Sean paced the conference room that had become the center of operations. Though it was nearly ten p.m., the Homicide wing of the Seattle PD was humming with activity as they worked to track down Maxwell and Krista before it was too late.
Though there was still a statewide APB out on Sean and a warrant for his arrest for the shooting of the police deputy, Cole wasn’t about to turn him over to the authorities in Chelan County. Fortunately, no one else present seemed inclined to challenge him on that, especially after Cole made a few well-placed phone calls to some of the subjects of Maxwell’s lurid videos.
As expected, Maxwell wasn’t at home, his office, or any of the other obvious places. Petersen had been sent to pick up Margaret Grayson-Maxwell for questioning.
Maybe she could shed some light on where her husband had taken Krista. Sean wasn’t holding his breath.
They’d been back at the station for half an hour, and still nothing. Sean tried not to dwell on the fact that half an hour was plenty of time to rape and kill a woman. “This is ridiculous. There has to be a way to find this asshole,” Sean said. “Traffic cameras.”
“City hasn’t installed them in that area.” Cole shook his head as he looked at the map they had posted. There was a red dot that represented where Karev’s driver had picked them up, and concentric circles outward to show the radius they might have traveled. “If they head this way,” he said, indicating the south end of the city, “we might be able to pick them up on the cameras. I have an APB out on them. Every cop in the city is looking for that car.”
“And in the meantime that fucker is doing God knows what to her,” Sean bit out. “We have to do something. I can’t just wait around here.” He started for the door, but Cole caught him by the shoulder.
“Believe me, Sean, of all people, I know what’s going through your head right now.”
Sean met Cole’s dark stare. Right. Just a little over three months ago, Cole had been going out of his mind trying to figure out where that sick fuck Nate Brewster had taken Megan. He of all people knew how it felt to know the woman you loved—
His brain slammed into that word like a brick wall. No way. It was just the insanity of the last few days combined with a burst of a psychotic amount of chemistry. And now wasn’t the time to go all Dr. Phil on his feelings for Krista.
“Do these windows open?” Sean asked as he stalked to the ones that lined the wall across from them. He needed air. He needed to think…He managed to get one cracked open a few inches. “What about in-dash GPS, cell phones—”
“We’re trying to get in touch with all the service providers—”
“Do you mind?” Ibarra, who along with Brooks had remained mostly silent other than to answer questions from the other cops brought in on the case. “This kind of thing is right in my wheelhouse.”
“What are you going to do?” Cole said. Ibarra pulled a laptop out of his bag and flipped it open.
Ibarra started typing. “Probably best if I don’t give you all the details. Let’s just say I’m bending a few rules and leave it at that.”
Cole shrugged. “Whatever it takes.”
Within minutes Ibarra had a hit. “I’ve got an outgoing call, about four hundred meters from the warehouse at ten oh two. ” Ibarra said and ran off the number. “Another call five minutes later.”
There was a commotion outside the room as Margaret Grayson-Maxwell arrived. “This is a travesty,” she shouted. “I refuse to speak to anyone until my attorney arrives.” For a woman who had been dragged out of her house in the middle of the night, she was remarkably put together.
Then again, Sean thought as he felt disgust curl his lip, she was probably wide awake waiting to hear from David that the delivery had gone as planned and she was about to receive another infusion into her campaign fund.
“I’m here, Margaret.” A tall, athletic-looking man in his late fifties hurried in carrying a briefcase. The guy looked familiar and suddenly Sean realized why. It was John Slater, Krista’s father.
“John, thank God you’re here,” Margaret said, confirming Sean’s fears and offering her cheek to kiss.
“Of course,” he said, and then spun to pin Cole with a cold stare. His eyes were a familiar shade of grayish green. “What’s the meaning of this, detective? You drag my client down here in the middle of the night for no reason.”
“We need to ask her some questions about her husband,” Cole said.
The guilty flash in Margaret’s eyes was immediately hidden by indignation. “David is away on business. He left right after the fund-raiser tonight—”
Rage bubbled up in Sean’s chest at the lie that came so easily. “He’s in town. His goons killed Karev,” Sean snapped, ignoring Cole’s warning look.
Slater turned at Sean’s words. His head snapped back as he recognized Sean. “You! Where is Krista? What did you do to my daughter?”
