and half the guy’s bushy beard with it. The guy shrieked as Logan dropped the hairy tape on the floor.

“Now let’s not pretend that you don’t speak English. I can just as easily interrogate you in Spanish, and cut to the chase. What’s your name?”

He gave Logan a hostile look. Spoiled because his beard looked as if he had mange. “Apaza.”

“Curly, Mo, or Stupid?”

“Hugo.”

“I think it’s
stupid
.” Logan’s voice went steely, and he bent down in the guy’s face. “You hit a woman—a relative—who depended on you for protection. You threw her overboard with an ill-fitting life vest. How do murder charges sound?”

“She refused to talk to you!”

Logan turned to look at Dog. “Hear that?” He swung around, accidentally hitting the guy in the eye with his elbow. Hard. “I understand her sentiment,” he said, having to raise his voice over the guy’s cries of pain. “Perhaps she figured as men, you’d want to come and talk to me yourselves. Make some sort of business arrangement … No?”

Hugo’s eyes streamed. Pretty soon the left one would be swollen shut.

He went to the next cousin, whom they’d placed slightly behind his brother. As Logan leaned over to pull the tape off his mouth, he stumbled, his fall broken by the knee he slammed between cousin number two’s spread legs. Since he hadn’t quite managed to remove the tape, cousin number two’s scream of agony was somewhat muffled. Unable to double over with the pain, he writhed in his seat until the chair crashed to the floor where he screamed uselessly through the electrical tape. Logan stepped over him.

The third guy’s eyes were like saucers over the tape. “Ready to have a little conversation, man to man? I seem to be a little accident-prone this evening.”

The guy nodded. He was about fifty, with wild, bushy black hair, and close-set, terrified eyes. He was the pee-er.

Logan pulled the tape off slowly. “Which one are you?”

“Angel, señor.”

“Ah.” Logan glanced over his shoulder. “Could you stop thrashing?” He eyed the guy on his side on the floor, who was noisily flopping around like a beached fish. “We’re trying to have a convo here. What was the plan for tonight,
viscacha
?” he asked the third brother. The word in the local Quechua language either meant small rodent, or turd. Logan wasn’t going to put a fine point on semantics.

The man’s mouth opened and closed. Making sure he was well away from the pee-zone, Logan leaned against the shelves and folded his arms over his chest. “You came to steal what treasure we’d salvaged?” He waited for the guy to decide which way to go with his answer. “Or you came to visit your cousin?” He watched the guy’s eyes. He waited as the man licked his thick lips, but said nothing.

“Both, huh? Well, here’s the sad and sorry truth. I’ll make sure that you never see either. And I’ll make sure that you never see either from behind bars.”

“We did nothing wrong!” the man sputtered indignantly. “We
gave
you the emerald. It is worth a lot of m—”

Dog suddenly body slammed the metal door and began barking wildly. Logan’s words were cut off by a series of loud gunshots as the door sprang open, Cooper framed in the opening.

“Lock them in,” he ordered Cooper. “Where’s Annie?” he yelled at one of the security guys who had his gun drawn and was just about to run from the galley. Another shot rang out, followed by a barrage of semiauto fire. What the fuck was going on now?

The guy hesitated, then spoke into a lip mic. “In her cabin. Sven standing guard outside. We have more intruders. Can I—?”

“Go!” Logan yanked open the door to the pantry, and yelled, “Did you idiots bring backup?”

“No, señor!”

Logan slammed the door. “Lock it!” he repeated. He met Jed’s eyes. “I’m not using a bread knife to hold off armed intruders.”

“Agreed.” Jed looked as grim as Logan felt. “Your office is closest.”

Logan’s safe held four handguns. Pirates were always an issue in this business. And apparently the ones who’d just arrived had tossed the rule book. Time to even the playing field.

“Let’s go. No heroics, people. He who has the biggest gun wins, got it?! Wes, Galt, stay close. Piet, radio this in. You two.” He indicated the chef and Cooper. “Secure those guys, then get the hell out of Dodge. Haul ass.”

