Overboard (A Crow's Nest Novel Book 2) Page 13

  Well, hell. He knew that The Cleaner wouldn’t keep his word to Cassidy, but a bomb? Miguel figured the bastard would be more personal about it. A bullet to the head or something. This way, Miguel and Maricela would wind up gator food. Their bodies might not ever be found. That’s how the Glades worked. Too many predators that ate meat. A lot of bodies disappeared out there only to become gator shit.

  “Really?” Miguel chastised. “A bomb? So uncreative man. Here I thought you would have some gusto behind it. Be more original.”

  The Cleaner shrugged. “Make all the quips you want, my friend. It will do you no good. This is the end of our game.”

  He hit a button and the timer started ticking down as he bowed and walked out the door.

  “Trust me. I’ll be seeing you again.” Miguel pulled at the zip ties as the sound of a boat engine took off in the dark. “Fucking tool.”

  “Are you serious?” Maricela asked. “We’re facing down a bomb and you’re throwing crappy insults. Think maybe you can get us the hell out of here?”

  He rolled his eyes at her tone. “Shut up, would you.”

  “Nice way to talk to your sister.” Panic swirled in her dark eyes and Miguel let out a breath.

  “We’re going to get out of this, hermanita. Then I’m going to kill the son of a bitch.” He shifted, forcing his shoulder under the table. The thing was welded to the floor, meant to keep in a boat wreck so that it didn’t fly off and slap someone upside the head—or slide through and block the exit. The table top, however, was screwed in.

  “What are you doing?” She pulled back as much as she could with the zip ties holding her down.

  “Just keep your head out of the way. Don’t need any more bruises than you’ve already got.” He thrust his shoulder under the lip of the table and slammed up. He grunted as pain tore through his shoulder. The screws held the tabletop snug in place. Miguel had changed it out himself, because the original top hadn’t been worth a damn.

  “Jesus, what are you doing?” Maricela jerked her hands.

  “Trying to get us out of here before the bomb goes off. I’d really rather not get blown to bits.”

  The bomb was already down to two minutes.

  He hit the table again, coming up off the seat. The wood around the screws splintered a bit. Adrenaline coursed through him, and instead of pausing, Miguel came up on it again, over and over, despite the pain slicing through him. His shoulder and part of his back was going to be bruised to hell, but he’d endured worse pain than this. He hit again, giving a cry of frustration. The top flipped forward but didn’t come completely off. Maricela leaned on her side and started kicking it. She grunted, but she’d done ballet for six years. Her thighs were powerful—he knew from personal experience when she kicked him in the nuts after he teased her.

  The top flew off and she pulled her hands up, over the bar. Miguel followed suit and stood up. There was no way he’d be able to stop the bomb in time. It was already under less than a minute. He shoved Maricela toward the door.

  “Run!”

  She hauled ass and he was on her heels. Jumping into the dark, murky water of a swamp in the middle of the night wasn’t the smartest idea, but Miguel would rather fend off an alligator—he had more of a chance of surviving that than a bomb.

  Maricela jumped off the edge and disappeared into the darkness. Miguel followed a split second later. The boat exploded, the force shoving him forward and farther into the water. He stayed down, praying his sister had enough sense to do the same, as flame riddled debris rained down over them. That’d scare the gators away for sure. When his lungs felt like they might explode, Miguel pushed through the surface, careful to avoid any burning tinder. He wiped his face, hands still bound with the zip tie.

  “Maricela?!”

  “Here!”

  She was alive. They were both alive.

  The Cleaner may have blown up Miguel’s houseboat, but he probably didn’t count on the distress signal that was currently going off at the Crow’s Nest.

  Help would arrive soon—once Maricela was safe, Miguel needed to figure out how to find Cassidy.

  First though, they needed to get out of the water. The gators wouldn’t stay away forever.

  By the time the small boat pulled up next to the yacht there was a pink tinge to the horizon. Shock still made Cassidy’s limbs heavy. When the explosion hit, it propelled the escape boat over the wake. The sudden air born sensation wasn’t what made her stomach flip flop. The plume of giant flames scorching toward the sky—the rain of debris from the boathouse—knowing that Miguel and Maricela were dead, that their sweet mother had lost two children in one fell swoop—that’s what made her sick. Cassidy had no one to blame but herself. She should have listened to Miguel.

