Overboard (A Crow's Nest Novel Book 2) Page 15

  She swallowed thickly, knowing that Meredith no doubt would have agreed to this insanity for the price he offered. The drugs had pulled her under, made her someone Cassidy hadn’t recognized. She tried so desperately to claim the little sister she’d grown up with—but in the end, the drugs had consumed her.

  “And how do they earn this money, exactly?”

  “They must avoid capture for one night on the island.” He gestured for a steward to take away the empty plate. “If they do so, they get the money and are free to leave.”

  “And if they don’t?”

  “The hunter that captures the prey may do with her as he wishes.”

  Fresh bile rose up the back of her throat as she thought about Meredith running across an island, scared and frightened, desperate to stay away from strange men. What was done to her when she’d been caught? Who had caught her? This whole time she thought it had been Ivanov himself, but now she wasn’t so sure.

  “Who killed Meredith?” she asked. Surprisingly, her tone wasn’t wavering like her insides. The words had come out clipped, etched with venom. It surprised her. Cassidy had no idea she could sound like that.

  Ivanov grinned. “If you make it through the night without capture, that shall be your reward.”

  Now Cassidy knew why she’d need her strength. Why Ivanov hadn’t killed her.

  She was to be hunted.

  Cassidy emerged from the waves, shivering in the cool night air. It wasn’t freezing, but a bonfire wouldn’t hurt—especially if it would signal help. But she was in the middle of an undisclosed key. An island that Ivanov owned, and an island that was the perfect place to murder women. The last place Meredith had been alive.

  Standing up, Cassidy stripped out of the dress. She’d barely managed to make it to shore in the tight fabric. Staying alive wasn’t going to happen if she didn’t get rid of it. Running from men only wearing a bra and panties wasn’t ideal, but at least she’d be able to move. The stitches on her leg had opened again, leaving a small trickle of blood down her leg. She threw the gown into the water.

  Men catcalled and sent threats from the boat, yelling over the ocean breeze, over the sound of whip-o-wills and frogs croaking. Cassidy didn’t know how big the island was, but it was packed with mangroves and marshes. It probably had other predators besides the men who were going to come after her in a few moments, but they seemed much less scary.

  Ignoring the men on the yacht, Cassidy looked around, taking a few steps inland. If she were lucky, the island would be a few miles across. Otherwise, this was going to be a very easy hunt. The sand shifted as she walked, sticking to her feet. She looked down. That would be another problem.

  Tracks.

  Looking around she grabbed a palm frond and started swiping the sand behind her as she walked. At least it would give her a head start, not lead them directly to her. A shudder went through her at the thought of what they would do if they caught her. She would belong to them. Be theirs to do whatever they wanted. Even if Ivanov had promised the other women money, it was a fool’s game. There was no way off the island, and they had sophisticated equipment. All Cassidy had was whatever innovation she could come up with.

  Running circles around the island wasn’t going to do anything but get her caught. Especially since she didn’t know the lay of the land. No, Cassidy had to be smart. She needed to hide or come up with a defense. Her chances were slim at best, so she needed to utilize whatever she could in order to survive. There had to be a way to escape this.

  Moving more inland, she worked with the surroundings instead of against them. One thing about being an investigative reporter, it meant that Cassidy learned how to use what she had. Not that she was so adept with the wilderness, but she was smart, she was desperate, and she was pissed off. Later, she would mourn all the people she’d lost, but to do that, she had to survive and make sure that no other families were left wondering what happened to their daughters.

  After making sure she kept her tracks hidden, Cassidy slipped into a deep mangrove, burrowing herself beneath the vines and bushes. Mosquitoes bit her flesh, something scratched against her leg, but she kept moving on her arms and knees, as if she were training in the army. Staying low and not disturbing the top was the only way they wouldn’t be able to track her. She crawled until she was far enough away from the main trails that she hoped they wouldn’t find her. Something crawled up her leg, but she heard voices and stayed motionless. Footsteps went by her. Her heart thundered in her chest, but so far, they hadn’t seemed to know her location.