“I didn’t do anything to her. Your fucking slime-bag client Maxwell has her. He kidnapped Krista after we interrupted the delivery of their truckload of girls.”
Margaret’s face went white. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Who’s Karev? I have no idea—”
Sean ignored her and turned to Slater. “He shoved Krista into the trunk of his car. That would be an interesting trial, watching you defend the man who kidnapped your daughter.”
Slater’s golf-course-tanned face went gray. “Where did he take her? Where is she?”
“That’s the million-dollar question,” Cole said. “Maybe you two can shed a little light.”
Slater looked like he’d been kicked in the chest. For all that Slater was a sleazebag, it was clear he still cared about his daughter. He didn’t seem to hear Margaret’s loud protests as she was led to an interrogation room, and his hands shook as he fumbled with the clasp of his briefcase. “My files—he has several properties in the area that he didn’t want traced to him. I can get you a list—”
“Did you help him buy a boat?” Ibarra broke in. “Because the last call I traced was fifteen minutes ago at the Corinthian Yacht Club.”
“That place is huge,” Brooks commented. “Could take us hours to locate if we don’t know what we’re looking for.”
“The Eva Marie. I helped him with a transfer of ownership from a business associate who wanted to keep it quiet.” Sean understood why when Slater named a well-known software company executive whose name was included on Maxwell’s list. “If it’s still at the yacht club, it hasn’t moved from the original owner’s slip.”
Slater quickly passed on the information. “I had no idea…I thought I was just helping David move money around…” he said, his voice tight. “Please don’t let her be hurt.” He said it like it was a prayer.
“I’ll do everything I can,” Sean vowed, though as he waited, muscles coiled tightly, for the cops to move out, he feared it wouldn’t be nearly enough.
Cole was barking orders, calling in requests for a helicopter, a hostage response team, a dive team, and assistance from the U.S. Coast Guard if needed.
But everyone seemed to be gearing up in slow motion. They didn’t know if Krista was dead or alive and they were all acting like they had minutes to spare.
He looked around the room and caught Ibarra’s eyes, then Brooks’s. All it took was a slight nod, and Sean made a grab for Cole’s keys on the table and the three went sprinting out of the building, ignoring Cole’s warnings to stop.
“If this goes wrong, it will be on you,” Cole said as the three flew out the front door.
It had been on him since the second he’d ignored his instincts and let Krista out of his sight, Sean thought as they jumped into the car. And now he just prayed he’d make it to her in time to set it right.
The stateroom where Maxwell had put her and Nadia was nearly pitch black. The lights along the docks had been shut off for the night, offering no illumination through the portholes.
Nadia was next to her, and Krista could feel the tremors of fear racking her body. Or they could have been her own. Krista was tight as a spring, every muscle tense and quivering.
She tried to stay present, to not let her fear-fueled imagination spin out of control. But bound and gagged in the dark, her only company a terrified, whimpering girl, it was hard not to think about what was likely to happen when Maxwell decided to return.
According to the glowing red numbers on the digital clock, they’d been on the boat just shy of forty-five minutes. Long enough for her legs to cramp and for her hands and fingers to swell and throb from the tight bindings.
She wondered what Maxwell was up to, but in the time they’d been here, all she’d heard was a lot of stomping around and unintelligible conversation. At one point she’d heard him shout, and then what sounded like people on the docks outside. Someone going? Someone arriving?
Maybe by some miracle, Sean and the others had figured out where Maxwell had taken them and were here to stage a rescue.
She let herself indulge the fantasy of Sean charging in like her personal knight in shining armor for about five seconds before allowing it to slip away. Sean. Her eyes stung with tears at the thought of him, his shadowed eyes that couldn’t hide the sparks of humor and passion that lurked beneath that hard surface.
His warrior’s soul and protective instincts that wouldn’t die no matter what had been done to him.
And the anger, too, bubbling inside him. She would never begrudge him a second of his rage, even though it had felt like a knife to the chest when it was finally aimed straight at her.
Now she was desperate to see him one more time and tell him she understood his anger. That she loved him whether he could ever forgive her and love her back or not.
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.”
Oh God. Sean hadn’t been in any danger until she’d put him there. As fervently as she’d prayed for him to come rescue her, she started to pray he’d stay away, stay safe. She couldn’t live with the guilt if anything else happened to him because of her.
But the way things were going, she might not have long to live with her guilt, period.