  When she tried to lunge at The Cleaner, his protege held her back, smacking her a few times across the face until she calmed down. The pain that stung her cheeks was nothing compared to the pain in her heart and soul. Without Miguel, Cassidy realized just how much she needed him. Not to be her savior, but to just be with her. Miguel had done something that no one else had been able to since Meredith’s death. He made her feel alive. Like there was more to the world than just murderers and broken families.

  And now he was gone.

  “Sit the fuck down.” The man said. “I will do worse next time.”

  Knowing he was telling the truth, Cassidy sat there, watching the dark waters as they left the Glades and headed to the ocean.

  To Ivanov’s yacht.

  They pulled up to the back deck and The Cleaner got out, not giving her a second glance. The Protege grabbed her arm and jerked her up. Barefoot, Cassidy slipped on the plank board and her knee crashed into the hard surface. The pain barely registered. Her thigh throbbed. The stitches pulled. She’d nearly forgotten about it till now as blood trickled down her thigh. It reminded her of the first time she’d been on the yacht. Cassidy had been so close to taking him down—to killing the bastard. Instead she’d been shot and wound up in the middle of the Atlantic.

  Then, Cassidy was sure she was going to die. The thin line of land on the horizon was her destination, but it was much further away than it looked. Still, she had to try—and it was difficult with her leg. She’d switched back and forth between floating and using her arms, to doing a breast stroke with the help of only one good leg. The buoy had been her layover, but Miguel was the one who had rescued her from sea.

  No one would be able to rescue her now.

  “Get up.” The Protege jerked Cassidy to her feet.

  She thought about giving up. After the explosion, what right did she have to live? Miguel, Maricela, and Kendra were gone because of her vendetta—her need to find out the truth behind Meredith’s death. Did she deserve to breathe when they were all dead?

  Then, as she walked on board and looked around, the guilt that came with her memories morphed into anger. She hadn’t pulled the trigger. Ivanov ordered it all. Meredith, Kendra, Miguel, Maricela. All four deaths were on his head—and he couldn’t get away with that.

  It wasn’t the same yacht she’d been on when she shot him. He’d probably sold it, or it was in impound at the police station for evidence. Either way, it didn’t surprise her that he had a backup. He had more money and power than most—and one measly little yacht wasn’t going to stop him from doing whatever he wanted.

  The Protege took Cassidy to a small room and shoved her inside, shutting and locking the door behind her. Cassidy tried to jerk the door open, but it was no use. She didn’t think it would be, but she had to try. She let out a frustrated yell, before turning to the room. It had a small twin bed against the wall, and two portholes on either side. Not full windows like Ivanov had in his main stateroom. That meant they didn’t open, so there was no escape by that route. It was a room used for steward and maintenance staff most likely—bottom of the boat, less chance of getting out.

  She walked over to the small closet, hoping to find something to use as a weapon. The door sli
d open and she frowned at the evening gown hanging in a plastic bag. The same color green she’d been wearing when she first came after Ivanov. It had a lower neckline and a higher slit up the side. She shivered, not wanting to think about their first encounter—or the next one. She tugged the note off the front of the plastic where it had been taped.

  My Darling Cassidy,

  You are much more resilient then I expected. More so than your sister was. That will make tonight’s festivities even more exhilarating than I could have imagined.

  Sleep.

  An associate will arrive at six to take you to shower. Then you will dress, and we will dine.

  Grigory.

  She crumpled the ball of paper into her hand and set her jaw, trying to ignore that cold fear that settled in her belly. At the moment, she was trapped in the room. Nothing she could do about that, but someone would be coming later in the afternoon to guide her to the showers. She hoped she didn’t have to pee before then. A few bottles of water lined the windowsill. If worse came to worst…she cringed thinking about it, but she’d peed in weirder things while investigating stories. With nothing else to do, she laid down on the bed and willed herself not to cry.