  She didn’t know how long she stayed like that, but she knew that moving would be a bad idea. Any movement, any sound, would give away her location. Her eyes half drooped, and she pinched her arm to stay awake. Exhaustion crept into her bones, along with the chill from the mud. She shivered but kept her breath shallow and quiet.

  Every so often the sound of men shouting, hunting for her, looking for tracks could be heard. The island was so big. Eventually they might come this way, but it was something she would have to deal with when the time came. For the moment, she was safe—if trapped. Even if she made it till morning, she highly doubted that Ivanov was going to let her go. She knew too much. Then again, who would believe her? Maybe Cap and the others—but after what happened with Miguel, they may very well hate her.

  They would have every right to.

  Movement made her go completely still. Something slithered along her leg. Her heartbeat escalated, pounding so loud she was sure the men would hear her over the chirping crickets, cicadas, and croaking frogs—over the breeze that tumbled through the leaves and flicked sand lightly throughout.

  It slithered more, and her calf twitched of its own accord. Something pinched at her skin, and she nearly yelped, more in surprise than pain. She put a hand over her mouth, praying they hadn’t heard her. For a moment, she thought she was fine, but then a hand wrapped around her foot and yanked. She screamed, trying to grip roots and mud, but it was no use.

  A scream escaped her as she began to fight, kicking, scratching, and clawing at the arms around her. A cruel laugh filled her ears. The tone menacing and sending a chill straight to the core of her being.

  “Gotcha.” He licked her ear, and she squirmed.

  The feel of him against her skin, his tongue on her body. It renewed her fight.

  Let go of me!” She kicked back and caught his shin.

  He grunted and let her down. Pain flared in her own leg, a burning sensation that made her gasp and stumble, instead of being able to get away.

  The man, wearing dark clothes and black knitted cap loomed over her. “Fucking whore!”

  Before he could grab her again, she rolled on her back and kicked up, her foot connecting between his legs. Grunting, he grabbed his junk and fell to his knees, face red and bloated with pain.

  Getting up, Cassidy took the rifle that he’d dropped to the side and hit him in the head with it. He went face down in the mangroves, unconscious.

  Cassidy warred with herself, debating on whether or not to kill him—but she couldn’t. As much as she wished she could, Miguel had been right. She wasn’t a killer.

  But she had a rifle, so at least now, she had a chance.

  Chapter Twenty

  Miguel broke through the surface of the dark ocean wearing full scuba gear. Cap surfaced a moment later beside him. Staying silent, they moved through the water, using the laps and soft waves to propel them to land. As soon as their feet touched sand they moved to a bushy area, dropping all the gear they didn’t need. Miguel quickly took survey of the island. The “hunters” weren’t being quiet as they moved across the seven-mile wide patch of land.

  Fucking amateurs.

  Seven miles didn’t seem too big when it was just flat land, or a sidewalk spanning sides of the buildings downtown, but when it was nothing but trees, mangroves, and wildlife—well, seven miles could be awfully big. Or awfully small to the person trying to stay hidden.

  Cassidy was resourcef
ul, Miguel knew that, but if any one of the pretentious fucks on the island touched her, Miguel was going to enjoy making them suffer.

  Hunter and Noah were on Ivanov’s yacht. They had called Noah in knowing they might need some help. Though not technically military, Noah was still a Crow. He had a brotherly relationship with Cap, but Miguel didn’t know the details. Noah brought his own set of skills to the table, and Miguel was glad he was there. Jax was guarding Miguel’s family until this was over, and Sin had gone to stay with Honey, while also keeping an eye on Cantrell.

  The Crows had taken the Yacht with ease. The Protege and other security had been novices. Sure, they were trained, but only with guns. The Cleaner was nowhere to be found—and Miguel would find him, but first they needed to make sure Cassidy was safe.

  Putting a knife to the Russian’s throat, Miguel told Ivanov to call off the hunt, but the diplomat had only smiled and promised that if he did that, the men would know something was wrong. If they already had her, they would kill her immediately and dump her body in the ocean.