They separated and ran.

When he and Jed arrived outside his office, Logan instructed his friend to get the guns and ammo. Then he jogged down the corridor to speak to the guy guarding Daniela’s cabin, weapon drawn.

“She okay?” Logan demanded. No more shots were being fired; he didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. But it pissed him off that his ship had turned into a fucking collection point for bad guys.

“Yes sir. I brought her up right away.”

“Good man. Don’t let anyone in or out of there until I get back.”

“The dog’s with her. He kinda insisted.”

“Logan?” Daniela called through the door. “What’s happening?”

“Not sure. But keep this door locked until I get back.”

“Don’t—” He heard her struggle not to beg him to stay. “Hurry back. I’ll keep Diesel safe.”

He pressed his palm to the door. “You do that.” He dropped his hand and backed up. Making eye contact with the security guy, he said grimly, “Not one fucking hair on her head, got it?”

*   *   *

Daniela went into Logan’s cabin because it was bigger and she needed to pace. Dog paced with her. Over the course of the next fifteen minutes there were a few more gunshots. Shouts, the sound of running feet, followed by the sound of bodies hitting the water. All of it coiling in her gut, making her nauseous. She ran to the closed door and peered out to see the lights disappear in the distance. “What the hell was
that
about?”

Dog, leaning against her legs, looked up at her. “Not everything is Victor, okay? Not every damn thing.” But she was deathly afraid that this time Victor had found her, and she was a sitting duck.

She heard her cabin door slam open, then Logan yelling. “I told you keep her in—”

“Logan. In here.”

The outer door slammed, she heard the lock snick, then Logan appeared in his cabin. His face was drained of color, and his jaw tight as he looked at her through eyes dark with fear. “I thought—”

Daniela ran to him, wrapping her arms around his waist as she buried her face against his chest. “I’m okay, I’m okay.” She couldn’t tell which of them was shaking, but her teeth chattered as if she were in the Arctic.

“What’s going on?”

“Someone must’ve placed an ad for bad guys to show up tonight,” he said dryly. “First your cousins decided to show their faces, wanting to see the treasure for themselves, no doubt. No sooner were
they
secured, than we had another batch of visitors. These were a hell of a lot better organized. No fucking idea what the hell they wanted. By the time we went topside, the security people had apparently scared them off.”

Victor.
It had to be Victor. She shouldn’t have decided to wait until morning. She should’ve left the moment she’d put the pieces together.

Logan gently gripped her upper arms and pulled her away from the safe harbor of his body to scan her features. “Want something to drink?” He walked to a small fridge in the built-in bookshelf by the fireplace.

“Am I going to need it?”

He pulled out two bottles of water, and closed the door with his knee.

Things couldn’t be
too
bad if they were going to drink water. “Do you have anything stronger?”

“No. Let’s sit down.” His tone brooked no argument as he indicated she sit in the big easy chair by the door leading out to the balcony. He sat on the foot of the bed, leaning over to hand her the bottle after he snapped the top. “What’s going on, Daniela? Who’s after you?”

He
had
called her Dani this afternoon. Her mouth was dry, but she was incapable of lifting the water to her lips. She looked at him, mute. Her heart felt as if it weighed twenty pounds as it thudded in uneven, heavy strokes. It hurt her chest to breathe. “How do you know my name?”

He gave her a cool look. “Do you honestly think that I would welcome a stranger on board my ship, and endanger my friends and crew, without putting out feelers? You fed me one preposterous lie after the other. It’s my job to protect the people I care about.”

She took a shuddering breath. “I know.”

“Who are you running from, and why?”

Daniela felt relieved to finally share the truth. “Senator Victor Stamps.”

“Your fiancé?” he prompted, frowning darkly. “Why?”

“How did you—never mind. I own an art gallery in DC. He’s been using it to move cocaine from South America for distribution in the U.S.”