  The tears would come after she avenged not only Meredith, but Miguel, Maricela, and Kendra too.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Miguel didn’t realize he had shrapnel sticking out of his torso until he got Maricela onto the embankment. Soft, marshy land wouldn’t protect them from alligators or water moccasins, but he did the best he could until help arrived. He didn’t pull out the metal rebar that stuck to his side, because he knew the risk of hemorrhaging. He needed to wait until they got rescued—a fact that he had to repeatedly tell Maricela would happen. After they got out of the water, she had a break down—not that he could blame her. She wasn’t used to that sort of intense situation. Miguel tried to keep her as far from danger as possible.

  Cap and Hunter arrived within the hour. They got Miguel and his sister on the boat, bringing them back to the Nest. On the way, Cap radioed Jax to have the Doc meet them. At this point, all of them knew better than to think that Miguel would go to the hospital. Ivanov had Cassidy. No way in hell was Miguel going to lay in a bed. They needed to find her—soon. Whatever Ivanov had planned, it wasn’t going to be pretty or painless. By this time tomorrow, they might find Cassidy’s body floating in the ocean.

  “Are you sure you should be walking?” Maricela asked as they got out on the dock.

  Blood trickled down Miguel’s side where the metal protruded. It hurt like a son of a bitch, but it also acted like a compression to keep everything where it should be. The real pain would come when Doc got ahold of him.

  “I’m fine, Maricela,” he said. Walking onto the dock pulled his muscle and he grunted. “Had plenty of worse things stuck into my gut. Not to mention being burned, stabbed—”

  “Stop it!” She stomped her foot on the wood. “That’s not funny.”

  No, probably not, but Miguel dealt with his pain by making light of it. It was the only way he knew how.

  “Relax, hermanita.” He softened his tone. “I will be all right.”

  “Damn straight you will.” Doc, a woman in her mid-thirties with long red hair and killer legs walked over to them. “But I’d really prefer to get you inside, get that thing out of you, and get you stitched up before any permanent damage is done. Argue later. Move now.”

  Cap shook his head and smiled. “Hey, Doc. Nice to see you.”

  “You too.” She took one of Miguel’s arms to guide him. “I hear you have a second patient that might need a once over.”

  “Yeah,” Cap said. “Kid on the wrong side of his father’s wrath.”

  Miguel frowned, and probably would have had more to ask about it, but right now, between the shrapnel and the fact that they needed to find Cassidy, his brain had to stay focused. Jason Cantrell was alive and safe—and it still surprised him the kid was at the nest. Cassidy was most assuredly not safe, and they needed to find her before Ivanov murdered her.

  He didn’t take Miguel’s arm, but Cap hovered close as they walked toward the bunkers. Hunter stayed near as well, with Maricela hovering nearby. They all knew better. If Miguel could walk on his own, he did. He only allowed the Doc to help so because he knew she could sedate him if she felt the need. It wasn’t a macho thing, but to prove he still could. He always had to prove to himself that he could do something.

  Like kill. Yeah. Miguel fully planned on killing Ivanov. Up close, with his sniper gun, it didn’t matter. At this point, Miguel was over the red tape.

  “How did they find you?” Cap asked. “That boat is in the Everglades, coordinates only known to the Nest.”

  “That’s a good question,” Hunter said. “And was it just Miguel’s house, or are we all breached?”

  “I don’t know,” Cap said. “Honey is looking into it.”

  “You don’t know?” Anger swelled inside Miguel’s chest. That darkness he hadn’t felt in a long time clung to him. Gently, he pushed Doc away, not caring about the pain or shrapnel in his side.

  “Miguel,” Doc said in a warning tone.

  He ignored her. “They got my fucking sister! That’s how they fucking found out. We have defenses in place to prevent this! To keep our families and ourselves safe!” Venom clung to every word and even Maricela took a step back. “And now, fucking Ivanov has Cassidy!”

  Miguel was well aware of how many f-bombs dropped from his mouth. He didn’t give a flying fuck.