  Instead, Cap and Miguel had opted for a stealth mission. While the bastards were clunky and doing this for sport, they’d been trained to handle situations far worse than this. Honey wanted to call in the Coast Guard, but that was a sure-fire way to get Cassidy killed, if she was even still alive.

  She’s alive.

  Miguel felt it in his bones. He couldn’t explain it, but somehow, he knew deep inside of his very being that she was still breathing. His Sirena could handle anything. She’d proved that having already survived hell. When Miguel got her off this fucking island, he’d make sure she had never had to face anything on her own again.

  They moved through the small island, easily taking down the men who came into their path. They knocked the men out and bound them before moving on. By Miguel’s count, they had taken down five. Intel had given seven on the island, more on the yacht to watch. Fucking men like this were scum. All the men who participated were scum. If they wanted a hunt, Miguel would give them one and he knew without a doubt not one of the motherfuckers would leave here alive. Consequences be damned.

  Two more to go.

  They came across a man, lying face down in the mangroves. Cap raised his brows in question. Miguel’s chest swelled with pride as they went over and secured him with zip ties. He knew his Sirena could handle herself. Resourceful as ever. If she was nothing else, she was a scrappy little fighter hell bent on surviving. Yes, she was naive and innocent, but it took balls to be an investigative reporter—it took balls to face down the man who had murdered her sister—and it took balls to keep on fighting when she thought no one was on her side.

  But she did it every time.

  A branch cracked not far from them, deeper into the mangroves. Cap held his hand up, and they swiftly moved to take cover. Miguel shimmied behind a palm tree, the pointed bark digging into his arms as he pressed against it.

  For a moment, he thought it might have been an animal—an iguana or snake, and his shoulders relaxed.

  “No!” Cassidy’s scream filled the night.

  Miguel’s heart hammered as the sounds of a struggle echoed around them. Without hesitation, he moved from behind the tree, and rushed toward the sound of her cries.

  Cap ran alongside him. They didn’t go far, rounding a large patch of foliage, only to find a man straddling Cassidy as they fought over the rifle. His vision went red, clouding with a raw rage that he embraced. Seeing her pinned down like that brought every primal, protective instinct to the surface.

  “Get off!” She yelled.

  “Shut up!” The man backhanded her.

  Miguel tackled the bastard off her at full speed.

  She screamed, but he couldn’t focus on that. The only thing that mattered was the man that Miguel now straddled. His fists flew, pummeling into the sick fuck’s face over and over. The pain of it coursed through his skin and into the bone of his knuckles. Red spread and splattered, but Miguel didn’t care. He had been about to hurt Cassidy, to hurt his woman. His Sirena.

  “Miguel, stop!” Cap pulled at his shoulders, but Miguel pulled back taking another swing.

  The man in the sand had become a bloody, swollen mess. The way Miguel had taken him down, he hadn’t even had a chance to fight back. That was how Miguel liked it.

  “Miguel!” Cassidy’s voice broke through the haze. “Miguel, please.”

  The tremor of fear in her words made him stop. Cap dragged him away from the bastard in the sand, and this time, Miguel let him. The haze of adrenaline faded and left him in the aftermath. The waves from the ocean crashed hard against the shore, sounding louder than they should. The wind swirled the sand onto his skin and made it feel like a fiery exfoliant. Heightened senses, Miguel knew. It would fade in a few moments.

  Cassidy knelt next to him, putting a hand on his cheek. “Miguel?”

  He took steady breaths, and then pulled her into his arms, hugging her as tightly as he could. “Don’t you ever fuckin’ do that to me again, Sirena. Not fucking ever.”

  She gave a half-hysterical laugh as she gripped his shirt and buried her face in his neck. “I thought he killed you.”

  Miguel pulled back to give her a stern look. “No, Sirena. That is what you need to understand. I am a killer. I will take down anyone who threatens mi familia—or my woman.”

  Tears filled her crystal-blue eyes and she buried her face against him again. “Don’t ever let me go.”

  Every protective instinct was on fire, but more than that, Miguel felt a swell of emotion—of love. It didn’t scare him, and Miguel didn’t scare Cassidy. She was his, and if anyone dared to lay a hand on her again, Miguel would skin them alive—with a pocket knife, taking it nice and slow and leaving a message so the rest of the world knew not to fucking even try.