Maxwell wrapped something around her ankle and bound it to the bed. He then did the same to the other until she was bound facedown and spread-eagled on the bed.
Helpless.
Sean crept quietly up the stairs that led to the main deck, keeping to the shadows as he determined how many he was up against. He listened in the distance for the sound of a motor indicating Ibarra and Brooks were in pursuit, but as of yet, nothing.
He quickly found the first man, stationed on the outside of the main deck, at the stern. Not wanting to draw attention, Sean took him out with a blow with the wrench and secured him as he had the others. He sifted through the guy’s pockets and used the roll of duct tape he’d lifted from the engine room to gag him. He took the guy’s AK-47 and slung it over his shoulder.
Gun cocked and ready, the screwdriver tucked into his waistband, Sean crept along the side of the main cabin. Inside, he could see one of Maxwell’s men pacing restlessly as his AK lay on the table of the dining area. No sign of Maxwell, Krista, or the other girl.
Sean forced himself not to dwell on what Maxwell might be doing to them and focused on taking down Maxwell’s muscle.
He ducked below the window line and combat crawled his way to the front of the boat. There were two men up here, both smoking and speaking in low voices. They were speculating on how many days it would take to meet up with their contacts, and how much their cut of the sale of the women would be.
Women. Definitely plural. Sean’s relief at the evidence that Krista was still alive was tainted by horror at what Maxwell had planned for her.
Sean struggled to keep a rein on his temper when one of the guys said, “I get first go at the woman after Maxwell’s finished.”
“No way, you got first go last time,” the other thug said.
“Yeah, and she was worthless after that.”
The other guy shrugged. “It’s not my fault she couldn’t handle me.”
“Yeah, well, your needs are likely to kill her before we even hit international waters.”
The thug laughed, remorseless. “Ah, just as long as I get a taste of that before we dump her off the side.”
Sean’s blood exploded to a boil and he pounced from the shadows, catching one thug with a blow from the wrench as he rolled to the side as the other thug fumbled for his gun. Gunfire peppered the deck as Sean took aim, hitting the thug who’d talked about dumping Krista over the side with a shot straight to his face.
The other woozily reached for his pistol, screaming as Sean blew a hole right through his chest.
Sean took the thugs’ guns and charged inside, diving behind a couch as the guy grabbed his semiautomatic from the table and opened fire on the room, shouting for reinforcements that would never come.
Sean stayed down and groaned like he’d been hit. Sure enough the meathead came to investigate. Sean opened up and the guy went down, clutching his throat.
Angry shouts came from the opposite side of the cabin. Through the walls he heard a woman scream.
Krista!
He took the inside staircase down, the screams getting louder as he got closer to the staterooms.
Then silence.
Heart in his throat, Sean pushed through a door that opened up to a sitting room, and all he could think was that he’d fucked up. He’d lost control and gone out guns blazing, tipping his hand to Maxwell.
Who no doubt was still with Krista. And there was nothing to penetrate the eerie silence to give evidence she was still alive.
Krista felt the bile rise in her throat as rough hands grabbed her hips as Maxwell ground himself against her.
He was fumbling with his fly when the first shots rang out. He froze and then gave an enraged shout when the shooting continued.
Someone was here! Maxwell sliced the tie that bound her hands to the bed. He went to work on her ankles, and Krista gave a scream as the knife slipped and sliced into the skin of her leg.
“Shut up,” he shouted and punched her in the back of the head hard enough to make her see stars.
Maxwell grabbed her by her bound hands and wrapped a blanket around her and pulled her to her feet. He positioned himself behind her, knife to her neck, and backed her toward the adjoining bathroom.
The door burst open, and there was Sean, his face blackened with grease and a wild look in his green eyes, but the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.
“One move and I will cut her,” Maxwell whispered, and Krista felt the sting of the blade biting into her neck.
She saw Sean’s gun hand lower and felt the pressure of the knife ease. “Now drop it.”
Sean let both his pistol and the rifle drop to the floor.
“Kick them over here.”
Sean did. Maxwell snatched up the gun and opened fire as he backed Krista out of the room.
Krista cried out as Sean’s head jerked from the impact and he fell backward in a heap.
Maxwell dragged her through the bathroom and out a door that led to the deck. Sean appeared to be alone, but if he’d gotten a location on the boat, his friends and the cops couldn’t be far behind.