  Cap didn’t show any remorse, and Miguel didn’t expect him to. On an all too familiar level, Miguel knew that no matter what measures they take, that something could go wrong. That the enemy could get the upper hand. And when he was the one taking the lashes, when he was the one bleeding, that was fine, but he didn’t like people fucking with his family, and that included Cassidy.

  “Are you done?” Cap asked in an easy tone.

  “Come on, Miguel. I need to get you fixed up.” Doc moved him back into a sitting position, and he didn’t fight her.

  “Don’t get up again,” Doc said. “Right now, it looks like it missed important things, but if you keep flailing around like Kermit on a high, that could change.”

  He clenched his jaw and she went to work.

  “Did Honey find anything on the flash drive?” Miguel winced. The rebar was in the fleshy part of his side, and he knew from experience that it probably hadn’t hit any vital organs—but that didn’t stop the pain from trying to come to the forefront. It paled in comparison to being tortured for months but he wasn’t impervious to pain. Just had a high tolerance.

  “Did you doubt me?” Honey walked into the bunker and then stopped, cringing. “Oh man. That looks gnarly.”

  Doc got to work, checking him over. “Not as bad as it looks.”

  Miguel leaned back on his hands, giving her better access. “Don’t worry about the large metal object. Tell me about the flash drive.”

  Honey licked her lips and looked away. “I mean I’m not really sure what’s less horrifying to look at. Your side, or the memories of what I saw on that thing.”

  Doc slapped on some gloves and Miguel grunted as she delicately started to remove the shrapnel. She didn’t ask if he wanted anything for the pain. He would have said no. Doc knew that. Especially considering he needed to be clearheaded to find Cassidy and judging from the look of abhorrer on Honey’s face, Ivanov didn’t have anything good in store for Cassidy.

  “You know how you hear about the rich people who spend a ton of money to torture and kill people because they are otherwise bored with life and need something to do?” She glanced at his side before looking away again. “Okay, well it’s not an urban legend.”

  “Could have told you that,” Hunter said.

  “Nope,” Miguel said.

  “Rich people are crazy,” Jax said.

  The words rolled over each other and Honey waved her hands. “Okay, well to those of us who live in the real world,” she ge
stured to Maricela, “this stuff isn’t so common, okay?”

  Miguel winced a bit as Doc started to staple him up.

  Maricela threw up her hands in frustration. “Are you telling me they took Cassidy so she could be tortured and killed by rich men who want to murder for kicks?”

  Every muscle in Miguel corded with tension. Red tinged the edges of his vision as the world faded, and the darkness clawed its way up. They needed to find out the coordinates of Ivanov’s yacht and soon. If they got too far, there’s no way he’d be able to find Cassidy before Ivanov exacted whatever revenge he had in store.

  “No,” Honey said. “Well, yes, but not just like, hold her hostage in a motel room like the movies.”

  “Honey,” Hunter said in his long drawl. “Point, please.”

  She let out a sigh. “Ivanov is taking women to an abandoned island in the keys, and he, along with a few others, are hunting them down. Whoever gets the prize, gets to take the woman home to do with as they please.”

  “Hurry it along, Doc,” Miguel said. “We gotta mermaid to find.”

  “You’re not serious,” Maricela said. “Miguel, you nearly got blown up. You had metal sticking out of your side.” She took a few steps toward him, eyes wide and brimming with fear. “You barely even know this girl.”

  Miguel let out a sigh. “Maricela, this is what I do…what we do.”

  “And what about your family?” Her cheeks reddened with anger. “What about us? How are we supposed to lose you again?”

  “You won’t,” he said. “I’m not going in alone.”

  Doc finished patching him up and stood, moving away without a word.

  “You are going after a woman you barely know.” Maricela’s cheeks puffed out in anger.

  Miguel stood, turning to grab his shirt, putting his scars on display for all. The scars reminded him that he survived, that he’d made it home. He wasn’t in that dank cave anymore and he never would be again. Even if he wasn’t falling fast and hard for Cassidy—even if he wasn’t sure that she was meant to be with him, there was no way he could leave any woman or man to the fate Ivanov had in store. That sick bastard needed to be stopped.