  He rubbed her back. “Never.”

  Cap walked over once he was done securing the man on the ground. The bastard on the ground, choking on his own blood, was lucky to be alive. All of them were. Miguel wasn’t kidding about being a killer. He knew what he was capable of, and he had no problem putting down threats. No remorse. Hesitation is what landed Miguel the scars on his back—the nightmares were because he had made a mistake that had cost so much.

  Cassidy pulled away from him and walked over to the man. Before Miguel could ask why, she kicked the man in the head and opened her mouth as if to say something, but just walked back over.

  “Sirena?” Miguel pulled her into his arms again.

  “He’s the one who killed Meredith.” She pressed her face into his chest. “He said as much when he had me pinned down. Told me the things...”

  Miguel tightened his grip around her arms. “Well, now I’m glad I got to fuck him up even more.”

  “Ivanov is secure,” Cap told them. “The cops are on their way, along with the Coast Guard.”

  Cassidy tensed in my arms. “The cops are going to—”

  “We have evidence,” Cap said cutting her off. “Everything we need to take Ivanov and these sick fucks down.”

  “What?” She looked from me to Cap and then back to Miguel.

  “They kept videos of their,” Miguel hesitated, the words sour in his mouth. “Sport. It’s on a secure drive on the ship.”

  “Then how—?”

  “Honey,” Cap said. “They’re bringing the dingy to shore. We’ll meet the detective and crew on board.”

  Cassidy had no desire to be back on the yacht. She shivered, thinking about what they would have done to her. The island was far away from any help, anyone who would hear her scream. And Cassidy knew they would have made her scream. Ivanov would have listened from his boat, grinning as he sipped on expensive scotch. Nausea bubbled in her belly as she stepped onto the cool carpet of the main dining deck.

  Now that the hunt was over, the nerves were setting in. She had survived. Miguel was alive. He had come for her. When she’d seen him, Cassidy thought for a moment she must have been hallucinating, but it was him. Alive and
well—Maricela was alive too.

  But The Cleaner was nowhere to be found.

  Ivanov sat in the far booth, Hunter to one side of him, Noah to the other. The sound of sirens whispered over the ocean, but they were coming, getting louder with each second that passed. Ivanov cut into the steak on the expensive plate in front of him, smirking at her the entire time.

  She almost stepped back from the intensity in his gaze, but Miguel put a firm, warm hand on her lower back. Just like that, her strength renewed. She drew on it, taking slow even breaths. The adrenaline wearing off still left her shaky, but she was safe. Cap, the guards, the others—it didn’t matter. Miguel was there. No one would go near her with him by her side.

  Despite his pomp and circumstance, Ivanov had lost. He would pay for what he’d done to her sister. With the men on the island, with what they had tried to do to her—with the evidence they had found—there was no way he was going to get away with it.

  Cassidy smirked right back, lifting her chin with confidence. “Gotcha.”

  Ivanov leaned back, patting his lips with a silk napkin that he’d picked up from the table. “No, little one. No.”

  Cassidy looked at Miguel whose face had hardened with anger. The tension in his jaw had him clasping his jaw so tight she thought he might chip a tooth. The other men had similar looks, as though this wasn’t a win. But they had him. Ivanov sat right in front of them, pompous and arrogant sure. That was probably from the life. Being a Russian Diplomat…

  Oh.

  Her heart sank. It felt as though it fell through the floor of the yacht and into the ocean, sinking to the bottom to be lost forever. Cassidy remembered now. Ivanov was a Russian Diplomat. The worst they were going to do was deport him.

  “No,” Cassidy shook her head. “No. You’re going to pay!”

  She marched forward, grabbing the steak knife from the table. Every molecule in her body was geared and ready to use it. The numbness she’d experienced before had dissipated. Her body radiated with unnatural hate—no one should be able to hate that much, but he had created a sick game that caused Meredith to be tortured and murdered. The one person in the world that she was trying to save, and he brought Meredith on this yacht like as some piece of garbage to throw away.