Maxwell obviously did the same math as he forced her into the dinghy attached to the boat and fumbled with the rope. Krista huddled in the blanket, head throbbing, feeling like a hole had been blown open in her chest.
Sean had taken a shot to the head. No way he could survive that.
Because he’d come after her.
Even if she survived Maxwell, her guilt and grief would consume her.
She numbly wondered how long it would take for the others to find the yacht, how long Nadia would remain helplessly bound and gagged wherever Maxwell’s thug had put her. And if they managed to escape, how long he would keep her as a hostage before he decided she was no longer useful.
Maxwell struggled to untie the Zodiac from the yacht. Once he finally had it free, he jerked at the starter, swearing when all he got was a pathetic sputter.
Then there was a steady rumble, but not from the Zodiac. Motorboats were approaching.
A siren sounded and a spotlight shone in the distance. The police were here.
An instant later, Sean burst from the door. Blood streamed from his shoulder as he thundered onto the deck.
Maxwell made a grab for Krista as a swell hit the Zodiac, sending him careening to the side. Krista kicked out hard and sent Maxwell to the other side of the small rubber boat. A heavy shadow and then a thump as Sean’s weight hit the Zodiac.
There was a cry of pain as the men grappled, but in the darkness Krista couldn’t see who had the upper hand.
She got on her knees and fumbled with her bound hands to find a weapon. Her hands closed over something smooth and cylindrical. An oar? She raised it over her head just as a swell tilted the Zodiac at a precarious angle and a heavy body slammed into her. Krista didn’t have time to even take a breath before she was hurled into the frigid sea.
“Krista!” Sean realized what had happened the split second before the splash of seawater hit him in the face.
Maxwell took advantage of his distraction and punched Sean in the head, glancing off the deep furrow the bullet had left in his scalp. Shooting pain stabbed at his head and blood seeped into his eyes as he staggered back. Maxwell seized the opening to pounce. The knife slashed down and Sean hissed as it sliced through the muscle of his forearm as Sean raised it to ward off the blow.
Maxwell raised the knife as Sean struggled to heave him off. Maxwell was surprisingly strong despite his age and soft life, and he had the advantage of not being wounded. Blood from the wound mingled with sweat to pour down Sean’s forehead. Another swell hit the boat as the rumble of approaching engines grew louder. The high beam of the police boat hit them with blinding strength.
Maxwell hesitated only for a second. It was all Sean needed.
The screwdriver arced up and ripped into Maxwell’s throat, tearing through the skin of his neck, ripping a jagged hole in the carotid artery.
He dropped the knife and fell back clutching his neck. Wet gurgling sounds filled the air.
“Shine the light on the water,” Sean screamed, wiping frantically at his eyes as he ignored the throbbing in his head. Could they even hear him, he wondered as he frantically searched for Krista. She’d been in the water for less than a minute, but with her hands bound and injured from Maxwell’s blows, she wouldn’t last for much longer in the frigid ocean.
His eyes scanned and saw nothing. He waved his arms and pointed frantically at the water and they finally found something. The spotlight skimmed the surface of the ocean, and there it was: a glimpse of pale skin just underneath the surface.
He dove in, the saltwater stinging his head wound like a thousand burning needles as he felt frantically for her in the dark, frigid water. She was limp when he grabbed her, unresponsive when Brooks and Ibarra hauled her up on to the speedboat they’d commandeered. They averted their eyes and covered her naked body with their jackets as Sean put his ear to her mouth.
“She’s not breathing.” He put his fingers to her neck but he was so cold he couldn’t feel anything.
Brooks’s hand gently brushed his aside. “She’s got a pulse,” Brooks said.
Sean nodded, pinched her nose shut, opened her mouth, and covered it with his own to breathe air into her lungs. “Come on, baby. Don’t leave me,” he whispered. Her chest expanded—one breath, two breaths, and on the third she sputtered and choked. Sean rolled her quickly to her side as she coughed up about a gallon of seawater.
“Sean?” she whispered weakly.
“Yeah, honey, I’m here.”
She lifted a shaky hand to his face. “I thought you were dead,” she said. “Thank God you’re not dead—” She broke off as another wave of coughing racked her.
Sean gathered her into him as the spasms shook her body. “It’s okay, honey. I’ve got you,” he murmured over and over, squeezing his eyes shut against the tears of relief. “I’ve got you, and I’m not letting go.”